The Slaughters of the Race

"I find it amusing that you ask me only now," said the old man. "Did you believe you knew the answer?"
"I didn't think about it," Joe said. "I figured from the first that you did something like I did, something not too bad, but serious enough to do serious time."
Zhang nodded. "And what I did, do you consider this ‘bad’?"
Joe stared. "Don't you? Zhang, it's a form of sex trafficking."
One withered hand lifted in an offhand wave. "No. It is the breeding of fine stock."
It was necessary to think on this for several moments, on the old man's guiltless attitude, on the sour breath Joe had always noticed but now took offense to for the first time. Joe wasn't cool with the idea of cooking up compatible concubines for rich, spoiled sons, and killing innocent women to do it. He knew scientists did experimentation with stem cells to try and help cure and prevent disease, but they sure as shit weren't using droppers to create future dates.
"Not only do I think it's bad," said Joe, "I think it's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. Who do you think you are, playing with human life?"
Zhang shrugged. "I am caught."
The playful little smile on the old man's mouth made Joe want to retch. He stood and stared, sick with sudden hate. He had opened himself up to this monster, made friends with him.
"Aren't you curious to know who took over my business?" asked Zhang with a sly twinkle in his black eyes.
Joe didn't want to ask, wasn't going to, but he saw Zhang was going to tell him anyway.
"I believe you know him as Uncle Sam."