“Something started to change when I began doing site visits,” Mitchell continued. “I had a sense of satisfaction and variation in my work, for once. I would knock on doors, hear stories, help these animals navigate the necessary bureaucracy and sometimes their living situations would improve. I believed that we were there to help. It wasn’t easy, but I was satisfied that I was able to play a small part in the recovery. But then, as time passed, I kept hearing these stories … I got messages about flooded basements and broken water mains, evictions and homelessness. At first, it felt random, or explainable by way of ‘natural’ disaster and aging infrastructure. For a while, I just kept my head down and stewed. I kept working to move animals through the gauntlet of city housing. But I began to realize that all these overlapping stories were not one-offs, but patterned. The pattern took the form of corporate takeovers and sell-offs, expulsions and redevelopments.” Mitchell dropped to his quietest hum. “I have been collecting evidence of what we believe is a large-scale conspiracy by the mayor to give Seadyne huge deals to renovate public housing.”

“Is that illegal? They’re constantly writing in the papers that Seadyne and the city are partners.”

“Well, what they’re not announcing is that over the course of those ‘renovations’ Seadyne finds—actually, it creates—structural problems by drilling holes, opening up cracks, and, most insidiously, flooding basements. Much of the damage comes from water they pump into basements. This plan, as far as we know, was devised in the aftermath of Hurricane Sparky. They found that the sea was a perfect scapegoat. Mention a flood, and everyone goes wild.

“So Seadyne workers wreck a building, and then they deliver reports to the mayor that say the buildings are rotten, uninhabitable, and too expensive to save. The mayor then advocates selling the buildings and relocating residents. This shuffles the problem to the future, and in the meantime the mayor is richer and the residents are rendered homeless. Both Seadyne and Shergar avoid taxes, and scrutiny. Shergar’s wealth increases, and Seadyne gobbles up once publicly owned land for discount rates.

“Remember after the hurricane, there was so much grief. Birds crying over broken eggs. Cats stuck in trees for days, bedraggled from rain and half starved. Injured donkeys dragging themselves out of collapsed sheds. There were so many calls for unity and compassion. But what I realized as I researched is that Mayor Shergar and his associates—the many tentacles of the power class—did not want to help. They want things to go as badly as possible. Suffering is at the root of these fortunes.”

It hurt Alfonzo that Mitchell hadn’t told him sooner. Mitchell scoffed.

“I would have helped,” Alfonzo offered.