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Authors: Andrew C. Murphy
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examined and checked against a list from the hospital. Those that are not compromised by the lymphoma are packed into a stasis field container, similar in principle to the touch of a Deathsman, and returned to the hospital via a different elevator. The rest are dropped down a chute to a conveyor belt, where they will be separated according to chemical content, dissected, and distilled.
The contents of the skull are removed. Extra care is taken in the extraction of the pituitary gland because of the part it plays in the production of musth, a natural euphoric highly prized by those citizens who can afford it.
The skin is peeled away from the body to be made into vellum and paper. The fat is cut off for use in oil, wax, and soap. The muscles are dropped into another chute where they will be ground up and sent to the kitchens. The collagen in the blood vessels is used to make elastic. The marrow and stem cells are extracted from the bones. The bones themselves are pulverized to make fertilizer and cement. Whatever is left is thrown into the great bubbling vats. Nothing is wasted.
The knackers work tirelessly and without speaking. A knacker who does not shoulder his share of the work might end up lying on one of the metal slabs instead of working at it. But there is another reason for their perseverance. A worker who excels in his duties here might, if he is lucky, be promoted to a different level, where it would be his duty to break down and assemble machines instead of the bodies of other men and women.
JUSTIFY
Ready grabs the old man’s wrist and presses their idents together so that the access ports link up. With Ready’s knife to his throat, the old man enters the release code to drain his financial account. When they’re done, Ready punches up his own account to see what’s been added to it.
“That’s it ?” he says. Though his eyes and his voice don’t betray it, Ready wants to cry. When he quit his job at the hydrogen conversion plant, swearing not to live behind plexiglass and die in flames like his father, Ready thought he was finally free. Now he realizes he’s just traded one jail cell for another one, slightly larger and just as indifferent.
Despite Ready’s angry tones, the ragged people hardly even look up. Only the old man, the ‘father’ of this conglomeration, is watching Ready and his partner. The others continue cooking something unpleasant in a metal box over an open fire. Ready doesn’t want to guess what it might be.
“That is all we have,” the old man says in a flat voice. He is not frightened of Ready and Hoon. He is not even angry at being threatened. He seems only to consider them an inconvenience.
Ready pushes the old man’s face. He stumbles backward into the wall, which breaks apart, bits of rusty metal and cardboard coming unglued. Beyond the wall, another huddled family looks up, seemingly unsurprised by the intrusion. Unhurriedly, one of them stands and begins building the wall up again. The old man’s family reacts only just enough to protect whatever it is they are cooking.
“Do you want me to kick your fucking face in?” Ready shouts, waving his ident. “I know you’ve got to have more than this!” Bags of the family’s belongings bump against him as he moves. There is barely enough room to stand in the tiny hovel.
“That’s all we have,” the old man repeats. “Look around you. Do you think we are rich?”
Ready’s friend Hoon laughs with a goofy grin. Hoon didn’t tie his respirator on tight enough as a child. He’s not too bright.
In frustration, Ready runs his fingers through the stripecuts in his hair. A life of misery has left these people indifferent to the threat of violence.
“Maybe I should just tear this place up,” he says, waving his arm. “Maybe I’ll break a seal and let the fumatory in.” At this last threat, the other family members finally look up. That scared them.
“The tough thing about a broken seal, y’know,” Ready
The contents of the skull are removed. Extra care is taken in the extraction of the pituitary gland because of the part it plays in the production of musth, a natural euphoric highly prized by those citizens who can afford it.
The skin is peeled away from the body to be made into vellum and paper. The fat is cut off for use in oil, wax, and soap. The muscles are dropped into another chute where they will be ground up and sent to the kitchens. The collagen in the blood vessels is used to make elastic. The marrow and stem cells are extracted from the bones. The bones themselves are pulverized to make fertilizer and cement. Whatever is left is thrown into the great bubbling vats. Nothing is wasted.
The knackers work tirelessly and without speaking. A knacker who does not shoulder his share of the work might end up lying on one of the metal slabs instead of working at it. But there is another reason for their perseverance. A worker who excels in his duties here might, if he is lucky, be promoted to a different level, where it would be his duty to break down and assemble machines instead of the bodies of other men and women.
JUSTIFY
Ready grabs the old man’s wrist and presses their idents together so that the access ports link up. With Ready’s knife to his throat, the old man enters the release code to drain his financial account. When they’re done, Ready punches up his own account to see what’s been added to it.
“That’s it ?” he says. Though his eyes and his voice don’t betray it, Ready wants to cry. When he quit his job at the hydrogen conversion plant, swearing not to live behind plexiglass and die in flames like his father, Ready thought he was finally free. Now he realizes he’s just traded one jail cell for another one, slightly larger and just as indifferent.
Despite Ready’s angry tones, the ragged people hardly even look up. Only the old man, the ‘father’ of this conglomeration, is watching Ready and his partner. The others continue cooking something unpleasant in a metal box over an open fire. Ready doesn’t want to guess what it might be.
“That is all we have,” the old man says in a flat voice. He is not frightened of Ready and Hoon. He is not even angry at being threatened. He seems only to consider them an inconvenience.
Ready pushes the old man’s face. He stumbles backward into the wall, which breaks apart, bits of rusty metal and cardboard coming unglued. Beyond the wall, another huddled family looks up, seemingly unsurprised by the intrusion. Unhurriedly, one of them stands and begins building the wall up again. The old man’s family reacts only just enough to protect whatever it is they are cooking.
“Do you want me to kick your fucking face in?” Ready shouts, waving his ident. “I know you’ve got to have more than this!” Bags of the family’s belongings bump against him as he moves. There is barely enough room to stand in the tiny hovel.
“That’s all we have,” the old man repeats. “Look around you. Do you think we are rich?”
Ready’s friend Hoon laughs with a goofy grin. Hoon didn’t tie his respirator on tight enough as a child. He’s not too bright.
In frustration, Ready runs his fingers through the stripecuts in his hair. A life of misery has left these people indifferent to the threat of violence.
“Maybe I should just tear this place up,” he says, waving his arm. “Maybe I’ll break a seal and let the fumatory in.” At this last threat, the other family members finally look up. That scared them.
“The tough thing about a broken seal, y’know,” Ready
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