Baking cloned hearts

A long line of Host and Clones trail up the massive earthwork temple. Each pair identical in every detail. The host with their hands on the clones shoulders lead them forward to a massive pit of glowing embers. Red wet rocks form a semi circle that oozes a red thick stream of blood that passes through a large iron grate into a tube-system that diverts it into many smaller pipes that empty into the pit. A noxious steam hisses from the coals as the little red rivulets dance and hiss as they splash into the fire.

Clones lay down on the rocks singing a mumbled drugged song of praise to the Bug ShaGug. Clones are highly trained and conditioned to accept this sacrifice as their ultimate purpose in life.

Black stone blades with serrated edges are used to cut away rib-cage and pull free the still beating hearts. It takes a certain type of commitment to tear out the heart of a being that looks exactly like you. But the Host/Priest pulls out the heart and shouts glories to the unending buzzing of the Bug ShaGug.

Chains affixed to block and tackle like pulleys are suspended from a giant A-frame of branches and trees that extends high above the heat of the furnace fire. Each chain terminates in a cast iron pod that unscrews. The hearts are placed in the metal pods and lowered into the red coals where the heart is baked through and through in just a matter of minuets. The cooked flesh is raised from the coal bed and removed and placed into a bowl that is made of bread.

The Host/Priest now proceeds to the dining table...alone...in a single file...to consume a heart that is totally identical to the one still beating in his chest.

The dining table affords a view of the double line proceeding to the fire pit and the single line that gathers at the tables.

Song and cries of pain, shouts of glory and gurgles of death mix into a cacophony of grim orchestration.

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