"Come in. Sit down." My editor flashed me a lupine grin and pointed at the chair in front of her desk.
I sat down. "What's this about?" She leaned to one side and opened a desk drawer. When she straightened up, she was holding a gurgling baby - my baby! - that she put down on the blotter. Instinctively I reached out for the child, to hold it close, but my editor slapped my hands away. I glared at her. "What?"
"We need to make some changes to this," she said in a businesslike tone.
"But it's perfect!" I protested. "Look at it! It's my best work."
My editor nodded. "Oh yes. I can tell. But - how can I put this? - the publisher wants some changes."
"Changes?"
"Yes." She picked up the infant. "The publisher is fine with the overall structure. It's conventional, but they have no objection to that. It's just ... It's just that public opinion has shifted. So, we need to tweak it."
I felt a yawning pit open in my soul. "How?"
"Well, for a start, people these days are sensitive to certain issues." My editor reached out and plunged a clawed hand towards my baby's crotch, then yanked hard. I watched in shock as she threw her bloodied prize onto the floor. "We don't want to offend them.
"And given the current political situation - well!" Her nails sliced into the child's skin, peeling it from its body. "I'm sure you understand the situation. The publisher doesn't want any controversy."
I tried to look my editor in the eyes, to show her some spark of defiance; but there was something in them that I couldn't face. My voice still worked, though. "But those are my central themes."
"You can always rework them into something more acceptable to the publisher. You do have some good ideas."
Maybe there was something I could yet save. I tried to put on a brave face. "Well, you know I like to challenge my readers."
"Yes. I know." My editor tried to sound sympathetic. "But our target group doesn't like to be challenged." She held up my baby, grasping its head in one hand. I turned away, hiding my face behind my hands. When I turned back, I didn't dare look at the desktop.
"You've killed my baby."
My editor put her hand on my arm. "I know the changes seem a little drastic, but you're a good writer. You can work around them, can't you? After all, that's what we pay you for."
Perhaps she was right. Perhaps I could bring some semblance of life back to my creation. It wouldn't be the same, but at least it would be something. I wiped the tears away from my eyes. "Yes. Yes it is," I said at last.
