The Visitor (17 page)

122724 was thus transported to the slaughter line. There, the cable unwound to lower him until his neck was at a comfortable height for the operator.

Although his vision was reversed since he was upside down, 122724 recognized a uma. He had already seen some from time to time in his short life. Even the first time, something in him, something innate, made him guess that it was a being. A being different from him, but a being as he was one himself. Of course, as he had no vocabulary to fix this concept, this certainty remained a thought without a name. But the mental image that relates to the words ‘being’ or ‘creature’ was no less clear in his mind.

So 122724 recognized a uma, but he didn’t understand so far what it wanted. But the screams of his companions in misfortune and the smell of blood gave him an idea of what awaited him. Terror completely filled him.

The official procedure required that the animals be killed instantly and painlessly before cutting. But the station responsible for this task was a little neglected because it wasn't an important element in the service's performance; it even slowed down the work. The captive bolt pistols, designed to puncture the skull to destroy the brain, only worked once out of two. It’s also true that this equipment judged superfluous for productivity wasn’t maintained, but in any case the employees often 'forgot' to use it to go faster. Thus, fully aware, 122724 came before the first station in the chain that would transform him into pieces of meat in laminated trays intended for consumers.

When the blade opened his throat and he began to choke in breathing in his own blood, his vision darkened. Vocal cords sliced, he was reduced to endure it in silence. He struggled at the end of the cable, but the pain in his throat was such that he didn’t feel his ankle any more. A reduction in blood flow in the cerebral arteries should have offered him a timely loss of consciousness, but alas the position in which he was, promoted irrigation of the brain, thus delaying the liberating syncope. Continuing to advance to the next operator, he was still fully conscious when the saw began to cut him into pieces. No one is able to describe his sufferings, because no one has survived such a treatment.

*

Divorced and childless, Ikkillu lived alone. She was quietly watching television while eating the flesh of 122124, a meat bov that had suffered two days ago a treatment identical to the one that 122724 had endured. It was cooked in sauce dish that she was particularly fond of. From time to time, Kkamdora, her pedigree hinec, came to beg for a piece of cooked meat. She would give him one always repeating the same phrase:

“
That’s enough begging, you bad girl! Here, this is the last one, okay!”
 

In the local news, the anchor was talking about a young uma sentenced to two months in prison for abuse of a small thac thrown against a wall in front of outraged witnesses.

Two months!
she said to herself.
That’s not enough! I would have locked him up for ten years! Hurting animals like that... Piece of dirt! People like that don’t deserve to live!
 

She was putting a piece of meat in her beak when the doorbell rang.

Who could be coming at this hour without warning?
She asked herself.
 

Her hinec snarled.

“
Quiet, Kkamdora!” she ordered.
 

Quickly swallowing, she got up and walked to the door. Surprised to see her boss through the peephole, forgetting all forms of politeness, she opened:

“
Mister Akkal? Why?... What...?”
 

“
Good evening Ikkillu. Excuse me for disturbing you at this hour, but I had to see you urgently.”
 

“
Good evening, Mister Akkal. Excuse my casual outfit, but I didn’t expect anyone...”
 

“
I don’t have much time. Every second counts. I’ll give you everything I have, if you can...”
 

“
What? But do enter, enter... What's going on?”
 

Akkal made two steps to cross the opening. She could barely close the door without shoving him. Crest fallen, the veneer of his beak chipped a little, he looked dejected and unkempt.

“
Where’s the wild bov that was wounded by the security service?”
 

“
In the lab. Why?”
 

“
Come immediately with me, it's urgent. I’ll give you everything I have if you can save her.”
 

“
But...”
 

“
We’re losing time. We must act now!”
 

The situation was so unexpected that Ikkillu had difficulty to really grasp what was happening. She didn’t know how to react. Should she insist that he enter at least the time necessary for a clearer explanation, or should she follow him as he requested? In that case, she should change into something more presentable or...

“
I beg you, Ikkillu,” said Akkal scratching his front scales. “It’s a question of life or death. I offer you all my shares of Nature Foods if you’re able to keep this beast alive.”
 

“
But, sir... It’s already dead.”
 

“
Are you sure?”
 

“
...”
 

“
Did you make certain?”
 

“
No.”
 

“
All my shares of Nature Foods,” Ikkillu. “All! Fifty-one per cent. You'll take my place as boss.”
 

It was so surreal that she took three seconds to decide:

“
Let's go.”
 

*

Ekklamisa was at home. She was unable to prevent her eyes from turning towards the countdown: T = - 85,532.

It was displayed on her laptop, set on the living room table, as well as on the wall, on the monitor connected to the space center. Ikkarix was keeping her company. She had invited him to spend the evening with her. His humor was sometimes annoying, but she needed him to be less anxious in waiting. They had swallowed a ready to eat meal in front of the television. Ikkarix, who was vegan for years, wanted to see The Inquirer on channel 2. Member of the association Two One Four, he didn’t hide his admiration for its President Okkala. The show was about to begin.

“
It’ll help me wait and I'll learn things that will help me to better understand your veganism,” said Ekklamisa.
 

“
I hope you’ll go that way too. It’s more compatible with your profession...”
 

“
Why?”
 

“
Because, ethically, consuming products of animal origin is primitive!”
 

“
Primitive?”
 

“
Well, yes! You know that I’ve always dreamed to be an astronaut...”
 

Ikkarix was unable to embrace this career because of vision problems.

“
Yes, I know... but what are you getting at?”
 

“
I imagined myself aboard a shuttle, ready to go into space, in my nice suit, surrounded by the most advanced technologies... with animal flesh in my stomach! Ah! What an anachronism would that be! Why not a club on the shoulder too! You should think about that for yourself too, you know! You the director of space mission operations...”
 

“
...”
 

“…
Chewed muscles in your stomach and a club set beside your keyboard! Ha Ha Ha!”
 

He made creaks, shaking his neck scales, which corresponded to a wry chuckle that often irritated Ekklamisa. But this time she was more disconcerted than annoyed.

Okkala was very surprised to see Ukkosal among the guests on the program. He looked somewhat disturbingly sullen. She was unable to talk to him because he had arrived at the last minute, almost at the moment when the host had all of them seated facing the cameras. She found him really weird. Nervously flipping his crest every few seconds to one side and then to the other, it was evident that he was avoiding to look her way. He preferred to stare at an undefined point right in front of him. She hoped that he wouldn’t make a counterproductive scandal.

“
Dear viewers, good evening!” began Ukkaire the host. “Welcome to the set of The Inquirer, on channel 2. Tonight show's theme is: "Is veganism a passing fad or a nascent movement meant to grow? '' I'll now introduce our nine guests that have come for this debate. In order to be impartial, we tried to bring together people concerned from all points of view.”
 

The field of the camera widened to show a semicircle of white armchairs in which the guests were installed. They all faced the host located at the center of this arc.

“
So, to begin from the left,” continued Ukkaire. “Good evening, Madam Ukkuulaae! You’re in charge of a small farm. And from what it says on my card, you, Madam, own hundred dairy bovs and a slightly less meat bovs, is that so? Correct me if I'm wrong.”
 

“
Good evening... Yes, that's right...”
 

The camera showed a close-up of each guest:

“
Good evening, Mister Akkoronta! You, you're here, to talk on behalf of the Ralchadomac company, one of the largest of
meat and dairy production units. Ralchadomac has no less than eighty thousand dairy bovs and three hundred thousand meat bovs. It's huge!”
 

“
Good evening, Mister Ukkaire! Yes, indeed, it's doing well.”
 

“
Madam Okkala, good evening! You’re here as the Two One Four association spokesperson. Later, you’ll tell us the origin of that strange name. We’ve invited you because you are one of the icons of veganism. So expect to be riddled with questions since that’s precisely what we are going to talk about tonight. You’re purely and simply fighting against animal exploitation and for food of exclusively vegetal origin.”
 

“
Good evening. We are vegan, so we refuse to consume or make use of any product of animal origin. Not only food. We don’t use any animal’s skin, for example.”
 

“
Animal’s skin?”
 

“
Yes, the skin of an animal. You call it ‘leather’ to forget that it's animal skin.”
 

“
Er... Yes! Okay, you’ll talk about it more precisely in a moment.”
 

The host turned to the next guest:

“
Good evening, Mister Ykkypol!”
 

“
Good evening.”
 

“
You too represent very large company. It’s well known by consumers and is called Nature Foods. This company has fifty thousand dairy bovs and two hundred thousand meat bovs in production.”
 

Ykkypol nodded his crest. His scarlet beak polish was shining like pure gold under the generous light of floodlights.

“
Good evening, Madam Minister of Agriculture!”
 

“
Good evening, Mister Ukkaire.”
 

“
Thank you for accepting our invitation.”
 

“
My pleasure...”
 

“
We are counting on you to answer questions from our guests, but of course you’ll have ample opportunity to put in a spontaneous opinion to enrich the debate.”
 

Okkala noticed that Ukkosal's eyes hadn’t turned even one degree. He continued to stare straight ahead to somewhere on the wall that had no particular detail. His beak wasn’t varnished. In day to day living, this would be considered quite unkempt for a uma. So, on television... He was the focal point for many disapproving glances.

“
Good evening, Mister Akklonp!”
 

“
Good evening, Mister Ukkaire!”
 

“
No presentation is necessary for the great and well known philosopher that you are. We have no doubt of the relevance and enlightenment that your interventions will bring us this evening.”
 

“
Monsignor Ikkroya, good evening. You’re here to give us the theological vision of uma-animal relations. I’m sure that your presence will provide enriching elements to our debate.”
 

“
Good evening, Mister Ukkaire.”
 

“
Professor Kkmura, good evening. you're an ethologist.”
 

“
Yes, good evening.”
 

“
Your expertise about the psychology of the animals will be invaluable to us tonight.”
 

“
And finally, let's get acquainted with Mister Ukkosal. Good evening, Mister!”
 

“
... evening,” muttered Ukkosal, finally turning his eyes to the host.
 

“
Mister Ukkosal will be our Mister Candid for tonight. He may ask any question that comes to mind. It should be noted
that Mister Ukkosal said that his parents were farmers, that they made their living on a small farm, but that it couldn’t survive the competition from industrial farming. Is that so?”
 

“
That's right.”
 

Okkala was struggling to detach her eyes from Ukkosal who was still visibly avoiding to look at her.

Presentations completed, Ukkaire said:

“
I propose we start with Madam Okkala. No favoritism, but only because she came with some videos that she would like to show to open the debate. Anyway, debating time will be counted and we will endeavor to share it equitably between you. To avoid protests, the projection’s duration will be deducted from Madam Okkala’s speaking time.
 

Fifty seconds of scenes taken at Ralchadomac and Nature Foods appeared. Perspective views of a row of milk bovs, some short close-ups of bovs mouths eating, chunks of meat at the end of the slaughter line and finally end products packed in cellophane covered trays scrolling on a treadmill.