This day has been thoroughly strenuous. I overestimated myself, I thought I would’ve been able to figure out the source of the production surplus within a couple hours but, here we are already past lunch break. However— not all is lost. For I have found the origin of this oddity. Assembly Station Number 6. It has been producing more stock than it did prior to the change in hands, and it has done so on this workday as well. Proving it to be… plausible, at most, that this wasn’t a fluke.
       
Looking at the machine, it all seems normal, the machine can’t be working any faster, if anything: It would bottleneck the cattle if it did so. It’s only logical to assume it’s the cattle that’s responsible for this.
A lanky figure presides over the machine. Lanky, and tall. Of course, it’s hard to differentiate cattle from other cattle when they all have the same hairstyle, and they’re all starved to near death, so just lanky, short-medium black hair isn’t a sufficient descriptor. Tall, however.

'Number 6', says my table. Dehumanization tactics plague this station. They feel redundant to me, considering none of these creatures would be capable of socializing. Giving them a number instead of a name feels more like a sick joke from the administration just to streamline the identification processes and have a laugh while at it.
  -	“Liùhào.” I call out to the tall cow.
Seemingly, no response returns. How odd, have they started severing their ear canals?
     

-	“Liùhào!” I call out to the tall cow, with a louder voice and a mildly annoyed tone.
-	“Wha-? Uh-” The cattle turns around, its eyes are soft and fragile, its face angular and smooth. Thoroughly odd. What’s more odd is such a response! You’re livestock! Your one duty is to reply to when you’re called! …And your second duty is doing the jobs I tell you to but— well, that’s beside the point!
-	“Number 6. You did not reply to your name, how come?”
-	“Oh- oh… uh- I’m Number 6?” It’s a distinctly feminine voice, soft, frightened. It’s pissing me off, this cow is different from the pigs.
-	“That is correct. You were not replying when called. Are you not aware of your number?” I wouldn’t be surprised if despite all this beauty, it’s too stupid to recognize itself on a mirror… Let alone a name.
-	“I… I’m sorry, I wasn’t number 6 up until yesterday, I was transferred here.” This intrigues me, even if only mildly.
-	“…Very well, just reply to your name when called next time.”
-	“Yes sir.”
-	“I’m here to ask you something else entirely, however.”
-	“What is it?” She doesn’t talk like the pigs; the pigs will stare at you dumbfounded, the critically acclaimed fluoride stare. They only understand direct orders, they’re unable of asking questions.
-	“…” Ah, “Sorry, I got lost in thought.” I flip through my clipboard to give myself time to get my thoughts in order. “Your production rates are abnormally high, but upon inspection, the machine seemed to work as intended, and the weapons were found to be in pristine condition; In fact, they are some of the best weapons any of these stations have ever built. Are you able of explaining why this is?”
-	“Ah- well…” It’s… blushing? Trying to not scratch its head as a psychological response. “This is a bit embarrassing, uhm… Hey, …chief … I’ll tell you but… you have to promise to keep it a secret.” …What? No, this has to be a dream, someone pinch me. I have attempted interactions with other cattle before. Foul, unfathomably so. They are incapable of rational thought; I keep my distance with them in fear they may drool onto my shoes and spread their sheer stupidity. And yet, this one? This one presents the ability to rationalize its own emotions and thoughts, this is unprecedented behavior! …Alas, I’m no longer intrigued, but curious! I must know. I shall bite.
-	“Very well, you have my word. You may whisper it to me if need be.”
-	“Ah- really?” A soft grin forms on her face, her eyes thin out too, this is not a fake smile. She’s exuding gratitude towards me. “Okay-“ She gets closer to me, and I lend my ear to her. And in the faintest whisper, she says: “I really like firearms”
      

        She takes a step back, both hands in front of her, one folded over the other on top of her heart; like a damsel awaiting for a response from her prince. Her smile is patient, her eyes jitter in anxiety and anticipation. Wait— She? Her? When did I start seeing this specimen as human? I’m— This is just a bad dream, right? No, hold on, I’m missing the most important point of all; ‘I like guns’? What the hell do you even mean by that? You shouldn’t be able to categorize likes and dislikes!
…I’m gonna have a headache at this rate.
-	“Very well, your secret’s safe with me.” I flip my clipboard back to the first page, desperately trying to hold some control over my thoughts. “Good work, keep it up.”
I hurriedly leave the scene; I don’t even want to stare at her— Its’ face. It might fool me with some sort of facial expression presenting gratitude or pleasure at being praised… Only humans should be allowed to do that.