As the cold of the water hits you, you are brought back to life.
As in every morning, you wake up, eat “breakfast” (if you could call that sad excuse of food a “Breakfast”) and get ready to work.
When you were young, the future seemed to give you many opportunities, you could work in any big company you could dream of, or even make your own.
The hasbio lab accident changed all that. Now you work at a garbage fluffy “mill”.
The concept is interesting, turns out defective products suck at staying alive, even more so those who have been designed to depend on humans.
At first, people thought they could overrun the world, especially after the “Cleveland Incident”, but it was just an accident, that plus the extreme climate changes happening all over the country, Animal control working nonstop, many anti-biotoys legislations and the newlyfound use of everything fluffy-related created the “Fluffy mills”.
The only reason you work there is for the pay, salary is really good. Has to be with everything you sell, it´s not a surprise the owner just bought a brand new Lamborghini.
Every day it’s the same, monotonous, boring and predictable work, just as always. Being the accountant of the mill is easy. But is sickening.
You are no abuser, but no fluffy lover either, for you, they´re rats; in work, they’re numbers.
How many furs did the mill sold this quarter?. How many products?, Did a breeder or Impregnating Tool “Expired” too soon? Did some “Young Products” had defects?, Everything goes in the spreadsheet.
You can still remember the good old days, when you worked in alarge conglomerate of health products, how the cities used to smell diferently, how the people used to be nicer, how silent the allyways were, you miss that.
Things have changed for good or bad, people with fluffies call you a monster, a degenerate, a souless person.
That’s not true, you used to care, like everyone else used to, but you just got bored, desensitized, they are a fact of live, they are also great selling products, they can be used for anything and many industries love working with them since they are as good as natural, without all the animal abuse caveats.
Math is only numbers, your friends say to you. They are wrong, its a world were millions of possibilities can co-exsist, where no definitive answer exist, and don´t.
The ethics of your job are questionable, after all, how do you define a creature that has the inteligence of a 3 year old and can communicate in a rudimentary way?. But that doesn´t matter, your math doesn´t need ethics, neither does the market.
As long as there’s demand, supply will exist. Even for Fluffy Ponies.
That’s your job, that’s your life
Sometimes you remember, of the past you, a idealistic bufoon who could eat the world in a single bite.
Now you barely want to do anything.
The work ends and you go home
Your neighbor complains again, the rats ate his garden
The rats “destroyed” the garden.
They also destroyed ethics, you can kill one of those thing and you will be considered a hero, sell them in bulk and you help the industry.
We used to shame those who tortured animals, now people pay them to do so.
You’re tired, you eat, and go to bed.
Tomorrow will be another boring day.
Until the end comes, you will stay with your world of numbers.
Where there is order, peace, harmony, sense, ethics and, above all, no rats.
Sweet dreams, here you go.
11 Likes
This is my first story, I’ve been lurking here since i discovered the subreddit in 2018, and i loved the concept. Please critique this as much as you want, i’ve only did this bcuz i felt like it. (i’ll probably do another one if this one has a good reception)
Also, english is not my 1st language, so i’m sorry for any gramatical horrors the story may have.
I hope to keep seeing more amazing stories
goodbye
J
4 Likes
I’m always super impressed when people say English isn’t their first language, it’s my only language and I still struggle with it!!
I love the story, the woes of a mill accountant! Hope to see more!!