One of the representatives led us out of the vehicle as another employee approached with protective boots and disposable laboratory coats.
”Standard procedure, Ms.
Johnson,” he explained politely.
“Everyone entering the cultivation zones is required to wear these.” I nodded and put them on before following them through the inspection gate.
The moment I stepped inside, I understood why Livingston Corporation was one of the largest empires in the country.
Everything was organized with remarkable precision.
Wide concrete roads divided the enormous farmland into different cultivation zones, each clearly marked with digital signboards displaying the crop variety, planting date, expected harvest period, and quality grade.
Workers moved efficiently between the rows of crops, some harvesting while others carefully inspected leaves and stems before recording their observations on handheld tablets.
Further ahead, automated irrigation systems released a fine mist of water across the fields at perfectly timed intervals.
In the distance, drones flew slowly above the farmland, scanning every section before transmitting images back to the monitoring center.
”This entire area is monitored twenty-four hours a day,” one of the representatives explained proudly.
I couldn’t help looking around.
”It feels more like a research facility than a farm.” He smiled.
”Chairman Livingston invested heavily in modernization years ago.
CEO Alexander Livingston expanded it even further after after taking his position.” We continued walking through several cultivation zones.
Each section specialized in different produce supplied directly to restaurants, supermarkets, and food processing companies across the country.
Mike quietly took notes while I asked questions whenever something caught my attention.
”What happens after harvesting?” The representative gestured toward a large building not far away.
”Everything is inspected there before being transported to our processing warehouses.
Nothing leaves these farms without passing quality control.” I nodded thoughtfully.
No wonder Johnson Culinary Group had trusted Livingston Corporation for so many years.
As we continued, I noticed another section surrounded by additional security fencing.
Unlike the others, only a handful of employees were allowed inside.
”Why is that area restricted?” I asked.
”The outbreak started there.” His answer came naturally.
”The crops have already been replaced, but Mr.
Livingston ordered continuous monitoring.
He doesn’t want to leave anything to chance.” ”So everything has returned to normal?” ”Yes.” He answered without hesitation.
”The inspections are simply preventive measures now.” We walked past a small monitoring station where several technicians observed live images from cameras installed throughout the farms.
The room was well equipped and most of the appliances looked new.
I realized the were probably added after the outbreak.
I glanced at two employees inside briefly before following the representatives again.
A little farther ahead, we passed another warehouse where workers carefully loaded fresh produce onto refrigerated trucks.
They were whispering among themselves.
“Since the CEO shifted most of his attention to this sector, things have improved a lot,” one of them said without realizing we were approaching.
“That’s true,” another agreed quietly.
“What I still don’t understand is how those incidents kept happening over the past few years despite how strict the former Executive Director of Agriculture was.” Former?
Did the changes Alexander made also include replacing the management?
The thought crossed my mind only briefly.
After all, it wasn’t unusual for large corporations to restructure after a major crisis.
By the time we had completed nearly half the tour, I had filled several pages of notes.
The scale of Livingston Corporation’s agricultural sector had completely exceeded my expectations.
A few minutes later, we arrived in front of another large building.
Unlike the cultivation areas, everyone entering this section had to pass through an additional sanitization checkpoint.
One of the representatives gestured toward the building.
“This is our Primary Processing Facility,” he explained.
“Every crop harvested from the farms is brought here before being distributed.
The produce is washed, sorted, inspected, and packaged before being transferred to our refrigerated warehouses.” Through the large glass panels, I could see several automated production lines operating simultaneously.
Fresh vegetables moved steadily along stainless-steel conveyor belts before passing through industrial washing systems.
Further inside, optical sorting machines scanned every item at incredible speed, automatically separating anything that failed to meet quality standards.
Workers dressed in protective suits monitored the equipment while forklifts transported sealed crates toward the packaging section.
“It’s not safe to enter without proper protective gear,” the representative continued.
“We’ll just pass by and proceed to the research greenhouse.” I nodded and followed everyone.
Just then, a worker dressed from head to toe in protective coveralls hurried out through the emergency access door.
“I’m sorry!” He apologized quickly as he accidentally brushed past me.
The notebook in my hands slipped free and slid across the smooth floor, stopping just inside the processing area near the entrance.
The worker barely paused before hurrying away, as though he had somewhere urgent to be.
I glanced up.
The representatives and Mike had already walked several steps ahead, apparently unaware that I had stopped.
Since my notebook had only landed a short distance inside the doorway, I stepped in to retrieve it.
I bent down, picked it up, and turned to leave.
The moment I took another step…
My heel landed on a thin patch of water left near the washing line.
Everything happened in an instant.
My footing slipped.
My body lurched sideways toward the moving conveyor system.
Instinctively, I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the impact.
But it never came.
Instead…
A strong arm wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me back before I could fall.