distributor of puree... you see, those kind of things. In all cases, you'll do nothing other than report it with the special phone that I’ll give you.”
“ What happens to injured breasts?”
“ Well, for you, nothing. You’ve nothing particular to do. As I told you, you call and then someone will take care of it.”
“ Yes, I understand. But, out of curiosity, what is done for the animal?”
“ Well... I don’t know! What does it matter to you, since it’s not your job? In general, sick or injured animals are ground up... and presto! into the puree!”
Ukkmato showed the number 7 528 tattooed on the front of one of the dairy bovs which was also engraved on its cage.
“ All you have to do is to mention this number and say what’s wrong," she continued. “Someone will come to fix the problem. From time to time, you'll see a vet. They come to do the inseminations and remove waste from birthing. Whenever there are births, you must report them.”
The beast numbered 7528 move its eyes towards Ukkosal with a look that froze him. They conveyed all the resignation of a prisoner of life that had nothing to hope for except the final deliverance of death. He was then besieged by a terrible inner struggle. Part of him wanted to turn his head away, but he feared that then those eyes would see him as one of the torturers. So he remained frozen a few seconds, unable as he was to interrupt their eye contact, in fear that its poignant pleas would become damning accusations.
“ You okay?” asked his instructor. “You’re feeling sick?”
Ukkosal thought of his parents who, in competitive production, had been ruined by intensive farming. He also thought of what Okkala expected of him.
“ Everything is fine," he assured. “I need this job. I'll do it. You can count on me. Don't worry. You can go on vacation.”
“ Very well," said Ukkmato apparently reassured. “you’ll also see someone come to shear the beasts. It’s only done every six months, but it should be soon now. See, how long the hairs are on its head and around its mouth there. It raises hygiene issues. It falls into the feed troughs...”
*
Etos slowly awoke. He sat down, looked around, rubbed his head while yawning and then stretched. Wanting to scratch his shoulder, he noticed that the things that were glued on him were all new, all clean, that their shapes were different and that they were not quite in the same places. He wondered if they had evolved or if they had been replaced by other things of the same kind. After reflecting upon this for a few seconds without finding an answer, the first concern which came to mind was to check that his tool was still where he had left it. He squatted down and reached an arm between two bars. To his great relief, it was still there, in the grass, against the floor of the cage. He felt it with his fingertips. Just as he was about to grab it, a slight noise was heard. Quickly turning round, he saw the lightning-slayer. He got up and tried to look unperturbed. Had circumstances been more conducive to introspection, he would have been surprised to find that, although its presence delayed his escape plan, he was more happy than upset to see it again. He looked on at it approaching trying to not think about his tool and even less about his wish to break out of his prison. The lightning-slayer could have powers that were unknown to him, such as reading minds. However, he acknowledged that it didn’t appear to harbor ill intentions towards him, although it kept him prisoner. His generous soul came to assume that perhaps it wasn’t responsible, that he had been locked up by other lightning-slayers and that it couldn’t release him. With this idea in mind, he gave this one the name ‘Gentle Lightning’.
*
Akkaliza had just returned from school. In approaching the cage, she noticed that the bov rose with suspicious haste. His embarrassed behavior hadn’t escaped her
“ What happens to injured breasts?”
“ Well, for you, nothing. You’ve nothing particular to do. As I told you, you call and then someone will take care of it.”
“ Yes, I understand. But, out of curiosity, what is done for the animal?”
“ Well... I don’t know! What does it matter to you, since it’s not your job? In general, sick or injured animals are ground up... and presto! into the puree!”
Ukkmato showed the number 7 528 tattooed on the front of one of the dairy bovs which was also engraved on its cage.
“ All you have to do is to mention this number and say what’s wrong," she continued. “Someone will come to fix the problem. From time to time, you'll see a vet. They come to do the inseminations and remove waste from birthing. Whenever there are births, you must report them.”
The beast numbered 7528 move its eyes towards Ukkosal with a look that froze him. They conveyed all the resignation of a prisoner of life that had nothing to hope for except the final deliverance of death. He was then besieged by a terrible inner struggle. Part of him wanted to turn his head away, but he feared that then those eyes would see him as one of the torturers. So he remained frozen a few seconds, unable as he was to interrupt their eye contact, in fear that its poignant pleas would become damning accusations.
“ You okay?” asked his instructor. “You’re feeling sick?”
Ukkosal thought of his parents who, in competitive production, had been ruined by intensive farming. He also thought of what Okkala expected of him.
“ Everything is fine," he assured. “I need this job. I'll do it. You can count on me. Don't worry. You can go on vacation.”
“ Very well," said Ukkmato apparently reassured. “you’ll also see someone come to shear the beasts. It’s only done every six months, but it should be soon now. See, how long the hairs are on its head and around its mouth there. It raises hygiene issues. It falls into the feed troughs...”
*
Etos slowly awoke. He sat down, looked around, rubbed his head while yawning and then stretched. Wanting to scratch his shoulder, he noticed that the things that were glued on him were all new, all clean, that their shapes were different and that they were not quite in the same places. He wondered if they had evolved or if they had been replaced by other things of the same kind. After reflecting upon this for a few seconds without finding an answer, the first concern which came to mind was to check that his tool was still where he had left it. He squatted down and reached an arm between two bars. To his great relief, it was still there, in the grass, against the floor of the cage. He felt it with his fingertips. Just as he was about to grab it, a slight noise was heard. Quickly turning round, he saw the lightning-slayer. He got up and tried to look unperturbed. Had circumstances been more conducive to introspection, he would have been surprised to find that, although its presence delayed his escape plan, he was more happy than upset to see it again. He looked on at it approaching trying to not think about his tool and even less about his wish to break out of his prison. The lightning-slayer could have powers that were unknown to him, such as reading minds. However, he acknowledged that it didn’t appear to harbor ill intentions towards him, although it kept him prisoner. His generous soul came to assume that perhaps it wasn’t responsible, that he had been locked up by other lightning-slayers and that it couldn’t release him. With this idea in mind, he gave this one the name ‘Gentle Lightning’.
*
Akkaliza had just returned from school. In approaching the cage, she noticed that the bov rose with suspicious haste. His embarrassed behavior hadn’t escaped her
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