a short story, or maybe more of an excerpt... Options

[*mipadi*]

Population control/zero population growth is an interest of mine. I once started working on a novel, or a novella, or a long short story—I never quite decided on a format—that was about dealing with population growth in the future. This was meant to be a part of that work.

Of course, like most of my other pieces, I never finished it. But maybe I had a good start. Or maybe I didn't. But here's the excerpt. I'm considering finishing the piece sometime.


---


The walls are clinical white, except for a few feet at the bottom, which are a dull green color that matches the uniforms of the nurses. Abbey recalls reading somewhere that medical personnel frequently have an aversion to the color green. Abbey can see why.

A large metal cabinet hanging on the wall across from her is adorned with a large orange biohazard sticker. Abbey wonders what is inside. Probably some sort of horrid medical equipment, sharp metal tools that will undoubtedly be probing her insides soon.

Her right hand stops wringing the left one long enough to move up to her throat. She fingers the beaded necklace encircling it. She got that necklace...how many years ago was it, now? Was it...yes, five years ago, on her twelfth birthday.

My, how things have changed since then.

The door opens, but it's not Nurse Davis this time. It's a man in a white lab coat. A doctor.

"Good morning--" He checks his clipboard. "Abbey. How are you today?

Abbey draws her stuffed monkey closer to her chest. "I-I'm fine, I guess." It comes out as barely a murmur.

"Well, what are you doing here, then!" He attempts to chuckle at his pathetic humor, then his professionalism, more becoming of twelve years of expensive schooling, takes over. "Well, Ms. Williams, my name is Dr. McIntyre, and I'll be your physician from here on out."

"What about Nurse Davis?"
"The hospital has decided that you are in need of more professional services now."

"I liked Nurse Davis."

"I'm sorry. I--"

"She understood the situation. She understood me."

"I understand the situation perfectly fine, Abbey--"
"No you don't. You can't possibly."

The doctor leans back in his chair. "Alright then, Abbey. Help me understand."

"What does it matter, anyway." She puts her head down. Softly, she says, "My life is over now, anyway."

"Don't say that, Abbey. You don't even know what the results are."

"I know."

"You can't. Even I don't know them."

"I can just tell, Doctor. This is me we are talking about."

"Now there're plenty of other ways to account for your symptoms, Abbey."

"Like what?"

"Ah..."

"See, see! I told you so. I told you so!"

"Abbey, can we try to be mature about this? It's a potentially serious situation. Now, frankly, I don't care one bit if you sit there and sulk all morning, but at least try to cooperate. I'm only trying to help you, Abbey."

"Whatever."

Dr. McIntyre stands. "Your results should be ready, Abbey. I'll be back shortly." He leaves.

And Abbey is left all alone to mull over her fate. But not for long. Less than ten minutes later, Dr. McIntyre returns.

He is not alone.

He is escorted by two security guards.

Abbey pales. "Ms. Williams. Your test results have come back from the lab." He takes a step closer to her. "I'm very sorry, Abbey. The results were positive."

She gasps. She can't fathom why--she knew what the results would be, she could feel it, but still, it surprises her. For a second--one single, solitary second--he drops his façade of cool professionalism and realizes the human side of his personality. A hand reaches out and touches her shoulder, like her father used to do. She feels a tear run down her cheek.

But then the humanity is gone, and the good doctor slips into a mindset of reality and indoctrination. "Ms. Williams, as you are certainly aware, the United States enacted population control laws less than a year ago. Among other regulations, all children conceived out of wedlock must be aborted prior to pregnancy or, if impossible, destroyed immediately at birth. Obviously, yours is such a case."

"No..."

"I'm very sorry, Ms. Williams. You are now under the custody of the hospital until such a time that the fetus can be destroyed."

"No."

"Ms. Williams, we are authorized under Directive--"

"No!" Abbey springs from the examination bed, only to be caught by the two burly guards.

"Ms. Williams, please, control yourself! This is not my fault!"

Abbey bursts into tears. She kicks at one of the guard's shins.

"Alright, Ms. Williams, I see we have to do this the hard way! Guards!"

The two men throw Abbey to the ground. They pry her monkey from her grip and (rather roughly) bend her arms behind her back. They slap a pair of cuffs on her wrists. She squirms around on the floor, but a petite young female like her is no match for two men who together weight nearly a quarter ton.

"Ms. Williams, I am hereby authorizing a procedure to destroy your unborn fetus. This is allowable with or without your consent under Directive 20009. If you will not cease your resistance, you will have to be forced into submission." He barely waits for a reply before taking a hypodermic needle from a shelf. He draws several cubic centimeters of clear liquid from a syringe. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, Abbey." One of the guards holds down her arm while he slips the needle into a vein. "This won't hurt a bit. It'll be like nothing ever happened..."