The Farm

I remember the last time that I saw her alive.

I was standing on the observation deck, trailing behind my father and his colleagues; they were talking business. Business that was also my business, yet I didn’t care for it. I didn’t so much care for the logistics of the farm, or where they found the stock; I cared about how they were treated, or more so, how they deserved to be treated. To my father and his peers, the humans on the farm were nothing more than cattle, but to me, they were people. Just like us, minus the fangs. They were stronger than us, fighting the effects of the vaccine, yet we deemed ourselves superior in order to harvest their blood.

Our farm is safely nestled in a clearing, on the very outskirts of the major city. It keeps us protected from meddlers, looters, and any other curious cat. The humans live in our facility in their little prefab homes with their green lawns and cutesy mass-produced cars; if they looked after their belongings, they earned rewards. And they did as they were told, like children eager for a star on a reward chart. That’s where she got the locket from. A gift from me to her. She wore it with pride, I watched her show it off to her friends and family; I even watched as she opened the package at the mailbox, confused as to why she – a “plain Jane” would have such a generous admirer.

My father called out to me, asking me to keep up in an exasperated tone. I didn’t want to take my eyes off her, but I knew that I had to play ball to keep her safe.

“Magnus! Busy staring down at the livestock, are we?” A man in an unforgiving grey suit exclaimed, patting me on the back. His name was Marcus Sanquez, a fellow blood tycoon– he didn’t so much believe in the ethical treatment of humans. His humans were unconscious for most of their lives, hooked up to machines from birth, and kept alive long enough to grow to the ripe old age of thirty. Then they were humanely culled, all of their blood drained and their bodies burnt. Old humans are of little use to farmers as their chances of producing stronger offspring lowers, meaning deformity sets in. I don’t want to discuss what Marcus does with those ones. Obviously, Marcus saw no harm in his method, it had made him millions and he was quite comfortable with his fresh blood on tap. I smiled at him awkwardly, stepping back.

“I was just saying to your father, the way you raise your humans makes them look like pampered little lap dogs. They get rewarded just for being alive.” His grin was unbearable, I forced a laugh.

“They’re effectively free-range. Free to go about life as it would have been one-hundred years ago, it’s what they’re naturally programmed to do. I think that it’s humane.” I said calmly, watching Marcus scoff, shaking his head. My father rolled his eyes at me, smiling at his associates, proceeding with the tour. I took the moment to peer down at her again, she was laughing and joking with one of her friends, the locket bouncing with her movement.

I followed after my father and his tour; they were heading towards the inner facility. The inner facility was where the breeding programme was – our humans weren’t allowed to mate of their own accord, doing it our way limits the transmission of any genetic mutations that would affect the quality of the blood. Subjects were chosen from the farm, brought to the facility where they would be paired with a suitable mate, and from there you can use your imagination. I know that this is the fate awaiting my little locket-lady, it was something that I thought about often; she wasn’t my equal, and there was nothing that I could do to make her my equal. She was human, I’m a vampire, our species don’t mix for a reason.

The tour moved on to the nursery. There had been incidents in the news lately describing attacks on newborn humans – their blood was the purest, and therefore the most enticing to hungry vampires. Thousands of babies had been murdered in their cribs over the years, by the very people in charge of raising them; we avoided such matters by providing our staff with enough blood to sustain them, avoiding scandal with ease.

“Magnus knows each and every process on our farm, don’t you son?” My father asked with pride, I nodded my head. “Tell them more.” He said, waving me forward, continuing the tour.

We were fast approaching the schoolhouse, my pride and joy. It was my suggestion to the farming board that the humans should receive an education, my argument being that knowledge and enrichment would make them happier, and therefore their blood would be more beneficial to us. We stopped at a window. Inside the room, was a gaggle of children –around the age of six – who were being taught their ABCs. The teacher at the front nodded at us, as the children recited the letters back to him.

“Quite adorable, aren’t they? I have to say Magnus, your dedication to human rights is quite admirable. Who could’ve imagined that livestock could retain the ability to function like us?” One of the other blood tycoons remarked, the others nodded in agreement.

“We function the same, us and them. The only difference is, is that they die, we don’t. We test the vaccine on them, and it’s incredibly rare that transform into us – that way, if there’s ever an outbreak of another disease, our livestock will be safe.” I smiled, looking in at the little humans. They were eager to learn, they craved knowledge, and I loved to reward them for their good behaviour. Sweets, toys, clothing, anything a child could ever want.

“You can see their drawings on the walls of the corridor,” I said, pointing to the crude, childhood drawings on the pristine walls, “They’re human, but they’re intelligent. Their creativity shows it, if you like I can prove it to you.”

My father put a hand on my shoulder, leaning down a little to whisper something in my ear. A polite warning, he didn’t trust his guests not to tamper with them. I nodded, looking down at the watch on my wrist. “Never mind, we’re running late.” I said, fake smile, gesturing towards the door with my head.

We finished the tour, ending back in the observation deck. The lights had been turned out on the farm, the glowing orbs on the ceiling mimicking the stars. Most of the humans had returned to their little homes, their lights on. I stood in view of her house, noticing that the lights were out. Perhaps she was sleeping. I hoped that she was thinking of her secret admirer, wondering whom in the farm had gifted her such a wonderful present. It would have taken somebody a long time to save up the tokens to purchase such a thing; months and months of hard work. She’d never know it was me. I wouldn’t allow myself to meet her, I simply liked to watch her from afar, enjoying her little life. I heard my father laughing amongst his friends, interrupted by one of the workers. I was too hooked on observing the farm, in the hopes that I may see her switch her light on and look up at the stars.

Quiet, footsteps, it was just my father and I left in the room.

“Son, I need to talk to you about something.” My father said softly, I looked up at him. There was a twinkle in his red eyes, he looked solemn.

“Something bad?”

“Something that you need to understand.” He said, reaching into his pocket. My heart sank, as he pulled the locket out, holding it out in front of him, dropping it into my hand. My mouth lay ajar, waiting for him to speak again. “I know that you’ve been sneaking extra privileges to one of the girls on the farm, you know that I can’t permit this. It’s dangerous for the farm, if any of them figured out where that came from, we could be risking a full-scale riot. I know that they’re relatively oblivious to how things are here, but as you said, they are intelligent.”

There was a pause for a moment, as if he was trying to find the words to say. “What’ve you done with her?” I asked, my words struggling to come out.

“I’ve sent her to another farm, away from you. You’re the heir to the company and I cannot tolerate any further breach in procedure.” He said firmly. More silence.

He let out a sigh, ruffling my hair, before leaving me alone on the deck. My grip on the locket was tight, knuckles going white, a hot tear trickling down my cheek.

She was as good as dead. I missed her.