walked rapidly toward the other end of the landing where two big doors separated the wider silo world from the domain of the animals and the mysterious business of animal husbandry. Marina watched the girl as they followed. She walked stiffly, like her goal was to remain unnoticed. Her long hair hung free, strangely enough, though by the way she leaned her head forward as she walked, Marina suspected it was more to hide her face rather than as a statement of beauty.
They didn’t really need a guide, especially not Joseph, but they followed obediently enough. He had spent a good part of his childhood roaming this floor and had helped out for many years before he had any thought to a future profession. It was the nature of childhood for most of the silo that they would spend time with their parents at work discovering their own thoughts on that career. That might not be the case for a child whose parent worked with sewage or in composting but for Joseph it had been a joy.
As the girl held one of the big doors open for the group to pass through, the rich smell enveloped Marina , replacing the singular smell of dung from the lift, and she couldn't help but take a deep breath. It wasn't that it was such a good smell because it was, if one were completely objective about it, a little stinky.
No matter how much cleaning the crews might do or how well the big circulating fans worked, there was no escaping the scent of animal droppings. But it wasn't just that smell that made up the unique olfactory signature of this level. There were the smells of the animals themselves.
There was the distinct powdery scent of the poultry, especially the young chicks. The goats had always been Marina's personal favorite and she picked out their scent right away. It was them she spent the most time with when Joseph had courted her, and again when they visited his mother in the early days of their marriage.
The young goats played and frolicked in such a carefree way that they couldn't help but lift even the most determined downcast mood. They smelled of something that was both familiar to Marina in a deep way and yet utterly strange to any other thing within the silo. It was a nice smell when they were young and then different, but still nice, in the adult female goats.
Rabbits too had a smell, but theirs was harder to describe. It was a bit like dust in a hot duct, yet also warm and inviting. Pigs, on the other hand, were by far Marina's least favored. Their droppings were horrendous and the smell lingered around them like a nasty fog. The young ones were fun and smelled a bit like babies when they were clean, but the old sows that bred the babies were dangerous as well as formidably rank.
All these aromas and the memories that went with them washed over her and Marina smiled. Her gaze was drawn immediately to the ‘Playpens’ near the entrance to the Farms. In pens filled with toys and other enrichment items, young animals spent some portion of their youth.
Visitors, tour groups and vacationing families could interact with the animals under careful supervision. The animals, in turn, became accustomed to the presence of many different people. It was an important part of the life of any animal that would be kept for breeding or t he dairy or for their eggs.
A young goat at the stage Marina ha d always thought the pinnacle of the adorable spectrum thrust its dark nose out of the pen and bleated at her plaintively. Both she and Joseph reached out to stroke the finely shaped head through the bars. It wiggled and pressed its head toward the stroking hands as it gave a quieter bleat, as if to both acknowledge the affection and request more of the same.
She laughed at the pleasure the goat conveyed and saw the same happiness on Joseph's face. "Do you miss this?" she asked him, enjoying the softening of his expression.
He gave one final vigorous scratch behind the little goat’s ears and then pulled his hand away quickly lest it give him a nip,
Learning to Kill: Stories