The CC was silent, and I laughed.

"Tell the truth.  You make up the images of meat-eaters and the feelings of starvation.  I presume that when the fear of one balances out the fear of the other, when these poor dumb beasts are equally frightened by lousy alternatives-in your judgement, let's remember . . . well, then we have a contract, right?  So where would you conjecture that point will be found?"

"Ninety carcasses," the CC said.

"I rest my case."

"You have a point.  But I actually do transmit the feelings of the animals to the human representatives.  They do feel the fear, and can judge as well as I when a balance is reached."

"Say what you will.  Me, I'm convinced the jerk with the horns could have as easily stayed in bed, signed a contract for ninety kills, and saved a lot of effort.  Then prong-head could look for useful work.  Maybe as a gardener in David's hair-do."

There was a long silence from the CC.  When he spoke again it was in a different tone of voice from his usual lecturing mode.

"The man with the horns," he said, quietly, "is actually mentally defective in a way I've been powerless to treat.  He cannot read or write, and is not really suited for many jobs.  And Hildy, we all need something to do in this world.  Life can seem pointless without gratifying work."

That shut me up for a while.  I knew only too well how pointless life could seem.

"And he really does love animals," the CC added.  "He hurts when he thinks of one dying.  I shouldn't be telling you any of this, as I'm prohibited from commenting on the qualities, good or bad, of human citizens.  But in view of our recent relationship, I thought . . ."  He let it trail off, unfinished.

Enough of that.

"What about death?" I asked him.  "You mentioned hunger and the image of a predator.  I'd think you'd get a stronger reaction if you planted the idea of their actual deaths in their minds."

"Much more of a reaction than you'd want.  Predators and hunger imply death, but inspire less fear than the actual event.  These negotiations are quite touchy; I've tried many times to talk Callie into holding them indoors.  But she says that if 'salad-head' isn't afraid to pow-wow in the middle of the herd, she isn't either.  No, the death-image is the nuclear weapon of predator/prey relations.  It's usually a prelude to either an attempt at union-busting, or a boycott."

"Or something even more serious."

"So I infer.  Of course, I have no proof."