Chapter Text
From an early age Miles “Tails” Prower had grown up in a loving home. He was doted on by his parents and fed the best meals to ensure that his brain would mature to reach an IQ over 120. They were delighted that he was able to read at just three years old and for his birthday gave him his own copy of The Law, a sacred text, that while a little complicated, was undoubtedly the infallible words of God. His father, Amadeus, couldn’t help but smile when, upon knocking on his door and opening it to announce that a meal was ready, he found him meditating upon scripture. His mother, Rosemary, tried to answer every question he had, although she wasn’t a theologian by any means. One time, when he asked her a particularly challenging question, she told him to consult his father.
“I don’t want to ask father,” he said.
“Because he would spank you?” she asked in a loving tone.
Miles nodded his head in embarrassment. His mother raised his chin up and stooped down so that they were at eye level.
“Miles,” she said sweetly, “you know what the scripture says.”
“Yes, mama,” he said reluctantly, knowing the verse he was expected to recite by heart. “Punishment in love will help young children grow.”
She nodded her head in approval. “When your father spanks you, he does it because he loves you and he wants you to learn the right things. A good father disciplines his children, just like God disciplines us when we do wrong or question his authority.”
“Then mama,” he said, with the most confused expression on his face, “why don’t you ever spank me?”
“Well, go ask your father,” she said sweetly, and that was the end of the conversation. She laughed as he quickly ran back up to his room to study the scriptures some more, privately.
Ten years later and a lot of things had changed. At the age of five, his father had stopped spanking him entirely, perhaps because of age or perhaps because he had fully learned to presuppose the veracity of The Law when asking questions. At the age of 8, when he took the Universal Intelligence Test, he passed it with flying colors, earning a score of 300. He wasn’t ever worried about getting a score of 119 or lower and being thrust out of the family and becoming a slave or anything like that, but it felt good to have the test behind him. And now he had just celebrated his thirteenth birthday and was at the point in life where he would be thinking about what future job he would want.
The one thing that hadn’t changed was that the Eggman Empire was still at war with Knothole Village despite the constant victories reported on in the newspapers. It seemed as though, to Miles, at least, that Knothole Village would surrender at any day from being constantly deprived of resources. He, along with many of the other free civilians, couldn’t wait for the day of final surrender and the plunder of wealth. Eggman himself had promised that on that day there would be a celebration and a feast like no other before it.
One day, as he was hoping and praying for that victory in his room, his father knocked on the door hastily and opened it in excitement. “Son, son!” he cried, waving a letter in his hands frantically. “You have an invitation to meet with Dr. Eggman himself in his royal factory!”
Miles could hardly believe the news as Amadeus picked him up and twirled him around. Once he was set down he grabbed the letter and began reading for himself to confirm his greatest hopes and dreams.
“Oh my,” he gasped, quickly scanning the document. It looked so dignified on fresh clean paper with perfect crisp typing and an official royal stamp at the bottom. He had never seen anything like it. Typewriters were common enough but the font was stylized in cursive. “When do we leave?”
“We could leave even today,” his father said. “Eggman has also included a free week long stay at a nearby hotel for us. We just need to hook the slaves up to the wagon and prepare enough food and water for them. Bring along any books you want.”
It was a sign of wealth to own a single slave. Miles’ parents were extravagantly rich, owning two young strong male hedgehogs. He himself always hated them and would have sold them away if he had his druthers, although they were very useful for doing hard labor, like pulling the wagon when traveling. But whenever he looked at them, they always glared back at him, as if they utterly hated him. Well, Miles hated them right back. It was their own fault for failing the Universal Intelligence Test, and according to The Law every citizen of the Eggman Empire had at least three chances to pass it. Every citizen excluding the rabbits, of course, because rabbits were known to be the stupidest type of Mobians. It would just waste time and paper to create a copy for them to scribble on, like illiterate dunces.
After a kiss on the cheek from his mother he went outside, remarking that the temperature was awfully humid and the sun was glaring. He would be glad to be under the roof of the cabin, able to spend the entire time reading while his poor father would be directing the slaves the entire time.
The trip took nearly four hours of traveling on bumpy, winding roads before they entered the main city. In his community Tails was one of the richest children he knew, and yet here, as he poked his head out, he saw wagons that were far larger than his own, the grandest of them requiring four slaves to pull! It was as if his class had been reduced from elite to common in an instant. All around him buildings, much larger than his two-story house, seemed to defy the heavens with their magnitude. He was still taking in the wonder of a world he had never seen before when the wagon stopped and they pulled into a lot in front of a hotel. It was an equally impressive building, boasting five separate stories and hundreds of rooms.
“Miles,” his father called, “come help me with the slaves!”
In a flash he hopped out of the wagon carrying two canteens of water and loaves of bread. His father adjusted the chains by lengthening the ones on their arms and attaching two to their legs so that they could lie down while they slept but couldn’t run away with the wagon at night. Meanwhile Tails handed them their food and water.
“I don’t want it. I want to die. I want to see my mom and dad,” the second of the two complained when Miles offered him his loaf.
“Biological donors,” Miles corrected. Slaves didn’t have parents, nor was there ever the chance that they could go to heaven at death to see them. That was what The Law said and Miles always liked to be precise and correct.
This just offended him and he glared fiercely at Miles, despite the fox’s efforts to help him simply understand. There seemed to be the desire to say something in retaliation in the slave’s eyes, but the knowledge that he would just get slapped made him reach out his hand and accept the piece of bread.
He shed tears eating the loaf, as if he was praying that it could be his last meal in this twisted world. Miles looked at him curiously before he heard his father saying, “Ignore them,” and ushered him inside.
Any thought of sympathy towards a slave was quickly forgotten as Miles once again found himself bewildered by the majesty of the architecture. The hotel lobby looked magnificent and had a stunning aquarium. He had never seen anything like it. Colorful fish swam peacefully while the fading evening light from the windows was reflected in the glass.
“Father,” Miles said, running up to him and giving him a big hug, “today is the best day of my life.” And he meant it. He couldn’t imagine trading his life for any other.