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The Meals Processor – Flash Fiction Journal

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By Julie Dron

The particles floats previous the window, or is it the ship floating previous the particles? Rohk watches with disinterest till he notices Dhanka’s swimsuit drift by, one sleeve raised virtually as if saying goodbye. He spends a lot of his time right here, as there’s little else to do. Dhanka had protested, he recalled. They’d drugged her first, voluntarily, after all. All of them knew, even agreed upon it, forty-five was the very best age, meat-wise. Something older didn’t present as a lot protein for the remaining crew.

They had been initially 911 in quantity. That they had been drifting in area for thus lengthy—who knew how lengthy? He was born right here. Nobody may bear in mind why they had been right here. The quantity 911 had significance, however once more, nobody may bear in mind why? They had been imagined to land someplace, and do what? Somebody years in the past advised him their goal was to search out an alternate planet for people. Once more, he wonders, why? Now, the primary goal is to remain alive, however, what’s the objective of that? There are actually eighty-seven survivors; forty-five is the age to surrender, move your physique to others; meals is scarce. He doesn’t have an issue with this; forty-five years is a very long time, simply surviving, watching particles float by. He has obscure reminiscences; one thing had gone fallacious with the connections when he was very younger.

“We didn’t carry any pens! My god, we didn’t carry any pens! Or paper! Oh my god, now we have no books!”

They didn’t know the way to cope, as soon as the connections had been gone, it appeared. He had been so younger and confused. There was shouting. Folks had been hungry.

“The human race must survive!” somebody yelled.

“Not if we’re decreased to cannonballs!” one other fired again.

When he was younger, he puzzled what this phrase meant—cannonballs. It had performed on his thoughts, and later, he had requested somebody what a cannonball was, they usually advised him it was a spherical ball that was once fired from cannons, to kill folks. They might not clarify, present footage, due to the damaged connections, and since they hadn’t thought to carry pens and paper. It frightened him for fairly a while, that he was going to be decreased to a spherical ball, and fired from one thing, to kill somebody. He was puzzled, however it was all he knew, so he accepted it.

The big meals processor was constructed round this time, in a separate a part of the ship, far-off, as a result of the surviving crew complained in regards to the scent. When somebody reached forty-five, it was the place they went. This supplied a small quantity of protein for a short time. Just a few months in the past Lorf and Lork, the twins, reached forty-five. They ate a feast that day, and as was custom, Lorf and Lork’s fits had been expelled from the ship, and the remaining crew hurried, slowly, to the home windows to observe Lorf and Lork’s fits float away.

Joacin took lengthy floaty strides previous Rohk to stare out from one other window, to observe Dhanka’s swimsuit float away into the blackness, amidst the junk suspended in area forever. He preferred Dhanka, however his starvation and want for strong meals proved extra crucial than a friendship. She had been subdued, upset, requested for a couple of extra days, however he felt impatient. For months now that they had used solely their powder provides, and nobody may learn the squiggles on the packets, so taste was pot luck. A number of the older ones had tried to show them the that means of the squiggles, years in the past, utilizing oil and a stick, however that they had misplaced curiosity—given up. Would look unhappy and depressed. Would repeat the identical mantra. “We should always have introduced books!”

Joacin appeared throughout at Rohk. Rohk is a buddy too, effectively, perhaps not a buddy; he’s simply there. Has at all times been simply there. It strikes Joacin that they’re the youngest, him and Rohk. There have been no extra infants after them. The ladies not produced infants; they didn’t wish to. He remembered this argument, as Rohk remembered different arguments.

“The human race must survive! Produce offspring!”

However the ladies, who outnumbered the boys, protested.
“Pregnant, 9 months, no physician; we ate him final month, bear in mind! CLEVER! If you need youngsters, have them your self!”

Joacin by no means knew who his dad and mom had been. It was determined that kids belonged to the neighborhood, to not people, to make sure that the race may proceed. Rohk had as soon as stated to him that maybe that they had eaten their dad and mom, who is aware of?

He remembers arguments about this too. Joacin misses the arguments; it was a diversion. Hope died with the older era; he doesn’t perceive what hope is, however somebody cried this out, after they had been led to the room with the meals processor. “There isn’t any hope for humankind! Hope is lifeless!” He wonders about hope generally, however has no idea of it in any respect. He wonders if it describes the emotions he has, that it might quickly be somebody’s forty-fifth birthday. He seems throughout at Rohk once more. All of the sudden, for the primary time, it dawns on him what it means, for him to be the youngest. Him and Rohk. He must put Rohk into the meals processor by himself someday; then he can be the one remaining survivor on the ship. He dwells on this for a couple of minutes. And the phrase hope.

Rohk has been pondering too, and out of the blue seems over at Joacin and shouts.

“Hey, have you ever ever been a cannonball?”

Joacin doesn’t perceive the query, so he ignores him, and Rohk doesn’t press for a solution. They proceed to stare out of the window.



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