***
“Jack, get up, I think there’s someone at the door.”
“What? What time is it?”
“Two fifteen.”
“Who the heck is it at this time?” Jack swung his legs off the bed and, barefooted, headed out of the bedroom.
His grandmother poked her head around the curtain that offered a measure of privacy for her bed.
“What’s going on, John John?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep, Grams.”
Jack put an eye to the door’s peephole and saw his neighbor and someone with a blanket over her head. He opened the door.
“Jose, what’s going on?”
His neighbor put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Jack, you gotta help us. They’re gonna kill my mother.”
“What? Who’s going to do what?”
Jack’s neighbor pushed his blanketed mother into the doorway and Jack stepped aside to let them in. Jose quickly closed the door as he thanked Jack.
“Jose, it’s the middle of the night. What’s going on?”
Jose pulled the blanket off his stick-thin mother’s head. “My mama’s in trouble. She’s over the limit. She’s a little more than eighty-six.”
“But the limit’s eighty-five, ain’t it?”
Jose nodded. “She was hiding at my sister’s in Jersey, but they came and tracked her down. She hid in the car, and the enforcers didn’t think to look there.”
Laura padded out of the bedroom wrapping a belt around her robe.
“Jose? Oh, this is your mother. I remember her. Come in, sit down please.” She smiled at the woman. “Would you like some tea?”
Jose’s mother looked at her son, who said, “It’s okay, Ma. Relax, they’re good people. Why don’t you have some tea?”
“Jack, put a kettle up.”
Jack rolled his eyes at his wife and was headed to the kitchen when he was intercepted by his grandmother. “I’ll get it, Jack, take care of your neighbors.”
Jose was asking Laura what she thought they could do to safeguard his mother when Jack said, “Jose, I don’t know what you expect anybody to do. I mean, they’re really on top of this, this, uh, age program.”
“I know, but she can hide just like she did at my sister’s. She was there for over a year.”
“But what did she eat without rations? Did everyone just share?”
Jose nodded. “Look, she’s lost some weight, but she’s still with us.” He reached for his mother’s hand.
Jack glanced at his grandmother. “You got to be realistic, Jose.”
The grandmother glared at Jack and said, “What can we do to help you?”
“I don’t want to get anybody in trouble, but I was hoping she could stay with you the next two days. We heard that the Popcon patrol was working their way up from Chelsea.”
“Sure, no problem,” Jack’s grandmother said,
Jack was down her neck, whispering, “If they catch us, we’ll lose our rations.”
“And just what are you going to do when my day comes?”
***
Jack’s vibrating cell phone displayed his editor’s number.
“Hey, Vinny, what’s going on?”
“We’re gonna need something fast on the cemetery corpses being used for food.”
“What? It’s out there?”
“Yup, the Post ran it, page one.”
“The Post? That rag?”
“Yup, the good ole Washington Post one-upped us. Again.”
“That was my story!”
“Not anymore.”
“Don’t tell me he gave it to Boris.”
“Bingo.”
“I don’t believe it. That bastard. He used me again!”
“Who you talking about?”
“Gar—never mind.”
“You got time to put something together, like pronto? Or should I ask Susan?”
“Don’t bring anyone else in on this. It’s mine.”
“It’s all yours, but I need something for the web ASAP.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get to work on it immediately.”
Jack pulled up the Washington Post website and read the lead article, cringing at the byline:
Elaborate Plan Necessary to Supplement Food Supply
By Boris Oylin
The controversial Cemetery Plan was presented by the Rogers administration with the primary goal of increasing the food source by converting the nation’s cemeteries into farms.
Our investigation has determined that goal turned out to be nothing but a head fake. Initial reports by the administration had detailed the controversial plan to eliminate burial grounds, cremating the exhumed bodies, but only made a passing mention about turning the corpses into edible food.
Sources inside the White House now admit that processing the hundreds of millions of bodies into food was the goal all along and that they intentionally blurred the facts to gain public acceptance. Fortunately for the administration, any backlash for their outright deception has been eroded by the success of the program.
The complex program began with exhuming bodies, which they said were to be cremated. However, instead of cremation, the bodies were sorted by how long they had been in the ground. Corpses older than four years were shipped in refrigerated trailers to one of six processing plants, the same plants that had converted prisoners into foodstuff. Those in the ground less than four years were sorted, color tagged, and shipped to refrigerated warehouses until the embalming fluids sufficiently broke down to make consuming them safe.
The controversial program has proven more valuable than originally thought, and is directly responsible for increasing the food supply by five percent. Though supply of cadavers has been exhausted, the Food and Drug Administration instituted a plan to spread the sustenance from newfound sources over the course of eighteen months.
In a related development that came to light just before we went to press, a source has confirmed that tests are underway to flush out the fluids on those who have been euthanized or died accidently in the last four years, allowing them to be processed immediately.
Jack kicked his trash can and cursed Garland. He tried to reach the chief of staff but slammed the phone down when Garland’s secretary said he was unavailable. Jack stared at his screen wondering what to do when a text message from Garland arrived:
Sorry Jack. We’ve got to spread things around, it’s about credibility. Wanted to let you know we’re issuing an executive action tonight that will ban the embalming or viewing of anyone euthanized in the Right Age program. They’ll go directly into the food source. Hope this info helps keep us friends.
Jack reread the message, shook his head and began writing.
***
Laura stopped tending her windowsill garden to answer the door.
“Oh, hi Joe.”
“Uh, hi Laura. Is Jack home?”
“No, he’s at work, come in.”
Her neighbor stepped in.
“How about his grandmother?”
Laura frowned. “No, she’s waiting in line for milk. Is everything all right?”
The neighbor stared at her.
Laura went to set the spade she was carrying in the sink, asking, “How are the kids, Joe?”
She screamed when she turned around.
“Don’t, Joe. Take it easy.”
Joe Miller, gun pointed at Laura, said, “I didn’t want to do this, but I got no choice. I like you guys. I really do, but my kids . . . I got to get them more to eat.”
“Joe, please don’t hurt me.”
“Shush up. Just give me the food you have stashed away.”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb on me. I know you’ve been squirrelling away food while my kids whittle away.”
“I, we, we don’t really have much, Joe. I’ll show you.”
Joe beckoned with the gun and followed her to a cabinet above the refrigerator.
“Get a pillowcase.”
“Please, J
oe, don’t do this.”
“Get the pillowcase!”
Laura grabbed a pillow off the grandmother’s bed and ripped the pillow away from its case.
As Joe emptied the cabinet, Laura pleaded, “Don’t take it all, Joe. Can’t we just split it?”
“You’re lucky I don’t empty the fridge.”
Joe moved toward the door as Laura said, “This is crazy, Joe. We’re friends. I babysit for your kids . . .”
“Yeah, well, it’s every man for themselves, and my kids are all I give a damn about. I’m sorry, but there’s just no other way.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Remedy Jettisoned
By Jack Amato
Cape Canaveral was shrouded in darkness as Remedy was secretly launched into orbit early this morning.
Attempting to avoid further confrontations with those opposing sending the life-sustaining meteorite back into space, NASA launched Remedy five days earlier than originally announced. The historic liftoff took place at 2:39 a.m. in the midst of a security force that far outnumbered the public witnesses.
The Rogers administration plan hinges on a pause in Remedy’s effect in ending natural death until chronic food and water shortages are solved. Scientists and medical experts are divided on whether an orbit around Earth will impact Remedy’s powers.
An internal debate within NASA over which type of orbit to deploy had spilled into the public eye last month. Internal communications leaked to the press had the administration pressuring NASA for a Lower Earth Orbit (LEO). A LEO orbit would have placed Remedy less than a hundred miles away, which the administration believed would help them sell the idea to the public.
However, a coalition of military and space officials ultimately prevailed and decided upon using a more distant and stable orbit known as a Geostationary Orbit (GEO). Heavily influencing the decision was the fact that a GEO, which keeps Remedy in a fixed, visible position over Earth, would be easier to defend against an aggressor.
In the short term, there are really no winners in this controversial experiment. Should it prove successful, death by natural causes will revisit Earth and it will take time for any impact on the population to have a measurable difference. The administration claims that if a breakthrough occurs they have plans to bring Remedy back, though they did not expound on the mechanics of Remedy’s homecoming.
The effectiveness should be apparent quickly, and, in the meantime, we’ll hold our collective breaths, with about half of us hoping for opposite results.
***
Garland was in the Situation Room and watched the rocket carrying Remedy exhale fireballs as it lifted from the launch pad. He had a contingent of White House staffers with him to monitor the news feeds in New York, Miami, Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Seattle. If the plan worked, he’d rush to the president’s bedroom to tell him what he thought was great news.
Garland believed that being in control of when to bring back Remedy was the most powerful tool in history. He’d be able to influence when it would return and eliminate some of the randomness he detested. Garland contemplated the leverage it would afford to accomplish virtually any political goal as the rocket broke through Earth’s atmosphere.
Garland pondered positioning himself to run for the highest office in the land against continuing to weigh power in a background role. When NASA confirmed Remedy was in her fixed orbit, Garland barked orders.
“Okay. I want an instantaneous stream of info! I won’t accept anyone getting ahead of us.”
***
Orbiting Remedy Continues to Prevent Death
By Jack Amato
Early indications are that all the consternation over sending Remedy back into space was for naught. Despite the global hunt for a natural death, none were discovered in the three days after liftoff. Regardless of being in an orbit way above Earth, Remedy’s power remains undiminished.
Questions abound as to why Remedy, whose initial effective range was only fifteen miles, continues to keep death at bay. Scientists, divided leading up to the launch, are now exploring questions such as whether a higher orbit is needed, should Remedy be jettisoned out of its orbit into space, or should Remedy be completely destroyed through pulverization?
These are all pertinent lines of inquiry, however, the real question is what to do next. The country must act quickly before the impending crisis escalates. Sources inside the administration have signaled they are about to roll out programs that, though controversial, would mitigate things on the margin.
Putting Remedy into orbit was always a long-range solution to the tightening vise we find ourselves in. Therefore, as we search for solutions, we must keep open minds and steel ourselves for what looks to be an uncomfortable future.
PART FOUR
If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day when everything in which he had trusted should betray his trust, and, in short, of coming eventually to hopeless misery. He would break down, at last, as every good fortune, as every dynasty, as every civilization does. In place of this we have death.
~ Charles Sanders Peirce
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jack got out of bed and started stretching. He brought his nose to a knobby knee and grabbed his bony ankle. It had been over two years since he stopped running entirely. Jack missed the high he got from running, but he and Laura could no longer justify blowing the calories on it.
After a sponge bath, Jack lathered on shaving cream and put the razor to his face. Puffing his sunken cheeks out to get a closer shave brought back memories of chubby-cheeked infants and happier times. His stomach growled as he wiped his face with a damp cloth.
Jack put on a pair of pants and, after tightening his belt, pocketed his wallet. He stared at the Remedy coins on the dresser top before shoving them into his pants and heading for the kitchen.
Jack sat at the kitchen table between his wife and grandmother. He picked up his spoon, scooped up the floating pieces of oatmeal and rammed them in his mouth.
Jack scowled, “There’s less and less every damn day. This is nothing but a bowl of boiling water.”
“I’m doing the best I can. You think you can do a better job managing it, be my guest.”
“She’s doing her best, John John. It’s not her fault.”
“Yeah, I know, sorry. It’s funny, ain’t it? When the news about eating the dead bodies first hit, everyone was revolted, but you know what, we’re all missing that now. There’s just not enough coming out of the Right Age program.”
Laura glared at Jack over the reference to eating those the government deemed had lived long enough lives. His grandmother, on the cusp of being subject to the draconian program, kept her head down and slurped up the broth-like breakfast mix.
Laura asked, “What do you think the president is going to say? It’s got to be important. All the networks are covering it. You think it’s martial law?”
Jack shook his head. “I’m told it’s about the rations again, probably another damn reduction.”
Jack’s grandmother got up and put her bowl in the sink and headed for the door.
“I gotta run or I’ll be late for mass.”
After she left, Laura said, “You know she’s been going to mass every day now.”
Jack said, “It’s sad to say it takes facing death to get people to church.”
“We’re not much better.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Really? Before Remedy we went every Sunday. Even when we were traveling we made it our business to find a place to go to mass. Now? I’d have to drag you.”
“Don’t blame me.”
“You started it, but fact is I’m no better.”
Jack said, “Remedy emptied the churches. Satan couldn’t have done a better job.”
“And now with death from starvation or Right Ageing, people all of a sudden are yearning for God? Give me a break, how transparent can we be?”
***
As he walked to work Jack refl
ected on how Remedy had changed people. Everyone was focused on the immortality part, but the troubling fact was people were different. Even his own wife, who was the nicest person he ever knew, Grams aside, was now nasty at times, he thought.
Jack concluded the change was rooted in the seismic shift in a belief in God. He recalled his own struggle with coming to terms with where Remedy came from. Jack didn’t want to believe there wasn’t a God. He’d grown up with the image of God as a compassionate, fatherly figure and was unable to reconcile God manifesting himself in a rock.
The quandary had nearly pushed him into the Intelligent Design camp if not for a revelation a year ago while jogging through Central Park; just who in the universe was doing the designing? Unable to resolve the question he tried to convince himself it didn’t make a difference. After all, he thought, maybe the end of death eliminated the emotional need for a comforting figure to be his protector and savior.
It seemed rational, but the loss of a role model for behavior continued to gnaw, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.
***
Jack stared onto the crowded sidewalk outside his office window. Two emaciated bodies were being stepped over by pedestrians going about their business. Jack watched a Salvage Squad truck pull up to the curb, disgorging two men who approached one of the bodies. The Salvage crew moved the first body into the truck when the TV anchorman announced the president’s arrival, drawing Jack away from the window.
Jack had watched his fill of presidential addresses, and his journalist’s antenna buzzed an alert as soon as Rogers stepped up to the podium. He felt the president’s smile was too broad and his thin face seemed more relaxed than at any time since he took office. Jack took a step toward his monitor as Rogers began speaking.
“Good afternoon. I’d like to thank the networks for granting me the opportunity to speak with you today. I know it was on short notice, but I believe it’s important to address the nation directly.”
The Final Enemy Page 20