King Elephant and the Underground Rebellion

Martin Luther King Day/Inauguration Day Edition

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. Where your imagination takes you is entirely up to you. All speech included below is protected by the First Amendment, at least for the time being.

Some time has passed On the Shelf since I began telling you the sad tale of “The Elephant and His Sycophants.” You’ll remember that our story left off with a nation that had been brought to its knees. In the intervening years, things have not improved. Let me catch you up.

A Once Great Democracy Becomes a Kingdom of Terror

Not long ago, the inhabitants of this not-so-distant nation elected a new president every four years, a practice that once symbolized their hard-won rights. But all that changed when President Elephant declared himself King. With his self-coronation, the resident critters lost the freedoms their ancestors had fought and died for—chief among them, the right to vote.

The situation grew even more dire for those the Bros labeled “invasive species” or “alien residents”—immigrants and refugees who had once found sanctuary in the nation. The very types of citizens who had built the country upon its founding! Under the King’s oppressive rule, these individuals were either exterminated or forcibly sent back to the despotic regimes they had fled, regimes marked by poverty, famine, crime lords, and dictators. What had once been a land of refuge had devolved into a nightmare of exclusion and brutality.

Before the rise of King Elephant’s terroristic reign, the nation had upheld a constitution that survived nearly two and a half centuries, longer than any other democracy than the world had ever known. This document guaranteed a system in which every voice mattered through the act of voting. However, the weight of the Elephant’s greed and the loyalty of his sycophantic billionaire army—the “broligarchs”—proved too great for a now fragile system to endure.

Today’s story begins with King Elephant, as pea-brained as he is, having absolute power after more than the prescribed time in office—nearly twelve years. Guided by his inner circle of opportunistic broligarchs, he makes every decision, relegating the once-proud tradition of shared governance to a distant memory.

Wait, a small light flickers down below my station on the shelf. Let’s see what is happening.

The Underground Rebellion

We begin in an cavern located directly beneath King Elephant’s Palace, where hundreds of critters from above and below ground have gathered.

The cavern’s light comes from above through skylit tunnels that the Mole Resistance Network has graciously bored to accommodate the seeing members of the rebellion.

“Brothers and sisters of the underground . . . welcome!” says the leader and hero of this story, an unassuming field mouse whose family had been exterminated by the King. Her high-pitched voice would be inaudible were it not for her use of the giant African snail shell megaphone given to her as a gift from the congregants in recognition of her leadership. Her powerful voice rings out in the cavern like a bell.

The crowd cheers, each in their chosen language, reflecting the diversity of tongues in this land.

“Let’s begin with a song,” she says. “The Cricket Chorale as agreed to lead us in an anthem today,” she says, “Let’s raise our voices with them in gratitude and solidarity for the tireless work they have been doing in coordination with the other musically inclined species—cicadas, birds, frogs, and humans. They are the persistent voices in the night, communicating with all through subversive songs and messages. They lift our spirits, and inspire hope for our futures.”

With that, the Cricket Chorale begins. The first sounds are tentative, but gradually get louder. The cicadas, frogs, and birds join in. Then the sound of a single human voice soars over the others to my ears. These were her words translated¹:

Underneath the moonlight's glow, we rise
In the whispers of the night, truth lies
Crickets sing the melody of dreams
While cicadas chant codes and schemes
Our feet on paths untold, we roam free
In the shadows, our hopes will come to be

Let the stars guide our way
At end of night, we'll greet the day
March to drums of our hearts’ delight
Riding waves of rebellion, we will unite

Field Mouse sways with the music, humming her own tune.

Sing o’ frogs in harmony tonight
In chorus give us hope through the fight
Oh winds carry our wishes far away
And, our strength, our resolve will not sway
Echoes of our courage will resound
Break chains by which we’ve been bound

Let the stars guide our way
At end of night, we'll greet the day
March to a rhythm of our hearts’ delight
Riding waves of rebellion, we’ll unite

A quick movement in Field Mouse’s peripheral vision startles her. She glances upward and notices a rat sitting on a ledge. Relieved to see it is just one of her cousins, she sighs. The song concludes.

“Beautiful!” says the mouse. “Make a joyful noise if you agree.”

The crowd erupts in cacophonous pleasure. Field Mouse glances up to see Rat’s response, but he is no longer there.

“Now, as you know, I have called this meeting on the eve of what future critters around the around the world will know as the overthrow of King Elephant’s Regime.”

The crowd chirps, screeches, whoops, and cackles. Anticipation fills the air with nervous energy.

“This revolt, furthermore, will be the most peaceful war in the history of wars, for we will not win through violence and slaughter of innocents, or even execution of the guilty. We will overcome through our intelligence, and our overwhelming demonstration of solidarity against the forces of ignorance and greed that oppress us today.”

The critters, stand on hind legs, raise paws, arms, and legs overhead and make a rhythmic clicking sound in unison, a universal sound of agreement.

The mouse continues, her voice growing stronger with every word, carried by the echoes of the cavern.

“We have coordinated for months, meticulously planning every step of our peaceful revolution. Tonight, I will reveal the final piece of our strategy. Each of you, leaders of your armies, holds a piece of the puzzle, but it is together that we will see the bigger picture—and together that we will succeed.”

The field mouse gestures toward the center of the cavern, where a group of moles roll out a massive map etched onto a flattened bark panel. It glows faintly, drawn with bioluminescent ink that the humans acquired.

“This map represents every pathway, every resource, and every opportunity we have discovered. The Bats and Birds have charted the skies; the Moles, the tunnels; the Squirrels, the treetops; and the Frogs, the waterways. Together, we are unstoppable.”

The crowd cheers, but the mouse raises a paw to quiet them.

“However, my friends, we must not underestimate the enemy. King Elephant is no longer the blundering fool we remember from his early days. He’s grown more paranoid and ruthless, and his broligarchs more cunning. He has eyes everywhere and ears in unexpected places. Our strength lies in our unity, but if even one of us falters—if fear or betrayal takes hold—our cause may be lost.”

The cavern falls silent, the gravity of her words sinking in.

“Tonight, we rest, but tomorrow, we act. Tomorrow, we will send a message so powerful that even King Elephant cannot ignore it. We will show him that the land, the air, and the water belong not to him but to all who dwell here. And when the sun sets on tomorrow, it will rise on a new beginning.”

The field mouse pauses, her voice dropping to a whisper that carries through the cavern like a secret shared among trusted friends.

“The dawn of our freedom is near, but the night ahead will be long and filled with trials. Stay vigilant, stay brave, and stay together. Now, go to your armies. Prepare for what is to come.”

As the critters disperse into the tunnels, the mouse remains behind, gazing at the glowing map. A mole approaches her hesitantly.

“Do you think it will work?” he asks.

The mouse sighs. “It has to.”

A movement catches her eye above them, she sees a rat’s tail disappearing into one of the many tunnels leading up to the Throne Room. A spy.

To Be Continued . . . .

Dear Reader, once again, I have failed to finish the telling of my tale in the time that I allow myself. I believe I can finish the telling in next week’s episode of On the Shelf. In the meantime, hold in your hearts, on this eve of darkness the dreams and light of a great human leader, Martin Luther King, a King worthy of celebrating on Inauguration Day:

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

. . .

Let freedom ring. Let freedom ring.²

1. Lyrics and production by Anne McClard, Singing and backing by Udio, and Crickets Campfire backing by RLDenny (https://pixabay.com/users/rldenney-38200903/)

2. Excerpt for Martin Luther King Jr., “I have a dream” speech August 28, 1963.