adminBen Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Dear Diary,
Not even two weeks after I finally graduate from high school and I got a letter, it’s from the Bureau of Human Resources; I have been drafted into becoming a “governmentally employed milk distributor”. Whatever that means. I know that America hasn’t used cows for dairy products in, like, twenty years but I’ve never even been to a farm. This sounds like farm work.
Mom and dad are devastated kinda, I’ll only be gone for maybe two years but I’ve heard that some people choose to stay in milk distribution. I don’t know, it could be like a factory job; I remember in class one time we watched a documentary on factory farming, the bad conditions are the main reason why everything’s different now. I paid attention in class sometimes. I planned on getting a job over the summer, maybe I would apply to college for the fall semester, but that has gone out the window.
Anyway, I’m all packed and ready to leave almost. Apparently there’s supposed to be a bus picking up all the other girls, we can’t be going too far but town isn’t that far from the big city. Maybe that’s where we’re going? Gotta go, I’ll be sure to write about what’s up when I know.
Love,
Jane
–
Jane closed her diary and stashed it inside a pocket of her tuzla escort suitcase; in her suitcase were all her clothes, her toothbrush, toothpaste, and a copy of her favorite book because Jane was afraid that her destination would not have Wi-Fi. She sighed and scanned her bedroom, it would be the last time she would see it for quite some time: her room was the attic converted into a bedroom, posters were plastered on the slanted ceiling, a shaggy carpet covered most of the wooden floor, and in the corner was a telescope she used to look at the stars through the solitary circular window of the room.
“Jane, the bus is here!” Her mother called from downstairs. Ever since Jane first received the notice in the mail, Jane’s mother had been fidgety; her pale lips were curled into a pained smile and clearly it was a forced one.
After an awkward session of hugging Jane finally left, climbed aboard the bus, and waved goodbye from an open window. The bus was empty save for the driver: the bus driver didn’t say a word; he wore a simple blue jumpsuit with M.I.L.K. emblazoned in black letters over his broad shoulders. However, the bus gradually filled with other young women, all Jane’s age and some even from her pendik escort high school.
Kristen was in some of Jane’s classes but they rarely spoke, the only meaningful interaction they had was working together on group project on the changes in national farming; Jane researched the poor conditions of the past while Kristen focused on the changes made to improve conditions in factory farming and the environment. By chance, or by fate, the two sat together.
Jane always felt intimidated by her; Kristen served as her foil: Kristen was busty, wore glasses, and had short black hair that framed her slender face. Jane always envied how all the guys in high school would trip over themselves trying to get her attention. Jane had always been short, even for a girl, flat-chested, and uninteresting with her mousy brown hair. Kristen, surprisingly, chose to sit next to her.
“Hey,” she almost gasped in relief as she sat beside Jane.
“Hi,” Jane replied while looking at her feet.
“Do you know what this is? Where we’re going?” Kristen asked, the panic clear in her voice.
“Something about milk distribution,” Jane answered “I guess working at some government-run dairy is mandatory.”
Kristen’s maltepe escort brows furrowed and shook her head. “No, idiot. We are the ones getting milked.”
Jane laughed. “What do you mean? None of us are pregnant. How would that even work?”
Kristen sighed and shook her head again, clearly she thought Jane was a total idiot. They continued the rest of the trip in silence, but it was clear to Jane that Kristen was troubled to say the least. The rest of the bus was quiet save for the occasional conversation among girls whispering amongst themselves.
Hours later, it felt like an eternity, they stopped in front of a large industrial-looking building that seemed to reach into the sky taller than warehouses surrounding the structure. The industrial park was surrounded by tall chain-link fences topped with barbed wire, and large semi-trucks filled the parking lots around the warehouses in neat rows. Jane at some point during the trip fell asleep only to find herself in what looked like a rough part of the city, the distant skyline visible through a grey haze.
“Finally here?” She asked Kristen. Instead of replying, she rolled her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and got up to exit as if she were marching to a slaughterhouse rather than a simple dairy factory. Jane followed suit and soon she was at the end of a single-file line, exiting the bus and entering the building branded M.I.L.K. over a set of double doors: the same brand the bus driver wore on his uniform.
Jane and the rest of the women stepped through the doors and were blinded by bright fluorescent lights.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32