Urban Acres

A tour guide gazed expectantly at his flock. They were assembled over
a patch of uneven bricks, just inside of the wall that ran between the
Urban Acres Center Facility and a city street. A box truck grumbled as
it passed, and one of the visitors glanced over her shoulder to watch it
pass. Smoking pillars of industry rose from the surrounding city districts.
The guide plucked at the corners of his jacket and glanced at his watch.
He felt a bead of sweat roll down his face within an inch of his nose. He
waited in silence for a few seconds and took a deep breath.

“Okay!” he offered his best attempt at a cheerful tone and smiled to the
company before him. It was a group of eleven, varied in age and brought
to the farm by their curiosity. “My name is Tyler, and I will be your guide
for the day.”

The Urban Acres company had been featured in a recent news article
for the construction of a new inner city facility. The article made such
claims as: In our culture, so many people are unaware of what a farm
even is. They do not understand the living conditions experienced by
the creatures that end up on their plate.

“Have any of you been on a behind-the-scenes tour like this before?” the
guide asked. His crowd stared back, and the faint shaking of a head was
the only response that he received. He took this slight acknowledgement
and treated it as if everyone had spoken.

“Great! This will be a wonderful learning experience. Please, follow me.”

He spun around on his heels and marched to the front door of the facility.
He pulled it open with a rushed flourish and held it as the group
entered in a single-file line. They formed a half circle in the lobby and
glanced about the space. When the door shut behind them, the noise of
the city was abruptly muted. The interior lighting was warm, and a col-
lection of large cushioned chairs off to the side appeared comfortable
enough to fall asleep in. Music played in the distance, but the words were
too faint for anyone to properly discern. They followed their guide past
the building’s front counter, where a young woman smiled and greeted
them. Her appearance was meticulously constructed, and she refused
to let a single hair go askew.

“Enjoy your tour!” she chirped.

On the far side of the room, Tyler led his flock down a wide hallway.
On one side were restroom doors, and on the other he pointed out the
farm store.

“If, after the tour, you’re interested in tasting some of what we raise and
manufacture here, this is the place to go. We keep it stocked with every-
thing that you’re going to see in here today. It includes special variations
that rarely reach the shelves of major supermarkets.”

A few people stood inside the store, inspecting packages of meat through
the glass doors of a refrigeration unit. Above one of the doors, a colorful
poster boasted about the taste of burgers “infused with genuine garden
herbs.” A woman near the sales counter held out a tray of free samples,
neatly sliced into pieces the size of thumbnails.

“There will be plenty of time for samples at the end of the tour,” Tyler
assured the group. “Now, please follow me into the elevator. Upstairs,
we’ll look at a brief history of the company and our practices. Watch
your step as you enter the elevator, please.”

The group fit easily into the spacious elevator cabin. Tyler casually ad-
justed his blonde hair with a hand and used the other to press buttons.
On the ride up, he tried to gauge the attention of his audience with
another question: “How many of you have purchased our products in
the past?”

Half of the group raised their hands, and he grinned in response. He
looked to those who hadn’t and teased, “Well, perhaps we’ll earn a few
new customers today.”

When they arrived at the second floor, he guided them past a small wait-
ing room and in through the double doors of a miniature theater. He
asked the group to be seated, and once they were, Tyler ascended a few
steps to the projector room. The lights dimmed, and a bright square was
projected on the wall in front of them. Music burst forth from speakers
on either side of the image, and the film began.

“What do you guys want for dinner?” a woman asked as she walked into
the frame. She stood in the center of a kitchen and placed her hands on
the counter as two other figures entered the screen.

“I’d love a steak, sweetie. It’s a shame that there’s so much negative talk
about them in the news. Roger was saying just the other day that he can
barely remember the last time he had a burger.”

A young boy entered the shot, and the father frowned at him. “I’m sorry,
pal, looks like we won’t be having burgers anytime soon.”

“Wait here,” the mother said with a hint of mischief in her voice. “I have
a surprise for you two.” She left the frame and reappeared a few moments
later with an insulated bag. She placed it confidently on the counter and
gestured for her husband to open it. He did so without hesitation and
gasped upon seeing the contents of the bag.

“Honey, are you serious? Haven’t you heard the controversies about the
meat industry? Diseases, mutations, this stuff could be dangerous!”

“Read the label, hon. It’s from Urban Acres, where they go above and
beyond to ensure our well-being. They have passed all of the FDA tests
and have pioneered technology that makes that dreadful meat shortage
a thing of the past.”

“What do they do differently from other farms?” he asked.

“Let’s eat first, and then I’ll tell you all about it. I’m famished!”

The scene cut to the moment after their meal. Dirty plates sat on the
table, and each member of the family wore an expression of contentment.

“That was incredible!” the husband exclaimed. “We should eat like this
every night!”

The woman turned to the camera and smiled. “That’s something we
can definitely do.”

At this point, an advertisement flashed onto the screen with a list of
products and prices. The Urban Acres logo, a compressed scene of agri-
culture and city life, rested in the corner of the screen. The screen faded
to dark, and a new voice took over.

“The widespread meat shortage of ’53 shook not only the country, but
the world. Prices of meat exports skyrocketed and countless farms per-
ished. The words ‘scandal’ and ‘farm’ were nearly inseparable across
news broadcasts. Determined journalists and animal activists invaded
facilities and heightened the discontent with their findings. Cows, pigs,
and chickens were afflicted by a plague. In their filthy conditions, diseases
ran rampant and led to widespread recalls. New legislation emerged in
response to the epidemic, punctuated by a number of deaths attributed
to the meat. Mountains of carcasses sprouted up across the globe as
countries fought to keep up with the demand. The fish industry was
already crippled by seemingly irreversible oil pollution, so alternatives
were few. Urban Acres emerged from the chaos with a plan. They created
a single facility, located an hour outside of Atlanta, Georgia. It was a
rocky start, but their policies were fresh air in a world polluted by the
farms that came before. They found a way to feed the growing popu-
lation, keeping the livestock in an urban environment that could make
the distance from farm to table in a matter of minutes.”

The video was accompanied by a number of still shots and short video
clips, all stitched together to form a narrative strange. Tyler watched
eagerly from the back of the theater. He had seen the film at least 60
times, but it never grew old in his mind. He was excited to be a part of
revolutionary agriculture.

“…yes, our livestock receive supplements and are conditioned throughout
their lives to yield more meat than originally thought, but they are not
in misery. You see, we raise breeds that are not on par with the cow of,
say, 40 years ago. They are not happy, nor sad, nor ever uncomfortable.
They exist in a perpetual state of content ignorance, shut off from the
world. Some might argue whether they are really sentient or not. Their
sense of memory is virtually nonexistent, and they go about their lives
based on instinct hardwired into their brains. The American Blacannis,
our pride and joy, is a perfect solution to our consumer needs. You will
hear no wails of pain or misery in our facilities. Why, it’s about as
quiet in there as a field of corn.”

Tyler chuckled lightly in response to the comparison.

“Naturally, activists have had a field day trying to find holes that they can
poke. In the end, they come around to our side and agree that what we’ve
started truly is revolutionary. Why don’t you come by and see the facility?
It’s quite a sight.”

The video went on for a while longer, and at its conclusion Tyler rejoined
his group and guided them out of the room. They followed him down
a new corridor, around a couple of turns, and to a wide window that
looked in on a room.

“This is our nursery,” Tyler announced. “Due to the laxness of the live-
stock, we are required to use artificial insemination. There is livestream
accessible through our website that allows you to witness our adorable
new arrivals. Due to the hereditary ignorance, there is no mother-child
bond following the birth and we are able to immediately begin our feed-
ing regimen in here as we ensure that the offspring are healthy. They
spend the first part of their life in an enclosure beyond this room and
join the main population at the time of adolescence.”

“Do we get to see them?” a woman asked.

“I’m sorry, but that room is beyond the scope of this tour.”

The nursery was populated with a number of women who busied them-
selves about a number of large cribs. Feeding and cleaning instruments
rested in their hands, and one of the women waved to the tour as it passed.
Another woman held the most recent birth, which tilted its head and
tracked the tour for a moment before its deficient memory robbed it of
the discovery. It turned away and stared silently into space as Tyler led
his group further down the hallway.

“Up ahead, you’ll be able to see the first of our adolescent pastures. The
large contraption in the center is our feeding apparatus. The floor is made
up of moveable, self-cleaning panels that allow us to isolate an area that
requires cleaning without needing to send a worker in. The scent of
their food is also hardwired into their brain, instinctively drawing them
close. If for some reason they don’t manage to eat regularly, we put them
under a special care list.”

The space was a stark contrast to the image of a traditional pasture. The
floor panels varied in color between light blue and white. The ceiling
was high and the walls were far apart. The feeding apparatus was a wide
tower, and the livestock were gathered around it. The food placed in
front of them was gobbled up quickly, as if it feeding was the only thing
that they knew how to do.

“What do you feed them?” a man asked.

“It’s an all-natural blend of various fruits and vegetables that are grown
locally. The water that they drink in there is infused with an FDA-ap-
proved compound that promotes growth while also preventing disease.”

The beasts numbered far too many for anyone in the tour group to begin
counting them. A sea of backs faced the raised walkway on which they
stood, and the herd was quiet aside from the occasional grunt. Tyler
saw the interest that crept across the visitors’ faces and waited patiently
until they were ready to move on. He pointed to a far corner, where one
of the beasts stood dumbly by a pile of feces. The floor tiles around the
mess shifted, and narrow hoses emerged to wash the floor clean. The
creature stared at the process with a vacant expression and then walked
slowly away. If anyone in the group expected to encounter the powerful
odor of a herd, they did not voice their surprise. A pleasant scene that
reminded them of lavender pervaded the air. Tyler led the group away.

“If you will follow me, we can enter one of the Tier 2 pastures, between
adolescence and the grown product that we eventually slaughter. The
biggest changes can be seen in the Tier 3 pasture. The growth that they
experience sometimes makes it difficult for them to move in adulthood,
so you’ll notice later on that a bunch will be confined to special pods.”

As the visitors followed their guide through the facility, they paused at
windows on either side of the corridor to inspect their future meals. One
man couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought of the taste that awaited
him. He remembered a time when it seemed legally and morally wrong
to eat such a genetically-modified creature, but times had changed. The
sight of the beasts stirred his hunger.

“Down this stairwell here and we can actually interact with one of them,”
Tyler explained cheerily. A few murmurs were exchanged among his
group as they followed to a glass door at the bottom of the stairwell. Tyler
drew a key from his pocket and unlocked a tall glass door. When he
opened the door, his group was without a barrier to shield them from
the herd. The visitors entered cautiously.

“Don’t worry, none of them will try to approach or flee. They’re entirely
oblivious to our presence, see?”

Tyler shouted to the nearest one, which ignored him in favor of a single
floor tile that had caught its miniscule attention span. Tyler waved his
arms wildly, and the beast looked up at him for a moment.

“Come over here, girl! Say hello to the visitors.”

She blinked, slowly scratched an itch, and then ambled away from them.
While together they formed a herd, the individuals appeared to show no
notice to each other. There was no sense of socialization or community
about them. It was a basic existence that made them seem even more
like crops. The herd as a whole was a mix of gender, color, age, and body
type. They were thin, fat, tall, short, and while many seemed to look
unique they were made the same by their similar lifestyle.

“Those doors along the walls lead to washrooms,” Tyler explained. “We
pride ourselves on keeping the livestock clean. Shall we move on to the
next pasture?”

“How long is the average lifespan?” someone asked.

“Thanks to the compounds that they ingest, we are able to quicken
their physical development and make sure that they reach their peak
condition at the age of 18. In order to guarantee success in the early
years, we were forced to slaughter before reaching the full peak. Now,
however, we have a large enough population to ensure that a great enough
number will always be available.”

“They age quicker than I expected,” a woman said.

“Yeah, it’s amazing how much we can alter their biology. Follow me this
way to the next pasture.”

The Tier 3 pasture was unlike the previous two that the tour had stopped
at. It was an expansive place, filled with hundreds of the beasts. A few
gasps escaped from the tour group at the sight of them. They were mass-
ive creatures, with layers of plump meat wrapped around each thick
limb. Their movements were slow and restrained by the sheer size of
their bodies. Each body was shaved of all hair. It was clear that one man
in the group had never seen a creature so fat. His mouth gaped, and
he whispered a short comment to his friend. Tyler guided them around
the outer edge of this new herd, and pointed around the vast pasture at
various mechanisms. He detailed how to feed and clean the individuals
that were incapable of effectively moving on their own. The tasks were
handled by employees, who also made sure that the livestock remained
healthy. Next, he detailed the criteria by which they decided when to
send a beast to slaughter.

“Would you like to see what happens during the final stage of their life?”
Tyler offered. It was a part of the tour that many people had opted to
skip. The slaughterhouse was not a place for everyone. Of the eleven
visitors, only one asked to be excused.

“I’d like to go back to the lobby,” she said. “Thank you for the tour, but
all of this just doesn’t seem natural to me.”

“It’s very humane, and they don’t feel a thing,” Tyler assured her.

“Thanks again,” she said as she left the group. They watched her leave,
and once the girl was out of sight they followed Tyler to another set of
doors. The quietness of the herds continued to amaze them. The live-
stock were fat, listless, and content.

The slaughterhouse was as clean as the rest of the facility. The floors
glistened, every surface was sanitized, and one beast was in the process
of being led through the central pathway. They watched intently as it
was guided onto a metal platform. The workers coaxed it to lay down,
and once it was settled they attached a plastic tube to its neck. Water
dripped down the beasts sides, and Tyler explained that there was an
extensive cleaning regimen prior to the moment of slaughter. When the
tube was firmly attached, a blade connected to its end made a clean
incision. There was no response from the creature, and they watched
as the inside of the tube turned red. The hulking creature was eerily still,
and the workers stepped away as the blood was drained. Soon, the plat-
form lowered into the floor and the body vanished from their view. They
watched wordlessly until it rose again, clean and empty. Tyler commented
that there were 60 platforms in the slaughterhouse.

“Where do they all go?” someone asked.

“Once they are lowered through the floor, the bodies are shifted onto a
large conveyor belt which takes them to the processing plant. There, the
meat is prepared and then transferred to the store. If you’ll follow me
this way, we can rejoin the hallway that leads back to the lobby. There
will be a platter of free samples on the way, courtesy of Urban Acres.”

On the walk back to the lobby, one of the visitors matched Tyler’s pace.

“Don’t you think it’s strange, us walking around in there like them?” he
asked.

“They barely even notice us,” Tyler said. “I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s just…I find it very strange to see all of this.”

“Have you had any of our products before, sir?”

“Why, yes, I…”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was the most delicious burger I’ve ever tasted. I haven’t come across
anything that could compete, and my freezer at home is stocked.”

“I don’t understand your concern,” Tyler said.

“They look so much like us. They’re huge and bloated and dumb, but
aren’t they still human?”

“I can assure you that they are nothing like us. They operate on the faintest
of instincts and essentially only live to be slaughtered. If we were to open
the doors and tell them to leave, they’d remain right here and continue
to grow.”

“I see,” the man replied halfheartedly. “Well, you can’t argue against
the taste.”

“Ten out of ten surveyed individuals have voiced their support for what
we do here,” Tyler recited. “This is the state of our meat industry, now
that the cows and pigs are virtually nonexistent.”

“Cows can’t compete,” the man said. “Now, where are those free samples?”