FleshTronix Meeting Transcript

BIOLIFE

Their infestation prevents our Growth.

Billions of bio-engineered aliens, all serving their central hive, all working in perfect harmony towards some unknowable, unprofitable goal. What a waste. If they only had some imagination, there’s no telling what we could pay them to do.

There’s no telling what they could achieve, if only they had enough imagination to be exploited.

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[MEETING TRANSCRIPTION (Provided by AutoScribe™) :

[President Thompson X Junior VP Hallaway – FleshTronix HQ, Sistema Franco Branch]

“-- As you know, sir, abnormally-empathetic people are often tempted to think of them as ‘living beings,’ but the fellas over in the Xenobiotics Division have determined -- through rigorous experimentation -- that they’re basically just meat-machines, not unlike those other fellas over in Shipping & Receiving. Now, this isn’t the first branch of the species that we’ve encountered -- damn things spread like the strep flu -- but this variant is distinct from any that we’ve encountered before.”

“Distinct, how?”

“Well, as with every other strain, their culture -- if you can call it that -- is organized around a central hive creature, which apparently possesses the eugenic proficiency to design entirely new genotypes to fill specific roles in their society. As well, they seem to have some manner of complex communication, but appear to have no interest in attempting to dialogue with other species -- our testing indicates that they’re as openly hostile as every other varietal. These general patterns and capabilities are observed across every strain, though their exact mechanisms remain unknown. Now, where they differ is in their reaction to electromagnetic radiation. See, we know that, generally, the bugs are prone to various cancers, and that exposure to even low-energy gamma rays can jump-start that cellular decay.”

“Yes, okay, is there a point to this?”

“Well, for one, sir, that rock they’re camping on is chock-full of priority materials. Radium, specifically, that we need for the upcoming run of glow-in-the-dark face-paint. And these jerks? They’re down there eating it. Near as we can tell, it’s a core part of their consumption cycle.”

“Eating it? How’s their individual life-span?”

”Species-Normal, sir, near as we can tell. And our various dissections seem to indicate that they’re actually less prone to cancer development than other varietals.”

”How is that possible? They can actually endure the effects of ionizing radiation?”

“That’s exactly right sir, they even seem to thrive off it. And we care about that because, for two, R&D’s Advanced Labor Program has been cooking up a radiation-proof worker, and they assure us that a few thousand kilos of bug-flesh would help them cut some fairly significant corners.”

“How significant?”

“Significant enough to skip straight to human trials, sir, with the potential for a prototype by the end of the fiscal year.”

“Hm, with our current attrition rates we don’t have enough employees to sustain that level of medical experimentation. Not this quarter, at least.”

“I have an answer for that, too, actually. We can solve the Employee-Grade Food™ shortage, easy as anything, if we simply commit enough resources to a brief military incursion. We’ll get a surplus tonnage of alien-carcass and process it through our various Meat Lord™ franchises.”

“Okay. Alright. So I’m following with the Radium, and with the genocide -- “

“Extermination, sir. It tests better with the peons.”

“Do you see any peons in my office? Don’t interrupt me, Hallaway.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“So... Genocide, that’s evergreen. Radium, face-paint, love it, Halloween’s coming up fast and we’ve got no time to pivot. Atomic mutants, we could save some money on core shielding. But if I’m following the rest, Hallaway, you intend to solve this food crisis by feeding radioactive alien flesh to my serfs?”

“That’s about the size of it, sir.”

“Will… Do you really think will that work?”

“I don’t see why not. The meat will be heavily processed, of course, so the Expendables™ won’t know exactly what they’re eating, and none of our health plans cover radiation sickness. And, as an added bonus, the conflict has a fair-to-middling chance of producing significant human casualties, which we can use to cut the monster-meat. The peons probably won’t even notice, but we’ll need to ban open-casket funerals. We can just fill the coffins with rocks or something.”

“That’s genius, Hallaway. Really, I mean it. Excellent work, kid. You just might have saved this branch.”

“Thank you, sir. My secretary did most of the work, but I do intend to take full credit."

“Attaboy, Hallaway! That’s why you are where you are and she is where she is. Now, go and get the fuck out of my office, you scamp, you’ve got a lotta work to do.”

“Uh, actually, sir, if you happen to have a moment, would this be a good time to ask about that promotion you had mentioned?”

“Promotion? You interrupted me, Hallaway. Inn-terrrr-upted! You’re lucky I didn’t kill you, let alone fire you. Actually, hold on – SECRETARY! LOAD MY GUN! No, you wait, get BACK HERE HALLAWAY, I’M ONLY GOING TO MAIM Y—”

[MEETING TERMINUS – TRANSCRIPT END]