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continued.
     
    Just when it looked like the situation was hopeless, a scientist by the name of Arthur Freeland presented a theory to the Federal senate involving using retired citizens as a resource to produce energy. He suggested the bodies of retirees could be used as a valuable raw material instead of simply being cremated after death.
     
    A sound clip from Freeland played as the camera slowly panned across his photograph.
     
    “The human body produces over 75,000 BTUs of heat. When this body heat is collected in a very controlled, efficient, and precise environment, we can bring five gallons of water to a boil in just a few minutes from one person. If we multiply this by hundreds of retirees, all working together at once, the energy produced to run a traditional steam turbine equals or exceeds that of any fossil-fuel fired power plant.”
     
    Maz pushed a button on the remote and paused the video. “It goes on for a while yet, explains the process more, but I think you get the gist of it. And I think the look on your face tells me you’ve had enough.”
    “What does he mean, body heat? People still die when they reach sixty, right? How can a corpse produce heat?”
    “Well,” Maz scratched the top of his head. “That is true. When folks come into the plant, they’re kept alive for a while. When they enter a processing center, just like you did yesterday, they aren’t killed by lethal injection. Just knocked out using a barbiturate. A medically induced coma.
    “After they get here, but before they get put into one of the pods, they get an electrical shock to the head. Just enough to fry the brain and that’s when the life support system in the pod kicks in. The retiree is technically brain dead, but the machines keep all the bodily systems chugging. Lungs, heart, the works. In the meantime, the pod collects the body heat.”
    “What pods?” Hank asked.
    “Oh that’s right,” Maz waved his hand at the video screen. “Forgot I stopped it before that point. They put the retirees in these pods that do all the work. Rumor has it they were modified from the old space program when that was still around. Life support pods astronauts would go to sleep in for long space flights.”
    “So that’s where I am,” Hank said. “In a power plant?”
    “Yup.” Maz stood from his chair and pushed a button to retract the monitor back into the ceiling. “Hank, the State gambled on you because they figured you weren’t ready to die just yet. They put their money on you because they think you’d rather work in a place like this than end up like the people you’ll soon see. Remember that psych evaluation you took a couple of months ago?”
    “They were sizing me up. And what if I refuse?”
    Maz sighed. “Well, I’ve seen it a few times over the years. Let’s just say there’s only one option when that happens.”
    Hank stared at the floor in a daze, not sure how to process what he just learned. “I can’t believe it. How long has this been going on?”
    “Long before you and I, my friend.”
    “And where do I fit into all of this?”
    “You’ll find out soon enough,” Maz said. “They didn’t tell me what your exact job will be but I suspect you’ll be working in one of the boiler rooms. I know they’ve been struggling to keep them fully staffed lately.”
    “There’s one thing I don’t get. What about the ashes? My wife dropped off an urn. Hell, I still have my father’s ashes back home on a bookshelf.”
    “Your wife will get that urn back and it’ll be full. Just won’t be you that’s in it.”
    “Who then?” Hank asked.
    “A mix of a dozen others. Probably more. The technology involved in the pods is good, but not that good. The bodies are held in a solution that’s pretty dang toxic. Seeps through the skin and into the bloodstream. It slowly dissolves the tissue and after a month or two, the heart and rest of the organs just give out. The body is pulled out, cremated, and added to