Soylent Green Visions

Mother's Milk, that's what he called it. But why? I watched as he drained the so called 'life-giving' fluid from the dead flesh. It dripped into the pail below it with a hollow, metallic, plunk.

That's what it was now.., just dead flesh. It had been so horribly mutilated that it was no longer identifiable as anything but dead flesh. My mind reeled as it tried to cope with the realization.., that it looked like a small slab of beef hanging from a hook. That's all.., beef.

I never understood his fascination with it, with this.., blood. I never understood what he meant by energizing. I always felt disgusted and grossed out, and later I'd puke. Everything he fed me would come back up and leave a vile, acrid taste on my tongue. Then he would return, clean me up, and feed me again. Why? Why was he doing this?!


How many more would die by his hand to teach me this? How many more would be tricked into this horror, this slaughter house? How many more would end up on the floor mixed with my stomach acids?!

How many more?

I gagged. The hot taste of freshly harvested Iron-tangy liquid made me want to puke. I've eaten red meat before, and enjoyed my steaks rare.., but there was something very unnatural about this.

He smiles down at me. You'll get used to it, he tells me. He talked about how so many creatures in the world eat everything.., including their own young. Reptiles, especially the larger ones and certain species of snake eat each other. Crocodiles and alligators are known to prey on ones smaller then they are.

You'll learn to appreciate what it is that I do for you now..., when the world goes to hell. His constant babble becomes a drone. He speaks of when nothing is left to sustain us, and says we are the few who will survive. I don't believe him, especially as his crazed eyes un-focus. He sees something then and goes still.

He starts speaking of an Apocalyptic time. A time soon approaching. A time soon to be brought on by human hands, with bombs, and wars, and the whole sale slaughter of innocents.... He continues to mutter, on and on with the same visions. The same rambling nonsense.

Then, shortly after that will come a different kind of slaughter. A massive slaughter, of farmed raise human flesh. Of children fed on the flesh of children, and scientists working madly to make it easier for humans to feed on their own kind. Genetics changed so that we don't succumb to the flaws of eating our own... He mutters darkly and his body twitches.

The thought chills me, sickens me, and yet..., it intrigues me. I shake the thought violently out of my head.., and the tears come unbidden. I pull against my bonds and hear the chain links clink.

This brings him back from his insane internal wanderings. He scowls at me.

The shocking sting of the back of his hand brings the tears to an end. I take a heavy, stuttering breath. Then I sit still once more.

After a long pause I can hear his foot tapping on the ground. He is waiting. I can feel the bile rise in the back of my throat. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I reach my lips for the straw that is attached to the bucket. I can feel his smile of approval.

I can also feel my brain shutting down. It can't cope with what I'm about to do. Some part of me dies slowly.

He purrs at me, "And when you have finally come around, my sweet little thing.."

He reaches down and caresses my face and hair. I can't control the revolted shiver that runs through my body. Even so.., I keep drinking. The iron, salt, sweet, thick liquid hits my stomach like a ton of bricks. It heaves.

I fight it back.

This time, finally, I win. In doing so.., in being able to abide the heavy human blood in my stomach, I know I'm lost.

"Yes, sweetness. You'll be sent to the Breeder Farms and tested for genetic suitability."

I gasp. This is new. Breeder Farm? Am I to be cattle?! Then why feed me? The reasons come rolling through my mind, some outlandish and others far more terrifying.

"If you are shown to be acceptable, you'll be sent for further.., training. If not, you stay...," he starts chuckling darkly and insanely.

I feel the bile rise again. This time it doesn't stay down. He sighs in exasperation and leaves to get the cleaning equipment. Just then, as the door closes heavily, I feel the weight of the whole world descend on my shoulders. It is a crushing, desperate, mournful weight that cause my eyes to well up again.

Knowing this is the only time I get to myself, I cry. I let myself cry. In fact, I force it out, wave after wave of shuddering sobs tainted by a humor. Its a giddy, insane, humor.

This time I can't stop it.

I laugh wildly. It echos around me, empty and forgotten.

Just like the article in today's newspaper stated. I've been forgotten, and written off as an unsolvable Homicide.

Forgotten.

Then the visions come again. Then., nothing.

I sit in a blank stupor, empty and hollow, watching the shadows by the metal corrugated roof make patterns on the far wall. Its coming to night fall again.

Maybe tomorrow someone will find me?