Short Story Spotlight: Cows Can't Speak

I came second in my group for Round 1 of the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge 2024, and I would like to share the story I wrote here.

Genre: Sci-Fi

Subject: Cath and release

Character: A runner-up

Max words: 2,500

Some things the judges liked:

The narrative voice is very strong and full of character...

It kept me engaged. There is a nebulous, wonderful element in the style in which this story is shared. Thank you for the unique tale. 

Enjoy!

Cow's Can't Speak

I shuffle into the Ceremony Room with my fellow Threes. I don’t expect to be one of them for much longer, but for now I’m among peers.

Peers. Stupid word. Concepts like ‘equals’ are irrelevant when you’re the best.

My head is bowed, my yellow hood pulled low, as I take my place.

The Ceremony Room is a tall, cylindrical chamber. The empty core is ringed by galleries from which select Urtesians can observe the proceedings. The lowest rings are filled with Ones, grunts who’ve barely begun to understand the Good Work. Above them stand the Twos, and then the Threes.

The floor opens and the Emperor ascends. Ones and Twos get a brief glimpse of His Greatness as he passes.

Threes alone may gaze upon the Emperor for the entire ceremony, and his throne stops level with me, although he’s facing away, and I can see nothing but the white hood that marks him as Urtesia’s one and only Six.

It’s rather appropriate that we are on the same level. If I were to have a peer, it would be the Emperor.

“Brothers,” says the Emperor. His voice reverberates through the Ceremony Room. “Today a loyal Urtesian ascends to the Fourth Rank.”

Applause erupts on either side. I don’t join in. It’s inappropriate to applaud oneself.

The floor reopens. Two additional platforms begin to ascend.

“Ones,” the Emperor continues. “Our most essential warriors.”

I stop listening. This part bores me. Ones are important. Ones are the bedrock. Platitudes to make the grunts feel important. I enjoyed my time as a One, but I always knew I was destined for more. Ones hunt creatures on the planet’s surface. A dangerous role, certainly. The dominant lifeforms, in particular, attack without question.

But the actual job of capturing, performing the pacification procedure, and releasing individual creatures is easy.

Especially if you know how to talk to them.

“. . .Twos, for they take on the biggest hurdles with the utmost patience.” I’m not particularly interested in this part either.

Twos stay on the ship and creatures are brought to them. It’s easy. The philosophy is still one of catch and release so the pacified can proliferate in their natural habitat, but some creatures just need a heavier hand.

The neural pathways of most of the dominant lifeforms are predisposed to accept the adjustments we make. A snip here, a cut there, and the creature’s innate desire for rebellion is eradicated.

In the brains of those creatures not predisposed, a neural pathway must be created, otherwise the procedure will destroy the creature’s brain and it will be nothing more than a corpse.

Using glossators, Twos persuade creatures that obedience in the face of superiority is the best course, a laughably easy job.

Now, as a Three, I deal with only those creatures who are most resistant to the natural order.

Capture. Pacify. Release.

With some, it just takes a little longer.

The other two platforms complete their ascent. One, a simple disk big enough for a single Three to stand upon, is empty. That is where I will stand when I win.

On the other disk is a creature. The fibers upon its head are short and brown. It stands stiffly, its mouth slightly open.

“Here we have one of the violent creatures that plague our new home,” the Emperor says. We hiss in response.

The creature doesn’t react.

“Many said that we should turn back, find another planet.”

Our hissing intensifies.

“The wise saw an opportunity.” Cheers. “Eradicate their irrationality, render them obedient, and live a life of peace. We have almost achieved complete pacification!”

More cheers.

“The pacified are obedient,” the Emperor continues. He raises a hand towards the waiting creature.

A pause as the Emperor activates his glossator. Then:

“Jump,” he says.

Without hesitation, the creature steps forward, plummeting towards the floor. It opens, revealing the greens and blues of the planet’s surface.

“Catch and release,” says the Emperor.

“Catch and release,” we reply as one.

“Now to announce our winner,” says the Emperor.

I hold my breath.

The disk moves towards me. I ready myself.

At the last moment, it swoops up.

For a moment, I don’t understand. Then, the Emperor says, “Congratulations, Urclext Four!”

My mind shatters.

Urclext? He hasn’t pacified anything in weeks.

I can’t watch as Urclext steps onto the disk several rings above me. I look down and wonder if the fall will hurt.

Unjun, my peer, grabs my arm.

*

“You were the second choice,” Unjun drawls into my ear as he ushers me out of the Ceremony Room. “All the Fours say so. Your time will come.”

His words bring me no comfort.

“Well,” Unjun says when it becomes clear that I won’t speak. “We have a particularly rebellious one in Lab 7. Why don’t you make it your project? Strange creature. Calls itself an ‘Alison.’”

I nod tersely. Unjun is in charge, and his suggestion is really an order.

When I enter Lab 7, the Alison launches immediately into a diatribe of withering insults. Its arms are clamped to those of the interrogation chair. I make a note of the brilliant red fibers upon its head for identification purposes.

“By your slight frame, can I assume you are a ‘she’?” I begin, allowing my glossator to translate my words.

It responds by spitting at me.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say. “My name is Uttime Th…Three.” I stumble on the number, but rally. “I have been assigned your case.”

The creature mutters something that sounds like, “Unblinking monster,” although I have to make some assumptions based on prior experience to fully comprehend the words.

Unblinking. Our name among the remaining unpacified. They seem to find our lack of ‘eyelids’ distressing. The creatures ‘blink’ over twenty thousand times a day to keep their eyeballs from desiccating. Despite the absurd inefficiency of this system, they find us to be the unnatural ones, we who had the good sense to evolve nictitating membranes.

I adjust the glossator around my neck by turning both the setting that translates speech and the setting that translates my thoughts into the creature’s language to maximum purity. Despite Unjun’s warnings, I find this method the most effective in establishing a connection.

I take my seat opposite the Alison. The lab is small, an opaque, domed space with only one door. It contains nothing but the chairs and the creature’s nourishment tubes.

“Are you aware of the Good Work?” I begin.

 “What ‘good work?’” it spits, but now I hear its words clearly.

Her words, my brain corrects.

The creature does know, but she is in denial. I continue. “The Good Work is simple—we, the Urtesian, are committed to eradicating all unpleasant emotions from your minds, rendering you safer and happier.”

“Happier?” the creature demanded. “You think slaves are happy?”

“Your brethren are not sad. Sadness is no longer a problem.”

“You eat us.”

“Some of you. The eaten volunteer.”

“They volunteer because you tell them to. You strip away their ability to say no!”

“So, you do understand. Wonderful.” I rise to leave and dim the lights to near darkness. “We shall speak more soon.”

Hardly my best work, but my motivation is low. I will do better next time.

I consider turning off my glossator, but I lack the energy to care.

Three days later I return to Lab 7. I cannot avoid the Alison (or the disappointing memories I associate with her) any longer.

You were second choice.

The insult still cuts deep.

I sweep into the lab, exuding confidence I don’t quite feel.

The Alison is subdued, but watchful.

“Alison,” I begin. I’ve found that using the pitiful names the creatures give themselves helps establish a connection. “Have you thought about our last conversation?”

I speak smoothly. My glossator’s settings are still set to maximum purity. I hope this will help enhance my successes in time for the next ceremony.

“You want to be a Four,” Alison says, quietly.

My legs become weak. I collapse into my chair.

Alison lips twist into a creature’s version of a smile.

“Thought so,” she said. “We know how your ‘ceremony’ works. You think you’re so clever because you’ve learned to read a few basic facial expressions. You have no idea how much your own face gives away.”

I have no words.

“Like now,” Alison continues. “You’re shocked and ashamed. I’ve surprised you. And you don’t like that I know.”

I leave, saying nothing more and pausing only to plunge the lab into darkness.

This time, seven days pass before I return. The moment I enter, Alison says, “Do you all go by ‘he’ because you think our men are the more powerful and you want to assert dominance?”

“Yes,” I say, sitting reluctantly. Then, because creatures like compliments, I add, “How perceptive of you.”

“What is your species’ gender structure?” she asks.

“We have no meaningful concept of gender,” I say, making the most of the opportunity to converse. “We can all lay eggs, if we choose, which hatch into viable offspring without the involvement of another person.”

Alison nods slowly. “You have your translator thingy turned all the way up, don’t you?”

Not the follow-up question I had expected. “How do you know?” I blurt.

“Because you understood what I meant by ‘gender.’ You also said ‘person.’ You don’t call yourself people, and I know you don’t think we’re people.”

“You’re not. You’re cattle,” I hiss. “You’re beneath us. Do your people ask the cows for their opinions?”

She leans forward. “Cows can’t speak,” she says.

This time, two days later, I begin the conversation. “Is your contention that speech equals value?” I say before I even sit. “That you deserve inherent respect because you can grunt in a way your kind understands?”

“The fact that you can ask me that question in the expectation of a fully formed answer shows that you know it’s not just grunting,” she answers, without a pause. “Are you saying that our ability to act and think does not mean you and I are equal?”

I collapse into my chair, exhausted. “The other creatures aren’t like you,” I say.

“They are,” she says. “I just have extra courage. And knowledge. Would you eat another Urtesian?”

“No,” I reply instantly.

“Why not?” she asks. “Surely some are beneath you?”

By Alison’s logic, every one of my fellow Threes were viable meals.

No. Not Alison’s logic. Urtesian logic.

“I need to think about this,” I whisper.

 “Take your time,” says Alison, closing her eyes. “You know where to find me.”

Unjun’s insistent update requests eventually send me scuttling back to Alison. I am no longer afraid of her, but inexplicably I also can’t bear the idea of her coming to harm.

Consequently, I arrive armed with a plan.

“My job is to build a neural pathway in your brain for obedience, to ready you for the procedure that makes this inclination permanent.”

She says nothing.

“Before the procedure, you will temporarily be housed in a different location. A comfortable location. With a bed. With very few guards.”

Her eyes widen slightly. She might understand, but I’m not sure.

“It’s the sort of place from which a friend could rescue a friend.”

 “Are you my friend, Uttime?” Alison asks.

“I’m your friend,” I whisper.

“Then I agree,” she says. “What must I say?”

I run her through the lines. I will serve Urtesia. I will be obedient in all things. And so on. When she’s ready, I plan for her transportation.

As they lead her away, she glances back at me.

Against my will, my face twists into a smile.

I stride towards the holding area. I don’t really have a reason for being there, but it’s staffed by Twos, and they are unlikely to question me.

The plan is simple. Find Alison. Lead her to a transport. Take her to the planet’s surface. Let her go.

I haven’t considered what I will do after that.

“Uttime,” a voice says from behind. I turn.

Unjun.

 “Good news,” Unjun drawls. “The Emperor would like to see you.”

He raises his arm and shoots me in the chest.

I awake on a narrow, hard slab. It seems the shot was merely an immobilizer.

An Urtesian in red robes stands over me.

A Five.

I have never met a Five before.

“Come,” says the Five. In my shock, I stumble to my feet and follow him.

The dome I enter is large and beautifully furnished. At the far side sits the Emperor.

“Your Greatness—” I begin.

“Silence,” says the Emperor. I stop, trembling. “What is this I hear about a rescue?” he hisses.

“I—” There are no words. I realize, too late, that my interrogations were likely monitored.

“Telling a creature that you are its friend?”

I search desperately for an excuse but find none.

“Foolish infant,” says the Emperor. “Pretending to believe something establishes a neural pathway just as well as actually believing it.”

My hearts stop.

I hear the door open behind me. Someone enters.

I turn my head.

“Alison,” I say.

Alison stands next to me, flanked by Fours. She doesn’t respond. Her vibrant red hair is nowhere in sight. A faint scar runs across her head.

“We saw no reason to wait,” says the Emperor. He stares at me unblinkingly. I repress a shudder.

The Emperor rises. In seconds his face is inches from my own. He grabs my face, and I feel his mind take control of mine. For a moment, I cannot breathe, then he lets go.

The glossator around my neck beeps once and dies.

“What’s that?” the Emperor asks, pointing.

I glance at the dumb beast next to me. “Just a creature,” I say.

“Good,” says the Emperor. “Follow me.”

The ceiling opens. We ascend, the Emperor on his hoverthrone and me on my disk. I haughtily avoid eye contact with the Ones and Twos as we pass.

When we reach the first row of Threes I look for faces I recognize. I want them to see me at the Emperor’s side.

“Fellow Urtesians,” says the Emperor as his throne halts. “Today we show you that nothing can stand in our way.”

Applause. I smile proudly.

“The Good Work will prevail,” says the Emperor.

“The Good Work will prevail,” we answer, as one. I wait patiently for the Emperor’s next command.

He turns to me.

He smiles.

Then he says, “Jump.”