Ability

I am not certain what you mean by sensitive content, but this is meant to be a disturbing horror story.

Ability

"Next order of business is adding more disabled parking spots to the shopping mall." Council President Kari banged her gavel on the block.

"Ten should do it," said VP Greg.

"More like twenty-five," countered Lavinia. "You never account for enough future growth."

Morrisey rolled up to the bench. "Ten is plenty. Those of us on scooters don't need to park at all."

"Motion to approve ten new disabled spots," said Greg.

"Second!" shouted another voice.

"All in favor?" Kari banged her gavel again, then counted the raised hands. "Motion passes, eight to three." One more bang. "Meeting adjourned."

Per Council Order 257, people in motorized chairs exited the meeting hall first, followed by manual chairs, then crutches and canes, and finally, anyone walking on two legs.

Lavinia jogged a bit to catch up to Greg, hobbling awkwardly with his cane. "How's business at your shop?"

"Little bit of an uptick this month," he smiled. "I've got some new modifications that are popular. I invented a lever for speed control that goes right on the steering wheel."

"Oh, sure, cater to the legless, as usual." Lavinia, only half sarcastic, pointed a stainless steel finger at his puffed out chest.

"Don't be miffed, honey, you know I'm almost finished the footpad for steering." He had the good manners to look abashed.

"Now that my new arm is calibrated, I can assist you again. Let's work on it now, can we?"

Greg drove Lavinia to his auto shop, speeding nearly twenty miles per hour, weaving between cars, scooters, cows, and chickens. 

He opened the bay and seated himself on his custom dolly, which pivoted in all directions and raised or lowered with barely a shift in weight. He popped off his prosthetic legs and leaned them against the wall. 

"This gives me more maneuverability than I had with real legs," he told Lavinia. 

"I see what you mean. Look at my grip strength now." She shrugged up her shoulder. Her mechanical hand grasped the handle of the one hundred pound toolbox and raised it over her head. "You're a real genius with these inventions."

They worked hard all afternoon and were late getting to the café for dinner. The parking lot was full, but some early-birds were leaving and Greg pulled into a disabled spot. They found seats together at a long table. People chatted happily about their day.

"My new markers for the whiteboard are a vast improvement," said Harriet, the elementary school teacher. "Look how easy they are to use." She bent her head to the table and picked up a blue plastic implement with her teeth. Biting ever so gently, the end opened like a flower and the inked tip protruded. Using her tongue, she shifted the implement to the corner of her mouth. "I can talk with it and it's completely odorless. I really love the efficiency." She put the marker back on the table and took a bite of food. 

The next morning was another typical day full of sunshine and cheer. The village bustled. At lunchtime, there was a stir at the café. A stranger had arrived. Within minutes, the parking lot was full, people so excited, they didn't even complain when all the disabled parking spots were full.

Kari had already taken charge of the bewildered young man. "We're so pleased to see you, young sir," she fawned. "We're so far off the beaten path, we don't get a lot of visitors here." She shook his hand - gingerly - with her steel claw. "Sorry about my hand," she apologized, "It's an older model, before we'd gotten good at fingers. I'm due for an upgrade next year."

The man was called Martin and he was just traveling the country, having recently graduated college. Greg sidled over and fed him one of their best steaks. Then, Kari and Greg gave him the grand tour.

"We've got everything here," said Kari. "Schools, dress shops, menswear, electronics shops."

"And the science lab," added Greg. "I run that. We are big inventors here. Everyone likes to putter."

"That's impressive," Martin nodded with appreciation. "STEM education is so important."

They took him up and down every street, showing him every nuance of village life.

"It's a great little village," Martin said. "What's beyond the houses, though?"

"Oh, silly me," Kari exclaimed. "That's all museum out there."

She had Greg turn the car and drive out into the fields. Martin looked across the vast acreage. He saw orchards with trees full of ripe apples. Cattle grazed on alfalfa. Chickens pecked in the dirt alongside the steer. The car followed a narrow dirt road. Martin's head swiveled to look at fields of beans, potatoes, corn. Having stopped at a few quirky towns already, he supposed "museum" was their quaint word for farming.

Finally, Greg turned the car around and they headed back to the café.

"We don't want to be late for dinner," he explained.

Martin watched curiously as the café filled up. Every adult was missing an arm or leg, some more than one. Teenagers, who still had all their limbs, served plates of piping hot meat loaf.

Kari stood. "A toast," she proclaimed, "To our visitor, Martin. Thank you for your visit and your kind words today. And for our dinner tonight, we thank the...?" She looked around, questioningly.

"The Collier family!" came a voice from the kitchen.

"The Collier family," Kari repeated. "We wish them a speedy recovery."

Everyone applauded and gave cheers for the Collier family.

"I don't mean to pry," Martin said, "But are these all agricultural injuries?"

"Agri-what?" Greg asked.

"Agriculture. The farming. The cows and chickens and apple trees."

"You mean the museum? No, no one gets hurt there. We just go out there to look," Greg explained. 

Martin's hand shook as he laid his fork on the table. "What are we eating?"

"You heard the announcement," Kari said patiently. "Leg of Collier tonight."

"You don't harvest the fields? You don't eat the chickens and cows and apples?" Martin stared at the faces surrounding him. They stared back.

"Those things are edible?" Greg gasped.

There was a sudden cacaphony. "You can eat apples?" "Chickens are food?"

"Is nobody going to say it?" Martin shouted. "You don't have to eat each other!"