I focused on Trevor, who, as a lawyer, might have more insight into the whole thing. “They couldn’t really do that, could they?”
He hesitated, his gray eyes flitting to Owen, who looked uncomfortable, before refocusing on me. “Honestly, I don’t know for sure, but I would say yes.”
My stomach bottomed out. “How?”
“Because fertility is considered a national crisis, and the Department of Fertility has been given the power to do whatever they feel is in the best interest of restoring the population. If they decide rounding up all fertile women is the best way to protect them from this pandemic, they can probably do it.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Ara, but it’s the truth.”
I sat back, my body deflating.
“Don’t get too fixated on it,” Trevor said quickly. “We don’t know anything. They’re just rumors.”
I was unable to find my voice because, deep down, I knew most rumors had at least a grain of truth in them. Especially when it came to the government.
After that conversation, I paid more attention to the news, watching as the virus slithered across the country, getting closer to Ohio with each passing day. More and more states adopted mask mandates, some even going so far as to close non-essential businesses. Those that didn’t still put strict restrictions on restaurants and stores. Social distancing, outdoor dining only, no congregating.
We’d been through it all before, but that didn’t stop people from railing against the injustice of it all and accusing the government of taking away their rights. People protested, boldlydisregarding the six feet rule as they screamed for justice. It would die down once the body count started to grow, but that didn’t stop me from hating those protestors. They thought their rights were being taken away? Where was their outrage when the government forced women like me into the program, when I was inseminated with a stranger’s sperm, when my body was used as a human incubator? It was ridiculous. Frustrating. Infuriating.
The first case of RNA-67 popped up in Ohio on September fourth, just five weeks after my D&C. It was in Cincinnati, which was no surprise since it was one of the most populated cities in the state, and it was also no surprise that it spread quickly after that. Being just an hour north of Cincinnati, my small town wasn’t immune to the virus, and only four days after the first case hit Ohio, patients began pouring into our local hospital.
The state already had mask mandates, but with the arrival of the virus, other precautions were put into place. Outdoor seating only for restaurants and bars, a limited number of people in buildings, social distancing, online learning for schools. I’d been through it all so many times that it would have been mundane if not for the increased rumors.
They were all over the Internet now, were popping up on social media, and even on some of the bolder news stations. The ones who regularly questioned the government. The rumors didn’t just originate in California but came out of Texas and Florida and other states that had been hit hard by the most recent outbreak. Despite their frequency, though, no proof that anything was going on had materialized, and while the Department of Fertility wasn’t actively denying the allegations, they weren’t confirming them either. Actually, they weren’t saying anything, not on the news and not inside the walls of my local Department of Fertility. I’d asked about it at my weekly blood draws, at the monthly support group, and during my counseling sessions and had been totally stonewalled. It was the government’s silence that had me really worried.
I browsed forums and posts that were taken down within hours, all the comments vanishing with them. Sometimes screenshots of the original post would pop up the next day, but they never lastedlong, and they never garnered proof that anything was actually going on. Even the fact that they were all similar – a close friend or family member in the program was moved to a secret location to keep them away from anyone possibly infected by the virus – didn’t prove anything because people could easily have been feeding off one another. It happened all the time. Especially on the Internet.
It wasn’t enough to convince me it wasn’t true, though. I didn’t trust the government, especially the Department of Fertility, and I wouldn’t put anything past them when it came to The Fertility Act. Which was something I said to Bette Monday afternoon on September tenth while having lunch at her house.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if they did round up all the women in the program. It isn’t like they haven’t done things like that before. Remember the Japanese internment camps during World War II?”
She frowned, set down the glass of lemonade she’d been drinking, and tilted her head. “You really think they’d do something like that?”
“It’s not that far-fetched, really. They already have thehospitals,” I made air quotes, “and they threaten us with being moved there if we don’t cooperate all the time. What’s to stop them from moving us therefor our own good?” Again, I put air quotes around the last four words to let her know I wasn’t delusional.
Her frown deepened as she absentmindedly rubbed her round stomach. At thirty-four weeks, she looked ready to pop, but she still had more than a month to go. I was hoping for her sake she’d have the baby early.
“The women sent there broke the rules,” she said, “but we haven’t done anything. They wouldn’t move those of us who are compliant, would they?”
“I don’t know what they would and wouldn’t do, honestly,” I said as I plucked a chip from the plate in front of me and popped it into my mouth.
The crunch of my teeth sinking into the salty snack was the only sound in the room as Bette continued to run her hand over her stomach, her expression twisted with concern. While Ifelt a little bad for worrying her, I had to admit it was nice to not be alone in my apprehension. I also felt like she should be prepared. She was too nice and trusting, and I didn’t want her to be blindsided if something did happen.
Even though I wasn’t in danger of being inseminated for a few more weeks, I still had to attend the support group, and was unsurprised to discover that we were down a person during September’s meeting. Lilly, it seemed, had given birth the previous week.
“A healthy girl,” Janice announced, sounding so proud you would have thought she’d had the baby.
“Lucky her,” Malika muttered. “Now she can get back to her life.”
“I can’t fucking wait,” Ginger snarled.
Janice shook her head. “Let’s stay on track, ladies.”
A chorus of grumbles followed.
The virus had spread to every part of the country by the eleventh, and the persistent rumors and looming pandemic overshadowed what was typically a day of remembrance in our country. Since her husband worked for the government – although I wasn’t really sure what he did – Bette asked him about the things we’d heard, but his only response had been to pat her on the cheek and tell her not to worry. Easier said than done. Not that he would understand since he wasn’t in danger of anyone using his body.
Despite not wanting my little respite from the program to be up, I was actually looking forward to my six-week checkup. Not because I wanted to see Hilary or the doctor or even Department of Fertility Barbie, but because I thought I might be able to get some clues about what was going on during the visit. Maybe this time when I asked Hilary about the rumors, she’d tell me they were ridiculous and not to worry about it. The last one wouldn’t really reassure me, but at least I’d be able to gauge her expression and attitude when she said it, would be able to form some kind of opinion for myself that didn’t have anything to do with social media posts and conspiracy theories.
Wanting to both get the exam over with and possibly getsome answers, I arrived at the Department of Fertility right when they opened at nine o’clock in the morning, mask securely over my nose and mouth. Everyone wore them now, from the woman who greeted me to the security guards who searched my purse and checked me in, to Corporal Ramirez. Not being able to see his smirk was strange, but it also allowed me to notice how pretty his eyes were. Chestnut brown and big with thick, dark lashes that would make any woman envious.
