10
Krieg hangs up.
“I have two job applicants waiting. Didn’t you see them when you
came in?”
“No.”
“I want you to give them the test. I’m only interested in hiring the
better of the two.”
“Got it.”
“When that’s done give me the updates. This is more pressing.”
He gets up to leave but Krieg motions for him to sit down again.
“There’s something else. An employee was found with a female.”
“Who?”
“One of the night guards.”
“There’s nothing I can do about it. They’re not my responsibility.”
“I’m letting you know because I’m going to have to change the
security company again.”
“How did they catch him?”
“The security footage. We’ve started checking it every morning.”
“And the female?”
“He raped her to death. Then he tossed her in one of the group cages with the others. He didn’t even put her in the right cage, the
idiot.”
“What happens now?”
“The FSA has to be called and a police report filed for destruction of moveable property.”
“The security company will have to reimburse us for the value of the female.”
“Right, that too, especially because she was an FGP.”
When he gets up to leave, he sees Mari with the coffee. She comes across as fragile, but he knows that if this woman were told to slaughter the whole shipment, she’d do it on her own, without a single muscle in her body trembling. He motions to her to forget the coffee and asks to be introduced to the job applicants. “They’re in the waiting room, didn’t you see them when you came in?” she asks, and offers to take him down. He says he’ll go alone.
Two young men are waiting silently. He introduces himself and tells them to follow him. He says that they’re going to take a short tour of the processing plant. As they walk to the unloading yard, he asks them why they want the job. He doesn’t expect elaborate answers. He knows that applicants are in short supply, there’s constant turnover, few people can handle working in a place like this. They’re driven by the need to earn money; they know the job pays well. But before long, necessity isn’t enough. They’d rather earn less and do something that doesn’t involve cleaning human entrails.
The taller of the two applicants says he needs the money because his girlfriend is pregnant and he has to start saving. The other man looks on with a heavy silence. He doesn’t answer right away and then says that a friend who works at a hamburger factory suggested he apply. He doesn’t believe the man, not for a second.
They reach the unloading yard. Men are using sticks to pick up excrement from the last shipment. They place it in bags. Other men are washing the cage trailers and the floor with hoses. All of them are dressed in white and wearing black rubber boots up to their knees. The men greet him. He nods without smiling. The taller applicant goes to cover his nose, but right away he lowers his hand and asks why they keep the excrement. The other man looks on silently.
“It’s for manure,” he tells the applicant and then explains that this is where the shipment is unloaded, weighed and branded. The heads are also shaved because their hair is sold. Then they’re brought to the resting cages where they take it easy for a day. “The meat from a stressed head is tough or tastes bad, it becomes low-grade meat,” he tells them. “It’s at this point that the ante-mortem inspection is done.”
“Ante what?” the taller applicant asks.
He explains that any product that shows signs of disease needs to be removed. The applicants nod. “We separate them into special cages.
If they get better, they return to the slaughter cycle, and if they don’t, they’re discarded.”
“By ‘they’re discarded’, do you mean they’re slaughtered?” the
taller man asks.
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t they returned to the breeding centre?”
“Because transport is expensive. The breeding centre is notified of the heads that had to be thrown out and later they’re discounted.”
“Why aren’t they treated?”
“Because it’s too large an investment.”
“Do the heads ever arrive dead?” the taller applicant continues.
He looks at the man somewhat surprised. The job applicants don’t usually ask questions like these and the fact that this one is doing so intrigues him. “Few arrive dead, but every so often we get one. When that happens, the FSA is informed and they come take the head away.”
He knows that this is the official truth, which makes it a relative truth.
He knows (because he sees to it) that the employees leave a few heads for the Scavengers, who slaughter the meat with machetes and take what they can. They don’t care that the meat is diseased; they run the risk because they can’t afford to buy it. He lets it go and tries to see the gesture as an act of charity or perhaps of mercy. But he also does it as a means of appeasing the Scavengers and their hunger. The craving for meat is dangerous.
As they walk to the resting cage sector, he tells them that at first they’ll have to do simple jobs, related to cleaning and rubbish collection. Once they’ve demonstrated their ability and loyalty, they’ll be taught other tasks.
There’s a sharp, penetrating smell to the resting cage sector. He thinks it’s the smell of fear. They climb a set of stairs to a suspended balcony from where it’s possible to observe the shipment. He asks them not to talk loudly because the heads need to be kept calm.
Sudden sounds disturb them and when they’re edgy, they’re more difficult to handle. The cages are below them. The heads are still agitated after the journey, despite the fact that unloading took place in the early hours of the morning. They move about in a frightened way.
He explains that when the heads arrive, they’re given a spray wash and then examined. They need to fast, he adds, and are given a liquid diet to reduce intestinal content and lower the risk of contamination when they’re handled after slaughter. He tries to count the number of times he’s repeated this sentence in his life.
The shorter applicant points to heads that have been branded with a green cross. “What do the green marks on their chests mean?”
“Those heads have been selected for the game reserve. The specialists examine them and pick the ones in the best physical condition. The hunters need prey that challenges them, they want to chase after the heads, they’re not interested in sitting targets.”
“So that’s why most of them are males,” the taller man says.
“That’s right, females are generally submissive. They’ve tried with impregnated females and the result is very different because they become vicious. Every so often we get requests for them.”
“And what about the ones with the black crosses?” the shorter
man asks.
“They’re for the laboratory.”
The man tries to ask him something else, but he keeps walking.
He has no intention of saying anything about that place, about the Valka Laboratory. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to do it.
The employees examining the shipment greet him from the cages.
“Tomorrow the heads that have just arrived will be taken to the blue cages and from there they’ll go directly to the slaughter,” he tells the applicants, as they go downstairs and walk to the box room.
The smaller man slows his step to look at the heads in the blue cages and motions to him to come over. The man wants to know if the heads are going to be slaughtered that day. “Yes,” he says, and the man looks at them silently.
On the way to the box sector, they pass special cages that are red in colour. The cages are large and each of them contains a single head.
Before the applicants can ask, he tells them that this is export-quality meat, that these heads are First Generation Pure. “It’s the most expensive meat on the market because it takes many years to raise the heads,” he says. Then he has to explain that all the other meat is genetically modified, so that the product grows faster and there’s a profit.
“But then is the meat we eat completely artificial? Is it synthetic meat?” the taller applicant asks.
“Well, no. I wouldn’t say it’s artificial or synthetic. I’d say modified. It doesn’t taste all that different from FGP meat, though FGP is upper grade, for refined palates.” The two men stand there in silence, looking at the cages containing heads that have the letters FGP branded all over their bodies. One set of initials per year of growth.
He notices the taller applicant looking a little pale. It’s not likely he’ll be able to handle what comes next, he thinks, he’ll probably vomit, or faint. He asks the man if he’s okay.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine,” the man answers.
The same thing happens every time with the weaker applicant.
The men need the money, but the money is not enough.
He’s so tired it could kill him, but he keeps walking.