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Mark’s voice lowered, and he leaned in conspiratorially. “But… I want to share with you one of the more… amusing incidents of the year.”
The room shifted, all eyes on him. Mark smirked, his eyes gleaming.
“There was a harvest machine malfunction in Sector 14, in Africa. The damn thing went haywire, malfunctioned during a heatwave.” He chuckled, his amusement growing. “Instead of simply processing the target percentage, it went on a spree. It harvested an extra 50,000 in under two hours. Blood everywhere, bodies… it was an absolute slaughterhouse.”
Mark's laughter was infectious, spreading through the room. The council of elites joined in, laughing uncontrollably at the massacre described so casually.
“One of the techs on the scene—poor bastard—tried to stop it, but he got swept up into the blades.” Mark wiped a tear from his eye as the laughter grew louder. “By the time they managed to shut it down, the ground was slick with… well, let’s just say the cleanup took weeks.”
The room howled with laughter, elites slapping the table in glee as Mark leaned back, reveling in the dark humor of the moment.
