Jackson Riordan sat by the window of the bus and stared blankly at the scenery whizzing by. Woodland, open field, woodland, the occasional glimpse of a farm building, then another stretch of forest. Two hours remained before the deadline to report to the local processing center.

The smartwatch on his wrist had pulsed red. That moment was burned into memory. The way his classmates stared. The slow walk up to the front of the class. Mister Evans the English teacher undoing Jackson's blazer, his belt, his trousers, his boxers until he stood nude. His girlfriend Stella had looked away when he walked past her towards the classroom door. In a daze, he sat through the counsellor meeting listening but not really hearing. Jackson was 14, a virtuoso with a baseball bat and captain of the Salmon Run High School Sockeye baseball team. Girl classmates would swoon if they caught his eye. He had a dream of going to the MLB. All of that potential ended the day the lottery had, through algorithmic randomization based on food supply and consumer demand input, chosen a different path for him.

Jackson Riordan, age 14, 5' 4", 112lbs, Animal ID code USDA-JR512724. His future was as a packet of steaks occupying a fridge at a Conversion Market meat aisle.

With each stop, more Animals boarded the bus. One meatgirl bounced into the seat next to Jackson. Puberty was midway through filling out her curves, her ginger curls bouncing alongside her rather sizable breasts as she chattered away. Her name was Jaimie, 14 years old. Either her well of bravado ran deeper than Jacksons', or she was just naturally optimistic. She was very convinced of her ability to gain a reclassification into "Companion Animal" status for some wealthy old man. Jackson imagined the "duties" Companion Animals had to perform, and couldnt help but feel his passenger had a very naive view of the role. He felt Jaimie's chest brush against his arm as she fiddled with the bus seat TV. She smelled of some faint rose perfume.

Minutes ticked over.

Some people could maintain their chipperness about being an Animal right up until they were sitting on the final bed they would ever sleep in, looking at the final bedroom they would ever use and realizing just how close they are to no longer existing. They would no longer animate the corporeal form they had inhabited for the past 12 or 13 or 14 or 24 years. No longer be able to sense anything, feel or touch or taste or smell or think.

Jaimie was sobbing. Hot tears dripped down and wet Jackson's thigh. He held her tightly. His father had instilled a belief in men being in control of their emotions. Yet, he too felt his stomach churn. Within days or even hours, he too would no longer exist in this world. Jackson's pale young skin sliced open. His internal organs removed, a blade slicing through his neck, blood draining and squirting past expert hands. He wondered morbidly whether one of his buddies from the baseball team would end up enjoying Jackson-meat tomorrow.

The bus stopped once again, more Animals on their final day in "The Outside" boarding for their last destination. A 12 year old boy, shivering from the biting cold seeping into his skinny frame. A twenty year old girl, elaborate tattoos of a snaker and tiger entertwined on her chest, cigarette dangled from her full lips. An 18 year old boy, hair down to his shoulders. A 15 year old latina, head held up, her jaw set in determination. Each Animal approaches their final day in their own way, multifaceted as only humans could be.