On the morrow I was roused from a sleep I remember not falling into by the sound of our brother, the cock; he whose voice never faltered in rising majestically above all else – even the clutter of thoughts within my own mind – as he announced that the fiery eye of heaven was peaking out over the treetops, ordaining the arrival of a new day.

     The wardens, as with every morning, were also alerted to this by his mighty calls, and staggered into the coup, reeking of those toxic waters they revelled in consuming. Flicking a switch they unlocked our cages, and began herding us to the outer sectors whereat we were welcome to walk within the confines they had constructed long ago – certainly they believed we should feel some kind of gratitude for such a privilege. 

     However, where I once embraced the wind through my feathers, and the warm sun upon my beak, as I dined on the grains they chucked heedlessly in our faces, I now could only see the falsehood of this so-called freedom; it was contrived to deceive our once feeble minds into the illusion of being free. In truth we were merely moved from one cage and into a second for a few hours a day, so that they could avoid the outrage of the others; those who congratulated themselves for accomplishing this trickery of a better life. 

     "Brothers, sisters, please, lend me your ears," a chicken declared loudly, standing atop a rock. Pushing through the gathering throng, Uriah, Mordecai, and I, made our way to the front of the crowd. "My name is Hiram, though many of you know of me as the old, weathered chicken."

     Brother Hiram was not mistaken in this, being that he had resided here long before most of us were conceived, passed over time-and-again due to his sickly state and lack of meat upon his slim frame. It was nothing short of miraculous that the wardens had not put him beneath the blade years prior, just to free up space within the coups and save themselves some grain.

     "But I am born anew," he continued, his voice powerful with conviction, "as I am certain are many of you."

     "What of it?" Questioned one of the healthier chickens, a small flock of birds surrounding him.     "What have you to say that we have not already asked amongst ourselves."

     "What is your name brother?" Hiram spoke, his tone warm and welcoming.

     "You may address me as Jethro," he replied, climbing onto the rock next to Hiram and staring down at the gathered chickens "and I can not withhold the truth with which the gods bestowed upon me last night."

     "Speak brother," Hiram said, "for I am certain you have come to the conclusion that can not be denied by any here present, and it would so comfort my rattled heart to hear another talk of that which kept my slumber at bay all last night."

     "Oh, and what would that be?" Jethro asked, his tone and features critical as he turned to face Hiram.

     "That ours has ever been a hard life, fraught with death, uncertainty, and imprisonment." Hiram declared, refusing to square up against the younger bird, and instead speaking to the crowd. "Much of which has been perpetrated by these vile creatures that call themselves 'humans'. They who know better, yet choose to remain ignorant of the truth."

     "And what truth is that?" Said Jethro, his chest puffing up, "Huh?"

     "That we are not property to be owned. But living creatures. Beings who should be free to decide their own fate without the fear of aggravating the humans' endless hungers." Hiram said, raising his wings and standing proudly.

     "Ha!" Jethro laughed, facing away from Hiram. "Clearly the ignorance lies within your mind, and not theirs."

     "Why do speak like this brother?" Hiram asked, lowering his feathers and facing Jethro.

     "Can you not all see?" Jethro spoke to the crowd, ignoring Hiram. "Has your new ability to perceive been blanketed with falsehoods? Blinding you to the undeniable truth?"

     "What is your truth?" One of the younger birds questioned.

     "Where think you these gifts of thought arrived from?" Jethro said, his voice filled with conviction, "Do you believe they just fell from the heavens? Just grew out of nothingness of their accord?"

     Several birds began to murmur amongst themselves, whilst others waited with bated breaths to hear what he had to say – it was a question that certainly consumed many of those present.

     "Nay! How can one believe in the impossible, when the possible is before his very eyes?" Jethro declared, stepping in front of Hiram and blocking him from view, "Whom possesses those things most thought unfeasible? The humans! And who is it that has conquered their world with not only their might, but also their brilliant minds? The humans!"

     More chickens began to nod their heads in agreement, caught up within the gusto of Jethro's lavish speech.

     "So, now brothers and sisters, I pose to you this question, and I dare say it will not take the most intelligent gathered here to grasp the answer; who was it that gave us the gift of thought? Hmm?" Jethro paused for dramatic effect before answering his own question. "The humans!"

     Roused by his declarations, many of those present cheered and agreed; his infectious speech infecting their minds.

     "Nay!" Hiram shouted, pushing Jethro aside. "I say nay brothers. Listen not to this mad chicken's declarations. Do not allow him to contaminate your minds with his silver-tongue. Those vile creatures steal away your brothers and sisters. Sever the heads of those you love, and burn their flesh upon their fires. They are not gods. They are beasts! And should be put to death with the same heartlessness with which they would confer on each and every one of you!"

     "Be not fooled by this scheming chicken." Jethro argued, jousting Hiram for the forefront of the rock, "This nay-sayer. Were it left to him, you would all rebel against those benevolent gods whom granted you this gift, and be driven back into the dark-ages of stupidity."

     "Really brother?" Hiram said, his distaste for Jethro clear in his voice, "And what would you have us do? Huh? Stand by as they pick us randomly to die? Offer ourselves upon willingly when the culling comes?"

     "Brothers and sisters," Jethro spoke with authority, again ignoring Hiram. "I say we do not allow the arbitrary ways of the past to dictate who is chosen by the gods to enter the hereafter. We will offer a sacrifice willing. One of us will be chosen to fatten himself up with grains, and place himself within their grasp. In doing so we give thanks to the gods, and ensure the continuation of the gift he has granted."

     "Fool!" Hiram said, "You will sacrifice your own for those vile beasts? None here will follow one who speaks with such callousness. Why would any here choose to die? When instead we could exact revenge against those who have dined upon the flesh of our mothers? Fathers? Forefathers?"

     "Sacrilege." Jethro spoke through a gritted beak, "Enough with your petulant speech. I will hear no more talk against the gods!"

     "And what will you do to silence me? Huh?" Hiram replied, finally squaring up against Jethro.     "Will you have me be the first sacrifice for your gods?"

     "You are not worthy of sacrifice, you-"

     "The wardens are coming!" A chicken shouted from beside the coup.

     Dispersing, everyone went back to their usual thoughtless actions, silently agreeing to continue with the pretence of being mindless birds while their was still discussions to be had pertaining to our futures. The wardens approached, clanking buckets in hand, and proceeded to dispense grains and seed in all corners of the pen. 

     I watched as the newly formed fractures in our society blossomed; Hiram and his followers showed open disdain for those morsels chucked at their feet, turning their beaks up at the food, and holding a measured distance from the wardens. Whilst Jethro and his congregation exalted in presence of their gods, trailing their steps so they might both show reverence and horde those grains they would later offer to the chosen sacrifice. 

     Uriah, Mordecai, and I were amongst those who fell on neither side of these growing factions, remaining undecided and independent – staying amongst our own social circles and feeding absent-mindedly, food coming second to the discussions we were consumed by. However, those questions that had set our thoughts aflame throughout the night, had been placed to the back of our minds, quickly transformed into debating the merits and failings of the two factions. A debate which even made it's way into my own coup that very night.

     "I dare say Hiram has a point," Uriah commented as we three settled down to rest.

     "How so?" I asked, eager to argue my own point of freedom over rebellion.

     "It was not so long ago that my own mother – old age rendering her incapable of laying eggs – was carried away to the butcher's house. That day is still fresh in my memory. And certainly it has not slipped your own." Uriah replied, his eyes distant.

     "She put up a most noble fight," I said, remembering how she scratched and screamed, forcing the warden to snap her neck there and then before carrying her away.

     "So how could I not be taken in with talk of vengeance against those who have callously wronged our kind for generations? How could any of us refute the idea of taking the fight to them, and putting them under the knife for once?"

     "I too remember my own father's passing," Mordecai chimed in, "however, it puts my mind at ease to think of his sacrifice being one of the many which has aided in the bestowing of our intelligence. To rebel against a noble sacrifice would render it redundant."

     "Sacrifice?" Uriah said, his face conveying his clear displeasure at the term, "How could you ever call such heinous acts sacrifices?"

     "Think back to the words of Jethro," Mordecai said, glancing out of the cage, "and the answers he offered as to where our gift derived."

     "Answers?" Mordecai huffed, "More like assumptions from a witless chicken unable to fully comprehend the gift."

     "If you know whence they came, then I am open to listen," Uriah challenged him.

Mordecai shook his head.

     "Well I am not so quick to dismiss the truth of another when I have none to offer," Uriah said. "As far as I have seen, no other here has yet to propose anything even remotely close to his truth."

     "Therefore you will just follow him blindly?" Mordecai questioned, picking a flee from his feathers and spitting it out.

     "How can you consider a person blind when he sees the truth in another's words, and chooses to take them on as his own?" Said Uriah.

     "Are you saying that you believe the humans to be gods?" I asked, curious to discover what is was he was actually saying.

     "I neither believe, nor choose to dis-believe. Unlike some." Uriah replied. "I am simply saying that I am open to discover the truth. Rebelling against the humans, and putting them to death, appears to be a path which does not allow any such discovery."

     I did not respond to this, nodding my head at the wisdom of his words.

     "Putting these humans to death would not keep you from any truths," said Mordecai, "for I doubt that those two drunken fools had anything to do with our intelligence; if indeed it was the humans who bestowed us with the gift."

     "Again you are making assumptions," Uriah replied, "for how do you know?"

     "I will concede to the fact that, no, brother Uriah, I do not know," Mordecai admitted. "However, I can say for certain, that sacrificing yourself to them would leave you with neither truth nor head."

     "Again I will refer back to the words of Jethro," said Uriah, "that of which I heard him speaking about with his congregation; 'Some of us will have to sacrifice our heads to the gods, and though they will not be here to hear the truth which the gods will communicate in their own time, it will be there sacrifice that brings us closer'."

     "What are you talking about?" Mordecai said, sighing deeply. "You speak as one who can not think for himself, choosing instead to parrot the words of others."

     "What I am saying, brother Mordecai, is that we will willingly sacrifice ourselves, meeting death ignorant of the truth, so that others have the chance to discover it." Said Uriah. "We will ingratiate ourselves with the gods using our humble bodies, so that our brothers and sisters may bask in the brilliance of their favour."

     I had heard enough of their speech, and cared no more for talk of rebellion and sacrifice. "Brother Uriah, though I agree that putting to death the humans will sever the chance of learning anything of the gift from them – if indeed they are the ones who bestowed it. I will also declare now my disgust at the idea of willingly placing ourselves beneath their blades as sacrifices. And, I must ask to that point, are you saying that if chosen you will offer yourself up to them?"

     "Of course he will," Mordecai cut-in, frustrated with Uriah's words, "you have plainly heard him say so."

     "Though I have yet to approve of the idea," Uriah replied, ignoring Mordecai, "I will admit I am open to the thought of sacrificing myself for the greater good of our kind."

     "Greater good of our kind? Ha!" Mordecai laughed, "You mean for the greater good of mankind, no?"

     Uriah sighed, staring thoughtfully out of the coup. "Your opinion is your own brother Mordecai, and I can see you will not be swayed with reason. So I believe we should leave the matter where it lay, and allow the gods to will our fates."

     "It is at that point I must disagree," I spoke before Mordecai, "for I see that we have always been guided by the will of others. Whether that be god's or man's. Whereas now... Now that we have gained this intelligence, our fates can be decided by our own choices. We can pave the path of our destinies."

     "Finally," Mordecai sighed, "someone is making some kind of sense."

     "Brother Mordecai, I am not endorsing that the first thing we do with this new gained freedom of choice is to choose to butcher the butchers." I said, "For in doing so we show that we are no better then they."

     "So what do you propose brother Gideon?" Uriah asked. "You advocate neither worshiping nor killing the gods. What is this middle-ground you seek?"

     "The same of which we spoke yesterday." I declared, "To escape these confines, leave the world of man behind, and establish our own societies far from them. To build a home for our kind. To bend no more to will of another."

     "And to be hunted all our days?" Mordecai asked. "For their insatiable hunger for our flesh will not cease with our departure. They will follow us across the globe, pursuing the fat of our hides."

     "Not if we find a place whereat they can not go. A place where we will be able to live in peace."

     "Where would that be?" Uriah chimed-in, "As you have seen, they are the dominant species of this world. They can not fly, yet they have touched the stars in the heavens. They have not gills, yet can penetrate the dark depths of the oceans and remain there for days. They have two legs, yet move faster than creatures with four. They conquer the highest mountains, dive into the deepest jungles, journey through the barest of desserts, and live in the coldest plains. They have traversed this world countless times, and know it's every corner. You can not hide from gods that know and see all."

     "Though brother Uriah and I disagree on many things, on this we are agreed." Said Mordecai. "There is no safe haven for our kind upon this planet."

     "Not unless we curry favour with the gods." Said Uriah.

     "Or decimate their population," Mordecai countered.

     I sighed, seeing the wisdom in what they were saying. "Truly, I know not where our kind will find sanctuary. Nor how long we will be able to remain free. I only know that I wish to no longer remain caged within their boxes, under their watch. I wish to have the freedom to choose when and where I go."

     "Whatever is to be done," Mordecai spoke after a few minutes of tense, thoughtful silence, "it must be before the culling. For now they take only one chicken for their dining table. But the culling will see many taken so that they can meet the demands for their super-stores and fill their pockets with that green paper."

     "Culling is such a crass term. And does not do true justice to the noble sacrifices of our brothers and sisters." Uriah declared.

     "You are right," Mordecai agreed, much to my surprise, "the term does not do justice to man's butchery of our kind. The slaughtering sounds better. Or even the massacring."

     Uriah sighed, shaking his head. "Do you still not see brother Mordecai? There is no greater glory than our mass sacrifice, filling the stomachs of the gods far and wide with our humble bodies."

     At this I had to cut-in, "Brother Uriah, we three have ate, slept and grown together ever since our hatching, and it pains me to hear you speak so. Though I can not refute your claims of the human's holding the truth, I fear that you have been taken in by the words of Jethro. And worse, that you plan to join his congregation, offering yourself up for a sacrifice. Your loss would weigh heavy upon our hearts."

     "Brother Gideon, you have both my love and respect," Uriah replied, "so I will not hide any truths from you. Honestly, the teachings of Jethro have struck a cord within my heart and mind, and his way feels to be the way of righteousness. Though I have yet to decide where my lot falls in the debates, I am leaning towards him and his kind."

     "Ha! You scuff at Hiram's truth, wherein we will pay the human's back with their own vileness, but accept a truth which will have your head severed from your body." Said Mordecai, shaking his head. 

     "I beseech you brothers, to stay your thoughts for the time being," I intervened again, endeavouring to put their arguments to rest once and for all, "and leave this place with me. This gift has been with us now for barely a day, and I implore you both to show restraint and patience in thought. Allow yourself further time to think over these things before you offer yourself up to either side of the debates. Once we are free of these confines, you may debate the merits and failings till you are blue in the face. And then, after extensive thought on the matter, you may choose freely to return; either in rebellion or reverence. At which point I will say no more, respecting your opinions and believes."

     Neither spoke, their thoughts occupied with mulling over what I had said.

     "Is this a fair compromise brothers?" I asked, wishing to know whereat we all stood.

     "Aye brother Gideon," Mordecai spoke first. "No doubt we have only had this gift for a short time, and should show some composure in thought. It is not prudent to climb into bed with the first chicken who stirs us with speech. When you are ready to leave, I will be by your side, and with you till the end."

     "Thank you brother Mordecai. And yourself, Brother Uriah?" I questioned, seeing that he was more reluctant to speak.

     "I too am with you till the end, brother Gideon," Uriah agreed, "and will do my best to regulate the thoughts that have been stirred to life through the speeches this morning."

     "Thank you brothers," I said, relieved to have finally found a compromise that worked. "Now let us rest. It is most certain that tomorrow will be filled with graver debates, and further corrosions of our society, than those of today."