Fear and Folly

It was the perfect Spring day. I could feel the warmth of the sun covering my back as I sank my knees into the cool, moist soil and began to dig. Gardening had always been one of my favorite ways to pass the time. As I ran my fingers through the dirt, the most pleasant breeze brushed against my face and rolled through my hair. Just as I thought the day couldn't get any better, I looked over and saw his handsome smile.

Even though time had passed and the world seemed to be improving, at least where we lived, I still breathed a sigh of relief with every glimpse I caught of my husband. The drought had a cataclysmic domino effect that encompassed the globe. So many lost their livelihood and the rest, their lives. I never really knew what it was to be thankful before surviving such turmoil. He and I both had faced certain death, but one day, the climate started changing, much to our benefit. As quickly as things fell apart, they began to recover. Now, here we are, alive and well, together.

The population of the world had diminished quite drastically. All of the well to do families that "survived" the events (thanks in large part to their wealth and very little to their resiliency) had recently gotten together to decipher a plan on how to increase the population once more. I, for one, could care less of the world's future, only our future. There was still a part deep down inside of me that longed to have children. My fertility issues kept us from having any before the drought and I'm thankful we didn't, the chances of survival would have been grim. My fertility problems were still an issue. The state of the world's population and people's desperate desire to replenish it had given the medical community the exact motive they needed to increase their price. It was sick, but they easily got away with it. Even still, if it was just him and I until the end, that's all I could ever desire.

After we finished in the garden, I cooked dinner. Oh the lovely aromas that danced around the kitchen. Fresh herbs and spices sweetly stung my nostrils as I whisked ingredients together. The sound of the burner clicking on and the butter sizzling in the pan were sounds I longed for as I laid in bed awaiting my death. I used to view cooking as a chore and now it is one of my greatest joys. I perfectly plated every meal now and this one was no different. Being that it was the perfect Spring day, we decided to eat out on the back patio.

My husband, ever the pessimist, watched the nightly news every night without fail. Sometimes it felt as if he didn't believe things had truly improved, like he was "waiting for the other shoe to drop", as the saying goes. As I set the table, I heard an abrupt interruption come over the television. The words"BREAKING NEWS" scrolled across the screen. The news anchor began speaking, "Government officials have reached a decision to help increase the world's population. After months of deliberating, they have decided on something they are calling 'Optimal Procreation'. Please go to the city nearest you as soon as possible to attend a meeting for further explanation. All city halls will be open for the next twenty-four hours straight and your representative will explain this new and exciting plan".

We locked eyes, both fearful and hopeful. I don't remember how we even made our way to the car, just the getting in and locking eyes. "What do you think this plan is all about? I mean, with my fertility issues, what do you...how do...do you think we...is there a way for us?".

"I-I-I, I don't know. I feel all of this nervous energy though. Can you imagine if there is? If we can finally have the family we've been longing for since we married? I'm trying not to be too hopeful and chances are this is just some grand idea that will only benefit the incredibly wealthy, as usual! But I just can't help but feel hopeful."

"Me, too", I say, trying desperately to conceal how nervous I truly felt. This was the first time I had seen him optimistic in over ten years. I didn't want to crush it with sound logic. It was difficult enough reliving the pain of the failed attempts in our past, but to add my age to the already established problem left me feeling hopeless. I had a suspicion in our younger years, one that haunts me, that his desire for children was far greater than mine. I love children and the thought of having my own brings me joy, though I don't think I would live a life of regret if it didn't happen for us. I fear that he would, which is why I wish to conceal my anxiety.

We pull up to the city hall at the same time as about twenty others. This city used to be much busier and brighter. Now it is a ghost town. Once the dust had settled, most surviving people chose to live outside of the city limits, maybe because of the crippling sense of inferiority to the rich who owned and ran the cities now. As we walk closer to the entrance, I see a mixture of anxiety and hopefulness, the same emotions filling our faces. We made our way through and into the central meeting area.

After a deafening ten minutes of silence, our areas representative, Richard Boysenberry, sauntered to the podium. It was almost as if he could sense our anxiousness and wanted to torture us a few minutes more. He turned to face us and smiled a cheesy smile. Representative Boysenberry was very robotic in nature, as if his words were previously recorded and every last movement was rehearsed. His voice reminded me of the announcers at boxing matches. He had a permanent grin, slicked back salt and peppered hair, and a blank stare. As he began to speak, I felt as if I had been drop-kicked right in the gut by someone wearing steel-toed boots.

"Good evening ladies and gentleman, I am here tonight to explain the details of the governments plan for Optimal Procreation. Not only will this plan increase our nations population, but, we are hoping, this plan also creates a better human race."

What? He sounds as if he is trying to sell me a brand new, state-of-the-art car. Optimal Procreation? A better human race? These words had my stomach in knots. How could I, someone who struggles with fertility, now nearing fifty, be a part of creating this better human race? And what exactly is wrong with the humans we are right now? I slowed my thoughts to a still, collecting myself so that I could try to comprehend what else Representative Boysenberry had to say.

"Tomorrow morning, each of you will be paired off with your Optimal Mate. These Optimal Mates have been preselected. We have taken height, weight, hair color, eye color, overall health and intelligence into account for every individual in our nation that is of good health. You will be living with them for the next month in order to determine compatibility. If, at the end of the month, both members determine they are compatible with one another, they can then choose to enter into our Procreation plan. If either one of you determines that you are not compatible, then you are free to return to your prior spouse, if you already have one".

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!!!," I yell emphatically, "first of all, why does it sound like you are giving me orders and not an option? Second of all, what do you mean, 'then you are free to return to your prior spouse'?". Why was I the only one asking questions? Why was everyone else quiet? It must be shock! It must be.

"It sounds like I'm giving you orders instead of an option because I am", Boysenberry is looking at me like a principle looks at a disruptive student, "this isn't the free America you remember from before, dear. Our nation has no other option. This is how it will be. And if any of you disagrees to the terms, there will be a nice, warm bed for you available in the nearest prison". He had gone from a cheesy car salesman with a pitch to an authoritative and wicked man with too much power. "Now, if everyone could please make their way upstairs, we have cots laid out for you all. Please find your name on the cots along with clothes. Dinner will be served momentarily."

The small crowd of people who all looked anxious and hopeful now looked confused and sad. We went upstairs and the panic set in, for me and many others. I couldn't imagine being separated from my husband for a month and the deep-rooted insecurities of my incapabilities further reinforced my previous state of hopelessness. I collapsed into my husband's arms, weeping.

"Did you see the armed guards at the door?", he asked me in a hushed voice, sweat beading off his forehead and his body trembling.

"No!!!", I wailed ever so painfully, "what are we going to do?". I could not help but to sob uncontrollably.

"Babe, babe! It's going to be fine, right? We just have to give it a month with these people they are forcing on us. That's it. We can do one month apart, right? After all we've been through??? One month is a cake walk. Thirty days, just thirty days and we'll be back together".

I tried to pull myself back together, "you're right, you're right. It was all very overwhelming to hear. We'll be okay, we'll be okay", I try and convince myself.

The next morning was grim. It looked just as perfect as the previous perfect Spring day, but it felt grim. The armed guards came in, separated the men from the women. I hadn't even paid attention to anyone else's reaction. I was too caught up in my own dread to care. I wasn't even permitted a final kiss with my beloved husband. The women fell in line and awaited medical examinations. We were lined up right against the second floor windows and we all watched as our husband's loaded buses to some unknown location, hoping to return to this city hall and their wives in thirty days. There was an ache in the room that was indescribable. I entered the room for my examination, one other woman entered with me.

We tried to make small talk, she more chipper than I. She told me how she had lost her husband and was looking forward to the possibility of companionship. I told her my story and she offered her sympathy. Sympathy, who needs it? Still, she was kind and it was nice having a sounding board. The doctor came in and told us both to lay down. He punctured our arms and gave us intravenous fluids because we are both "showing signs of dehydration" so he says. As I lay there, my new found friend and I began singing, "don't worry about a thing, every little thing's gonna be alright." I started feeling quite sleepy, maybe emotionally exhausted, my eyes got heavier and heavier and heavier....