Two young men climbed out of the car, immediately turning their noses to the wind and sniffing the air like wolves finding prey.

“That,” said one, stretching his arms backwards and puffing his chest out, “Is the smell of sin. Breathe that in, brah.” 

They had arrived at a glass-and-aluminum fronted building. LED lighting had replaced the original neon tubes, including a sign labeling it the Midel Diner. At some point the diner had merged with a large barn behind it, the combination dwarfed by a towering grain elevator next door. 

“Doesn’t look like much,” the shorter man said. “You sure this is the right place, Geoff?”

“Unless there are two towns named Midel in Eastern Colorado, this is the place,” Geoff replied. “Smells like it, too. Charbroiled. Real meat on the grill. What an aroma, eh, Tay?” he said, nudging his friend. "Glad you decided to come with me now?" Geoff headed to the front door.

Tay hesitated. Although well-lit, the diner had an ominous appearance, glowing in the early evening when everything around was dark. 

As Geoff pulled open the door, a small bell rang. The smell from inside was even stronger: aromatic, intense, and smoky. 

An older woman, her face tanned and wrinkled from long exposure to the sun, stood behind the counter. She greeted them in a slightly Southern accent, “Howdy, boys. Woodman party of two, right?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Geoff meekly, leaving his confident swagger outside. “I’m sorry if we’re a little late.”

“No problem at all” she said. “We don’t start the show immediately as we’re used to folks from the city not realizing how long of a drive it is. I’ll let ’em know you’re here.” She disappeared through a pair of shining silver doors with porthole windows.

Tay asked, “Show?”

“Dad said they make it an experience. You’re not simply having a meal, you’re getting the chance to eat like people did in the past, he said. Entirely legal, too.” Geoff pointed to the placard on the counter indicating the establishment had passed the health and safety inspection for humane slaughter.

“Right,” said Tay. He focused on the tourist brochures stuffed into a rack of wooden cubbyholes advertising “authentic” bed and breakfasts, “just like your grandmother’s house,” with “home-cooked food” and “antique quilts.”

“We’re ready for you boys,” said the waitress, holding open the door. Tay noticed for the first time her name stitched into the top right of the apron: Lina. “Right this way,” she said.

The hallway behind the curtain was painted a dingy brown meant to simulate wood. Small track lighting lit thin tan carpeting on the floor. Lina called out, “First entrance on your left.” Tay looked backwards, but Lina just smiled at him, waving him onward.

A black curtain hung across the doorway and Geoff pulled the heavy velvet aside to enter the small space. A wooden table dominated the windowless room, with two maroon upholstered bench seats. Geoff slid onto one bench while Tay sat opposite him. 

“What can I get you to drink?” Lina asked, placing tanned leather folders in front of each of them.

“Beer?” asked Geoff.

“Sure. You want a Coors, Coors Light, New Terrain IPA, New Belgium Amber, or Coda Dark?”

“I’ll have the IPA.”

“Can I see your ID, please?”

Geoff brought up the CoID app on his phone for Lina. She said, “And it’s your birthday, too. Well in a couple of days. If you were born in ’27, you’d be what on Wednesday? Twenty-three?”

“Yes,” Geoff said. “This is a birthday present from my Dad.”

“Ah! That’s why he pre-paid for you. Told me you could have anything you wanted on the menu.”

She examined Tay’s perfunctorily, “And what will you have?”

“A Coors, please.”

“I’ll go grab those. I can answer any questions you have about the menu when I get back.”

They opened the leather portfolios. Tay’s eyes immediately went to a light blue watercolor sketch of a cow in profile with thick grey lines separating the animal into parts, handwritten text identifying the menu selections: chuck, rib, short loin, sirloin, tenderloin, flank, round, shank. 

Geoff whistled. “Well, I knew this wasn’t going to be cheap, but...thanks, Dad!”

“Yeah,” said Tay. 

“He said it’s a once in a lifetime experience.”

“Not too many people could make a habit of it at these prices,” agreed Tay. “What’s the cheapest thing on here? The shank steak. A hundred-and-twenty dollars!”

Geoff read the description out loud. “A great alternative to short ribs, our shank steak has all the beefy flavor you want in a slow-cooked cut, with the added bonus of an exposed marrow-packed bone that adds plenty of sticky richness to your meal.”

“With the bone,” said Tay, swallowing nervously. “That’s insane.”

“No questions about where it came from if they serve it on the bone,” said Geoff.

They fell silent for a minute, analyzing the menu.

“I have to get the filet mignon,” Geoff said. “My granddad would go on-and-on about that. ‘Geoff,’ he’d say every damn holiday, ’ain’t nothing in the world like a bacon-wrapped filet mignon topped with blue cheese. Sure do miss that.’ And they’ve even got bacon. Amazing.”

Tay nodded. “My dad and his brothers sound like that when they get together. We’ll be setting up the grill in the backyard and they’ll start talking about how meat just isn’t the same today.”

“They say it improves your stamina. Like, you can keep going for hours and hours. Natural V. No need for the purple pill.”

Tay blushed. “I only heard it improves your muscle mass.”

“When do you think your dad last ate a real animal?”

“Dunno.”

“You going to tell them you had the real thing?” Geoff asked.

Tay leaned forward conspiratorially, “My mother would kill me. She hardly eats veat. She’d go ballistic—probably organize a vegan lynch gang. When vat-grown meat became common, she joined PETA and the protests at the Denver stockyard.”

Geoff nodded. “But men have been eating meat for thousands of years!”

“Things change, my mom says.”

They both focused again on the menu.

“What are you going to try?” asked Geoff.

Tay took a long time before answering. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe the tips.”

“Dude,” said Geoff. “That’s hardly the point. That’d be like a bunch of veat scraps. You want a real steak. Or some ribs. Or the ribeye. Where you can see you’ve gotten a cut from an actual animal. Dad’s paying for it—live a little!”

Lina appeared with their beers, dropping coasters onto the table before placing the frosty glasses before them.

“Any questions?” she asked, pulling out a scratch pad and pen from her apron pocket.

Tay started to ask, “Where…?"

Lina finished his sentence, “...does it come from? We run a dairy—that’s the barn attached to the back. It’s real milk for real cheese. To get cows to lactate, they have to give birth, and we can’t keep all those calves, so we make those available to discerning customers like you. It’s all real. Our ice cream is the best you’ll ever have, too. We’ve got a traditional brownie a la mode but most people just opt for the ice cream by itself.”

Tay swallowed.

“I want the filet mignon special,” Geoff decided.

“Good choice. The bacon comes from an old Kansas couple that still uses pigs for consuming their scrap rather than composting. They cure the meat over six months, the natural way. You want a salad or any sides?”

“Caesar salad, please. And a baked potato, loaded.” Geoff closed his menu with a thunk.

Lina turned to Tay, who asked, “What do you think about the ribeye versus the sirloin?”

“You want a more tender cut or something you have to chew?”

Tay screwed up his face, thinking about it, but soldiered on. “I guess something to chew—that’s more authentic?”

Lina nodded. “Yeah. Veat still hasn’t gotten the texture right. I’d recommend the top sirloin—it’s a back muscle that develops a bit more muscle, rather than just fattening. Your sides?”

“I’ll have the salad and potato, too.”

As Lina exited, she said, “My husband will be here in a few minutes to take you out back for the ceremony.”

Tay turned to Geoff. “Ceremony?”

Geoff shrugged. “It’s part of the experience, Dad said.” Geoff lifted his beer. “Cheers. To real meat!”

They clinked glasses and drank deeply. Tay could hear Lina’s muffled voice and laughter coming from the cubby next door.

“What do you think it takes to run a place like this?” Geoff asked. He picked up a black and white ceramic cow where the salt poured out of its nostrils. “Kinda kitschy. They really have embraced the get back to nature thing.”

“I imagine it’s simple economics,” Tay said. “I mean, what else is there to do out here?”

“You’re right, not much. Some people to maintain the wind farms, a few more to operate the combines. What did we see open on the way here? A convenience store next to the charger and a DeereCat dealer. All those other buildings we saw were boarded up. Everything’s so automated now. My dad said there’s less people living in rural areas than anytime in history. Is there anyone in our fraternity who didn’t come from the city?”

A short Hispanic man in blue jeans and a plaid work shirt entered the room. “Hi there, boys, I’m Hector and I’ll be your host for the evening,” he said, placing a box on the table. “I’ve got robes and masks here for you.”

“Masks?” asked Tay.

“Unfortunately, we’ve had a couple of PETA moles who joined in a meal and then doxed the attendees. If you want to run for Governor, you may not want someone with incriminating footage showing that you ate a real animal. But it’s your choice.” He stepped back through the curtain.

They picked through the box, donning the black robes in the limited space of the dining room. “I feel like I’m at Hogwarts,” Geoff said, placing an opera mask in place with a leering smile of a manic jester. 

Tay slipped on a fox mask and grabbed a thin rope and used it to tie his robe closed. He flipped the hood up over his head. “Or a monk,” Tay said, laughing. 

Hector’s head appeared through the curtain. “Let’s go. Bring your beers if you want and follow me.”

Tay whispered to Geoff, “I’m not so sure about this.”

Geoff shrugged. “Just part of the experience, man.”

Two other groups emerged from similar doorways down the hall, the source of the laughter Tay had heard earlier: a couple with a young child, also wearing robes, and four elderly men wearing cowboy hats. They passed through a door into a much larger building, their footsteps resounding like gunshots on the concrete floor, echoing in the cavernous space. Prominent in the center were two large, half-cutout metal barrels with grilling racks. A large man in a black robe embroidered with red lightning bolts fed wood into fires already a foot or two high. A couple of thick wooden tables were nearby, one containing huge slabs of bright red meat with a selection of large knives placed at the end. Past the grills, a young calf occupied a pen, pacing nervously and ignoring the hay on the floor, occasionally bellowing. 

The dinner guests formed a loose semi-circle around the grills. The man in the decorated robe stepped forward, facing the group. He raised his hands high, holding what looked like a knife attached to a wooden handle in his right hand and a long spatula in his left. 

“Welcome, friends,” he said in a deep sonorous voice accompanied by the crackling of the raging fires behind him. “We gather together tonight to celebrate our ancestry and to reconnect to our heritage. For in the beginning, God gave man control over all living things, and told him these will be your sustenance.”

“Amen,” said one of the cowboys, then laughed. Tay shifted his feet.

“The Bible tells us that for centuries we gave thanks to our creator by sacrificing animals upon an altar of fire, then sharing among us what remained. Tonight, we continue that tradition. This is the body and blood of our world, given to us by nature, and to be returned to nature, as we all one day will be. For our new guests, we have a special ritual.” The cowboys chuckled at that. “Hector, since you have two, do you want to go first?”

“Sure. Follow me, boys.” Hector said. He led them behind the flaming grills and past the bellowing calf to a couple of big metal doors in the back. Inside, the smell of animal sweat and dung permeated the air. Tay reached up and held his nose. A series of wooden stalls stretched along the side; above them was a network of pipes and hoses, each looking like some tentacled monster out of an anime. “Our dairy production,” Hector explained. He let them soak it in before directing them to the last stall. Inside, a cow with a distended udder stood chewing her cud. 

Hector shut the door and said, “This old cow has stopped producing milk for us. And that means she’s no longer useful—well, for the dairy, that is. We like to make sure our guests fully understand where their meal is coming from and give them the opportunity to take part in the cycle of life. We can’t of course have everybody do this every time they’re here, so we reserve this for our first timers.” From a makeshift workbench, he grabbed what looked like a gun with an impossibly thick barrel and no opening. “You’ve probably never seen one of these—it’s called a captive bolt gun, or a stunner. In the old days, people would just shoot the animal prior to slaughter, but this way is more humane. Rather than a bullet, this gun stuns the animal, after which we kill them. So, which of you will do this?”

“Wait a minute,” said Geoff. “You want us to kill this cow?”

Tay’s eyes went wide. 

“No,” said Hector. “I’ll kill the cow. What I’m asking you to do is stun it before I slit its throat.”

“That’s insane,” said Geoff, pushing back his mask and wiping the sweat that had been collecting on his face underneath it.

“Why?” asked Hector. “How else do you think we get that meat out there?”

“Fuck,” said Tay, then repeating the same word over and over again, trying to back up from the animal.

“Really?” said Geoff, taking the gun from Hector and nearly dropping it. “My god, this thing weighs a ton.”

“A ten-pound stainless steel bolt propelled by a compressed air cartridge in the handle. Very efficient,” said Hector. “Now you just line it up right here between her eyes.” As Tay moved to the side of the stall as far away from the animal as possible, Hector helped guide Geoff’s hands to place the gun in the correct position.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” said Tay, his hands trying to find the latch to the gate.

“It’ll be all over in a minute,” said Hector, stepping back from where Geoff was struggling to hold the heavy gun in place and putting his hand against the stall door so Tay couldn’t back out.

Geoff had taken a wide stance, the end of the barrel resting on the animal’s forehead. The cow continued to chew, unaware of its fate, looking up at the boy with languid brown eyes. Geoff blinked a couple of times, clearing his vision from the sweat dripping from his forehead. His hands started to shake.

“Can’t do it?” asked Hector.

“No, no, I got this,” said Geoff, trying to steady his hands. “Nothing to it, right?” he said, shifting his feet. “Just pull the trigger.”

“Right,” said Hector, grinning.

Geoff continued to hold the stun gun in place. The cow’s ears started to twitch but she acted like there was nothing to worry about. Geoff swallowed, staring intently at the animal, his fingers tensed.

“Can’t do it,” Geoff said, lifting the gun from the animal’s skull. “Go figure.”

“Fuck it,” said Tay, grabbing the stunner from Geoff. With it square against the cow’s forehead, he closed his eyes, and, bracing for the impact, quickly squeezed the trigger.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Hector slowly applauded, breaking the silence. “Congrats. You’ve now been initiated. You’ve got the right stuff, boy,” he said, slapping Tay on his back with one hand while reaching around to take the inoperative gun from him. 

“What the fuck?” said Tay, almost stuttering.

“You really think we kill them with a stun gun?” Hector said, reaching up to scratch the cow between its eyes where seconds before the gun’s barrel had rested. “That’s insane. We use a laser now when it’s time. Kills them instantly. And it wouldn’t be Esme here, whose udders are still very productive.”

As they exited the dairy floor, Hector raised a thumbs up to his colleague waiting to take the young boy and his father to the initiation experience. Geoff and Tay rejoined the crowd around the grill. Tay grabbed his beer off the butcher table and downed it in one gulp. Geoff tried to say something to him, but Tay waved him off. The two of them sat there, unable to look at each other.

Minutes later, the young boy who had also been led to the backbarn initiation returned, leading his father and host, his hood thrown back and a broad smile on his face. Behind him, his dad chatted with the host, grinning almost as much as his son. The grillmaster shook the boy’s hand, then returned to the butcher table and placed the recently cut steaks on the grills where the flames had become red hot coals. The group stood around while the steaks sizzled on the grill, the cowboys chatting with the father of the other group, Geoff and Tay silently watching. Finally Lina and the other diner employees emerged from the kitchen with plates already containing the side dishes and the grillmaster placed each steak on a plate with a flourish. Hector, carrying their meals on a tray, led Geoff and Tay back to their dining room. 

Geoff and Tay faced the steaks in front of them. Geoff hesitated a moment before picking up his knife and beginning to slice off a piece. Then, Tay, too, took up his knife and fork, cut a piece and examined the inside. Where the outside had a carbonized char from the grill, the inside meat had a pink tinge. Watery red liquid pooled on the platter, out from where he had cut the meat. He closed his eyes, placed the piece in his mouth and began to chew, slowly at first. It tasted like veat but also like the crusty burnt bits of a paella left too long on the burner, the texture akin to raw jackfruit or even asparagus. He swallowed, letting it slide down his throat. His tongue felt a bit remaining, caught between his molars. Cutting another piece, he forced himself to continue.

After the two of them had eaten like this for a few minutes, Geoff said, “It’s good, but not transcendental good, you know. My Dad called it an orgasm in your mouth. He’s such a tool sometimes.”

Suddenly, Tay felt his mouth had gone dry and he struggled to swallow, like the steak had stuck around his Adam’s apple. He grabbed his water and downed half the glass, gasping for air afterwards. “I can’t…I…can still see that cow, you know. I can’t stop seeing that cow.”

“Yeah. That was harsh…” Geoff started.

“It was fucking wrong!” Tay rose quickly from the booth, his knife and fork falling, clattering on the floor. He rushed through the curtain and ran down to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Into a stall, he knelt before the commode, and there it came up: beer, bile, and flecks of undigested meat rushing out from his stomach, heaving once, twice, three times.

When he determined it had run its course, he ripped off some toilet paper, wiped his mouth and cleared his nose before flushing away the evidence. At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He took his time drying off, feeling slightly clammy and cold. Back down the hallway, he could hear the other diners chatting and laughing. Had they heard him throw up? Did he care? Did it matter?

When Tay got back to the booth, he could see Geoff had finished off most of his filet. He slid back into his seat and said, “Sorry.”

“Brah. I get it. It’s not for everybody.” He wiped his face with the white handkerchief, now stained pink and brown with oily juices.

Tay stared at the half-uneaten steak in front of him, unsure if he imagined hearing the sound of a braying calf in the distance barely audible in the otherwise eerie silence filling the room. “No. No, it’s not.”