SMASH or PASS

Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty-Four: Della

The morning rounds begin at six o’clock.

Della Greenvale, with her clipboard under her arm, brushed the mud off her boots before stepping into the south pasture.

The air was cold. The night dew wets the grass, and the fence fittings reflect the morning sun.

Block one. She checked the output records for Milking Barn A. Up two percent from last week. The new feed supplement was starting to show results. Good trajectory.

Second section. Pregnancy rate north of breeding house. Seventy-three percent this season. Slightly short of the target of seventy-five, but within acceptable limits. It can be corrected with next month’s formula adjustment.

Block three.

664’s room was empty.

The bed was folded, and personal belongings had been removed. Only the number plate on the wall was still there.

Della drew a horizontal line through 664’s column on the clipboard.

She wrote "Empty" in the margin.

Next.

Her feet didn’t stop.

◇◇◇

She was on her way from the south pasture to the north side when she saw them.

The newly arrived Cowkins had been released for their morning grazing.

Forty cows delivered by Silken Crow yesterday. All were in good health. Branded. Registered. All that remained was to pass the milking suitability test and distribute them to the respective buildings.

Della looked at the pasture from outside the fence.

The new arrivals had split into two groups. Those already sitting in the grass, and those still looking around nervously. The former had probably been trained in schedule compliance at the facility. The latter were still unaccustomed.

They’d settle. They always settle. For the ones who don’t, there’s the Training Facility.

Among them was one Cowkin.

Number 1203.

One of the younger of the newly arrived group. Small horns, still growing. According to the rearing facility records, her aptitude is more for breeding. Milking is secondary.

1203 was looking at Della.

Through the fence.

Every other new arrival either averted her gaze, stared at the ground, or huddled together, only 1203 looked straight into Della’s eyes.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

That was when her patience ended.

◇◇◇

Della opened the fence gate and walked into the pasture.

The sound of boots on wet grass. She walked in a steady rhythm. Neither fast nor slow.

She walked among the newcomers. They made way for her. Not a single one didn’t. They already knew their places.

She stood in front of 1203.

1203 stood up.

She was shorter than Della. Naturally, being still young.

Her eyes were still looking at her.

She never looked away.

Della’s expression remained unchanged. The same face she wore during the morning rounds.

The same face she had when checking the clipboard. The same face she had when writing a plus sign in the milking shed’s output records.

Two farmhands stood a short distance away. They didn’t move. They weren’t sure yet whether they needed to.

Every cowkin in the surrounding area had her head lowered.

Della stood in front of #1203. She looked down at her. #1203 looked up. Still not defiant. Maybe curious. Maybe confused. Maybe she didn’t understand the rules yet because she’d been born in a nursery and hadn’t learned that eye contact with the owner was a privilege that cowkin did not have.

Della grabbed her by the left horn and twisted.

The snap was clean. Like a branch breaking. #1203’s head jerked sideways. Her body followed. She fell to the grass of the pasture and didn’t move again. The whole thing took less than two seconds. The cowkin on either side of #1203 flinched. Neither of them looked. They kept their eyes on the ground and they breathed carefully and they waited for it to be over.

It was already over.

Della released the horn. She wiped her hand on her coat. She examined the hand briefly, checking for scrapes from the horn surface. Clean. She looked at the farmhands.

"Log it as medical death. Natural causes. Mulch pit for the body before the afternoon shift change. I don’t want the Pasture 3 girls seeing it during their walk."

"Yes ma’am."

"And clean this mess. There’s blood on the grass and I have an inspector from the guild quality board visiting on Thursday. I want this whole farm spotless."

The two farmhands took 1203 by both arms.

The body was dragged across the grass. The fresh brand caught the morning light and flashed white.

A brand stamped just yesterday, ink barely dry.

She looked at the remaining thirty-nine cowkin in the line.

None of them were looking at her. None of them were looking at anything. Thirty-nine heads aimed at the floor, thirty-nine sets of shoulders curved inward, thirty-nine bodies trying to be smaller.

The lesson had been delivered in two seconds and received by every conscious being in the building. The new stock understood the rules now.

Eye contact was not permitted.

◇◇◇

It was a little after nine o’clock when she returned to her office.

She sat down, finished the morning round report, then reached for the next file.

The performance report for the breeding contractors.

Every contractor dispatched by the guild receives an evaluation sheet. Some fields are filled in by the farmhands, others by the assigned cowkin. The cowkin side is a formality: a three-point scale of "satisfied," "neutral," and "dissatisfied." Almost all of them circle "neutral."

The ones who don’t are either very good or very bad.

She opened this week’s contractor file.

Name: Noel, affiliation: Bronze Ledger, rank: Copper.

Farm staff evaluation: Good. Punctual. No problems with attitude. Work efficiency is above average.

Cowkins feedback.

412: Satisfied.

891: Satisfied.

204: Satisfied.

756: Satisfied.

623:--

Della’s finger stopped.

623 had circled "satisfied." as well.

But in the remarks field, there was handwritten text. Cowkin handwriting is usually angular and hard to read, since their education is minimal. But 623’s writing was relatively clean.

"He was kind. I want him to come again."

"..."

Della flipped through the file.

A record of the contractor’s activities during his stay. Reported by the farmhands.

"Cowkin 623 designated this contractor for all three days via formal request through farmhand channels. In every session, 623 presented the contractor with a piece of pottery they had made themselves."

Three days consecutive designation.

And gifts...

Della picked up a pen.

She began writing notes in the ledger margin. Small letters, precise, without hesitation.

"Cowkin 623. Signs of behavioral change. Suspected attachment to the breeding contractor. If left unchecked, the following risks are anticipated:"

1. Decline in milking output. Emotional instability has direct impact on milk quality.

2. Deviation from schedule. Possibility of behavioral changes occurring in response to the contractor’s visits.

3. Impact on other Cowkins. Risk of attachment behavior being imitated by other stock.

Recommended response.

"Continue monitoring Unit 623. If attachment persists, recommend transfer to breeding-only ward. Said ward is off-limits to contractors."

She put her pen down.

623 is an excellent Cowkin. Milking performance is in the top 10 percent. Schedule adherence is perfect. Health is good. A low-maintenance stock.

That’s precisely why these signs must be addressed early.

It’s always external factors that cause a low-maintenance Cowkin to become a high-maintenance one. Conflict with other Cowkins. Health problems. And then, contact with outsiders.

Breeding contractors are a necessary evil. External gene introduction is essential for stock quality maintenance. However, if the stock becomes "attached" to the contractors during this process, that’s a management failure.

A dog wagging its tail at a stranger is charming. A dog trying to follow the stranger home is a problem.

She closed the file.

Next file. Production report.

This quarter’s milking output: up three percent from last quarter. The feed supplement is working. Reviews from Greenveil Premium distributors are also positive. Three clients inside the sovereign wall have sent inquiries about additional orders.

Yesterday’s Silken Claw delivery: 40 Cowkins, all healthy. Good quality. She should send a favorable review to Madame Silk’s office in Vehlmere.

Della wrote a note. "Send quality report to Silken Claw. Request next delivery for second week of next month."

The office walls held graphs.

Monthly output, annual output, fifteen years’ worth.

The far left was from fifteen years ago. The year she inherited a fifty-Cowkin small farm from her mother. The line was low.

From there, moving to the right...

The line went up every year.

Without exception, every year.

Fifty became one hundred, one hundred became three hundred, three hundred exceeded one thousand, and one thousand became two thousand.

This graph was Della’s life.

This graph was everything in Della’s ledger.

She closed the file and leaned back in her chair.

Outside the window, the morning pasture stretched out. Where 1203 had been, there was nothing left. Only the faint traces of trampled grass remained.

Della started humming.

Her usual humming. Her usual morning.

The numbers in the ledger were pointing up today too.

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