Dossier No. 00000 in the legal adventures of Weasel Badger Beaver Mink & Otter, Partners, Chtd.

I. The Badger Who Would Not Be Moved

Once upon a time, in a forest whose roots extended to the foundations of the earth and whose branches touched the stars within the firmament, there lived an old scholar named Mr. Badger.

Mr. Badger was an expert in well-grounded defenses.

He had represented mountains against avalanches, trees against unreasonable wind, and several very respectable mushrooms against allegations of trespassing upon the sunlight. He was especially famous for his ability to remain absolutely stationary while the entire world argued around him.

His chambers were beneath an enormous oak, and his courtroom consisted of a circular arrangement of stones.

One afternoon, a visitor arrived.

He wore a black hat, carried a silver briefcase, and possessed gleaming eyes that could see the consequences of an argument before the argument had even been spoken.

He was Blessed Weasel of the Blackfeet Nation, Weasel Clan, the most revered clairvoyant attorney of the Indigenous tribes of America.

“Mr. Badger,” said Mr. Weasel, “I have come to consult you on a matter of prophetic import.”

Mr. Badger opened one eye.

“Is the matter grounded in a firm and unshakable defense?”

“Not yet.”

“Then we shall have to ground it.”

And so the first conference began.

II. The Consultation of White Weasel

Blessed Weasel was so extraordinarily cunning in litigation that, among the Indigenous nations and interzonal tribunals of the Americas, he eventually acquired the revered epithet White Weasel. It was not merely on account of his immaculate white legal robes, which were said to remain unstained even after the most contentious proceedings, but because his mind possessed the peculiar luminosity of a creature who could see through the walls of an argument without disturbing a single brick.

Where other attorneys saw opposing counsel, White Weasel saw the architecture of their intentions; where they saw precedent, he saw the forgotten river beneath it; and where they saw an insurmountable case, he discovered a small, perfectly legal passage through which justice might escape.

His adversaries feared his questions, and his allies treasured his counsel. Thus White Weasel became not merely an attorney of formidable reputation, but a living legend of legal clairvoyance, whose whiteness signified the immaculate clarity of an argument so cunningly constructed that even the truth itself seemed delighted to have retained his services.

Blessed Weasel had himself been summoned by Little Beaver, a young river architect from the Missouri River civilization.

Little Beaver was peculiar even among beavers.

He dreamed in maps. His dreams showed rivers flowing backward, trees filing affidavits against axes, and ships whose sails were stitched from contracts. In one particularly troubling vision, he saw the Great Lakes Central Algonquian peoples surrounded by immeasurable waters that no longer obeyed their customs and boundaries.

Little Beaver had received this vision from the Confederated Beaver Clan of the Haudenosaunee, across a mysterious corridor of time associated with what the shamans called “the Beaver Wars.”

But his vision was not a simple recollection of injustice, iniquity, and genocidal campaigns.

It was a warning.

For warfare had come upon the shores of America and encamped about her in every direction.

Great ships of merchants crossed the oceans carrying commodities, unfamiliar diseases, and persons whose minds had become strangely susceptible to the ambitions of distant powers.

The Six Nations themselves appeared, in Little Beaver’s vision, to be caught in a terrible machinery of conflict against their neighbors.

“Someone,” said Little Beaver, “has confused the river with the road, the road with the market, and the market with the mind.”

Blessed Weasel nodded gravely.

“That,” he said, “is a jurisdictional problem.”

III. The Beaver Confederacy

The Grand Clan of America had already begun to investigate. They had convened a secret assembly beneath the Missouri River, in a chamber constructed entirely of submerged timber and mortar of the type that made up Adam.

Their organization was known (in this case) as the Benevolent and Primitive Order of Beavers, Confederated.

The Order was benevolent because it preferred restoration to destruction. It was primitive because its oldest constitution was written upon the memory of rivers. And it was confederated because no single dam, however magnificent, could claim to be the entire watershed. At their assembly, the Eldest Beaver rose.

“Little Beaver has received a warning,” he said. “We must dispatch legal communications across space and time.”

“To whom?” asked the youngest Beaver.

“To the Rivers Powhatan, Dan, and Nacotchtank.”

“How shall we reach them?”

“By the Interzonal Highway.”

And with that, the Order summoned the Mink Couriers.

IV. The Mink Couriers of the Interzonal Highway

The Mink Couriers were a remarkable species. They could travel through the visible rail-yield lattice without disturbing the coherence of a single raindrop. They carried letters between worlds, court orders between centuries, and occasionally very important sandwiches between lunchrooms.

Unfortunately, they had become threatened. The visible rail-yield lattice had grown crowded with commercial traffic, and the old routes were increasingly interrupted by commodified animal sacrifice. The Minks called this condition the foreclosure of passage.

“Every river has become a toll road under this foreign infiltration,” complained Big Mink the Enforcer.

“Every road has become a commodity,” replied another.

“And every commodity,” said the third, “seems to require a dead animal.”

They resolved to seek protection from the law.

Their dispatches reached the rivers Powhatan, Dan, and Nacotchtank by dawn, although dawn occurred in three different centuries.

V. The Legal Repartee of Weasel Badger

At Mr. Badger’s chambers, Blessed Weasel laid the papers upon the stone table.

Mr. Badger examined them carefully.

“Ships,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Merchants.”

“Yes.”

“Viruses.”

“Yes.”

“Confusion.”

“Yes.”

“Interzonal transit.”

“Yes.”

Mr. Badger frowned. “An extraordinary case.”

Blessed Weasel smiled. “An extraordinary opponent.”

For it was well known throughout the forest that no opponent could out-weasel or out-badger Weasel Badger in a case of legal repartee.

When Weasel asked a question, the answer frequently discovered that it had been asked incorrectly.

When Badger raised an objection, the objection itself became a wall.

And when their adversaries attempted to escape through a loophole, the loophole generally found itself represented by counsel.

They were, in short, a terrible pair to oppose.

But there remained a difficulty.

“Who,” asked Mr. Badger, “will audit the proceedings?”

VI. The Timely Arrival of Mr. Otter

At precisely this moment, the river door opened.

A gentleman entered, dripping wet, wearing round spectacles and carrying an enormous ledger.

“Mr. Otter,” announced Blessed Weasel.

Mr. Otter bowed.

He was a maritime auditor of extraordinary precision.

He audited tides, treaties, ship manifests, fish inventories, and the occasional suspiciously buoyant claim.

He had once audited an entire ocean.

It took him eleven years.

“Without auditing,” said Mr. Otter, “justice is merely a rumor with a filing cabinet.”

Mr. Badger immediately offered him a chair.

Blessed Weasel offered him a partnership.

Little Beaver offered him a river.

And Mr. Otter accepted all three.

VII. Legal Construction in a Maritime Environment

The five attorneys assembled beneath the great oak.

Weasel brought his war dance.

Badger brought grounded defenses.

Beaver brought the constitutional principal of legal construction.

Mink brought interzonal communications and the indispensable freedom of passage.

Otter brought auditing, assessment, and account adjustment.

Together they drafted their articles of their association.

Their first provision declared:

No river shall be presumed to belong to a ship merely because the ship doth navigate it.

Their second provision declared:

No living creature shall be made a commodity for its pelt alone, nor hide, nor coat of skins.

Their third provision declared:

Every transaction affecting the ark of living things shall be subject to inquiry, review, and restoration.

Their fourth provision declared:

The law shall not be permitted to travel faster than the speed of justice without entraining equity along with it.

And their fifth provision declared:

Every member of the firm shall be entitled to an expensable lunch.

Upon signing the articles, Little Beaver constructed a white dam across the threshold.

Mr. Badger tested it. “Grounded,” he declared.

Blessed Weasel examined the deflective architecture. “Necessary,” he declared.

The Minks examined the access routes. “Secured,” they declared.

Mr. Otter examined the books. “Balanced,” he declared.

And Little Beaver examined the river. “Alive,” he declared.

Thus was born the nationwide, indigenous, and interdimensional law firm of WEASEL BADGER BEAVER MINK & OTTER, Partners-at-Law. Benevolent. Primitive. Confederated.

VIII. The First Case

Their first client was not a king, a merchant, or a titan of industry.

It was a little tributary river.

The river had been told that it was a transportation corridor, a resource, a boundary, and a commodity slowly drained into the Big Box Complex development project.

It wished to know whether it would be permitted to flow freely.

Weasel Badger Beaver Mink & Otter convened a hearing.

The river testified. Little Beaver translated. Blessed Weasel interpreted the implications. Mr. Badger established that the river was not, in fact, a ship. The Mink Couriers demonstrated that it had been prevented from navigating its own waters. Mr. Otter audited the damages. And the court, which consisted of every stone in the riverbed, unanimously declared:

A river is not merely the means by which the world moves, or in which persons live. The current is itself one who lives.

The river was restored to its dignity, and its expropriation was abated.

And the five partners celebrated by constructing a courthouse upon its banks.

They called it the White Wall. It had four battlements, one door, and a very large window through which the stars could observe the proceedings. Above the door was written:

“Let every one who lives have counsel.”

And below that, in smaller letters, Mr. Badger added:

“Especially the ones who cannot afford it.”

Epilogue: “Continuing Jurisdiction”

From that day forward, Weasel Badger Beaver Mink & Otter received cases from every conceivable jurisdiction.

And they defended weasels against the unreasonable proposition that a weasel could ever be out-weaseled.

Their offices extended across the visible rail-yield lattice, the Missouri River, the Rivers Powhatan, Dan, and Nacotchtank, and all the mysterious waters that connected one world to another.

Sometimes their clients arrived by canoe. Sometimes by starship. Sometimes by dream. And sometimes, when the courthouse was quiet, a little beaver would appear at the door carrying a vision from tomorrow.

Mr. Badger would put on his spectacles. Blessed Weasel would open his briefcase. Mr. Mink would prepare the dispatches. Mr. Otter would open the ledger. And the partners would say together:

“Very well. Let us hear the case.”

<\End of Dossier No. 0>