Working The Babyfarm

Yeltsin called himself Big Mama because he spent more than half his waking life tending these maturation chambers for Multi-purpose Baby Industries. He liked the section he was in now most – the babies actually destined for families or insertion points along interstellar travels; they gave him hope.

Wander further through the factory and you had organ farm central and they were just baby-shaped spare part factories – no brainstems, so no consciousness.

Neighbouring that was Foetal Foodstuffs – where the burgermeat babies were farmed. It was gruesome, and his least favourite part.

Back over to Maturation and soothing music was being piped in, the ambient underwater lighting made him sleepy. It wasn’t a bad job, and the monitoring function was fairly easy. He had never klaxoned which was unusual, most people did, and he had heard that the panic was unbelievable. The livestock here was worth a lot of money, whatever section you looked at. Wall to wall, ceiling to floor, row-upon-row: babies.

Big Mama lit up a doobie and put on some Marley on the headphones. His pizza should arrive soon, and it was always fun seeing the shell-shocked pizza guy shepherded through by security.

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