End of Beef

The End of Beef

A whistle blows; “Mooooooove” is heard loudly overhead. I stand in line, hand to my heart locket, and look over at my sister. We follow forward, shuffling slowly. The facility starts to appear from out of the fog. “What do you think happens once we get inside,” I ask. She doesn’t answer. The line continues forward in the dark.

Since the Bovine occupation of 2064 my family has moved from place to place, doing what we can to avoid “processing.” It has been two years since my father was taken. That day we watched the life slowly drain from my mother. She no longer wanted to run. She no longer found the dream of freedom feasible. When she died a few months ago, my sister told me she was not sure if she could continue to live how we have been. She questioned “how bad” it could really be? To fall into line like the rest of the world; to be “processed.” Cows and other large mammals had fought for control during my parents early adult years. Humans convinced that these creatures had no feelings, no mental capacity to learn or understand their treatment, had no problem committing mass murder to these beings. When people started to push back, complaining that our treatment of them was “inhumane” and not necessary, the U.S. government started to silence them. Little did we know, these mammals were planning. Their mental capacity was far further along, and after centuries of being treated as a disposable species, here only for the sustenance of undeserving people, the animals were fed up. They had watched their children be sacrificed in bulk, with no end in sight. Mass escapes started taking place. Herds of creatures storming through streets. What followed I don’t think anyone could have expected.

My name is Sicily and I am 16 years old, my parents were obsessed with the idea of traveling, probably because they never got to due so. My sister Rome is 25 this year. She has always been the most levelheaded in our family. After mom passed she sat me down and told me that we may not be able to keep this up, that running away forever is not possible, and that we may need more information about what is happening in the world to understand what is really going on. We have spent the last few months staying as far away from big cities as we can manage. Often, we find ourselves in the desert. No grass, high heat, and little water means large animals are rarely found there these days. However, once dad was gone, we started moving as close as we could to the forest. My mother had become a shell of herself, unable to travel for long periods of time. She was constantly fatigued, and the desert heat had left her many times unable to tell what was real and what was fake. The last few days before she died, she kept taking about cows in a pasture while humming a soft, slow tune. When she finally faded out her hand was raised like she was petting the air, a kind smile on her face as her eyes drifted shut. She looked peaceful.

In the year 2040, when the animals finally rose to power, most humans- believing themselves to still be the “apex predator”- picked up their weapons and went to war. As food ran out and humans started to weaken, less of them seemed able to fight. The cows had started to take over the vegetable fields, ravaging supplies until they were inedible to humans. While the cows prospered and humans declined, swine began to seek power as well. After years of watching political groups fight for every drop of power or money they could get, it was odd to see the cows happily embrace the swine. It was as though the concept of “shared power” was not only known to these creatures, but readily accepted as common practice.

My father told us that right around 2048, when I was born, processing facilities that used to practice “mass murder” of animals, began to start “processing “humans. To this day we have not met anyone who has either seen inside of one of the plants or come out on the other end. We still do not know what takes place inside. My family has done their best to stay as far away from populated locations as that is where most people have been captured. After mom died, we met an older couple who was also living in the forest. They had escaped after being captured and they had some stories to tell. “Did you know they can speak?” the older man asked. His name was James. He and his wife Ann had been looking for food in what used to be South Lake Tahoe when they were captured. James was a Veteran from the Iraqi war. He had spent years in the desert and had no fear of any type of animal, let alone cows. “They have found a way to articulate. They spoke THROUGH us, directly into our minds.” James and Ann had done what they could once captured to stay calm. “We kept our heads down and followed the instructions they projected to us,” Ann had said. “They were never aggressive, just firm. It was as though they understood compassion and empathy. I don’t know how; Lord knows humans had never shown it to them.” James told us that while being lined up to enter the processing facility a fight had broken out towards the front of the line. “When the guards moved to stop the fight, we took our chance.” They ran for days. They did not stop; they did not look back. Once they found their way to the desert, they dropped to their knees never knowing what they may have just gotten away from.

We spent a few weeks in the forest hanging out with James and Ann; hanging onto them is more like what we were doing. Two girls, orphaned in this new world, seeking comfort in a couple of kind strangers that seemed to know at least more than we did. When we finally decided to leave, it was more out of habit than necessity. Rome was adamant that latching on to a couple of strangers was not really a tactic to stay alive. I think she was more afraid of forming an attachment to another person who would most likely die before the new year. SO, we trekked on, moving through the forest slowly. The danger in the forest was much smaller than on a road or in a metropolitan area. Snakes and bugs, we knew how to deal with, pigs and cows? That was out of our scope of knowledge. I lost track of how many days we travelled. Both of us tired of moving, stuck deeply in our own minds; worried for what may come next. Neither of us noticed we were approaching the tree line, neither of us had even thought to look up from the ground; we trudged, despondently, just one foot after the other. We when looked up, surprised by the amount of light entered the woods, we found ourselves face to face with a large, pink pig.

The three of us stood, frozen, starring at one another. No one breathed, no one spoke, I can only imagine the fear on both Rome’s and my face. Softly, like a whispering wind a word floated into my mind. “Children?” I looked wide eyed at Rome. “One child, one adult?” The words came gently into our brains, it was like a gentle petting taking place. We had no clue what to do. Rome, taking charge as she had been known to do slowly brought herself to the ground, eye to eye with the swine. “Hello,” she stated softly, “We have been travelling for days, we are alone and mean you no harm, we know very little about how things have been for the last 16 years. I have never met a pig,” she told the creature. This time, rather than words dropping in, my sister and I reeled while images were played in our mind. Small pigs, very small ones, running around the large one in front of us streamed in our thoughts. The large pig was showing us images of HER children; there was no malice in the images; we FELT love. We were not only shocked, but very confused. The pig let out a gentle sigh, “follow” she thought to us, so follow we did.

Now Rome had lived with our parents in Southern California prior to the occupation, so this concept of a “populated area” was not foreign to her. However, “populated” in her childhood meant people, businesses. This area was indeed populated, but by swine, an entire community of them! “Stay calm and be polite,” Rome whispered to me. I would have sworn I saw the pig smile over her shoulder. We were brought into a small building, several very large swing inside, and were “told” to have a seat. The pig who had brought us here disappeared into a back room and returned with the largest animal I had ever seen in my life. It was a massive cow.

“It has been a full decade since I have seen a young one,” he thought into the air. “And one of middled age as well! Interesting!” I imagine Rome was offended by the term “middle aged,” but she did not remark. “I hate to say it Malia, but they will have to be sent to processing, the House will have to make any decisions further than that,” he said to the pig. With a slow shake of her head Malia showed she understood. She came closer to Rome and me again “come children let us get you fed.” We walked slowly behind Malia as she brought us over to the edge of their community. A small, very old table partially covered by grass and ground was there. “You may sit, I will bring a meal to you.” Food sounded amazing, what kind of food, we had no clue, but we were hungry. Malia returned; a small satchel full of apples hanging from her mouth. “It is not much, but if you will be sent to meet the House, you will need your strength.” We wanted to ask her what happens at the House? We desperately wanted to ask what takes place at plants, and what “processing” would mean for us, but neither of us had the strength or will to do so. We ate our apples silently, me stealing glances at Rome’s unreadable face. We spoke very little that night, too scared to voice our fears.

We were awoken the next day by the loud whistle, the next thing we heard was the loud “Moooooove” that fell into our minds. The word entranced us, and without our consent our feet began to move, walking us slowly into a line, a line that leads directly to a large facility at the end of the road. A line filled with other humans, shuffling in silence towards the entry doors. “Rome,” I said quietly, “should we run?” She looked slowly at me, her eyes sad and said: “I think we have been running long enough Sicily. Malia did not seem like a murderer to me, shit even that massive cow didn’t seem like some sort of monster. Maybe we need to see what is really going on. Maybe this is the end of our journey.” I held fast to my empty heart locket while we walked toward a fate neither of us could have expected. As we approached the door, we were able to glimpse inside. Inside the room the lines continued, yet at the end of the line sat a huge mirror, and on either side sat the largest animals I could even imagine. The process would be veganizing. Veganizing us all.