by Beth Martin
He turned to her, “Is that how you still feel?”
She glanced at him, then stared back at her work. Life so far had disappointed her. Her art career had never launched like she had wanted. Even though she had found a life partner, she didn’t feel the daily embrace of a loving relationship like she expected. And she didn’t yet have the baby she so desperately desired. If she were to paint her world right now, it would be cold and dark. “No. No, it’s not.” Perhaps Aiden could help her change that, by getting her the family she wanted.
“I like the way you saw the world as a new graduate. I want to live there.” He smiled at her. She couldn’t help but smile back. “You know, I have a friend who manages an art gallery, and I think they have an opening next month. I know it’s a little short notice, but maybe you could hold a show there.”
“Really?” Jamie gushed. “That would be amazing. You really think I could do a show?”
“You’ll never know until you try.”
Jamie looked back at her piece. She felt the same warm feeling in her belly that had inspired this painting. “I’ll do it,” she said.
“Let me call my friend, and we’ll set it up.”
She reached over and grasped his hand, “Thank you.”
“I almost forgot, I came here for a reason. Your beautiful painting distracted me from my mission.” He strode back to the dining room and opened up his bag, pulling out a dark object. “Jim Beam’s almost finest,” he said, holding up a small bottle of cheap bourbon. She couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled off the cap.
“I’ll get some glasses,” she said, pulling a couple of old fashioned glasses from one of the kitchen cabinets and setting them on the counter. She liked the idea of spending the afternoon tossing back a few shots with such an amazing companion.
He filled the two glasses with bourbon. “Drink both,” he said.
“You don’t want any?” she asked before tipping back the first glass.
“I do, but not until after we’re done. I need steady hands for now. I thought we’d take care of your implant.” He pulled a small medical kit from his bag. Jamie had planned on calling her doctor that afternoon to set up an appointment. She recalled how infected Annette’s arm had gotten when she removed her implant on her own. Taking the second glass, she tipped it back.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. It’s a very simple procedure. I’ve done this countless times before for all the women who volunteer as donors.”
She was hesitant, and Aiden seemed to pick up on that. He grasped her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “If you’re more comfortable having your doctor remove it, by all means do that. But when the man fathering your baby isn’t also your spouse, they start asking a lot of questions, and that causes delays.”
She refilled one of the glasses and chugged it. “Let’s do this,” she said as she slammed the glass back onto the counter.
“Roll up your sleeve so we can get to the implant,” Aiden said as he started washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
Her long-sleeved painting shirt was too bulky to get to the top of her arm. “I’m going to need to put on a different shirt,” she said.
“Go ahead and change. Nothing too nice since this can get a little messy.”
Jamie went in the bedroom and closed the door. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She was about to take the first step toward making a baby. Aiden was a perfect fit for a father. He was tall and handsome, smart and successful, friendly and kind. She dug through her dresser and pulled out a tight tank top and some leggings.
“You ready?” he asked as she opened the door. He had a tray lined with paper holding a few medical instruments. Most notable was the scalpel laying in the middle.
She could feel her head swim from the bourbon. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Where should we do this?”
“You’ll be most comfortable if you’re lying down,” he said.
“So, bed?”
“Sounds good.”
She led him into the bedroom and he had her lay down on her side. He sat behind her back and set the tray on the night stand. “I’m going to clean the area first,” he said. He opened a packet of alcohol wipes and slowly and gently cleaned her upper arm. She could feel something like a zap of electricity from his touch.
“I’m going to numb the area so you won’t feel anything,” he said. “You might feel a slight pinch as I administer the anisthetic.” She inhaled sharply at the prick of the needle. “Sorry,” he said. “Just one more stick.” Irene squeezed her eyes closed. She hoped this was the worst part.
“We’ll give it a moment to kick in,” he said.
Jamie opened her eyes and sighed. “Where’d you learn to do this?”
“Believe it or not, I went to medical school.” Jamie couldn’t believe her luck. On top of being perfect, he was also a doctor. “I actually started AQD near the end of my residency, after doing the obstetrics part of my training. The amount of regulation over procreating is appalling, and it’s limiting the human experience.” He rubbed his fingertips over the thick layer of scarred skin covering the implant. “Can you feel that?”
“It’s pretty numb,” she said.
“Great. Just try to stay still. You’ll feel a bit of pressure.”
She felt an immense amount of strain on her arm, but it didn’t hurt. She held her breath as she felt her skin spread apart for the blade, and the tips of the slender tweezers he used to find the implant.
“Deep breaths,” he said. She tried to take a deep breath. Then another. She could feel the warm trickle of blood sliding around her arm and staining her top. With a final tug the implant was free. “There it is,” he said, leaning forward to hold the tweezers where she could see them. That tiny little object, about the size of a grain of rice, was what came between every woman and owning her own fertility.
He took some gauze and cleaned up her arm, then carefully placed a few pieces of surgical tape on her arm to close the wound. “You’re all done,” he declared. The intimacy of having him on her bed, a part of her split open for him to explore, was now over. The actual act of conception would be sterile, clinical. He took his tray and left the bedroom.
Jamie sat up and examined her arm. She gently touched the surgical tape. Her skin was still numb underneath. Walking out to the living room, she saw Aiden had already packed away his medical kit and was pouring himself a drink.
“Would you like another?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, accepting a glass. She was already teetering the line of drunk. What was one more?
Aiden held up a finger and said, “I have one more thing for you.”
“Another surprise,” she said, smiling. She curled her fingers around her glass.
He pulled a booklet from his bag. “This is information about getting to know your cycle.”
Jamie leafed through the booklet. There were charts and diagrams of female anatomy. She wasn’t sure what else she expected Aiden to bring, but this was not it.
“You’ll want to figure out when you ovulate, so we can time everything to catch the egg.” Aiden placed his hand on her arm, the one that didn’t have surgical tape on it. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. After gushing about her art and the physical closeness of him removing her implant, she was starting to feel a connection to Aiden. But conception would be more like a business transaction or medical procedure than a friend helping a friend. “I’m fine. My arm’s just starting to smart a bit.”
“I’ll get you something. You should take a seat.”
Jamie sat down in the living room as he went to the bathroom and found their painkillers. He returned with two tablets and a glass of water. She took them and drank some water as he sat down in the armchair across from her.
“What should I do when I know I’m ovulating? Call you and say come over?”
Aiden leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “I have a confession. I don’t actually own a devic
e.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “How do you live without one?”
Aiden laughed as he leaned back into the chair. “It’s surprisingly easy.”
“But, you need a device for identification, and paying for things, and messaging and calling people.”
“First of all, I have an identification card issued by the state. Second, my bank offers a payment card for making purchases.” He pulled a leather square from his pocket and unfolded it, pulling out two rectangular objects. He passed them to Jamie, and she examined them closely.
The one had his information, name, and address, and a picture of him smiling. The other was green with numbers printed on it and the word “Visa”. Both had a raised square near the bottom left corner. Jamie touched the square with her finger.
“That’s the chip,” he said. “It holds the information from the card. Placing the card next to a device transfers that information, similar to holding two devices next to each other to share contacts. It’s pretty old technology, but it still works.”
She handed his cards back. “But how do I get in touch with you?”
“I prefer having interactions face to face,” he said. “It’s more intimate that way.”
Jamie swallowed hard.
He bit his lip, then continued, “I’ll make sure to keep in touch. My schedule is pretty flexible, so I’ll be available for you.”
She tried to say something, but couldn’t form the words.
He got up and grabbed his bag. “Take it easy,” he said as he placed a hand briefly on her shoulder. “And read that booklet. It’s important stuff.”
She nodded as she watched him leave her apartment. She glanced from the booklet she had set down on the coffee table up to her painting on the wall. The painting in her studio needed a new direction. She stood up and got back to work.
thirteen
Irene was irritated and couldn’t focus on her work. She read over the profile a third time, trying to figure out if this individual could be matched. The very same thing that put Jamie in an excellent mood had caused Irene’s sour one.
“Who pissed in your coffee this morning?” Bobby asked. Today he was sporting navy-framed glasses and matching bow tie.
She had been scowling as she read the profile. “My wife,” she said.
“Domestic drama? I’m an excellent sympathetic ear if you need to get anything off your chest.”
Irene nodded. Bobby seemed to enjoy drama. Her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps coming from the circular staircase. Sean’s tall figure had to crouch to make it down.
“Irene,” he said. “I need you to come with me.”
She glanced at Bobby who simply shrugged his shoulders before she followed Sean out of the basement office. He led her outside the storm doors into the pouring rain. Walking up to a black car, he said, “Get in.”
Irene slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. “You need to wear this,” he said, handing her a blindfold.
“You’re joking.”
“Put it on,” he said.
“It’s okay, Sean. Irene can see where we’re going.” His voice instantly gave her chills. She turned to see that Aiden was sitting in the back seat of the car.
“Fine,” Sean said, snatching the blindfold back and stuffing it in the glove box.
“You’ve been so open with me,” Aiden said. “I wanted to reciprocate.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Somewhere very special to me.”
They drove along through the driving rain. Instead of heading farther out in the country, they drove to the city center. Irene watched out the window as they passed tall apartment complexes and office buildings clad in mirrored glass. There wasn’t a single pedestrian walking through the heavy rainfall.
They slowed down, and Sean parked the car on the side of the road on a small one-way street nestled between two tall buildings. Irene had left her raincoat at the office. She didn’t think they would be leaving the farmhouse, let alone walking outside through the rain. Aiden stepped up next to her as she got out of the car and held his umbrella over both of them. They walked down the block to a covered staircase descending into an old subway station. Once they were underground, he put his umbrella away.
The subway station was like a snapshot from the past. Large low-resolution screens for advertisements were now cracked and covered in dust. Uncomfortable benches lined the platform with raised armrests to discourage anyone from sleeping there. The place was stark and unwelcoming. Only a few of the overhead lights still worked. It was no wonder no one ever came down here.
Aiden jumped down from the platform onto the track and started walking. Sean hopped down and followed him. She still had no idea where they were going. Even though the stations were left open to the public as shelter in case of emergencies, bulletproof glass blocked the track at each end of the station to prevent people from getting lost in the tunnels. She wasn’t tall enough to jump safely to the track, and carefully lowered herself, holding onto the ledge as she searched for the ground below her with her feet.
She wanted to ask where exactly they were going, but knew she’d find out soon and held her tongue. Aiden came up to the glass wall and pressed a hand against it. He followed it to the left, feeling the tiled wall of the tunnel. Finding what he was searching for, he pulled something out of his pocket and pressed it into the wall. A key. He swung the door open and disappeared into a dark tunnel, reappearing just a moment later at the tracks on the other side of the bulletproof glass.
Sean and Irene followed through the short hall which brought them into the subway tunnel. With the push of a button, Aiden’s umbrella illuminated at the end of the handle like a flashlight. They walked along the abandoned tracks, Aiden leading the way, for a while.
“These tunnels were only used for a few years before the subway was shut down,” he explained. “The city spent billions of dollars constructing a subway, finishing just in time for fully electric cars to become the most affordable form of transportation. All that money on this beautiful infrastructure, and not enough enough passengers to keep the lights on.”
As the track forked ahead of them, they took the sharp spur to the left. “This is where the off-duty trains would park,” Aiden said. There were no trains here now. There were a couple of concrete steps from the track to an almost-invisible door on the wall. Aiden opened the door and walked inside. With the flip of a switch, lights flickered on, illuminating a cavernous room.
Irene walked up the steps into the room. The floor and walls were covered in glossy white tiles. There were metal gurneys and various pieces of medical-looking equipment set along one of the walls. Another wall had a large metal door. There was a strong smell of bleach and other cleaning chemicals.
Aiden turned to Irene and walked backwards with his arms outstretched. “This is where the magic happens.”
Irene had an overwhelming sense of dread. She didn’t feel safe here, underground and isolated with a probably mentally unstable man and his assistant.
He walked over to the wall of gurneys and picked up a tool from on top. It was some sort of saw. He fiddled with it, flexing the blade. Glancing from the saw to Irene, he asked, “Is something the matter?”
She felt a strong grip clamp down on her shoulder. Jumping, she letting out a shriek.
Aiden burst out laughing. Sean had slipped behind her to scare her. He let go of her and laughed as well. Aiden set down the saw and walked up to Irene, wrapping her in a hug. “It’s okay,” he said. “I couldn’t help myself.” He looked at her with his charismatic, disarming smile. “You should have seen your face.”
“What is this place?” she asked, still not at ease.
“It’s where I do my experiments,” Aiden answered. He walked to one of the gurneys and sat on top of it. “Jamie probably told you I was trained as a doctor. I went to your apartment yesterday to see her. Surely she showed you the nice job I did in removing her implant.”
Irene’s
gut clenched. Jamie hadn’t mentioned removing her implant. The only thing Irene had been holding onto which would buy her time was now gone. She felt sick about Aiden going to her home, her personal sanctuary. And why hadn’t Jamie bothered to tell her?
He tilted his head to the side. “She didn’t tell you. Interesting.” He hopped up and started pacing around. “I’ve done my best to advance AQD’s tenets while remaining under the current law, but it has proven quite difficult.” He snapped his head up to look at Irene. “That’s where you come in. The social worker. Not only do you know the laws, you know exactly how they’re upheld. I need your help. Will you help me?” He stared pointedly at her.
“I…” she stammered. She swallowed hard and said, “I’m here to help, however I can.”
“Would you be willing to put your own body on the line? Your womb?”
Absolutely not. “Yes,” she said tentatively. “If that’s what it takes.”
“Good,” he said, flashing another smile. “We’re done here. Sean, take her back to the office.”
Irene glanced briefly behind her before leaving the room. Aiden had picked up the saw and was fiddling with it again. She was glad to get out of the white cavern, get the door closed, and get far away from Aiden.
As she walked with Sean along the tunnel back to the station, Sean said, “He really is a genius.”
He was absolutely mad. The man she just saw in that medical room was definitely capable of bombing the Genome Database. Hell, he’d probably also bomb a church full of school children if it advanced his goals. “Yes, he is,” she said.
“We’re so lucky we get to work for him and be a part of AQD,” Sean continued. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Once they got out of the subway station, they dashed through the rain to Sean’s car. Without an umbrella, Irene got soaked in the downpour. He looked at her, dripping wet in his car. “You really should have brought a coat.”