of emotional, sensitive donkey meat, he was busy trying to figure out how to transport live, water-treated animals from the meat-cleansing workshop to the kill rooms, a technological problem with momentous impact on United's meat production.
My first brainstorm was about a series of conveyor belts from the injection station to the various kill rooms. But I rejected that. Even though Lao Lan had said not to worry about the cost, I knew that the plant's finances were tight and I didn't want to add to my parents’ money worries. I was also aware that the plant had inherited its electrical system from the canvas factory and that its old, frayed wires and transformers were already overloaded. The system would collapse it it had to power conveyor belts carrying tonnes of cows. Next, I considered sending the animals into the kill rooms on the hoof, that is, perform the treatment there and then slaughter. But that would put the newly created meat-cleansing building out of commission even before it was up and running. And I'd be out of a job. Even more important was the fact that the animals receiving the water treatment continuously emptied their bowels and their bladders. Slaughtering them amid all that filth would affect the quality of the meat. Every animal sent out from the meat-cleansing workshop was supposed to be clean, inside and out; that was what separated United from independent butchers and all other meatpacking plants.
The donkey meat sang in my mouth as my brain went into high gear, each discarded idea quickly replaced by a new one. In the end, I came up with a solution that both suited local conditions and was simple and cheap. Lao Lan's eyes flashed in excitement when I explained it to him: ‘You really are something, youngster!’ he said with a pat on the shoulder. ‘I approve. Put it into operation.’
‘I guess that's what we'll have to do,’ said Father.
At the workshop's exit, I had a team of workers build a rack with five thick fir posts. Then a hoist atop the rack with a block and tackle, christened the ‘lifting gourd’. Another team joined two flatbeds to make a moveable platform. With that device, when the workers led or dragged a water-treated cow or some other large animal to the exit—standing if possible, lying if not—a rope was placed under its belly to hoist it up onto the platform, which was then pushed and pulled—two men on each end—rumbling straight into one of the kill rooms.
What happened to it there was not our concern.
Water-injected large livestock no longer presented a problem. As for pigs, sheep, dogs and other domestic animals—well, they're not even worth a mention.
POW! 35
My narrative is cut short by the wail of ambulance sirens, one from West City and another from East City. Then two more out from each, making it a total of six. When they meet on the highway, two turn onto the grass field, leaving the remaining four in the middle of the road. Their flashing red and green lights heighten the tension and terror in the air. EMTs in white smocks, white caps and blue masks, some carrying medical bags, others lugging simple stretchers, rush out of the ambulances in the direction of the meat-vendors, where people have formed a dozen or more tight circles. The medics push people out of their way to get to the stricken—some lying unconscious, some rolling on the ground, some others bent over, vomiting. People pat the backs of their retching friends, and family members kneel beside the unconscious and anxiously call out their names. The medics first examine and tend the unconscious and those rolling on the ground. Then up onto the stretchers they go, to be carried off to the ambulances. There are not enough stretchers so an EMT asks for help to carry or help poison victims to the ambulances. The medical vehicles halt traffic from both directions and, in no time, more than forty cars are stopped, bumper to bumper. They do not suffer in silence, however, and announce their displeasure with a barrage of blaring horns. It's the worst noise in the world. If I were king of the world, Wise Monk, I'd destroy every single horn and horn-blower. Now come the police cars and the police. A policeman drags a truck-driver out of his cab because he refuses to stop honking. The driver resists, and his surly manner so angers the policeman that he grabs the man by