New Orbit Magazine Issue 08; Feb 2020, The Future of Animals

to buckle. “Damn these frightened
creatures!”
He marched with steady steps through
the forests of bubbles and crystal, which
were silent for the first time in a long while.
In the meantime, the numbing cadence of the
red rivers forced him to move more slowly
than usual. His mind was full of thoughts
about his destination and the leap-years that
separated him from his home. He heaved an
anxious sigh.
The iron skeletons of the hunters’ huts
suddenly rose before his eyes.
Miles entered the base. He walked
almost bent by the weight of the dead beast.
It was really prized game. His ticket to join
the ranks of veterans. His amulet.
beasts lay in blind ambush among bubble
trees and leaped out with deafening roars.
“Bravo, bravissimo, dear friend,” the
hunters howled, emitting a cacophony of
cheers and curses. “Some of us were quite
certain that you’d come home emptyhanded.”
“Go fuck your mothers’ whores.” Miles
spat out in perfect English, although many
didn’t even understand a syllable and just
laughed at him. After all, few still
understood the cradle tongues that had gone
out of use so long ago. “Leave me alone,
fuckers.”
He moved away from the group. He
drew his own knife. Carefully, he took a seat
among the veteran hunters – the place that
until that afternoon had been off-limits to
him and the rest of the rookies in the group
– and began his task. The metal walls of the
base shone as the particular odor of hunting
and carcass suddenly wafted through the air.
Six strokes of the knife on the beast’s
greasy hide were enough to remove it. Eight.
Ten. He carved his name on the flesh with
skillful movements. The tanning machine
would do the rest of the work.
“Well,” a veteran hunter on his right
smiled at Miles without looking up from his
own work. “Did it put up a good fight? Was
it fun?”
An orgy of deafening whistles received
him. The men gave him a big hand and
showered him with their usual swear words
while they busied themselves with
sharpening their knives and reloading the
diexs, those poison capsules that had saved
a veteran’s skin more than once. Quite a few
“What?”
“That thing.” The veteran smiled again
and then hurled a curse in some dead tongue
Miles didn’t speak. “What the hell did it do?
Did it fight back?”
“No. It was a cinch. Nothing to it.”