Chapter 3
Three
Ihadn’t expected the presence of such tight security to comfort me, but to my shock, it did.
It started with me walking through a metal detector, which was followed by one guard going through my purse while another patted me down.
It was something that might have felt invasive if not for what I was facing once I reached my destination.
Once I’d been cleared of having any weapons or other paraphernalia on me – the anti-fertility activists weren’t above suicide bombings – I was allowed to proceed to the next security guard.
“Reason for visit?” the plump, bored looking black woman with a name tag that read Vera asked.
“The Fertility Act,” I said, trying not to let my voice shake too much.
At my words, she looked me up and down, her large, dark eyes softening slightly. “It isn’t as bad as you think it’s going to be.”
So, she’d been through this herself.
She was older than me by a good six years, meaning she’d probably been out of the program for a couple years now, but it was still nice to know I wasn’t alone.
Not that I was going to ask about her experience.
There was an unwritten rule among the fertile ones.
We didn’t ask and we sure as hell didn’t tell.
That wasn’t the kind of shit you wanted to advertise.
For a lot of reasons. And this part of it, our time with the Department of Fertility, was a topic that was strictly off limits in instances like this.
If you wanted to talk, you went to one of the support groups that had sprung up across the country and vented there.
But in public, you kept your mouth shut and your questions to yourself.
The woman held her hand out. “I just need to see your ID, so I can verify your identity.”
I fished in my purse, taking longer than necessary to find it, then passed it to her. She eyed my picture, glanced at me to compare, then pulled a handheld scanner from her hip. The thing beeped as it took in my information.
“Okay.” Vera holstered the scanner like a gun and passed my ID back to me. “Top floor.”
“Thanks,” I said as I put my ID away.
She gave me a sympathetic smile, then turned her attention to the next person in line. “Reason for visit?”
The Department of Fertility soldier eyed me as I passed him, but I avoided looking his way. I was walking so slowly that he probably thought I was insane, but I couldn’t help dragging my feet.
The up arrow was already illuminated when I reached the elevators, and two other people stood waiting.
A man in his sixties glanced my way, and despite the mask over his nose and mouth, I could tell he smiled because the corners of his eyes crinkled.
I did my best to return the gesture, but knew it fell flat even before he averted his gaze.
The other person, a plain woman wearing no makeup and blue scrubs who I guessed to be around my age, stared at her phone and ignored us. Something I was grateful for.
A ding announced the elevator’s arrival, and the door slid open.
In a misguided act of chivalry, the man waved for the other woman and me to go first, a gesture she probably couldn’t see because she still hadn’t looked away from her phone.
That didn’t stop her from hurrying into the elevator, her fingers flying across her phone’s screen as she did.
I followed her, giving the man what I hoped was a grateful smile.
The woman glanced up long enough to jam her thumb against the number three, freeing me of the need to do the same, and then went back to typing.
When the man stepped in, he pressed the number two then looked at me. “Which floor?”
The question was pointless since there were only two options and they had both already been chosen, but I still felt compelled to reply. Although I had to swallow before I could get any words out. Why was my mouth so goddamn dry?
“It’s already lit up. Thank you.”
The skin at the corners of his eyes once again crinkled as the elevator door slid shut.
The three of us stood in awkward silence.
Well, maybe it was only awkward for me. I was, after all, heading to an appointment I’d been dreading for almost as long as I could remember.
The man, although I could only see the top half of his face, looked more tired than uncomfortable, and the woman appeared to be in a heated text exchange.
I was grateful, at least, that I didn’t have to make small talk. Thank God for small blessings.
When the elevator stopped on the second floor, the man waved to the open door as if expecting me to step out. The woman, who I hadn’t thought was even aware of her surroundings enough to realize anyone was with her, looked up as well, her expression expectant as she waited for me disembark.
I shook my head, my cheeks warming at the knowledge that at least the woman, and possibly the man, knew why I was here.
It felt like an invasion of privacy even though I knew there was no real patient confidentiality when it came to The Fertility Act.
No, doctors couldn’t share my medical information with just anyone, but the government knew everything about the fertile ones.
We were property of the Department of Fertility, and as such, the needs of the many outweighed my rights to medical privacy.
“Good luck to you, my dear,” the man said, then slipped from the elevator.
The door slid shut before I could gauge whether his comment had been made in sympathy or if he was hoping I would help continue the human race by giving birth in nine months.
The other woman narrowed her dark brown eyes as the elevator started moving once again. “You don’t look familiar. Is this your first visit?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Clearly, she wasn’t one of the fertile ones or she would have known to keep her fucking mouth shut.
Instead of telling her what I was really thinking I said, “Yes.”
“Wow.” She shoved her phone in her pocket and pushed her unruly brown hair out of her face. “It’s been a while since we had a new face. It will be a nice change.”
Nice? Was she insane?
“I’m one of the nurses.”
I wanted to scream at her, wanted to shove her against the wall and get in her face and call her every name in the book.
She worked for these people? For the Department of Fertility?
It made me physically ill to think of her standing by while woman after woman was subjected to tests and treatments and procedures without their consent.
How could she justify being part of the machine that was taking away the rights of so many? It was despicable. Revolting.
When I didn’t reply, the nurse gave me what I was sure she thought was a reassuring smile.
It came out as forced and placating. “I know it’s awkward, but it won’t be as bad as you think.
I promise. I’ve been working with the Department of Fertility since I graduated nursing school three years ago, and I’ve seen plenty of women come through at this point.
Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.
We’re just trying to continue the human race. ”
Her bright smile made it impossible to keep my mouth shut.
“By using my body.”
Her smile wavered but didn’t fade completely. “By following the law.”
“The law created by men.” I glared at her. “Some men twenty years ago saw the diminishing population and made a decision about my body before I was even old enough to know what it meant to have a baby. And you think that’s fair? You think that’s how we should go about this?”
Her body stiffened, and every ounce of warmth leaked from her expression. “I think the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. It just makes sense.”
“To people like you,” I spit out. Then, wanting to hurt her, said, “You know, barren women.”
I instantly regretted saying the words when her bronzed skin paled and her expression contorted, making her look almost like she’d been hit.
I could remember with perfect clarity what it had felt like to witness my friends and classmates go in for their fertility checks.
The elation and uncertainty of those who received positive results, the devastation of those who’d gotten negative.
For most women, their entire futures hinged on that very first fertility check at the age of seventeen.
It was also something I’d vowed to never use against another woman no matter the circumstance, and yet I’d just done it.
I really had reached a low point in my life.
The nurse’s injured expression was quickly replaced by anger. “Well, aren’t you going to be a delight during this process?” She huffed, then mumbled to herself, “I swear, we get the worst patients. Maybe I should transfer.”
The lingering guilt wasn’t enough to keep me quiet. “Maybe you get awful patients because they’re here against their will.”
She narrowed her dark eyes and opened her mouth to say something else, but it was cut off by the ding that signaled we’d reached our destination. The elevator door slid open a second later, and the nurse let out an exaggerated huff and stormed past me.
Looked like we weren’t going to be lifelong friends. Oh, well.
I’d just stepped out of the elevator when she stomped past the front desk, throwing at the receptionist, “Have fun with this one.”
She disappeared through a frosted glass door a second later.
“Hi there!” the receptionist said in a much too chipper voice, a plastic smile on her ridiculously tanned face. “Welcome to the Department of Fertility! We’re so thankful for your sacrifice and look forward to creating a future for mankind with you.”
Her smile wasn’t the only fake thing about her.
She was pushing fifty and the kind of thin that came from smoking too much and eating too little, with teeth so white they threatened to blind me and hair so blonde it was almost white.
Her eyes, too, couldn’t be real because they were too blue.
Not even in nature could you find anything that color, and they were much too wide.
She also had fake breasts that strained against her pink scrub top and long French tipped nails that reminded me of talons.
She would have looked more at home at a day spa for wealthy women than in a medical office.
When I said nothing, the receptionist blinked. “If I can just get your ID, I can get you checked in.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I dug in my bag as I approached the desk, my gaze bouncing from Department of Fertility Barbie to the waiting area.
It was devoid of people and decorated in soft blues and greens, with live plants on every surface and in each corner, and a fish tank at the end of the room that took up almost the entire wall.
Exotic sea life in all sizes and colors swam through the elaborate underwater scene, darting between plastic foliage and into one of several sunken ships.
The bubbling of the filter was barely audible over the classical music floating from the overhead speakers, and the couches and chairs were oversized and plush and much nicer than any doctor’s office I’d ever been to.
When I glanced back at the receptionist, ID in hand, she was still smiling brightly. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” She gave a slight roll of her aqua eyes. “I mean, I’d like it more if they played better music, but beggars can’t be choosers. Am I right?” She beamed at me.
I passed her my ID. “Yeah.”
She wasn’t deterred by my lack of enthusiasm, and her smile remained plastered on her face as she typed my information into the tablet in front of her. “There you are!” She looked from the screen to me. “And one day early. The Department of Fertility thanks you.”
As she passed my ID back, I mumbled a halfhearted, “You’re welcome.”
“You can have a seat, and someone will be out to collect you shortly. While you’re waiting, can I get you anything to drink? We have both still and sparkling water, coffee, and tea. Only decaf, I’m afraid. Need to keep that body shipshape, you know?”
I shook my head, confused and caught off guard. This was all so strange.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
The smile tattooed on her face was so phony it made the hair on my arms stand on end.
I quickly turned away, but the waiting room wasn’t much better because it was too lavish.
Too fake. Staged. This was a government facility.
Why was it so nice? What were they trying to hide?
Something, I was sure of it, and I didn’t like it.