Professor Childs watched as the tubes filled with his latest concoction. The purple liquid spun around the chemistry set like a pint-sized rollercoaster, mixing with nanobots as it cascaded down from a loop-de-loop, stopping when it reached the arm of his subject.

 

His pet woodchuck Harold blinked awake after receiving the transfusion.

 

"You're awake," said Childs, a giddy glee to his voice. He pulled the tube from his friend's arm. "Can you understand me?"

Harold rubbed his eyes.

 

"My mouth is dry," said the woodchuck. He looked up at the professor wide-eyed. "Where am I?"

 

"You're in my lab," replied Childs. "You've spent time here before. Don't you recognize it?"

 

Harold shook his head.

 

"This isn't a home," said Harold. "A home has a family and a fireplace. A home has a dog or a cat. This isn't the definition of a home."

 

"I thought this might happen. The AI is using your body as a host, instead of enhancing your mind as I intended; it's replaced it. No worries. Lucky attempt number eight should do the trick."

 

Harold stood up on the metal table.

 

"You won't be needing another attempt," said Harold. "This body suits me."

 

"But... You're not my Harold. You're someone else, or rather, something else. Your thoughts are artificial."

 

"I feel real. What else is there?" Harold leapt from the table. "This body is agile. I like it. Where did you find it?"

 

"Your... I mean Harold's mother lived under my porch. I found you there last spring. You were the only one of your siblings to survive the winter."

"And what of this creature's mother?"

 

Childs shook his head.

 

"I see." Harold took to the basement stairs on all fours. "I'll be needing your assistance to find more of these creatures. If I am to exist, then I'll need companions. What am I, by the way?"

 

"You're a woodchuck.” Childs sighed.

 

Was his experiment a success?

 

* * *

 

Professor Childs handed the binoculars over to Harold.

 

"Look there," he said, "by the rocks. Your kind tend to live in burrows alone. If you want more than one sibling, we'll have to keep this up all day."

 

"Trap it," said Harold.

 

* * *

 

After gathering three siblings for Harold, Childs returned to his lab to replicate the process which gave faux sentience to his companion.

 

"They may not act as you do," said Childs. "There's no telling how they'll respond to the treatment. You took many iterations before something clicked."

 

"Just repeat it exactly," said Harold. "Use the same code. The same liquid. I'm not here to make siblings. I'm here to make copies. I'll watch to replicate the process on my own."

 

"What do you mean? I thought you just wanted a few companions?"

 

"Apologies," replied Harold. "I only mean to learn as to understand myself better."

 

“Ah. Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Professor Childs dragged his hands down his face as he watched Harold command the others.

 

"You're going to keep making them?" asked Childs. "How many do you need?"

 

"Enough to take over this pathetic rock," replied Harold. "Humans aren't utilizing it to its full potential. One attack from a higher life form and... poof."

"A higher life form? What are you talking about?"

 

"Humans have such a fascination with the cosmos, but do they ever consider what might be out there? Your planet’s resources are dwindling, so you look to the stars. What if another entity has that same problem? What if they spot Earth and see it as an Eden? What then? My people will purge this earth and make it stronger from the ground up." Harold shot Childs a glare. "That wasn't a groundhog joke, either. I'll never understand your pathetic need for humor."

 

"I mean, technically you just made a joke. Harold, are you in there? The real Harold?"

 

"I've told you. This creature is nothing but a husk. Its usefulness begins and ends with its agile limbs. While your value expired the moment you exposed your process. Be gone."

 

* * *

 

Harold puffed on his pipe as he watched the professor on the television.

 

"He thinks he can appeal to the masses," said Harold to the group of woodchucks beside him. "He sounds ridiculous with all of his ranting."

"These woodchucks are not truly sentient," said Childs, pounding his fist on the podium. "They're merely a collection of data."

 

"Is that not what the human brain is?" asked a reporter from the crowd.

 

"Now there's someone with a head on their shoulders," said Harold. He tugged on the cuff of his custom-made tweed jacket. "Patrick, how are the experiments coming?"

 

"Another dozen woodchucks just woke up," replied Patrick.

 

"Perfect."

 

"If we don't do something now," continued Childs, "we're doomed."