An assertive middle-aged woman, who for the purposes of this story we will call Ursula, arrives at a massive, prestigious Culinary school in a dense, foggy forest. She never has been to the school before. In front of the entrance on a patch of grass, an ornate fountain shoots water out of multiple spouts, making a pattern that looks like a knife. Ursula’s son Jeff attended the school, living in a dorm-like building on campus, but was recently expelled for reasons that seem confusing and unfair to her. The principal of the school, a stern, young French man called Chef Arthaud, vaguely informed Ursula of Jeff’s actions when she phoned the school last week trying to understand what happened. He spoke with a withdrawn, disappointed tone, “Multiple complaints over your son's disturbances and lack of respect towards his fellow students have caused him to be removed from the program. Here at Blade Culinary Academy, we value cooperation and teamwork. A little competition is good, but Jeff was pushing too far – he was going out of his way to be combative with his classmates.” Ursula didn’t believe this, her son was a good kid, he couldn’t be aggressive, he was raised by a thoughtful mom. Jeff was also living back at home with her now, claiming he hadn’t done anything wrong and explaining how other students told on him because his passion for meat made them uncomfortable. Apparently a group of students known as “The Candies” had gained such popularity for making sweet foods and desserts that the school was instituting a focus on sweets in their courses. The Candies had become the most likable people in school, even if they had imposing, judgemental attitudes when it came to ethics over food production and selection of dishes for class assignments. They refused to involve meat in their dishes and wanted the school to ban meat in general. When Jeff expressed his frustrations with the social biases in the program he was silenced by teachers and students who were engrossed in the ideology of The Candies. This only furthered Ursula’s apprehension about the school's handling of the situation, as she is an advocate for the continued use of meat, raising Jeff in a family full of butchers.
On her drive to the school, Ursula passed by restaurants advertising their use of plant- based products, with signs demonizing the use of meat, like, “Out With Meat!” or “Say No To Meat.” Spending most of her days in a secluded town far south of the forest, Ursula is thrown off by the politicization and cultural shift away from meat, scoffing at the idea that people would care so much about what others are eating. She thinks back to when Jeff was a little boy, and how she would take him to a hole-in-the-wall burger joint called Skippy’s Greasehouse. Four red benches surrounded the restaurant, and there was always a long line circling along the side of the building. Ursula would leave Jeff at the tables with a pen and paper when she went to wait in line, watching him make drawings of imaginary creatures eating the burgers. She always knew he would have a passion for cooking, standing at the kitchen counter before he could even see over it, and writing “food” when asked by his first grade teacher what his favorite thing was. Ursula snapped out of her trance a few miles out from the school, skidding on black ice hidden on the surface of the backroad. She reminded herself of why she was going to the school as she turned onto the street where it stood: the program had prioritized the interests of certain students over others. An anger inside of her grew, demanding a reassessment of her son's expulsion. Snow falls lightly, winter is approaching, and the school is covered in a thin white layer of powder. An old wooden street sign in front of the school is partially obstructed by the snow, the block letters reading as “de ulinary ademy” instead of “Blade Culinary Academy.”
Ursula pulls up to the main entrance of the school. She parks her warmed up car in a busy lot and exits onto the freezing, dark campus. The school may be massive in scale, however, it is quite bleak-looking on a late November evening. No one is outside, most of the windows are blacked out, and there is an overwhelming silence in the air. Ursula breaks the silence by walking aggressively towards the tall doors, the sound of her short heels clicking on the icy pavement. She has a navy purse slung on her shoulder and wears a fur jacket. As she goes to take her first step up the stairs to the school, she twists her ankle and slips onto the ice, dropping her things and hitting her head. For a moment, everything goes dark and out of focus. Ursula’s eyes roll back and she is stuck on the ground. Her mind goes to when she was a young woman, walking up the steps to her high school on the first day of freshman year. She had just moved towns after her parents got divorced and hadn’t met anyone her age yet. She was terrified of making a bad impression, cautiously tracking her every move to such a degree that she appeared almost robotic. A blurred image of the busy hallways rushes through her mind, a memory of fear ingrained in her forever. She recalls her mother’s words when she dropped her off, “Never back down, don’t let anyone tell you who you should be.” Chef Arthaud’s words echo as well, repeating, “...we value cooperation and teamwork … cooperation and teamwork …” Then suddenly, Ursula comes back to reality and sits up sharply. The contents of her purse: a small mirror, tissues, matches, lipstick, pocket knife, coin pouch, a loose cigarette, and her wallet are sprawled around her, making a broken circle of possessions.
Ursula collects her things in a scurry and looks at the small mirror, adjusting her hair. She tries to open the door to the school but it won’t budge. She pulls on it hard, and then pushes her body against it. Nothing. She sits back down and puts her hands against her head. She feels defeated, exhausted from the long drive up and irritated that she can’t get in. The blacked out windows and seemingly lifeless campus – besides the mostly full parking lot – are mocking her. It’s hard to tell why the school appears to be closed. It’s a Wednesday night, a few classes should be in session, and people live here full time. Ursula’s head is throbbing, making it difficult to think clearly. She shuffles through her purse and finds the loose cigarette, lighting it with a match and taking a long drag. She takes one more smaller drag, then tosses the cigarette into the snow. A bitter wind passes across Ursula’s face, for some reason this scares her, as if something has changed. Being in isolation has become less and less pleasant. She thinks that it’s probably time to leave, and that she’ll have to drive all the way back without having achieved anything. All she wanted was to understand what her son did wrong, and more importantly, for him to be happy and feel comfortable being himself.
She looks up, a student stands directly in front of her, a few steps below. He has a stud earring in his left ear and a shaved head. He wears glasses and a big, puffy jacket. Ursula is startled by his presence, asking him what he’s doing. He responds with the same question and she laughs, knowing she must look crazy and disheveled on these steps. She tells him about the situation she’s in, and the student’s eyes widen. He explains that he knows Jeff well, in fact they were close friends. His name is Tyler, he was a part of the Meat Team (a school club) that Jeff started last year. With a few other friends, they started doing cook-off events around campus and fundraisers where they’d make packaged lunches with a focus on meat. They were well-received – teachers praised their commitment to quality and their classmates were supportive of the club's goals – but when The Candies gained popularity, students and faculty began turning away from them. Jeff became increasingly anxious, trying to find answers as to what he did wrong, and distantly watching The Candies for days. He saw that they were spending a lot of time at the fountain, which was not running at the time and hadn’t been for centuries. They would be looking through it, trying to figure something out, and drinking from a small leak near the bottom. Jeff went to the school library and perused through old books about the school, discovering in a barely legible, beat up journal, that hundreds of years ago students were able to get the fountain running. These students were the most adored at the time, having a loyal group of friends and being the most talented chefs at the school. However, shortly after this, the school shut down for an unknown reason. There was no record of any school reopening for almost eighty years. Tyler stares into Ursula’s eyes, speaking distinctly about Jeff having a strong intuition that the fountain was dangerous and that The Candies were about to make something bad happen.
The idea of being with someone close to Jeff feels like a relief for Ursula. They continue talking, and Tyler leads them down to the fountain in front of the school. Steam surrounds the fountain, as the cold air merges with the lukewarm water floating around. Ursula senses something strange but she can’t put her finger on it. Tyler looks down, he seems emotional. Ursula puts her hand on his back, he looks up at her, disappointed and worried. He says that Jeff was adamant that something was wrong, protesting the use of the fountain and calling for an investigation into The Candies endeavors. People took his fierceness and certainty over his claims as jealousy, paranoia, and hatred. It didn’t help that The Candies had a distaste for meat, pigeonholing Jeff into being the carnivore that was “disrespecting the animal rights activists.” A vote by the school board over his breaches of the schools policy on inclusivity was taken. The vote went 3-2 in favor of his removal. A few days after he was sent home, The Candies were able to turn on the fountain by finding the source of the leak and reconnecting it to a pump below the fountain. For the first few minutes, everyone on campus was in shock, Tyler admits that it was a beautiful site. A crowd formed around it, right where Ursula and Tyler stood now, watching as the water formed the knife pattern – the school’s logo. Tyler recalls watching from a distance as a steam subtly formed around the students. It thickened and sucked people under it, he couldn’t see anyone. He waited for minutes but nothing happened.
Ursula can’t believe what she’s hearing. It doesn’t seem real, but she’s also at the fountain and it all looks like what Tyler is describing. She isn’t sure of how to feel, glad to know the truth but worried that Jeff is unwell. Tyler’s eyes are glossy and a tear drips down his cheek. He grabs Ursula’s arm and walks her into the steam. Forms appear, hazy at first glance. Looking closer and walking in further, body parts are everywhere. They reach the center of the fountain, getting a clear view of the surrounding area. Hundreds of bodies are strewn about, lifeless and extremely pale. Most people’s eyes are open, bloodshot red, with flies surrounding them. It’s extremely grotesque and apocalyptic, like nothing you could ever imagine seeing. Ursula feels nauseous and overwhelmed. Before she knows it, she hits the ground. Tyler kneels over her, and then falls as well. She remembers that first day of high school again, this time she sees a group of laughing faces, pointing fingers, and her backpack spilled all over the floor. She had never been so embarrassed.
A reality TV show plays in a dimly lit basement. On screen, a group of butchers compete to get the most cuts out of a cow as possible, having a sixty minute time limit. Jeff watches from a futon, holding a burger and staring intently at the screen. He’s in underwear and a dirty, oversized shirt. He lays back, looking unconcerned, and eats quickly.