Summer of Slime Pays Off
A knock on the door roused me reluctantly from a deep sleep. It must be morning, or was it afternoon? Night? The thick sheet my roommates and I affixed over the window had slipped, allowing abundant light to cascade over our bunks. Still not an indicator of the time here in the Land of the Midnight Sun. "You guys wanna work?" Antonio, one of the company supervisors called through the door. I sat upright. After two weeks of doing little else besides eating, sleeping, and dragging wooden pallets down to the "beach" for sunset bonfires at 1 a.m., I was anxious to make some money. Several of us followed Antonio to the dimly lit processing facility. Puddles covered the floor, and the smell was nauseating, but after a few minutes, I grew accustomed to it. Eyeing the monstrous machinery with trepidation, I learned it would not be running today. The king salmon which we would be cleaning were too large for the automated processors. On average, king salmon weigh 25-50 po...