Muru
He sat in the corner lounge, sunlight patterning through the window, toothbrush between teeth and pad in hand. One corner of his dressing gown, gnawed at by Muru, his prize bilby. Not many were left when he emerged and none left by the time he started school. The first time he saw one in a vid he knew he must have one.
Once he discovered they were all extinct, he yearned to create one from scratch. On the pad he scrolled through another journal on genetic engineering and felt movement along his thigh. Muru poked her head around his pyjama leg and snuffled the air. She was getting bigger by the day and she rarely came out when the sun was up.
‘Lunchtime, dearest? Found your nesting spot, yet?’
On the pad he accessed kitchen and selected a Muru-sized portion from meals. A chime from the dispenser lured Muru down his leg and across the rug. She scampered like the first day she hopped out of the reconstruction enclosure, bright eyed and bushy tailed. He followed her into the kitchen and fetched her meal.
She cannot know she’s the only one of her kind on the planet: not for long, though!
He remembered the first day he popped out of his enclosure: Lights piercing his eyes, hunger gnawing his stomach, words attacking his mind. The group of people around him called specialists all yammering at him. Needles and swabs and clothes.
None of that idiocy for my Muru!
She leapt up to his hand as it sailed toward the floor, having at the meal before it landed safely on the rug. Returning to the corner lounge, he noted her condition on the pad. Trends until now show full health and scans indicated her twins were developing in line with known statistics.
Two new bilbies are about to invade the planet!
She hoped back up his leg, exuding cuteness.