At first light, the barnyard rang with the clatter of hooves. The Security Committee - six rams in matching red bands, wool trimmed to the skin for maximum intimidation - moved through the paddocks, rounding up every sheep, goat, chicken, and cow not yet awake. No one needed to ask why: the order had come straight from Boss Rudd the night before, broadcast via Bleatrix Spinn at evening feed. Mandatory Assembly, All Hands. No Exceptions.
By sunrise, the main barn packed tight. Animals filed in by rank and function: lambs and chicks at the front, then mothers and wet-nurses, then field workers. The goats clustered to one side, their climbing instinct blocked by a barrier of pallets and baling wire. At the back, the cows loomed, murmuring in bass tones, their presence more symbol than need. The chickens fluttered where they pleased, but even they fell quiet as the hour neared.
In the center aisle, Bleatrix Spinn directed the setup. She moved without wasted steps, her silver coat brushed to a metal shine. She flicked her hoof, summoning the twins, Bruce and Frankie, who arranged folding chairs and rolled out the battered white projection screen taken from Chester’s study. Bleatrix inspected each element twice: lanterns for backlighting, a portable generator connected to the phone and makeshift speaker, even a NORTH STAR UNITY flag tacked above the rostrum.
The animals sat cramped in rows, those unlucky ones at the front smelling the fresh paint on the flag. Some whispered; others watched the door. Whitney, seated among the lambs, shushed them with nuzzles, her eyes darting to the barn’s shadows as if searching for escape.
When the last animal entered, the Security Committee stiffened. Silence spread from rear to front, broken only by the generator’s whir and an old ram’s cough.
The lights went out. A silence deeper than any storm filled the barn.
A projector beam hit the screen, casting a yellow rectangle that wavered until Bruce and Frankie steadied it.
Boss Rudd entered. He strode down the aisle, his fleece dyed to a brightness that seemed lit from within, his red bandana starched and knotted sharp enough to cut. He stopped at the podium, angling his broad chest to catch the light. He nodded to Bleatrix, who pressed PLAY.
The film started.
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