As the bus rounded the corner and the government district came into view outside the grimy windows, Hank was beginning to feel glad he was leaving it all behind. But he was also leaving behind his wife and daughter. They were the only pure things in his life. The only good. Peg would be joining him in a few months but Sara was only twenty-seven years old.
Hank’s biggest regret in life was that he wouldn’t get a chance to meet his grandchild. Sara and John had received their permit almost two years ago but still hadn’t had any luck conceiving. They almost didn’t qualify, something about undesirable recessive gene mapping, but John was able to pull a few strings with the screening committee. A few months ago, cautious optimism turned to crushing disappointment when Sara miscarried. By law, that should have automatically revoked their permit, but John somehow had more strings to pull so they kept trying. Hank and Peg were too scared to ask too many questions. It seemed like the less they knew, the better off it would be for the family.
Hank wondered if the miscarriage was a sign from God. Perhaps He finally knew better than to allow more babies into His failing world. Perhaps God wouldn’t be handing out new babies at all anymore.
He turned his attention to Peg and the small shopping bag resting on her lap. “That’s it, huh?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to see it?” she asked. “I really wish you would.”
“Yeah, what the hell. Let’s see what you picked out.”
Peg reached into the bag and pulled out the urn. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the more expensive ones he’d seen in store windows, but it was still pretty nice as far as urns go. Hank would’ve been happy with an old mason jar, but Peg had a sentimental streak. He could’ve argued over the needless expense, but he knew when to pick his battles.
“I know it’s a peculiar design but the second I saw it I knew it was the right one.” Peg turned the urn in Hank’s hand so the design on the opposite side faced him. A cherub in mid-flight blew on a large horn, two doves on either side of it. A girl on the ground holding a basket of fruit looked up at the flying beings above her, a look of melancholy on her face. Kneeling in front of this girl was an older woman who apparently had dropped her fruit on the ground. She looked up to the girl as if to beg for forgiveness.
“It’s different, that’s for sure.” Hank unscrewed the lid and ran his fingers across the smooth glaze on the inside of the vessel. He glanced up and locked eyes with a man across the aisle, probably a year or two younger than him. The man swallowed and quickly looked to the floor.
The bus finally slowed to a creaking halt at their stop and they made their way through the crowd to the sidewalk. As they waited for Sara to join them, Hank coughed up a wad of phlegm, lifted his mask, and spit it into the street. He kept the mask perched on the top of his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Peg’s eyes widened as Hank stood there and watched Sara descend the bus stairs. “Aren’t you going to put your mask back on?”
“It’s not that bad today,” he lied. The truth was, he didn’t feel like wearing it anymore. The acrid air was sour and burned his nose and eyes but he didn’t care. Hank was sick of filtering everything. Sick of filtering the air so it was easier to breathe and sick of filtering his piss just to get another glass of water to drink when rations ran low. He was done with filtering.
The Department of Retirement resided in the federal building downtown. Hank, Peg, and Sara walked the three blocks from the bus stop, watching as the number of homeless increased the closer they got to their destination. Hank wondered if they thought being closer to a government facility would increase the likeliness of handouts. Looking into their dirty faces only made him more depressed. He squeezed Peg’s hand harder and picked up the pace.
Hank pressed the button at the security gate and spoke his name. After a moment a buzzer sounded and he pushed open the metal door, stepping aside as his wife and daughter passed. They walked through a meticulously landscaped and clean courtyard before reaching the large double doors on the face of the massive building.
He’d only been to the federal building once before, when it was his father’s time. His mother died young of ovarian cancer so she never got a chance to fulfill her duty to the State. The pristine courtyard was exactly how Hank remembered it from over twenty years ago. Unchanging and unsympathetic to the plight surrounding it on the other side of the walls.
They were greeted by two armed guards once they stepped inside. One remained at the door while the other walked with them to the reception desk. Their footsteps echoed through the large hall as they passed dozens of empty chairs lining the walls on both sides. A young woman barely out of her teens sat behind the counter and stared at her computer monitor. She didn’t look up as they approached. “Name?”
“Henry Reed. I have a ten o’clock appointment.”
The woman lifted her chin in the direction of the bar-code scanner mounted on the counter but still didn’t look away from her screen. “Scan in.”
Hank placed his open palm with the bar-code tattoo below the red glow of the scanner and it beeped. The receptionist frantically typed on her computer, the clickety-clack of the keys bouncing off the walls of the empty hall. It was a sound Hank always found annoying.
Hank cleared his throat. “Slow morning?”
“You’re the first on the schedule for today, Brother,” the woman said. She finally looked up and made eye contact with Peg. “Did you bring a container?”
“Right here.” Peg lifted the shopping bag only to have it slip from her fingers and drop to the floor. Peg and Sara gasped in unison and tried to catch the bag before it hit the floor, but it was too late. Peg bent down and pulled the urn from the bag, sighing in relief when she found it was undamaged.
Hank smiled at the receptionist. She stared at him with a blank expression, unfazed by the near miss and looking like she’d rather be doing something else.
Peg carefully handed the urn over the counter to the receptionist. “I’m sorry, Sister. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
The woman placed the urn out of sight behind the counter and stood. “This way.” She led them down a narrow hallway and opened a door at the end of the corridor. The room contained a few chairs, a large mirror on the wall, and a smiling woman standing in the corner.
“Welcome, Brother Reed. My name is Jennifer and I’ll be your retirement coordinator this morning.” She motioned to the chairs. “Please, have a seat.”
The receptionist closed the door behind her, leaving the silent guard to block the only exit from the room.
Jennifer sat, beaming at Peg and Sara. “And this must be your family. So lovely you ladies could come!”
“Uh, yeah.” Hank placed his hand on Peg’s shoulder. “My wife Peg and my daughter Sara.”
Jennifer let out a dramatic sigh and clapped her hands together once, her plastic smile never faltering for a second. “I do apologize but we’re on a tight schedule this morning and need to get down to business right away. Despite that, it’s my job to make this experience as easy and pleasurable as possible.”
Jennifer picked up a small plastic cup and a glass of water from the table by her side and handed them to Hank. “Take these, Brother. It’s just a little something to help you relax.”
Hank tilted the cup containing two red pills into his mouth and washed it down with the water, hoping the rest of them didn’t notice his shaking hand. He hoped the pills acted quickly. He felt oddly calm on the bus ride over, but when they entered the building, the harsh reality hit him and he felt more anxious with every passing second.
Jennifer stood and crossed her arms. “Well. I’m afraid it’s time for goodbyes. We’ll give you folks a moment of privacy and then continue.” Jennifer and the guard closed the door behind them.
Sara bent forward in her chair and burst into tears. It was the first time she’d made a sound since they’d left the apartment that morning. Hank quickly got up and crouched in front of her. “Hey, now.” He gently lifted her chin and bushed the hair out of her face. “Don’t cry honey, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” she sobbed. “It’s not fair.”
He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Shhh, don’t talk like that. Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”
Sara pushed him away and wiped her eyes. “How can you say that? How are we just supposed to act like nothing is wrong with this?”
Hank glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “Sara, listen to me. I know this is hard, but now’s not the time to get into this. We’ve all had plenty of time to prepare and I need you to be strong. You can scream into your pillow for an hour after you get home, but you know talk like that in here is dangerous.”
Sara studied her folded hands for a moment before nodding. “Sorry, Dad,” she sniffed.
Hank took her hand, grabbed Peg’s with the other. “You still have John and your mother for a little while. And I just know you’ll have a beautiful little granddaughter for us. A beautiful little girl, just like you.”
The door opened and Jennifer stuck her head in.
“Just a few more minutes,” Peg pleaded. “Please.”
The door opened wide, the guard casually placing his hand on the sidearm strapped to his hip. “I’m afraid not, Sister Reed,” Jennifer said. “We are on a tight schedule, like I mentioned earlier.”
“It’s okay, Peg.” Hank rose to his feet. “Go on home now. I’ll be fine.” He gave her a long kiss and whispered in her ear. Hugged Sara, trying hard not to cry himself. Tried hard to be strong in front of his family.
Suddenly they were gone, the door closed and the room empty. A flood of memories and regrets slammed into him all at once, followed by such an intense feeling of sadness he almost couldn’t bear it. He’d never see his family again. It was over and he hated himself for not cherishing every moment he had.
Jennifer’s syrupy voice filled the room but he was lost in his own thoughts, her words falling on his deaf ears. He finally took the gown she held out in front of him and slowly undressed after she left the room. He placed his clothes and shoes in a bag marked with his name and waited.
Hank faced the mirror and frowned at the old man staring back at him. It occurred to him for the first time it was probably a two way mirror and wondered who was watching him from the other side.
Jennifer returned and led him down the hall to the next room where he saw the chair he’d been dreading his whole life. It would have looked like an ordinary dentist or even barber chair if it hadn’t been for the restraints. Two for the ankles, two for the wrists, and one for the head.
Hank realized he was trembling. His jaw was clenched together so tight his teeth ached. His mouth was bone dry, his stomach churning. He thought he was prepared for this. He’d gone over it in his head countless times.
You sit down.
They stick you.
Lights out.
There was nothing to be afraid of. Millions of people had done it before him and millions would follow. But all that logic disappeared when he saw the chair. He barely noticed there was a man in a white lab coat standing next to it.
“Brother Reed, my name is Allen. How are we feeling? Is the sedative helping?”
Now that he’d mentioned it, Hank’s head was feeling a bit fuzzy. Had he been relaxing at home and not moments away from death, he probably would have felt pretty stoned. Might have even enjoyed it.
Hank didn’t reply and Allen didn’t wait for the answer. Jennifer guided him to the chair and he sat down. He wasn’t surprised to see another grim faced guard standing in the corner. Wouldn’t want the old man to make a break for it and ruin the schedule.
Allen strapped Hank to the chair while Jennifer stood at attention in front of him and began her speech. For once she wasn’t smiling. “Henry Reed. By order of the Mandatory Retirement Act, under the statutes of the Population Density Control Clause, you will now be euthanized by lethal injection, exactly sixty years after the day of your birth. The United Federation of Nations thanks you for your contribution to the State and for the sacrifice you are making so that future generations may prosper.”
Jennifer stepped aside and Allen took her place. He held a syringe filled with clear liquid and tapped the side twice with his fingernail. “Now then, Brother. Just relax. This will be totally painless and you’ll simply go to sleep.” He placed his hand on Hank’s shoulder and lined up the syringe for the injection.
“Wait!” Hank gripped the armrests so hard his fingers were practically piercing the vinyl covering. The tip of the needle stopped just inches from Hank’s arm and a single drop of the deadly payload landed on his skin. “Please, wait. Just a minute for the sedative to kick in. I’m not ready.”
“Henry, there’s nothing to fear,” Allen said. His breath smelled of garlic. “This will all be over in just a moment.”
Hank looked at Jennifer, who gave him a little nod. The needle pierced his skin and Allen pushed the plunger, sending the toxin to the other side. Allen tossed the used needle into the biohazard box mounted to the wall and told Jennifer he’d be right back. He opened the door and didn’t even look back at the man who would be dead when he returned.
Hank took a deep breath and watched the clock on the wall. Looked at the second hand as it made its endless journey around and around. Every second that passed, every beat of this heart, pulled him closer to the Great Unknown.
He was never a religious man and didn’t believe in the afterlife. But now that he was so close, doubts started to creep in. The possibilities that waited for him on the other side swirled through his head. Eternal darkness. Judgment from his maker. Unconscious nothing. Heaven. Hell.
The corners of his vision grew dark. His gaze turned from the clock, to the guard in the corner studying his fingernails, to Jennifer, to the ceiling. He opened his mouth to say something. He wanted to leave them with something profound. Something that would make everybody who may have been listening or watching question what it was they were doing. All he managed was a single word.
“Peg.”
Hank closed his eyes.