Chapter Text
The Cadal Oil Corporation is not merely a Scottish oil company-it is a ruthless empire on the high seas. Its gigantic, steel drilling rigs tower like hungry titans from the pitch-black waters of the North Atlantic. In this industry, oil is the liquid gold of the modern era; its extraction is extremely risky, logistically highly complex, and devours astronomical sums of money. Because every mistake can cost millions, a draconian regime rules on board. From the very first second, workers are made unpredictably clear: anyone who fails to perform, works sloppily, or shows even a spark of laziness is out.
But at Cadal, "termination" does not mean the end of an employment contract. It means the end of one's existence. It is a final, absolute disposal.
Called to Headquarters
When the corporate management’s sensors or the supervisors’ cameras detect a worker acting conspicuously-be it through fading concentration, a mishap during maintenance, or sheer exhaustion-the bureaucratic death blow is dealt. The individual receives an official summons to the glass-fronted main headquarters on the Scottish mainland.
There, in sterile, sub-zero conference rooms, they are confronted with their mistakes. Managers in tailored suits emotionlessly read aloud the protocols of failure. The workers do not defend themselves. By this point, they have long known what awaits them. The legends surrounding the fate of the dismissed are omnipresent on the platforms. Mortal terror spreads within them, a paralyzing, cold certainty-even if they were well aware of the risk when signing their contract.
Before the sentence is carried out, the corporation grants one last, cruel grace period: they are allowed to contact their families one final time by phone or message to say goodbye-disguised as a sudden, indefinite relocation abroad.
The Shrinkage Procedure
After the parting words, there is no turning back. Usually in groups of six, the condemned are led into a windowless room located deep in the underground of the headquarters. There, defenseless, they are strapped to metal chairs.
From the ceiling, a massive, humming machinery descends-a technological monstrosity that manipulates the molecular structure of the human body. Under a blinding flash of light and agonizing physical stretching and compressing processes, the six adult men and women are compacted to a size of just 5 centimeters.
As soon as the process is complete, the tiny, utterly terrified humans are locked into a small, sturdy box like lifeless merchandise. Stripped of all dignity, packed as cargo, they are flown via the next helicopter back to the exact drilling rig where they failed.
The Disposal
After landing on the helideck, the box is brought directly to the private, luxurious quarters of the Installation Manager-the head platform chief. He is the law on the rig, and he is the one who carries out the "disposal" personally.
For the manager, this task is not an annoying chore, but the absolute highlight of his workday. He opens the box and looks down at the tiny figures. Then, the sadistic ritual begins: he takes the workers between his fingers, one by one.
He does not dispose of them in the sea or in an incinerator. He eats them.
He guides the 5-centimeter-tall, naked humans into his mouth and swallows them alive in a single piece. While he holds them in his mouth or as they slowly slide down his esophagus, he enjoys every second. He revels in their naked panic, the desperate thrashing of their tiny limbs against his tongue, and their muffled, barely audible screams and pleas. It is the ultimate demonstration of power and control-and the absolute, nameless end of a failed career at Cadal Oil.