Chapter 12: Equis Ex Machina
“What!” Naomi yelled at the CEO. “If so many people died, how can act like it’s no big deal?”
The CEO said, “The real tragedy was that the economy collapsed. Besides, it was so long ago. But Standard Paste Company, Inc. is now the only company and we make everything. But, here. I’ll show you what we do with the horses.”
The CEO reached into her chair, unearthing a remote control. Naomi looked behind her and the entire wall jumped to life. It showed white people in a room. They pushed sticks with squeegees across the floor, gathering green clumps and dropping them in a goopy vat.
“What is that stuff?” asked Naomi.
“Oops. Wrong button. Nothing to see there,” said the CEO. The screen flashed and a new scene materialized.
A green liquid poured from a hose into a vat foaming with white gel.
“Oh, that’s the bleaching room,” said the CEO.
The CEO pointed the remote control at the screen again. The new image showed a bucket-covered conveyer belt. A nozzle shot a spurt of white gel into each bucket as it passed down the line.
“That’s not what I wanted to show you. It must be this remote,” said the CEO, giving it a whack with her hand.
The screen changed again. There were the horses.
This room was full of running horses, but the horses weren’t running to anywhere. It looked as if the room were a gigantic record player spinning in a huge circle.
Naomi said, “What are you doing to them?”
“We’re not doing anything to them. They’re running,” said the CEO.
“You’re spinning the floor so they have to run!” Naomi shouted.
“No, you stupid girl,” said the CEO. “The horses make the floor spin. That’s how we generate electricity. The floor is attached to a turbine that creates energy when the horses run.”
“But,” said Naomi, “why would they all run like that?”
The CEO said, “They can each run at their own pace. The faster horses run on the outside of the circle, and the slower horses run near the inside of the circle.”
“They wouldn’t just all run for the sake of running, though,” said Naomi. “There must be a reason they run.”
“Very right,” said the CEO. “Maybe you’re not as dumb as I thought. Look at the walls.”
Naomi looked at the walls. They showed a field moving as if something were running very quickly through it. A faint line rolled downward across the surface.
“You trick them!” Naomi shouted.
“Not at all,” said the CEO. “They love it. Born runners. They’ll run three or four hours before they collapse.”
“Collapse?” said Naomi.
“Not to worry. When they collapse, the floor tosses them aside,” the CEO said. “They sleep and then they’re ready to run again.”
“This is crazy!” Naomi shouted.
“We’re very good to them. We give them all they can eat—and they eat a lot. That running really makes them hungry. They poop quite a lot too, but we’ve developed quite a useful product from all that poop.”
“Poop,” Naomi repeated. “The paste…” she whispered. Her stomach tightened as if someone had punched her.
“What did you say?” said the CEO.
Naomi stared down at the carpet covered with those weird symbols. The $, £, ¢, €, and ¥ swam in front of her. She thought she might pass out. She leaned over and put her hands on her knees
“The paste…” she said again. “The paste… The paste is made from…” Naomi couldn’t say it. The image of white people pushing the grassy mash with their squeegees flashed in her head. The CEO had called the other room the Bleaching Room. And then the nozzle putting the white paste into buckets.
She shook her head. A drop of sweat ran down her nose and splashed right in the middle of a $ symbol on the carpet.
“The paste…” she said. She stood up straight again. She looked the CEO right in the eyes. “The paste is made from the horses’ poop.”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” The puppets on the TVs were laughing at her again. One puppet yelled, “Good to the last slop!”
A blazing anger filled Naomi. She thought of all the people of Endless Ranches. The townspeople, the farmers, her mother were all ignorant of the terrible things the paste factory fed them. Her face flushed and smoldered. Her eyes burned with tears. Her stomach twisted in knots. She was dizzy and she thought she would throw up all over the carpet.
“You’re evil,” she said to the CEO. “Don’t think I’ll let you get away with this.”
The CEO smiled. “You won’t, won’t you? Since you know so much, do you really think we’ll let you go so easily?”
The CEO opened a drawer in the table. She reached in and Naomi heard something heavy slide across the wood.
Naomi thought of that strange house that was not her house and the mom that was not her mom. Would the CEO send her back there? She had to get out.
Naomi’s eyes raced around the boardroom, looking for an escape. There was the door behind her, but she feared if she ran for it, the CEO would grab her. Or worse, white people would get her. And Sammy! She had to warn him.
“I hate to have to do this,” the CEO said. She spun in her chair. Metal flashed in her hand.
“Ayyyyy!” Naomi yelled. She covered her face.
“Why are you screaming?” the CEO asked.
Naomi put her hands down. She blinked. The CEO held a pen. In the other, she held a long piece of paper.
“What’s that?” Naomi managed to ask between her shallow, panicked breaths.
“It’s a contract,” the CEO answered. “I didn’t want the situation to escalate this far, but it looks like we don’t have any choice. Since you know too much, Standard Paste Company, Inc. is willing to offer you an appointment with the company. We’re offering you the position of Junior Vice President of Advertising for our Telecom Division. Starting salary, six figures.”
“No!” screamed Naomi.
The CEO’s smile widened. “Playing hardball, eh?”
She returned to the drawer and slid out a different piece of paper. “I’ve raised this issue with the shareholders, and we’re offering the position of Associate Vice President of Research and Development in our Energy and Natural Resources Department.”
“No!” Naomi shouted.
The CEO continued as though she hadn’t heard Naomi’s protests. “Energy is one of our most lucrative divisions. You’ll make tens of millions.”
Naomi shouted, “No!”
The CEO took out yet another piece of paper. “You’re not as dumb as I thought. A real negotiator.”
The CEO placed the paper on the table. Then she slapped the silver pen on top and crossed her arms. She flashed a satisfied smile. “The shareholders are prepared to offer you the crown jewel.” The CEO waited a moment before continuing, “President of Pharmaceuticals.”
“Pharmaceuticals?” said Naomi.
“Medicine. Drugs,” the CEO said. “We make a killing off drug sales. People are practically dying to buy medicine.”
“But,” Naomi stuttered, “sick people die if they don’t buy medicine.”
The CEO clapped her hands. “Now you’re catching on!” she shouted. “You’re a natural for President of Pharmaceuticals. Supply and demand. We patent our medicine so no one else can make it. We charge whatever we want and the demand never stops!”
A puppet shouted, “A pill for every ill! A bill for every pill!”
Naomi shook her head. “You overcharge people who are sick? Who are dying?”
“We offer wellness options,” said the CEO.
One of the puppets shouted, “You can learn a bunch from a dummy!”
“What if people can’t afford the medicine?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said the CEO. “Standard Paste Company, Inc. also owns a very lucrative finance division. People who can’t afford medicine can use their credit to pay. Sta
ndard Paste Company, Inc. charges 19% interest on the charges. And all of our medicine is made from horse byproducts. Production costs nothing at all.”
Naomi was afraid to ask, but knew she must, “What kind of horse byproducts?”
“Oh, it’s made from all kinds of things. Like urine,” said the CEO.
“Urine!” shouted Naomi.
“Yeah,” said the CEO. “The urine from pregnant horses is full of hormones used in all kinds of fertility drugs, mood enhancers, you name it and it probably has some horse urine in it.”
“That’s disgusting.”
The CEO shook her head. “No worse than the pain killers. They’re made from moldy paste.”
“You mean from poop,” Naomi said.
“We call it paste.” The CEO picked up the pen. “Look,” she said, “you just need to sign here and you’ll make thirty million your first year. Pharmaceuticals is the most profitable division when we factor in the collateral profits from finance, banking, and mortgage foreclosures. Of course with your position comes a complicity clause. You can’t tell anyone about what you’ve learned here. And in exchange, you’ll be one of the richest people in Endless Ranches.”
Naomi felt the blood rising to her face. “You’re hurting people. You’re hurting horses!”
A puppet barked, “You’ve got to break some eggs to make a profit!”
“They don’t look hurt to me,” the CEO said.
Naomi followed the CEO’s gaze back to the screen. The horses ran. Their long necks bobbed in rhythm as they stretched their slender legs, rippling with muscle. It was as if they flew, barely touching the ground.
Something on screen caught Naomi’s eye. A small figure ambled over a bridge over the horses, but the bridge did not go all the way across the room. It stopped right in the room’s middle.
“What are you looking at?” demanded the CEO.
The CEO walked up and stood right next to Naomi. She pulled her glasses down her nose and leaned forward to get a better look.
The figure reached the end of the bridge and leaned over the railing.
“It’s a boy!” exclaimed the CEO.
“Sammy!” Naomi yelled.
The CEO went to the table and pushed a small box. “That boy is in Sector 349!” she yelled, then removed her hand.
A voice answered, “Affirmative. Will dispatch security to area GG.”
“Well,” the CEO said, “this shouldn’t take long. We can watch your little friend be apprehended right on the screen. This would make a great TV show.”
One of the puppets chirped, “Bad boys, bad boys.”
“No!” Naomi shouted. She charged the CEO and pushed her with all her might. The CEO stumbled over one of the TVs and fell against the floor. A shoe fell off and her glasses lay to her side. Her skirt rode up over her thighs, revealing white underwear covered in the Standard Paste Company, Inc. logo. “Pasty!” said a puppet.
The CEO squirmed, her hands rushing against the carpet. “Oh, no you don’t,” yelled Naomi as she brought her foot down with a crunch on the CEO’s glasses and bolted for the door.