Swine Fever

by Andrew Cartmel

  "Then what will they do with them?" Zandonella asked quietly.

  "The Council will have to decide that," said Dredd. Zandonella released Porkditz from the harness of his hover-chute and the pig stepped daintily out of the rig, shaking himself as though he'd just had a bath. He needed a bath, thought Zandonella. So did she. They could both have a shower when they got back to the con-apt.

  "Then what?" asked Carver. Zandonella wished they would stop talking about the fate of the pigs. It made her uneasy.

  "Maybe we'll get to eat them," suggested Darrid, and Zandonella felt her stomach make a queasy somersault.

  "I doubt it," said Dredd. "The whole reason for cracking down on the black market in meat is fear of the possible side-effects on public health. We have no idea what consuming that stuff might do to people. Look at what they were feeding those animals."

  "That's what I said," said Zandonella.

  "Possibly after due study the animals will be set free in the Cursed Earth," added Judge Dredd.

  "What a waste," sighed Carver, apparently still remembering the fragrant salami he'd cradled in his hands. But Zandonella felt a fierce elation. Set them free? It had never occurred to her that such a benevolent fate might await the poor animals. After the hideous life and certain death of the factory farm, even the Cursed Earth would seem like a blessing. Life out there in the badlands would be tough, however, and short and dangerous. When she thought of Porkditz out there, fending for himself, Zandonella felt a strange pinching sensation in her heart. She quickly reached down and scratched the pig behind one of his large floppy ears. Porkditz lolled his head back luxuriously and looked up at her with bright happy eyes.

  "So that's what will happen to Zandonella's little buddy," said Darrid. "He'll have to go too, out into the Cursed Earth." Zandonella shot him an angry look. She could have killed him. Why was he so determined to nail down poor Porkditz's fate tonight? Couldn't he just be left in peace for a little while? But Darrid and Carver were staring at her. They seemed to be waiting for an answer.

  "Of course I'll bring him in and put him with the others," she said. "When they are ready to be deported into the Cursed Earth."

  Dredd said nothing. He climbed into the cockpit and started the FWP's powerful engines, steering them back towards Justice Central.

  Zandonella got back to her con-apt and the exhaustion of the long day hit her as soon as she closed the door. She barely had the strength to undress, dump her soiled uniform in the cleaning unit and drag herself into the shower. Porkditz came into the washroom as she showered, lowering himself onto a bathmat and lying there quietly enjoying the warmth and perfumed steam that drifted out of the foamy, splashing shower stall. When she'd finished washing herself, Zandonella felt a little better, though it was still a struggle to stay awake. Without bothering to dress she climbed out of the stall and immediately coaxed Porkditz inside. Once he was in the stall she sprayed him thoroughly with the hand shower, then rubbed him with soap and showered him clean again. Nude in the shower with the cheerful pink animal, Zandonella ended up giving herself another wash too. Porkditz enjoyed the whole procedure, chortling contentedly under the gentle needling of the warm spray and driving his snout up against her hand to get a firmer rubbing.

  "Given half a chance, you like being clean, don't you?" she said. Porkditz snorted good-naturedly and shook droplets of foamy water from his snout.

  As she washed and dried the pig, Zandonella felt oddly maternal and contented. She padded into the kitchen barefoot, wearing her silk kimono with her hair tied up in a towel. In the refrigerator was half a bottle of good gin she had confiscated in a raid and smuggled home. Zandonella liked to think of it as her sole vice. She took it out along with some ice, a ripe lemon, and a miniature bottle of white vermouth and proceeded to mix herself a shaker full of very dry martini.

  Porkditz came padding into the kitchen and watched the procedure with such rapt attention that she selected two glasses from the cupboard instead of one and filled them both from the frosted shaker. She took her glass into the living room and left the other one on the kitchen floor. Zandonella sat down on the couch and sipped and a moment later she heard some enthusiastic slurping noises from the kitchen. Porkditz eventually emerged, licking the corners of his mouth with evident satisfaction.

  "Did you enjoy that?" said Zandonella. "Well, I guess you earned it." He came and nuzzled at her bare feet with his moist snout, as if he was trying to say thank you, and then flopped down on the floor and began to snore gently.

  She left him sleeping in the living room in the spot that had lately become his own. As she drifted off to sleep she heard once again the sound of his delicate hooves on the floor and the flushing of the toilet. The pig had waited considerately until she went to bed before performing his bodily functions. He was not only smarter than Darrid, she decided, he was also better house-trained than Carver.

  The raid on the factory farm took place on a Thursday. Zandonella wasn't back on duty until the following Monday, so she decided to take things easy and stay at home. Originally she'd planned to do some shopping and perhaps look up some old friends, but the comforting presence of Porkditz somehow made her want to just stay at home and be domestic. Besides, she would have felt guilty going out and leaving him on his own. As a result, Zandonella subsisted on food from the refrigerator and store cupboard, preparing meals for herself and her companion. The pig, unsurprisingly, seemed happy with whatever she offered him for a meal.

  "Considering the terrible muck they were feeding you at that farm," said Zandonella, "I'd be awfully upset if you turned down anything from my kitchen." Porkditz nodded at her and chortled as if in appreciation of her wit, then returned to his feeding. He was eating chilli con tofu, three self-heating cans of it, out of a large aluminium salad bowl she had placed on the floor beside the kitchen table. Sitting at the table, Zandonella ate the fourth can of tofu from a rather smaller bowl with a spoon.

  The rest of the day was spent watching the History Channel, curled up on the pale blue sofa in the living room with Porkditz curled up beside her. Finally, in late afternoon, Zandonella lifted the remote control, turned off the Tri-D, and succumbed to the urge to have a nap. She fell asleep beside the pig on a jumbled pile of purple and red silk cushions.

  Two hours later she was jerked awake, confused and sweaty, trying to come out of deep sleep in response to the urgent clamour of her doorbell. Zandonella rose shakily from the sofa and tottered towards the door, her left leg clumsy and bloodless from being slept on. The bell jangled again, impatiently, as she opened the door.

  Standing there, looking immaculate in a fresh uniform, was Judge O'Mannion, her silver hair impeccably arranged and styled. Zandonella, in contrast, was wearing a ratty old bathrobe and her own long, ink black hair looked like the nest of a particularly un-house proud bird.

  "I hope I didn't wake you," said O'Mannion with no attempt at sincerity as she stepped across the threshold. She looked around the con-apt and gave a little sniff. "What a fascinating odour this place has. Not like an ordinary dwelling at all."

  Zandonella rubbed her eyes and yawned, too tired to be insulted. "You seem to be making a habit of visiting me when I'm off duty."

  "Not at all," said O'Mannion. "What I'm making a habit of is checking up on your roommate."

  "My roommate?" Zandonella felt her mouth go dry. "Is there any word yet from the Council of Five?" O'Mannion looked at her sardonically and waited a moment before answering. Did she know how anxious Zandonella was about the outcome of the pig's fate? Was she deliberately tormenting her?

  After what seemed an eternity, O'Mannion finally drawled, "No. Still awaiting a decision pending further tests." Zandonella released the breath she only now realised she'd been holding.

  "Further tests?"

  "Yes. They're having samples of the meat analysed to see about its toxicity versus nutritional value."

  "Nutritional value?"

  "Yes, and your friend Carver volunteered
to be one of the guinea pigs in the experiment. Odd word that, isn't it? Guinea pig. You'd think 'laboratory rat' would be a more apt expression, especially for him. Anyway, your friend Carver-"

  "I wouldn't exactly call him a friend."

  "Your fellow Judge Carver, then," continued O'Mannion smoothly, "has courageously volunteered and has been eating some samples of the pork."

  "The salami."

  "Why yes. What an accurate guess. You really are very perceptive."

  "Not really. I just saw his mouth watering over some samples of the stuff at the factory farm."

  "Don't sell yourself short, Zandonella. You are perceptive. And that's far from being your only talent." Zandonella felt a cold chill at the base of her spine. Where was O'Mannion going with this?

  The senior Judge smiled at her as though sensing her discomfort. "Don't think that I've forgotten that you're the finest example of a PNE we have ever had amongst our Psi-Judges. As a matter of fact, I think it's about time you exercised your special talent again."

  "So soon?" said Zandonella. She knew that O'Mannion was teasing her, but she was unable to stop herself from rising to the bait. "But you remember what happened last time?"

  O'Mannion smirked. "Indeed I do."

  "I need more time to recover. I can't go back on assignment so soon."

  "Oh, I think you're underestimating your powers of recuperation, Zandonella. You're a resilient young woman at the peak of her physical training and in the prime of her life. You're ready to go again. Plenty ready, I'd say."

  "But I'm on assignment to Judge Dredd."

  "Of course," said O'Mannion. "And no doubt this assignment is providing you with valuable insight into the workings of street Judges. But you're not destined to work the streets, Zandonella. You're a Psi-Judge and your job is to exercise your special powers, no matter how unpleasant or how debilitating they might be."

  Zandonella sank back on the sofa, defeated. O'Mannion was right. The assignment with Judge Dredd was temporary. Her true work lay with her PNE powers. She would just have to come to terms with the raw, clawing horror that so often came with those powers. She had been hiding from the thought of dealing with them again, enjoying the carefree hours lolling around in her con-apt with Porkditz for company. But now O'Mannion had blown in like the cold wind of reality and forced her to remember what was in store for her. At the thought of returning to duty in the Psi-unit, Zandonella felt all the pleasure of the past day draining away. And the happy prospect of the coming weekend disappeared, too. Zandonella's leave had been ruined.

  As if sensing this, O'Mannion rose to go. Her work here is done, thought Zandonella bitterly. "Sorry to love you and leave you," said O'Mannion blithely. "But I'd better be off." She turned towards the door and then turned back. "Just one word of warning."

  "Warning?" said Zandonella dangerously. She'd just about had enough of O'Mannion.

  "Just for your own good. I know you don't want to be the object of gossip. Nobody does. But some of the other Judges have been talking about you."

  "You mean Darrid."

  "I'm not naming names. Otherwise, what would I be but a gossip myself? But I thought you should know, there's been a lot of talk about you and that pig you've adopted." O'Mannion glanced at Porkditz, snoring contentedly on the deep red plush of the carpet.

  "I haven't adopted him."

  "Figure of speech. Don't take everything so literally. Anyway, most of this talk, this gossip, has been jocular. Poking harmless fun at the two of you. As a matter of fact, there was a very amusing cartoon someone drew in the toilets before it was erased by the cleaners. A pity you didn't get to see it." O'Mannion's eyes crinkled with nostalgic amusement. "Perhaps someone took a scan of it... Anyway, as I said, it's all good harmless fun. But some of the gossip hasn't been so harmless. Some has been downright malicious. There's even been some suggestion that the two of you are, how shall I put this... romantically linked."

  "What?"

  "You know, a little inter-species romance." O'Mannion smiled and delicately bumped her pelvis back and forth.

  "That's disgusting!"

  "Don't let it bother you." O'Mannion opened the door and stepped out of the con-apt. "It's just the way things are." As she shut the door, she glanced back at Zandonella and grinned wickedly. "Men are pigs."

  That night, as if sensing something was wrong, Porkditz came in and slept on the floor near her bed. As he slept he emitted little snorting sounds that Zandonella found strangely comforting. The following morning she got up early, showered, breakfasted and set out a large tin bowl of fruit and nut muesli for Porkditz. As Porkditz chased the bowl around the kitchen floor with his snout, munching contentedly, she went into the bedroom and got dressed, putting on her Judge's uniform.

  She'd decided to go back on duty. She might as well. Her leave had been ruined by O'Mannion's visit. The moment she thought of O'Mannion, the doorbell rang. Zandonella went and answered it, expecting O'Mannion to be there in the flesh.

  She was. But so was Judge Dredd. He followed O'Mannion into the con-apt, stooping to get through the front door. The living room, which had previously seemed like a generous space even with Zandonella, the pig and O'Mannion in it, suddenly seemed to shrink into a small cramped room when Dredd was present.

  "Sit down, please," said Zandonella. Dredd shook his head.

  O'Mannion smiled. "She never invites me to sit down. She must like you."

  "Sit down if you like," said Zandonella.

  O'Mannion settled comfortably among the cushions on the sofa. "Why thank you. You're all dressed for duty. Did you have some kind of premonition?"

  "No, I just decided I didn't need a weekend sitting around here doing nothing."

  "Oh, but what about your little friend with a corkscrew tail? Surely looking after him doesn't count as nothing."

  Zandonella tried to ignore her. "I've decided to go back to work," she said, not offering any further explanation.

  "Good," said Dredd. "Because I came to get you. I need you on a detail I've been assigned to command."

  "Before you tell her about the detail, let me give her the news," said O'Mannion from the sofa. She was still sprawled luxuriously among the cushions, but her voice had lost its customary playful tone. She sounded serious for a change and Zandonella felt her stomach sink. The room had suddenly gone quiet. Even Porkditz, who had been busy scraping his bowl of muesli around the floor of the kitchen, fell silent as if listening.

  "What news?" said Zandonella.

  For once O'Mannion wasn't smiling. She looked Zandonella in the eye and said, "The Council of Five has made its ruling. The scientists have now given them all the facts. Item number one: those pigs are some kind of mutant strain."

  "Well, obviously," said Zandonella. "That's clear just from the intelligence they're exhibiting," she tried hard to sound sarcastic, but there was a sick feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

  O'Mannion didn't respond to her sarcasm or her anger. In fact, O'Mannion seemed thoroughly subdued. Her vulpine face showed no trace of its usual malicious wit. She continued soberly. "Scientists have determined that, despite the lethal swill on which it was fed, the mutant pork..."

  Zandonella noticed how O'Mannion was saying "pork" instead of pigs. It was clever. By talking about the animals as if they were a mere commodity, it was suddenly possible to begin to allow all sorts of things, to excuse the most awful predations towards the pigs, who after all were fellow creatures on this troubled planet.

  O'Mannion's silver eyebrows, usually sharply angled for sardonic malice, were for once softened into curves of sympathy. But her voice remained calm and official as she went on passing sentence. "It transpires that the mutant pork from those factory farmed pigs is nutritious."

  "Nutritious?" said Zandonella, her voice thick with disgust. "Did you see the toxic filth they were eating?"

  Dredd spoke up. "Maybe so. But the meat from those pigs still turns out to have a higher nutritional value than munce a
nd other synthetics."

  "What doesn't?" demanded Zandonella. She turned to O'Mannion. "You should get a whiff of Judge Carver after he puts a load of that stuff in his guts. You'd never eat it again."

  "I never eat it anyway," said O'Mannion with a shade of her old asperity. "But this isn't about Judge Carver. It's about the Law. And the Law is founded on scientific fact. Like the fact that the pork from these animals..."

  At least she had the good grace to call them animals.

  "... has more nutritional value than many other foodstuffs. It seems one of the mutations in these pigs has given rise to a unique digestive system."

  "They don't just have mutant stomachs," said Zandonella. "They also have mutant brains. And those brains are intelligent."

  "Unfortunately, it's not the brains we're concerned about. Their unique digestive system allows them to process even that toxic filth, as you called it, into wholesome meat."

  "Wholesome?"

  "Well, relatively speaking. Wholesome compared to munce. It even compares well with the genetically modified stuff like the produce from Sausage Tree Farm."

  "And the Council doesn't want us to be too dependent on the produce from Sausage Tree Farm," said Dredd. "They think it would be a good thing to have a secondary supply of meat available right here in the Mega-City."

  "A good thing," said Zandonella with audible bitterness.

  "Of course, what this means," said O'Mannion, "is that all those factory farms we've been busting, like that old space station hanging over the municipal dump, are suddenly going to become legal. In fact they already are."