"It won't work!" yells the Indian boy in a heavily-accented voice after spitting out the last traces of vomit "Threatening to kill us makes no difference! Boys won't cooperate! "
The Boss glances at the nude preteen standing with his legs spread and arms held high with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. As if he were a harmless critter that somehow made its way inside the house.
She throws a questioning look at the masked woman who took off the boy's mouth gag who immediately panics and hurries to put it back on.
"But I know how you can fix it...!" the tied twelve-year-old manages to say before the rubber ball is shoved back in his mouth.
The Boss raises a hand, stopping the woman from fully securing the gag around his head. She pockets the phone and takes a step closer.
"Interesting..." she muses "It's not rare for drones to plead or ask for mercy and other nonsense when we let them speak," she tilts her head "But I think you're the first one in a while who came out kicking with a freaking suggestion!"
She laughs, looks at the other masked women and asks "Do you recall who was the last one who tried to tell ME how to do MY job? Was it the chubby kid from Korea...?"
The three women shrug and shake their heads, not daring to risk an answer. The Boss rolls her eyes and motions at the woman to remove his mouth gag.
"My associates here can atess how much I insist on feedback. I keep telling them how I'm open to ideas on ways to improve our business, yet no one seems to take my offer for some reason…" she waves a hand to the boy "So please! Go ahead..."
The ball gag is removed and the boy spits out. He looks around, sees that everyone on the fishing boat —including the three other boys hanging next to him—, staring expectantly.
He swallows, tries to keep his focus on the Boss's face.
"Killing us if we don't cooperate is a shitty business strategy. We're your only source of income! You..."
He stops when he sees the three masked women have shifted in place, readying to punish his insult.
But the Boss raises a hand and stops them. She beckons him to continue with an amused smile.
The boy wets his lips, tries to keep his voice from trembling too much.
"S-such policy will force you to kill a HUGE slice of your workforce once they rebel. Which they will! A-and I know it will happen because from the four of us here," he motions at the other bound boys "I know 'I' won't cooperate! Are you really going to eliminate 33% of your portfolio in one swoop? We..."
He stops again, the Boss has a hand over her face trying to contain her laughter. The other three women relax and chuckle in sporadic bursts, unsure whether to join their employer.
"Alright, alright..." the Boss mutters between chuckles "It seems that 'someone' has been watching a lot of Finance Tube lately and thinks they know what they're talking about." she suddenly gives in and bursts out laughing. The other women shift uncomfortably in place, unsure how to react.
It takes about a minute for the Boss to continue, still struggling to contain her laugh "Y-you think that… By throwing some buzz words around, a few percentages and whatnot, something may eventually stick? Think you can bullshit your way out of THIS!? Alright, alright..." she breathes and straightens up, gets serious "And by the way, one out of four is NOT 33% you ding-dong..."
She pauses again to sweep a tear off her eye as she catches her breath, fanning air to her reddened face.
"Alright kiddo, I'll bite. Let's say your premise is right —which is NOT just to be clear— and there's an inherent, structural problem with the new zero-tolerance policy at the Farm." she crosses her arms, looks at him defiantly "I'm guessing the next step in your elevator pitch is you telling me your 'Big Idea', right? The genius solution that will counter my decades of experience milking drones for a living. A solution that by the way, will make it easier for me and my kind to exploit you and your kind in the future!"
She smiles a devilish smile, moves her arm in an arching movement as if ceding him command of the stage.
"Go ahead! How can I prevent our drones from rebelling?"
The Indian boy swallows and wets his lips again, glances one more time at the many eyes staring at him.
He smiles.
"Pay us," he says simply. And in the resulting silence of the crowd he adds: "I can guarantee that at least 95% of us boys will cooperate once you do. We're worthless anyway, remember? So if you let us keep EVEN a small percentage of what you get for our sperm, it will do wonders to boy's morale! We'll have something to look forward to once we become infertile and are let go!"
He takes a breath, sees how everyone keeps looking at him in silence. He takes this as a good sign and continues talking with raising enthusiasm.
"And that's NOT all! Once you treat us as employees rather than hostages, you can diversify your sources of income! You've been missing out on all the OTHER things we boys can do that could earn you money!" he smiles, his voice trembling from excitement "P-people want to have sex with us not just because we're fertile, but because we are rare! One male out of four females in the latest UN census. So we could for example... Hey! Wait!!!"
He panics, the Boss has turned around and is heading back to the boat's cabin while typing on the phone. The masked woman near the boy smirks and readies the mouth gag to shut him up.
He speaks in a frenzy before his voice is silenced "We don't want to return home! We want to be free! That's what...!
He shakes his head trying to stop the rubber ball from blocking his mouth, but it's useless. He keeps yelling unrecognizable words while the woman breathes in relief and hurries to the Boss's side.
"Sorry about that Boss, we'll soften him before we arrive at the Farm. He won't be such a smart-ass for much longer."
The Boss waves a hand dismissively, he eyes squared on the phone "Yeah, yeah, it's fine. A moment of levity is always welcomed." she motions at the other three kids "Release and feed them, they seem softened enough. Leave mini Sundar Pichai for later, he's quite energetic as is."
The woman nods and relays the orders to her crewmates who proceed to free the other boys, leaving the tall Indian kid hanging in place yelling into his mouth-gag.
The Boss steps inside the cabin and reignites the battered diesel engine which thunders back to life. She holds the wheel with a hand and the phone with the other as the vessel resumes its journey.
After some minutes of travel during which she keeps typing on the phone, steering, checking dials, and fiddling with nautical maps, she suddenly stops.
She lowers the phone and looks up at the ceiling, as if pondering an idea. Then just as quickly she shakes her head, dismissing it as silly.
Five mintues later she lowers the phone and looks upwards once again.
***