Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
It’s perfect. He’s perfect.
Maybe that’s why I’m panicking as I sit in my barn, watching the machine “birth” my cattle clones. You can set them to different ages based on how much trouble you want to make for yourself and how much you want to spend. If they’re very young (and require bottle feeding), it takes the least amount of resources. Growing them to full adult size via the machine is very resource-consuming, but when they’re released from the cloning tanks, they’ll be fully independent. The vet’s assistant suggested I get them to a “young adult” stage so they don’t have to be bottle-fed but are young enough that it doesn’t eat up my funds to take care of them. Which sounds fine…in theory.
Except now they’re being “born” from the machine and I have a new problem.
They’re cute.
The first meat-stock—a creature with no horns and a gentle, placid expression similar to a sheep-cow crossbreed—is currently wobbling onto his feet in his stall. I’ve spread fresh hay and put out pellets for him to eat, and there’s a trough full of water. I rubbed him down with a brush to get the cloning-vat goo off of him, and as I did, he bleated and leaned against my legs, and sucked on my fingers when I petted his nose.
This is not good.
They’re supposed to be farm animals. Stock to be raised, bred, and slaughtered to make a profit. But as the calf leaning against me tries to lick my fingers, his tail flicks back and forth, almost like a dog wagging with pure happiness. His eyes are big and dark and…
And I’m going to have ten of these creatures and I know I’m not going to be able to send a single one to the slaughterhouse. I’m going to keep them forever because they need to have a good, safe home where they’re loved and cared for and they have enough to drink, always.
Jrrru is going to think I’m an idiot.
I hug the calf at my side, petting him and watching as the cloning machine carefully drains the next tube in preparation of spitting out another calf, this one female. It’s probably going to be just as cute and Jrrru is going to wonder what’s wrong with me and he’s going to think I’m stupid. He’s going to think I’m overly emotional (and I am) and he’ll lose respect for me.
The thought sends me into a panic spiral. How can he stay with me if he doesn’t respect me? Things between us are fragile. Amazingly good, but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong. Because something always goes wrong.
Because happiness seems like it’s too easy, too simple, and therefore it won’t last.
But then the next calf is born and lands on the floor in a messy sprawl of fluids and I automatically move to its side because it needs me.
JRRRU
I’m not sure why my human girlfriend is crying when I get home that day.
I rack my brain as I step into the house, not entirely surprised to see that a bunch of young cattle are in the living room. She said they were due to be born today, so I rushed home after work and picked up food in town so neither of us has to cook. I thought she’d be excited about the cattle. She’s been talking about them all week, and I’m proud of her for taking such a big step forward with her farm.
So finding Tabitha in the center of the floor in what looks like a puddle of cattle as she cries and hugs one of them?
It’s not how I imagined our evening going.
My confusion changes quickly to fear and worry. Did someone mess with her? Did someone make my mate cry?
“Love?” I ask as I come inside. I check the walls but her weapons are in their spots. That doesn’t mean anything, though. If someone was harassing her, maybe she was too busy with the cattle to get her weapons. “Who do I have to kill?”
“W-what?” She sniffs and looks up at me.
“Who do I have to kill?” I ask again. “Whoever made you cry, I swear they won’t continue to walk this land. Just give me a name and I’ll handle it.”
I’m already making plans in my head. The authorities won’t be happy. They don’t like praxiians as it is—and for good reason. We’re warlike and territorial and I’m absolutely going to murder whoever made my mate weep like this. They’ll probably ship me off planet unless I can make it look like self-defense, or I hide the body—
But Tabitha just gives me a puzzled look, wiping at her face. “No one made me cry.”
And then her expression crumples and she cries even harder.
Mystified, I set down the food I brought home and push one of the calves aside so I can sit next to my mate on the floor. She pulls away from me, and I flinch instinctively.