Thursday, October 30, 2014

LIFE IN THE the human food lives ... 10/30/14

Every great house had them. They were like mushroom farms. Special facilities for the propagation of foodstuffs. And in this world the caviar was people. Only few thought of them as 'people.' They didn't talk. None had names. Young ones among the civilized, giant canine things might occasionally keep a few as pets. But they were only 'sea monkeys.' If they died (and they did) there were always new ones waiting in the cellars. 

The trays were stacked fairly high, maybe fifteen to a 'tower.' Each tray required five or six inches. That meant one inch for the soil mixture, two and a half inches of 'air space' so the mushrooms and fungi could grow and the people could stand up and walk around, plus two more inches taken up by the thick, wooden base and sides of each tray. 

Remember, these are 'inches' on this world. On ours that two and a half inches of 'air space' would be equal to ceiling height in an average room. Individual towers, to the civilized canine giants, might be roughly six and a half to seven and a half 'feet' tall, equal to a fifteen story building on Earth. And many cellars had four to six towers.... Cities of the doomed.

There was only the tiniest bit of light. Most believed 'the crop' grew better and matured faster in the dark. Imagine living out your life on one of those trays. Grazing on mushrooms and other varieties of fungi. There might have been a few, straight, metal lined troughs serving as streams. Some for drinking. Some for bathing, when they thought of it. One for a latrine.  Humans were animals, after all.

Junior kitchen help,  perhaps a stable 'boy' or two took care of it all. Sprayed water in with hand pumps... Picture old bicycle pumps, or bug spray pumps. That's what they were. Humans dove for cover during 'wet downs.' They shoved them metal tubes in all the way. Some got hit hard. People died... got torn apart. No need for burials. Just fall down and lay there. Dirt and what grew in it ate them up real quick. Some life.

Matured in about seven years. Reproduced a few times. Slide out a tray. That was a chore. Each tray was about six 'feet' by ten 'feet.' Pluck out the 'bigguns.' Carry them up to the kitchen. Dump them in the glass tank and serve 'em up. Some houses drowned 'em first. Some houses served 'em up alive. Some pinched the heads off. Other places let 'em keep the heads buy chopped off all the limbs. Guess their recipe called for that.

Juveniles left behind had it rough... Little ones... Toddlers. ... Just sat there, all huddled together. You know how lobsters do in lobster tanks? Same thing.

No words... No language... No nothing.

That's who Tomas wants to galvanize. That's who he wants to save. Them and the 'pampered' dollhouse humans upstairs.

Only Tomas. Only a vampire... Lemme tell ya...

<more later>


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