30.
Melbourne’s
Fabulous Fauna: From Fruit Bats to Werepossums
Professor
Embert Pompledong
Chapter
10: Wind Jackals
Let us now turn to the desecrated
remnants of the northside. For up there, dwells one of Melbourne’s most feral
and terrible creatures. The wind jackal.
Born
of the remnants of the so-called Delinquency Uprising, the wind jackal is an unforgiveable
contortion of the human body, a mistake of evolution, a biological tragedy
unlike any in the history of Melbourne.
Mutated
by their own desperate turn to noxious noise pollution warfare in their final
failed attempts to thwart the Ministry – which succeeded only in demolishing
their lands and martyring their humanity –wind jackals are nasty, vicious animals.
Fiercely territorial, they roam the charred, sound scarred landscapes of the
northern suburbs in packs of 20 to 50 beasts. Though rumours of larger groups in
Coburg and Essendon persist.
Anatomically
speaking, the wind jackal bears passing resemblance to its homo sapiens forebearers.
It is predominately bipedal and possesses roughly equivalent limb to body
length ratios. They have been observed to loosely maintain and demonstrate
human social and family structures within their packs. Indeed, they have been
known to occasionally perform basic simulacrums of cultural milestones: birthdays,
Holidays, and the like. Despite their noted aggression, wind jackals are largely
vegetarian, feeding on grasses and wild flowers.[1]
However, the tenuous
similarities stop here. Due to persistent overexposure to plutonium charged feedback
loops, the wind jackal is marked by several peculiar physical characteristics.
Their bodies
are a mess of broken wiring and cords crackling and spitting electricity. Indeed,
their finger and toe nails have split into fine, steel fibres, which they use
as whips in attack. They have loose, twisted knees and wide flat feet, which
give them their well-known ambling gait and snare drum pounding when they work
up into a gallop.
Much of their
nose seems to be turned inwards, leaving only what appear to be pickups in
their place. Their eyes are rectangular, almost wholly black, and distressingly
reflective. There are some unfounded theories that wind jackals are largely
blind. That they largely use sound to navigate. However, this seems consistent
with their ears, which strongly resemble antenna. And though their mouths are
filled with seemingly normal teeth, their tongues are unmissably forked. It is in
fact likely that (1) they use their tongues as a form of sonar; and (2) assisting
this, they can also independently control each side of their tongue, holding
one taut, and the other loose, to modulate the frequencies of their awful
racket which gives them their name.[2]
Contributing also
to the distinctive noise of the wind jackal is perhaps their most terrifying
feature; that their upper chests have warped to become the grated onyx steel of
Marshall amplifiers. This malformity is linked to their vocal cords that are
essentially near-shattered vacuum tubes. When wind jackals make their
characteristic electro-dipped howl, it emerges not just through their mouths,
but from their clavicle also. They have been recorded at nearly 120 decibels.
Internally,
besides the vocal cords, their temporal lobes are overdeveloped, making them
incredibly sensitive to music and noise, which in conjunction with their power charged,
pitch shifted adrenal glands, can cause them to lurch into uncontrollable,
violence upon the sound of a distorted guitar. Rarely, do they venture south of
Collingwood or the Carlton Gardens, but when they do it is largely because they
have been attracted by the blare of speakers and squeal of guitar.
Whether in
defence of their commission flats in Fitzroy, or lured by the wailing drone of
a guitar, when wind jackals come, they come in a horrid seething rush. Whipping
their cords, screaming, barrelling with their amplified chests. Lean and quick
from their low fat, vegetarian diets, they strike hard and strike brutally. They
attack mostly in pairs, using their bellows to distract and disorientate,
before lacerating their prey from the blind side. Driven mad by the constant hum
in their heads, driven to inarticulate rage by their throbbing temporal lobes,
they only stop when no one stands.
Notoriously
hard to kill due to their strangely aligned organs and metallic hide, hunting wind
jackals has become a popular pursuit among wealthy Melbourne citizens. Using Bluetooth
speakers and careful urban blinds, Jackaleers (as they like to be called) lure
the animals into enclosed spaces and proceed to slaughter. Such behaviour is
indeed encouraged by the Ministry, primarily to control their numbers and keep
them in the north. A biannual Culling has become something of a sporting holiday
in the city.
There have
been plans to retake the wind jackals’ territory and gentrify the northern
suburbs. But the area is still judged unsafe for normal human habitation.
Further, any ventures north of Northcote have proven to be disastrous. Research
groups and local militias on fazing rituals have met their doom on such
expeditions.
A black
market has also grown around wind jackal tongues – an aphrodisiac – and chest
pieces – a useful conductive. Ministry Biffs have largely shut them down, but they
persist.
The actual
number of wind jackals is unknown. Though, evidentially, they do breed.
Usually,
here, is where I wax lyrical about the true beauty of these truly ugly animals.
I have found great splendour in the giant platypus of the Southern Yarra. Truly
magical qualities in the bothersome fairy. Given voice to the infamous tram
sprites. Even seen greatness in the rocky visage of the rare nargun. All
beautiful, natural organisms, in their unique ways.
However, in
the opinion of this author, the wind jackals are atrocities. Little more than brutes
with the stench of rebellion and the Delinquency still upon them. They cast
themselves into their own hell and, though they deserve it thoroughly, the wind
jackals remain a daily reminder of the lengths and depravity human beings will
descend for a cause. Their penchant for extreme violence, theft, and obsessive
possession render them unworthy of existence. The quicker their scant
appearance of humanity is lost within their horrifying transformations, the better,
for then we will no longer associate them with us; as distant cousins; as Melbournians.
They are significantly less than this. Less than any animals. Less than the
bunyip, fairy, and yowie. Merely vegetarian monsters with an ear for the
terrible sounds of broken guitars.
[1]
Wilder packs, of course, have been known to raid markets close to their borders
for fruit and vegetables.
[2] After the Delinquency, the wind jackals were heard before they were seen.
Imagine: a cackle caught in the breeze, bouncing between buildings, echoing.
Add to this the low thrum of static and the effect of reverb. The terrifying task
of trying to figure out what could have lived through the destructive, nefarious
tactics employed by the northside rebels. Then seeing the abomination, releasing
their distorted shriek.
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