The Cost of Being Special (Survival of the Fittest Book 1)

by Shawn Keys

  Alex Gorman raised his hand. “Isn’t there some other note about how those who are fertile having a higher death rate? Possible other side-effects?”

  Ms. Clarke answered that carefully, “It is a bit of a conspiracy theory that is popular these days. Some claim that a surprising number of newly identified fertile candidates pass away in their early twenties. It is possible this is one of the unknown side-effects of Persterim that tends to strike. It just happens to coincide with the approved government age for testing.”

  “Why twenty, Ma’am?”

  She smiled. “Because, like with all things, our government likes to set age limits to ensure you are mature enough to handle things. Drinking age is 21, right? Legal consent for sex is 18. In this case, they established 20 as the age where you are legal to make choices and handle having your fertility made public. Nothing more complicated than that.”

  “So, what, people just drop dead after they get tested? Shouldn’t that be easy to track?”

  She nodded, “If it was something so obvious. Then yes. And a few do suffer acute heart defects or other related problems. But a large number of reported cases suffer strange accidents: ingesting household poisons, or falling asleep behind the wheel of their cars. Why? There is some debate that the Persterim virus begins to affect mental capacity, causing people to make errors in judgment, or lose their ability to think straight.” She shrugged. “That is a very contentious view. Almost everyone chalks it up to bad judgment. Cars run off the road could happen to someone drinking under the influence, and a DUI could happen because a recently fertile male gets drunk to celebrate and is silly enough to drive afterward. Give a person a massive piece of news like that, and of course their mindset will be affected. Some get swept up in being a minor celebrity all of the sudden. In my opinion, it is nothing more than that.”

  She added, “Some people have made a case that the testing should happen earlier. This would allow us to identify the possible victims early enough to reduce the poor choices they make or give more time to halt any mental degradation if this really is a side-effect of the virus. But this remains unproven, and the age of twenty remains the approved point of testing.”

  Rachel said, “They could test the men but not tell them the results.”

  Ms. Clarke shrugged. “Then you are up against human rights concerns. All people have the inalienable right to know their own bodies better than the government. That much hasn’t changed… yet. Do we really want to take that step?”

  She changed the SmartScreen to another view. Kyle recognized this one from a previous lesson, as well as from a similar lesson in biology class he had taken in high school. “Now, genetic viability for our species requires a certain diversity. You have probably seen science fiction shows about clone civilizations who are too similar and lose their ability to reproduce. It is why some species go extinct: eventually, they simply do not have the diversity to reproduce in a healthy way. Anomalies crop up, destructive mutations, and so forth. Fortunately, even with only half-a-percent of our male population capable of passing on their genes, we can stay ahead of that danger mark. But only if fertile males are able to spread those genes effectively. And, also assuming the disease doesn’t get any worse. This is not a game. If a solution to the disease is not found, then what about the next generation? And the next?”

  Another screen flicked up. This one depicting a science lab with test tubes lining the work stations. “Artificial insemination is not the answer. It is an expensive technology that is not very affordable. The government has extended some grants to help with that, but there is still a large failure rate in the process. Not only that, but sterile males of the population are still incapable of being a part of that solution.” Ms. Clarke gestured to the class. “So, what’s the answer?”

  Trevor answered again, “Sex, Ma’am!” His cronies jeered and cheered.

  Ms. Clarke rolled her eyes. “A correct if simplistic answer. Can anyone do better?”

  For whatever reason, Kyle felt inspired enough to answer, “Consensual sex, Ma’am?”

  With a proud smile, Ms. Clarke pointed at him. “Ahh, yes, there it is. An important difference, and one that is core to the problem. With so few men able to procreate, it would be easy to have those men feel entitled. Our need for them to spread their wild oats, as the saying goes, could lead very quickly to abhorrent behavior and other crimes. If our government permitted or forgave them those crimes for the expediency of additional population, our country might soon devolve into a true apocalyptic state.”

  She continued, “So the first step was not sexual, but rather legal. The punishments for rape or other sexual crimes have been expanded. You may not remember a time when such things resulted in incarceration for only a few years. Maybe a decade, at the most.”

  One of ‘the elite’, Chantelle sounded shocked, “They just locked guys up for a few years in a cage? No chemical castration? No pain retribution?”

  “Correct. At best, there might be a restraining order, but those often didn’t even include geographic restrictions. Maybe a restraining order, but sometimes not even that.”

  There was general disbelief. They had all grown up in a world where sexual attacks were treated almost more seriously than murder.

  Ms. Clarke went on, “Once those laws were established, the government turned to encouragement instead of punishment. First, they tried to encourage use of sperm banks. But many men are uncomfortable with that process, and… to be frank with all of you… fertile men know they don’t have to. Potential sex partners will not be their problem for the foreseeable future.”

  “The government decided on using modern technology for their solution. As a way to track people, we were implanted with locators. This was combined with an app developed for women’s phones. Ladies, most of you know what I am talking about.” She produced her smart-phone from her pocket and reversed it to show to the class. On the screen, there was a schematic of the school classrooms surrounding them, detailing about half of the building they were in. “On our twentieth birthdays, this app is automatically downloaded and remains installed until we enter menopause. By going off the grid, you can avoid seeing it. Very few choose to do so, as there are no requirements. The app simply presents to us all the viable male mates in the local area. We get to choose if we’ll offer ourselves. Not forced, but certainly lots of encouragement.”

  Chantelle raised her hand. “What if I don’t want children? I mean, with anyone?”

  Ms. Clarke didn’t offer her personal opinion, though there was a flash of displeasure, as if hearing someone refuse to participate in a necessary social contract. “No one will ever force you to do so. That was a necessary requirement for law and order, as much as restraining the males. But that doesn’t stop the government from providing incentives!” She smiled. “Can you list some of them, class? Most of the women should. On our twentieth birthdays, there is a required phone interview with an FDPC counsellor to explain our ‘new rights and privileges’.”

  Danielle was first to offer, “Free university education.”

  Rachel added, “Free child care and medical support.”

  Another of the ‘studious’, Betty Smith offered, “Adoption services.”

  Ms. Clarke jumped in, “An excellent point. For women who never wanted a child but want to take advantage of the benefits. There are hundreds of adoptive families for every child born. Services that used to take years now take days. Child placement is not a problem. If you put a child up for adoption, that does not stop you from gaining the other benefits.”

  Pausing, Ms. Clarke planted her hands on the desk and perched up on the edge. She crossed her shapely legs, and her skirt tugged high enough for the lace bands to peek out from below. A delighted quirk of her mouth suggested that she knew every eye was on her. Her hand gestured expressively, “Women can gain access to grants and fellowships. Venture capital funds. Federal and State authorities make it as tempting as possible for as many reasons as possible…”
Her voice drifted off as her phone sounded a mild alert.

  All of her rhythm vanished.

  Her lips parted. They formed an ‘o’ in gentle disbelief.

  Not understanding why she had gone silent, Thomas spoke up from his front row. “There are still not that many options for partners, are there Ma’am? I mean, look at the math. This school has about a thousand students. Half of those are female. With teachers added in, that might bring it up to six hundred men again. That means there would only be about three non-sterile men on the entire school grounds. And not all of them would be above the age of twenty yet.”

  Ms. Clarke didn’t answer. The soft glow of her phone was casting a silvery light onto her face. Then, her eyes looked up from the device.

  And looked right at Kyle.

  Why is she looking at me? Kyle darted his eyes left and right, and saw nothing strange nearby. Then, he took stock of his own body. Yup, clothes still on. Don’t think anything is on my face. I wasn’t even staring at her! What is going on?

  She was looking at him as if everything had changed. Like whoever he was before, she was suddenly forced to recalculate everything about her perspective regarding him.

  Adding to the weird, the knot of ‘the elite’ girls were glancing his way. Similar expressions were painted on their faces. Surprise. Puzzlement, as if thinking, What, him? How does that even compute?

  The answer came from right ahead of him. Dazz’s phone was on her desk. It buzzed, and a small red dot appeared on the auto-app displayed on the lock screen. The dot was practically overlapping her desk. It was right behind her.

  It was him.

  He finally understood. Holy shit.

  The full weight of the news hit him.

  Holy shit!!!!

  This couldn’t be real. Could it? How? He wasn’t special. Not that special! This was impossible. There had to be a mistake. Right? There could be mistakes with this sort of thing. Right?

  Ms. Clarke cleared her throat once. It wasn’t enough to banish whatever thoughts were chasing through her mind. She tried again, and this time managed to swallow past the lump in her throat, “Ahem, what was that, Thomas? Oh, yes, the numbers. Yes, your numbers are right enough. Biology doesn’t follow strict lines. But you’d undoubtedly be close.”

  “Can you confirm if –”

  She warned him off, a little too quickly. “– Now now, Mr. Kim. It is considered rude to pry. It’s a woman’s right to approach a man or not. It’s considered kind to leave a man admit his gift to his peers. We don’t ‘out’ people unless they want to be. There are dangers. Jealousy. Rivalry. In the old days, ‘a lady never tells’ used to be a mantra. The saying has gained a bit of a new following. Snooping isn’t… polite. Secrets like this never last long, but it is not for me to identify every male in the school with a fertile test result. Everyone who has a right to know… that is, all the girls… already know because of the app.”

  “But –”

  She warned him again, curtly if still kindly. “– enough, Mr. Kim.”

  He didn’t look happy, but didn’t press further.

  Dazz had been lolling her head back, barely listening. Just then, she caught sight of her phone. Her chewing gum rolled out of her mouth. “What the…?”

  Not catching onto the strange twist in the room’s mood, one of Trevor’s cronies, Bill Hamelin tossed out a question, “Have we at least traced the disease back to its source? I mean, did some owl mess around with a lizard and cook up this stupid virus?”

  Ms. Clarke had drifted again. Her eyes were lingering on Kyle. Swallowing away the dryness in her throat, she fought to answer, “Oh, no, nothing like that. Well, I mean, maybe. No, nothing so ridiculous. But the truth is there is no known source. Many argue it is a natural reaction to overpopulation. The natural world produced this to cull a herd of animals growing out of control. That is not without precedent, though never before seen on this scale. I read an article where one scientist declared it was impossible that this virus evolved organically. He said it had to have been designed.”

  “Designed?” Bill couldn’t stop a laugh. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

  “Not as weird as you might think. But if it was designed, most likely it was designed to be something different. That is the danger of biological warfare. You build something that will kill your enemy, but it mutates and becomes something that will kill you as well. Who knows? Guessing is not productive. Not at all.” She cleared her throat. “Ahem, yes, so… I think we’ve covered more than enough for today. I’ll dismiss you a little early. Go home and get some studying done.”

  Kyle was frozen to his seat. His own shock was probably worse than anyone’s.

  The rest of the class began to file out of the room. The male half left with their normal jostling about, chatting and joking, happy to be out early. The female half streamed out more quietly, glancing back in Kyle’s direction with lingering disbelief. It was like they had caught sight of a rare animal and no-one wanted to spook him… and also didn’t know if he was dangerous.

  Dazz hissed at him, “Kyle, you need to see –”

  Ms. Clarke called out over the class as they filed out of the room. “Mr. Hutchings! There is news I need to share with you. Could you stay behind, please?”

  Riley was giving Dazz a puzzled look. “You look whiter than normal.”

  “Shut up, Riley. Kyle, I said –”

  Kyle growled through clenched teeth, “– I heard you, Dazz! Look, I’ll meet up with you in a bit!”

  Nathan glanced to the teacher and back. Speaking lowly, he said, “Can’t be that bad. She said we’re all passing. You’re gonna come for badminton, right?” They played as a group three times a week, a way to blow off steam. Kyle was the only one with a happy enough home-life that he wanted to get back to after school. The others were misfits even with their own families.

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Look, I think I know what this is about. Won’t take long. I’m sure she’s just worried about me.”

  Dazz hissed more insistently, “Kyle –!”

  “I said later, Dazz.” His eyes flickered to Nathan and Riley. “I get it, alright? Give me some time!”

  Huffing, she grabbed up her bag and stalked out.

  Riley scowled, “What bee’s up her bonnet?”

  “Don’t worry about it, guys. I’ll tell you later. I promise. Give me time to sort this out with Ms. Clarke, and I’ll be down to the gym in a few minutes.”

  Nathan chuckled. “Don’t get lost up here, alright? And don’t do anything stupid. We have a week left and then we get out alive!” He clapped Kyle on the back, then took his boyfriend’s hand and they strolled out together.

  Which left Kyle alone in a room with Ms. Megan Clarke.

  She stayed where she was, propped on the edge of her desk, her legs folded in front of her in a provocative display. “Come up here, Mr. Hutchings. Don’t worry. I just need to make sure you understand what happened here.”

  Swallowing hard past the lump in his throat, Kyle inched his way across the room. He was so glad he was wearing jeans; at least they were keeping his raging erection contained. Anything thinner, and she would be staring at a bulge that couldn’t be explained away.

  Clicking her fingernails against the desk in thought, Ms. Clarke asked, “You had your FDPC test today, didn’t you?” She reversed the phone, showing him her app’s data display. It was very similar to the one on Dazz’s phone. The colors were different and the preferences for range and icons were selected for her taste, but the information was the same. It indicated quite plainly that an available male stood less than two feet in front of her. “Your locator beacon was activated during the class.”

  Struggling to remain calm, Kyle nodded. “I caught a glimpse of my friend’s phone, Ms. Clarke.”

  She sat a little further forward, arching her back as if she wanted Kyle to be tempted into looking at the swell of her breasts beneath her suit. “It’s after class, and I’m not grading you anymore. Let’s go w
ith Megan for now. Can I call you Kyle?”

  He managed a jerky nod. Cotton filled his mouth again. He kept having to swallow. She’s so close! Damn, I can smell her, too. What is that, roses and orange spice? Whatever it was, it made putting two coherent thoughts together even harder. “I swear, it wasn’t my intention to disrupt class. I stopped by the school clinic earlier this morning.”

  “Mmm hmm. I see. They don’t waste time. You can expect some FDPC agents to show up and explain your rights and responsibilities to you. They might play it heavy; despite our discussion about the new laws, some young men with this gift get it in their heads that they can have whatever they want. The agents do their best to put a little fear in them. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I won’t.” He managed to make those words into a promise.

  Her tongue eased from between her lips. Not for long, only enough to moisten them. Her charcoal eyes wandered over him, considering what she was seeing. “I have the feeling there is a lot more under your surface, Kyle.”

  He gave a nervous laugh. “Not sure about that, Ms. Clar… err, Megan.”

  A small smile stole across her face at his slip of the tongue, but didn’t tease him about it. Instead, she asked, “Can I tell you one of my secrets?”

  Against all odds, he found the presence of mind to say something half-charming. “You can tell me anything you want.”

  Her smile came back, this time far lusher and more lasting. “You see, Kyle, I take my social responsibility very seriously. I vote. I answer any summons to a jury. Without those things, this whole fragile thing we call society would fall in on itself. Fear is tearing at the edges already. We could tip over the edge into anarchy more easily than some people think.”

  He believed her. He said as much. “I know, Megan.” Why was saying her name so strange?