Foster said, “I don’t know the particulars of the case, so it wouldn’t be fair for me to comment on it, but I will say that many psychologists agree that avoiding bonding with the child helps the mother overcome any negative feelings.”
Glassman leaned in. “That’s preposterous. What psychologists? Ones that work for the government? There is absolutely no opportunity for the mother to achieve any sort of closure. The mother is also prevented from getting an opportunity to understand the reality of the child’s birth defects. I certainly am not saying a defect should be a death sentence, but the mother needs time for the child’s problem to sink in. It helps to act as a counterbalance to the guilt she’s drowning in.”
“Jack, why don’t you provide some color on how the women you met are handling these tragic circumstances?”
“Well, the law is only about six months old, but while investigating, I’ve discovered that three hundred mothers were so overwhelmed by their grief that they took their own lives.”
The studio audience gasped at the revelation.
Willis commented, “That’s staggering.”
Doctor Glassman said, “Frankly, I think that may be part of the calculus.”
The host pressed the doctor. “Are you saying the administration’s plan was not only to reduce the number of newborns, but to also shrink the number of mothers?”
“It’s clear to me that once a society crosses the line and kills defenseless infants, anything is possible.”
“So, you’re saying it is possible, but it wasn’t part of the law?”
“No, I do believe they planned it that way.”
Secretary Foster frowned. “That’s a reckless accusation. There isn’t a smidgeon of evidence to support it.”
“Really? How do you explain your latest policy that condemns every single patient in mental health institutions to death?”
“One, it’s not my policy but the president’s. Two, we are attempting to enhance the chances of productive, contributing members of society to weather the storm we are in. The resources being consumed by those who are not optimal citizens are wasted and should be directed to others.”
“So we march them off to a death camp, like the Nazis did?”
“You’re completely mischaracterizing this. There are no death camps. We are building facilities to move the people from the subpar life they have now into the next phase with dignity.”
Glassman rolled her eyes. “Hitler used the same rationale—sanitize the population so only the best of the breed are left.”
Willis held up a hand and said to the camera, “Well that’s a spirited debate, but we’ve got to move on. Jack, you have another group of women to introduce to our viewers.”
Jack said, “Yes. Little noticed, because of the uproar over the law’s main directive, was a rule that subjects newborns to death if the birthing mother cannot provide enough breast milk to feed her child.”
“I have to admit, that slipped by me.”
“You’re not alone. Almost no one, except those trapped by the rule, was aware of its horrific consequences.”
“Now, you mentioned newborns. I assume the babies we’re talking about were born with an ailment of some sort.”
“No, no. They’re completely healthy little babies. There is nothing wrong with them at all.”
Willis furrowed his brow. “So, they’re put to death because their mothers can’t produce an adequate amount of milk to feed them?”
Jack nodded. “Sadly, it’s true. Let the women themselves tell you.”
The stage darkened again and three women appeared on the screen with Jack, who was talking into a camera.
“Among women who give birth, it’s estimated that up to five percent is unable to produce enough breast milk to nourish their babies for an entire year. While it’s a small percentage of the ten million births per year in the United States, the inability is significant for the over five hundred thousand families it occurs in. Whether a woman is simply unable to lactate or produces an inadequate amount of breast milk seems to be beside the point. The fact is they are ensnared by the new rule, with drastic consequences beyond their control. Three of those unfortunate mothers have agreed to share their tragic stories with me.”
The camera panned to the women and zeroed in on a twenty-something, brown-eyed woman. Wearing no makeup and looking pale, she was holding hands with the woman to her right.
“Judy, were you surprised about the problem you encountered producing milk?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I had no idea I wasn’t able to lactate. I mean, my doctor never even mentioned it could happen. During the pregnancy, my breasts did get a little bigger, not as much as some other mothers, but I didn’t give it a second thought.”
“Did your doctor advise you about the new law?”
She nodded. “My doctor told me about it, but he never said I might have a problem or anything.” She frowned and took a deep breath. “Then when Joey was born the nurses gave him to me to breast-feed, and he was sucking away but kept crying. I didn’t know he wasn’t getting any milk, and then the nurses came and used a breast pump on me. They tried both breasts, but nothing came out. I mean, not more than like a drop or two.” She hung her head. “I started to panic and begged them to try again. They did but nothing came out. I didn’t know what to do. I took the pump myself and kept trying, then I asked if I could have another day, maybe my body was in shock but, but . . .” Judy started to cry. “I’m sorry, I, I . . .”
“It’s okay, take your time.” Jack handed her a box of tissues.
“I think I’m okay now.”
“If you want to continue.”
Judy sucked in air and narrowed her eyes. “The nurses, they were like gestapos, what heartless bastards. They said they’d come back in the morning and try again. They lied right to my face and my husband too. Those bitches took Joey in the middle of the night.” Judy’s face reddened and her ears flattened. “I swear, if I see them, I’ll kill them with my bare hands.”
“How did your husband handle all of this?”
“He blamed me. I mean, yeah, I couldn’t produce any milk, but I had no control. I couldn’t do anything about it. But it didn’t matter to him. He started drinking too much, and when I complained, he left.”
“When did he leave?”
“About two months after. I mean, I don’t blame him. I was really in a dark place, a lot worse than now. Thank God I found a support group that helped me a lot.”
“So you’ve been able to find a way to go forward despite the heartbreak?”
She dropped her head. “I’m supposed to say yes, but I don’t think I’ll ever get back to normal.”
“We’re praying for you. Thank you for sharing your story. We realize it was a difficult thing to do.”
The monitors showed Jack turning his attention to a rail-thin, zombie-like woman in her thirties.
“Joanne, you were late to motherhood. Did your relative maturity help you in any way to deal with the tragic situation you found yourself in?”
“No.”
“Did you have any warning you were going to be unable to produce breast milk?”
“No. I produced enough in the beginning, but then it dried up.”
“Really? So initially things were fine, then it, um, tailed off? How long did it take?”
“Eight weeks and a day.”
“Did you notice it?”
“No.”
“How did it come to your attention?”
“They measured the output.”
“The nurses?”
She nodded.
“Is it common?”
She shrugged.
“So you had your little girl, Avery, for about two months when the problem surfaced?”
“Fifty-seven days.”
“Then what happened?”
“They came to my house and took her.”
“Who?”
“The National Guard.”
“It’s been al
most three months since you lost Avery. How would you describe the place you find yourself in today? Are you struggling to pick up the pieces?”
She nodded robotically and whispered yes as the screen froze on her image.
The studio lights came on, but no one moved on stage or in the audience for a full twenty seconds. Finally, Willis broke the silence.
“I gotta tell you, Jack, that was as depressing as it was riveting.”
“It was probably the most difficult interview I’ve done. It may be because my wife and I want to have a baby, and these stories are haunting the both of us.”
Willis said, “Secretary Foster, in some ways, this so-called rule appears even more barbaric—killing a perfectly healthy baby because its mother cannot produce enough breast milk. Can you comment?”
“Breastfeeding had sustained the population for centuries and still can. Mothers producing insufficient amounts are directly tied to the fact they grew up in a society that sees formula feeding as the norm and have not followed the recommendations we put out. The bottom line is they have lost faith in the body’s ability to perform its most basic biological function and they don’t follow our guidelines.”
“Is she kidding me? I mean, what kind of a culture do we live in that would take a healthy, defenseless infant away from its mother and kill it? It’s murder, plain and simple,” Glassman said.
Foster retorted, “What the good doctor fails to recognize is that we need a robust regulatory framework if we’re going to have any chance at saving the country.”
“The question is, what kind of country are we trying to save? Isn’t it?” Jack said.
Willis said, “An interesting thought to ponder and a good segue. We have a few minutes left and it’d be good to get your thoughts on the religious crisis sweeping across the nation.”
Dr. Glassman said, “Speaking as a psychologist, I believe we must not underestimate the damage from a lack of faith. Remember, this nation was founded on and guided by Judeo Christian values. So people’s mental framework, if you will, was created by those values. Now, with Remedy pushing God out of the picture, it can be confusing.”
Willis said, “Can you elaborate on the confusion?”
“Imagine believing in God and living your life as best you can to secure a place in the afterlife. Then suddenly you’ve got immortality. Where’s the reason, say, to be nice to a stranger or to remain faithful in your marriage?”
“So you believe people only act morally to get into heaven?”
“Not quite that simplistic. Let me put it another way; if you needed money and there were no consequences to robbing a bank, why wouldn’t you?”
“In other words, behavior is guided by the threat of something bad?”
“We may not want to admit it, but parenting, and I’m not discounting the impact of unconditional love, uses a healthy dose of the carrot and stick approach. Be a good boy and you’ll get an ice cream, but if Johnny misbehaves he can’t watch TV.”
“I’d like to explore this further, but that’s all the time we’ve got. I’d like to thank our guests and, as always, you the audience for tuning in once again.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
While working on an outline for a series of articles on water resources, Jack’s desk phone rang.
“Hey Laura, what’s up?”
“There’s a locksmith downstairs. Said he was supposed to install a dead bolt and a floor lock or something?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. You can let him up.”
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry. It’s just that Juan told me there was a break-in at apartment one-o-three.”
“Oh my God, was anyone hurt?”
“Nah, but they cleaned out the pantry and fridge.”
“This is scary, Jack.”
“That apartment is on the ground level. We’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“There’s all kinds of new people in the building. Some of them are creepy looking.”
“People got to double up. There’s just not enough housing.”
“I know, but did you see the Rosens put all those boxes in the hallway? This place is turning into a slum. Why can’t they put their crap somewhere else?”
“Look, there’s nothing we can do. Everyone’s in the same boat. Who knows, when Grams gets here next week, we may have to use the hallway ourselves,” Jack laughed.
“You think it’s funny? I don’t! How you could ask her to live with us in the first place is a mystery to me. This place is so much smaller than our last place.”
“She’s my mother, for God’s sake! She’s losing the house she’s lived in for decades. The place I grew up in. How could I not?”
“But it’s cramped as it is.”
“We’ll manage. She’s gonna take the office, like we said. I can do without it.”
“Does she know your office is nothing but an alcove?”
“I’ll put up a curtain, or we’ll get one of those Asian room dividers . . .”
“And what about the bathroom? How are the three of us gonna use it?”
“We’ll make it work. We’re not the only ones dealing with this. In fact, we’re better off than most.”
“I don’t care about anybody else. We’ve got to focus on taking care of us.”
“Things will get better. Trust me, it will.”
“Really? You know something, Jack?”
“No, to be truthful, I’m kinda surprised there’s been no breakthroughs since this nightmare began. But I know there are a ton of people, not just in the States, working like crazy on it. Somethings gotta give.”
“It better happen fast.”
“I know, it’s getting ugly. Look, I gotta run. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, hey, you got your ration card with you, right?”
“Sure, what’s the matter?”
“Can you stop by Fresh Market and pick up some chicken and veggies on the way home? Whole Foods was out of chicken, and the produce was so picked over it was gross. I even went to Gristedes, but there was a bunch of police there and the store was closed.”
“No problem, see you in a couple of hours.”
***
Jack weaved his way around some trunks that were chained together in the hallway, saw the new setup, and rang the bell.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
The door opened. Jack stepped in, pecked Laura’s cheek and set down the bag of groceries.
“You better put this on your key ring now.”
Jack took the new key and eyed the door-floor bolt lock. “Looks Fort Knox secure to me.”
“Ugh, canned chicken and spinach again?”
Jack sighed, “Yeah, they were cleaned out.”
“This canned stuff is crammed with all kinds of garbage.”
“They had Rice Chex, so I got them for you.”
“But they’re not the gluten-free ones.”
“That’s all they had.”
“You know food labels don’t mean a thing anymore. The government stopped enforcing it. Fox did a story on it. They found wood pulp in tuna and cardboard in Spam. Can you believe it? You can put anything in it these days. I don’t trust anybody.”
“If you ask me, it’s been that way with the mystery meat they call ground beef. I betcha it’s half dog meat anyway.”
Laura put the can down. “I can’t eat this garbage. I’ll defrost some of the shrimp we have left.”
Jack said, “We got to be careful not to keep dipping into our reserves. We agreed to only hit them once a week.”
Laura frowned. “I know you’re right. I got to have something healthy. My system’s all screwed up. I haven’t gone number two in three days.”
Jack hugged his wife. “I know, my stomach’s been acting up too. I guess we’re not used to the poison everyone else eats.”
“Oh Jack, what are we gonna do?”
“You’re gonna defrost some shrimp, and I’ll clean some beets to
boil. Thank God no one wants to scrub these babies, or we’d never get them either.”
“Oh, your grandma’s stuff came. I had the guys put the boxes in the alcove, but one of them was definitely retaped, so I opened it to check and it was empty.”
“What? Are you kidding me?”
“Nope, I’ll show you.”
“Shit, what do you wanna bet that was the one with the food?”
***
Jack’s phone buzzed for the second time during a meeting with the Wall Street Journal’s Hemminger. The Journal originally pursued Jack after he began receiving leaks from Garland. Flattered, Jack nonetheless passed on the offer to join the storied paper out of loyalty to the Times. Jack had begun to regret the decision when his pitch to contribute to the Times’ editorial pages was dismissed out of hand.
Believing his current employer was taking him for granted, Jack reached out to the Journal. It wasn’t an interview he was having with the Journal’s editor in chief, whom he had met a few times, but a relaxed, exploratory talk.
Hemminger was explaining the reasons he felt the media conglomerate had surpassed its competition when Jack’s phone vibrated. He snuck a look, because Laura had called and messaged him several times.
“I’m really sorry, Dan, but my mom, well, not my real mom, my grandma, is stuck at Grand Central because of the rationing protest. She’s coming to stay with us, and she’s in her seventies. She lost her home to the reclamation plan. It’s a long story, but I gotta run and get her.”
***
It took him three times as long as he thought, but Jack was relieved to see his grandmother resting on her suitcase in front of a boarded up Grand Central Oyster Bar. The storied restaurant with vaulted ceilings had closed four months earlier, and the plywood-covered windows were covered with graffiti.
Jack ran and embraced her.
“I’m sorry it took so long, Grams. You must be exhausted.”
“It’s okay, I’m fine. But look at you, you’re sweating like mad.” She took a hanky out and patted his brow.
“You look too thin, Grams.”
“I’ve been trying to save some, like you said.”
The Final Enemy Page 14