Evan hung there in shock. In front of him stood Vollmond. He had come to talk with him, and it had ended with him going through almost the entire meat production line and nearly becoming a product of the meat industry.
Even now he was hanging on the chain hoist like a carcass in a slaughterhouse. He wanted to scream, but he had a gag in his mouth.
Vollmond approached him.
"Before we begin. I didn't do this on a whim or for entertainment. I wanted to show you a certain truth."
Evan looked at him. Normally he wouldn't have cared, but there was something unsettling in Vollmond's voice.
"Now I'll remove the gag. Just don't scream."
Evan mumbled yes. The gag was taken out. A moment later Evan was standing on his own feet. Both of them walked over to the window, which overlooked the factory. Vollmond began to speak.
"In our society, hunting is glorified. Evan, what do you think—what percentage of consumed meat comes from hunts?"
He thought about it. He had never considered it. Several times he had been the prey of hunts. He had seen meat shops and display cases, and now this factory.
Suddenly something came back to him. In the meat shop he had seen portioned meat and deli products. As he passed through the lines, he had seen them producing deli items. He tried to calculate how much of it there could be. Numbers without order or composition flew through his mind. The commissioner answered him.
"The share of meat from hunts is up to 15 percent of all meat on the market. Usually it's between 5 and 8 or 10 percent."
Evan looked stunned when the commissioner spoke the next words.
"The rest comes from smaller processing facilities and plants like this one."
Evan pressed his nose to the glass. The overwhelming majority of meat came from something like this?
"Practically everyone knows about it, but no one talks about it. They don't even want to think about it."
Evan could only say one word.
"Why?"
The wolf sighed.
"Most often, people aged 18–21 hunt. That is, at the peak of instinct and with the most free time. After finishing school, the percentage of hunters drops sharply. Work appears, starting families, studies, and other responsibilities. Young people hunt mainly because they are 'very adult' and because their blood is boiling. Over time they mature and calm down, and hunting is left to true enthusiasts and professionals."
Evan remembered a friend from Earth. He loved eating fish, but he never went fishing. He thought about it a few times, but he never had the time or means to travel far to a river or lake every time he felt like fish. He always bought it at the store. It was the same principle.
"So everyone…"
"—criminals and meat orphans."
Vollmond finished for him.
"And that's enough?"
Ernst shook his head.
"No, there are always shortages. We never manage to achieve a stable situation on the meat market. There's always too much or too little of something."
Evan looked aside.
"We can't influence who commits crimes or which orphan doesn't find a new family."
Evan swallowed. He understood what Ernst wasn't saying.
"Horrible."
The wolf nodded.
"It's true, but thanks to that the streets are safe—and I'm not talking about eliminating criminals."
"They have meat, so no one really lurks in corners or alleys."
"I see you understand. Besides, hunting itself is dangerous for the hunters too."
The commissioner sighed sadly and leaned against the glass.
"They suffer wounds that sometimes end in death. In the hunting frenzy they break the law and end up in display cases or on the line."
Evan remembered the girls' first crazy escapade chasing him. They had run after him into the green zone and almost started eating him. If they had bitten him… they could have ended up here. The commissioner must have sensed what he was thinking, because he nodded.
"Let's discuss the rest in my office."
Evan sat in an armchair in the commissioner's office. He was wearing a bathrobe. They had administered an intravenous ink-removing agent. In an hour the tattooed markings would disappear completely. The only downside was that his urine turned black. On the other hand, the whole thing lasted only about 12 hours and was much less painful than laser tattoo removal.
Suddenly something occurred to him. He raised his hand like in class. The commissioner gave him the go-ahead to speak.
"Actually… how does hunting work?"
It had been bothering him since the conversation in the room overlooking the production line.
If every tenth piece came from hunting, there still had to be quite a few hunters.
"I'm glad you asked. There are several typical hunting methods. The rarest is the traditional method. You lie in wait and attack. That one has the most legal restrictions and risks."
"Red zone."
The commissioner nodded.
"That's just one of many rules. On top of that, your target can fight back. Another method common among the young is the dating method. You pick up some horny desperate and invite them to your place. It's not always about meat. Sometimes it's just casual sex, but sometimes lust mixes with hunger."
The boy shuddered slightly.
"I know what you mean."
Evan's life had basically been one big hunt using the dating method—with him in the role of prey. Suddenly something came back to him.
"The Noctevore brothers' building. At the entrance there was a sign marking it as a green zone."
"False zone marking is illegal. It's also illegal to divide a building into different zones without a clear separation. A green zone cannot directly border a red zone. A minimum distance is required between zones that are not inside buildings. When consent is given in a green zone, moving to an appropriate zone is required in order to carry out consumption."
The commissioner bombarded him with a dozen more legal notes before clearing his throat.
"The next method is practically a social phenomenon. It's called public hunting."
Seeing that Evan didn't understand, he explained.
"Someone does something stupid on social media or in public space that can easily be interpreted as consent to consumption. Most often it happens under the influence of alcohol or various substances. That's not an excuse."
"Do they have to live with it for the rest of their life?"
"Only a month. After that such consent expires."
Evan breathed a sigh of relief. The vision of looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life wasn't very appealing.
"There are also settlement hunts, sometimes called sport hunts. It works like this: both parties enter into a kind of agreement. The agreement must be written down, then one party hunts the other. Such a hunt doesn't always end with eating. Most often it's a spectacle for the audience."
Evan sighed, overwhelmed.
"No matter how you look at it, it's only a dozen or so percent of the total…"
The commissioner nodded.
"Any other questions? If not, can we move on to my offer?"
Evan perked up his ears.
"Simply put, I want you to become part of the system."
The boy in front of him—the one the system had almost ground up—opened his eyes wide.
"I understand that my offer isn't full of splendor or fame, but it will give you stability and a permanent place in the system."
The wolf tapped his hand far to the left.
"Of course you wouldn't start working in a processing plant. You'd start in one of the distribution centers, working at the counter."
He moved his hand to the right.
"Then you'd help butchers with meat breakdown."
He slowly moved his hand in rhythm with his words.
"Over time you'd start conducting the process yourself. Eventually you'd take control of your own team, maybe even a plant."
Finally he stopped his hand.
"Who knows, maybe you'd become a regional director. There are a lot of possibilities."
Evan's brain tried to process it all. Ernst wanted to make him a butcher…
He was promising stability and a secure place in the system, but at what cost…
What would he become if he stood at the line?
Chaos reigned in his head. He tried to calm down. He needed a distraction. He looked at the desk. He saw a photo of some she-wolf on it.
"Who's that?"
He pointed at the photo. She looked very similar to Frida. For the first time the commissioner seemed thrown off and… sad. He flattened his ears and took the photo in his hand.
"Helga. My wife."
So that was Frida's mother. Evan wanted to dig deeper into the topic when the commissioner spoke.
"She's dead."
Then he started rambling incoherently. Evan didn't understand much of it, but it centered around risk and stability. Finally he sighed.
"Think about my offer."
He pulled a bag and an envelope out from under the desk.
Clothes to change into and money for the destroyed clothing. You can get dressed in the little room next door.
As Evan was about to leave the office, Ernst spoke once more.
"One more thing."
He stopped at the door.
"The Noctevore brothers asked me to pass on their thanks for standing up for them."
When Evan left the plant, he didn't know what to think.