The elephants trumpeted like a sickly orchestra as their blood was syphened. Skin once healthy and full, now sunken and depressed. Arranged in their circle, veins dripping, sunken eyes with fear. Again they bellow, ear shattering at first, less and less as they deplete. As the machine pulsated, every fifth pulse resulted in a painful extract. As the draining reached its end the elephants are slumped on their knees, heads hung low. Barely keeping their eyes open.

“Final strain, t minus 20 seconds till switch” said the man over the intercom.

The elephants in unison gave there last trumpet. It was weak, strained, and overall just sad. Pathetic. They should just give up. They collapse together and immediately lowered to the next station. The cages open up and more elephants are filed in and the process is repeated.

“New strain, phase 1, t minus 10 seconds”.

The engineers insert the tubes and back away with their hazmat suits. The elephants jostle as much as they can under the restraints.

“Phase 1 in 3…2…1” and again strain of the trumpeters repeats.