"Thousands of years ago, the world was a very different place. A place where instinct ruled, where logic and reason had not yet taken hold in our minds. It was a time when-"

"Everyone was naked!" The shout echoed through the bustling museum, attracting a bemused look from a passing police officer. The tour guide, a slender gazelle with black onyx earrings swinging to and fro from her twitching ears, paused her monologue.

"Wilde," she sighed, "up front. Now." Though she had been introduced to the class of cubs (and kits and pups and kids and fawns, etc...) only an hour earlier, she already becoming quite well acquainted with one in particular. A fox.

The kit made his way to the front of the group of predators he had been standing in, tail held in his paws, smiling at his fellows, who seemed to have enjoyed his joke. He was bright eyed and lively, ears perked up, perhaps nine or ten years old. The prey, standing in a group somewhat separate from the predators, watched him with curiosity.

"Everyone was naked back then," the guide said with a benevolent smile, inviting some laughter from the class, "but not because it was funny. Because back then we didn't know any better. Back then we were just beasts, not mammals like we are today. Now, can anyone tell me what we're looking at in this display?" A brief moment of silence, then a dozen paws shot skyward.

It was an easy question, and not only because the object in the display case wasn't just present within its glass box. Settled on a cushion, like a piece in a jeweler's, was a tough nylon collar with a little black box, perhaps half the size of a pack of cards, nestled on one side. A green light in the center of the box blinked languidly, once every two seconds, symbolizing that it wasn't being worn. If it was, then the light would remain steady, a verdant glow that made one feel peaceful just looking at it.

"A Tame Collar!" Cried a horse, clicking his hooves on the floor in excitement. The guide nodded.

"Exactly. This one is a current model, like the ones that your predator friends are wearing right now, but these have been in constant production for many years now. We're going to look at some of the earliest models in the next room in a few minutes..." The fox raised a paw.

"Yes Wilde?"

"What about before the collars?" The guide nodded evenly at the question. A good one. Seemed like Wilde could be pretty sharp when he wasn't being a jokester.

"Well. That brings us back to what I was saying about the past. When we were all naked," a few giggles, "back then predators and prey lived in constant fear of each other because...?" She looked out to the class. Paws and hooves shot up once more.

"Because predators were mean to us." A sheep said solemnly.

"More than that," the guide said, "predators used to eat prey." A little group of predators shifted uncomfortably at her tone, which had dropped into being foreboding.

"But why?" The sheep asked, eyes wide.

"Because back then they didn't know any better. It was in their DNA, their biology to eat prey. But fortunately we have uplifted since then and helped each other into the present, where we're all friends." Her tone was lighter and more optimistic now, and the class nodded to themselves, digesting this information.

"So...why do we still need the collars then?" Wilde again. The guide regarded him with some well hidden pity.

"Because deep down, in your DNA, those ancient instincts are still lurking. And sometimes they can be triggered by intense anger or fear or desperation. And if that happened then you could seriously hurt someone." Wilde furrowed his brow, confused.

"But lots of people get angry," he said, "not just predators."

"We're talking about different things Wilde," the guide said gently, "when predators get angry, well, there's a risk of activating those instincts. Prey don't have those. That's why you're wearing the collar and we aren't." The kit fell silent, looking oddly unnerved. He raised a paw and touched the collar he was wearing, a frown appearing on his face.

"Now, who can tell me what happens if there's a situation where the collar has to activate?"

"Zap!" Shouted a bunny, smiling at his friends.

"To put it more sensitively," said the guide, "the Tame Collar measures a hundred different things, from skin temperature to heart-rate to the level of noise that is being made by its wearer. And if enough of these elevate beyond certain parameters then the collar will administer a measured electric shock that's designed to cancel out those bad thoughts that caused the shock in the first place." Wilde was still holding his tail, but more tightly now, like he was clutching a security blanket. The guide felt a little twinge of pity at the sight.

"Now, that may seem scary and cruel, but it's really for your own protection. The collar exists for a reason, and the world is a better place because of it. Now, let's go see what your ancestors wore..." The class moved on. Wilde remained dead silent for the rest of the tour.

Nick Wilde was nine and three quarters of a year old, he enjoyed reading about the outdoors and all of the great adventures that occurred there, and had always been a happy kit. That seemed to have changed when he stepped through the door of the apartment that he shared with his father, on the bottom floor of a complex nestled right on the border between downtown proper and Savanna Central.

"Hey champ," came his father's voice from the next room, "how was the field trip, did you get to see the Arctic expedition exhibit?" Nick shut the door behind him and closed the lock, following it with the deadbolt. The area he lived in wasn't exactly unsafe, but there was enough crime that locking the door behind him had become habit.

"It was fine dad." He said, and dropped his bag on the floor next to the kitchen table. From where he was standing he could see people and vehicles bustling down the street outside, permeating the apartment with a pleasant muffled hum of activity.

His father was heavily laden, a display case in one paw, a bolt of fabric in the other, another case nestled between his elbows as he made his way into the kitchen. He had on his suit, an old dust brown hand me down that had once belonged to his father, a venerable fox that had died before Nick was born.

"You alright there champ?" His father asked, and then ducked backwards, just barely saving the case wedged between his elbows from tumbling to the linoleum floor. Nick took it and plunked it onto the table, staggering slightly beneath its weight.

"I'm fine dad." Nick sighed, straightening his father's rumpled tie. "Going presenting?" A nod and a smile from his father.

"I've been talking to the folks at Lemming Brothers, and I think that they're interested in giving us that loan I've been talking about." This cut through the strangeness of the day like a hot knife through butter. Nick smiled.

"Really? Dad, that's great!" Now he was back to the happy little kit that he usually was, perked up ears, bushy wagging tail, a smile from ear to ear.

"The meeting is scheduled for five, so I should probably hurry..." He tried to pick up the case once more but only succeeded in rumpling his tie once more and mussing his fur. Nick seized the case from the table and stood, arms wrapped around it, ears poking above the top.

"Can I come?" He asked. And his father smiled.

"Sure. But one thing first..." He set down the items he was holding, took the case and opened it up. It unfolded into three wings, revealing a delicately made miniature lit by real electric lights.

The miniature was of a fine clothing store, suits and ties and shirts of all sizes displayed all around. These had been made by Nick's father especially for the display, but were perfectly wearable if one was an especially slim mouse or lemming. A banner stretching above read: SUITOPIA!

Nick watched as his father fished a pen from his pocket and quickly wrote something beneath the banner. Drawing back, he put his paws on his hips, clearly satisfied with his work. Now, beneath SUITOPIA!, in smaller text, was: Operated by Wilde and Son.

"You're gonna need a tie," Nick's father told him, "but aside from that, I think we're ready to go."

Some time later, seated in a high backed velvet lined chair, the display case on his lap, Nick watched the world of Lemming Brother's Bank (the original one, a sign on the front door informed him as he entered) move around him. Customers were lined up in front of counters, and on the sides of the halls, in carefully cordoned off lanes, lemmings, mice and rodents of all kinds streamed back and forth, burdened with documents and papers. Up above him Nick could see a network of transparent plastic tubes stretching along the ceiling, employees wheeling carts full of papers along them. It was all very exciting, he'd never seen the inside of such a fancy bank before and felt like he could sit and sight see all day.

"Wilde?" A pig called from her place next to the counter, adjusting the blonde wig she was wearing, "they're ready for you in Room 203." Nick hopped up, balancing under the weight of the display case, and followed his father along.

Room 203 was the office of an elephant with grandfatherly spectacles and yellowed tusks. He was evidently quite venerable and glanced over to his assistant as the two Wildes walked in.

"Foxes." He muttered softly, under his breath. His assistant, a sheep with a carefully styled poof of fluff atop his head, nodded dutifully, hooves folded in front of him. Nick glanced uncertainly at the elephant, wondering just what he had meant by that. It was almost like he...didn't want to see them.

"Good afternoon Mr. Jumbeaux, I'm Cornelius Wilde, your five o'clock." Nick's father said cheerfully, eyeing the pair of chairs that sat in front of Jumbeaux's desk. The seat of them was almost as tall as Nick's ears, and as Nick watched his father hauled the case and bolt of fabric he was carrying onto the seat before clambering up after them, panting with the effort.

"Here, hand that up to me son." He said, looking over the edge of the chair to Nick, who did his best to hand up the heavy case to his father. After some effort they were able to haul the case up, and Nick joined his father on the chair, hefting their items onto Jumbeaux's desk. Neither the elephant banker or his assistant made any move to help them. The sheep, Nick could see now, was standing atop a stool next to Jumbeaux, so that he could be roughly on the elephant's level. He avoided Nick's gaze studiously.

"Sorry about that," Nick heard his father say with a nervous chuckle, "but, uh, we're on track now. So how about we show you what we're planning for our operation." Jumbeaux nodded slowly, and as Nick watched carefully scooted a heavy gold paperweight away from them, sticking it into a drawer. It sure was nice of him, Nick thought, to give them some more room for their presentation.

"You wouldn't mind if we got up onto your desk sir, would you? It would make it easier for us to present..." Nick's father asked, still smiling, right on the border of obsequious. Jumbeaux gave his assistant a look, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Um," the sheep stammered, "I don't think that that would be...uh...your claws could scratch the desk..." Nick glanced down at his feet, at his claws. He hadn't ever really thought about that before.

"Sorry then," Nick's father said, "uh, well, here it goes." He pointed to the suit that Jumbeaux was wearing, a massive double breasted affair with a whole bouquet of flowers stuck into the breast pocket. Nick could smell them from where he was standing. Peace lilies.

"Walking around Zootopia I see lots of clothing stores in lots of places, but for the most part they cater only to some types of mammals. And this is unfair if you're an elephant," a knowing look at Jumbeaux, "and you're trying to find something that fits you. But...what if there was a fine clothes store for all mammals?" He popped the display open and Nick flicked on the lights, bathing the Suitopia miniature in a warm yellow glow. "Well, my son and I have a plan, we have a location, and we have a dream. And all we need is a loan to make it happen. It's not Zootopia, it's Wilde and Son's Suitopia!" Nick joined in for this last part and smiled at Jumbeaux, who looked spectacularly unenthused. He looked down at the loan form that Nick's father had set down in front of the miniature and with philosophical deliberation picked up a red stamp with his trunk and brought it down, printing the word DENIED across the page.

Nick stared. He felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Jumbeaux hadn't even hesitated, and for the first time Nick realized, with a horrible sinking sensation in his gut, that from the moment they'd walked into the elephant's office, Jumbeaux had been waiting to deny them.

"Why?" He asked plaintively, before he could stop himself, "my dad's been looking for a loan of weeks." Jumbeaux had already busied himself with something else, straightening a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of him, ignoring the distraught kit.

"Come on champ," Nick heard his father say and felt his paw on his shoulder, "we have to go now."

"Foxes." Jumbeaux said, with some small amusement in his voice, giving his assistant a knowing look. It was the exact same thing he'd said when they'd first walked into his office, but only now did it fully make sense. Nick thought back to the museum, which they'd gone to as a special school treat for finally getting their collars. Thought about what the guide had told him.

"You're not better than me just 'cause I'm wearing this." Nick said fiercely, hooking his thumb under the collar and yanking it to one side, to show Jumbeaux. The collar beeped, a low warning tone, and then searing pain shot through him, his limbs went stiff and he toppled onto the elephant's desk, knocking the papers from Jumbeaux's hands. Reports and forms fluttered around the office and Jumbeaux reeled back, eyes wide with anger.

"I'm calling security!" He bellowed and Nick, scrambling up, heart racing, felt his father grab ahold of him, hugging him tightly.

"What's going on here?" Came a threatening voice from the front of the office. Nick could see, through shimmering veils of tears, the broad form of a hippo in the dark blue of a police uniform.

"He lunged at me!" Jumbeaux said, outraged, and the hippo advanced, beady eyes narrowing, face set in a grimace.

"You foxes," he muttered, looming over the two Wildes, "always causing trouble."

"This is all a big misunderstanding sir," Nick could hear his father stammering, desperately polite even now, "my boy only just got his collar a few days ago, he still doesn't know how it works..." The officer reached down and with effortless ease snatched them both up. Pressed tightly to the hippo's chest, Nick tried to cry out but couldn't draw the breath. His collar shocked him again. He began to weep.

"Mr. Jumbeaux has agreed to drop the charges," the police sergeant, a goat, was telling them, "but on the condition that you never venture into his establishment ever again." They were sitting in a windowless room lit by a single naked bulb. The floor was tile and in the center was a round metal grate that seemed to serve as a drain. Nick wasn't sure why it would be there, the room didn't seem to have any sort of running water.

Nick stared down at the floor, feeling sore and despondent. His father was still smiling, but Nick could tell that it was an act, just his father trying to seem grateful and subservient.

"Please tell Mr. Jumbeaux that we appreciate this." His father said. The goat nodded disinterestedly and produced a pair of forms with the Zootopia city emblem at the top.

"Sign these, then you can go." Nick didn't even look at his before scratching out a jagged signature at the bottom. The police had taken their display cases and only gave them back reluctantly, fixing them with hostile stares as they left the station. The entire time he was there Nick hadn't seen a single predator in uniform, just prey as far as the eye could see.

"I'm sorry dad." Nick said quietly as they traipsed down the street, toward the glowing lights of a bus stop. The apartment wasn't far, but neither of them felt much like walking.

"This was my fault." Nick heard his father sigh, and turned to him in surprise.

"But I..."

"The world isn't a perfect place Nick. And I guess I thought that if I didn't tell you what can happen to mammals like us then it just wouldn't..." He sighed again and shook his head in self reproach.

"Mammals like...us?" Nick thought back to Jumbeaux and the hippo policeman. He thought of the green glow of his father's collar and how he had once envied it...how grown up it had looked.

"Sometimes people can be very cruel to each other for small reasons...like over the difference between predator and prey." Nick felt ill as he considered this, like he'd just dipped his toe into a swamp and found the mire slowly sucking him in.

"But why?" He asked, feeling very frightened and alone at that moment. But even as he asked he already knew. It was just as the guide had told him back at the museum. Deep within him, locked away in his very biology, were instincts that had once been used to hunt and kill and eat.

Nick sat down on the hard plastic of the bus stop seat and tried not to start crying again. He was quiet the rest of the way home.