by K. A. Gandy
“No, I don’t,” he admits, scuffs his boot on one of the stones in the path. “But, you do understand that it’s a two-way street for me, right? We’d be married, yes. But you would be able to have a relationship with whoever you wanted, as well. We’d have to live in Calivada, as it’s the only place I know of where the government doesn’t really have the reach to fully squash it. And most of the women there have at least two children, so you’d be pretty likely to be done at the end of our three-year timeline, if that’s what you wanted.”
I turn it all over in my mind. What he’s suggesting is so far out of left field, I’d never in a million years have thought of it myself. Marry him but still be with whoever I liked. But he’d also be with other women? And how would that feel? Then what, divorce him, come home, and pretend none of it ever happened? I feel troubled, and I’m not sure what to say to him. It sounds like the people of Calivada have found a way to be freer than the rest of us, but I’m not so sure if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.
“I need to think about it for a while, Pierce. Thank you for being honest with me,” I finally say. The path we’re following has curved back around to the other side of the main hall. He gives my hand a squeeze and lets me go before we walk back in for the announcement.
We find that not only have the women assembled, but all of the remaining bachelors, too, which is unusual. Eric is standing at the front of the room, wearing his signature smile. A guard closes the door after we walk in, and find our way to the back of the group where Matthew, Grant, and Antonio are clustered. Patrick is standing off to the side of the room, and appears to be on duty, but still gives me a brief nod before returning his attention to Eric.
“Good morning everyone! I hope you’re all enjoying this time of romance and getting to know your perfect matches!” He looks around, and there is a small rumble of assent from the group. “I’m afraid I have some less-positive news for you all today . . .” He pauses for effect.
“Would it kill him to just say ‘bad news’ like a normal person?” I hear Beth-Ann whisper-grumble to Phil, who’s got his arm around her. He just shakes his head at her.
“The quarterly population reports have been released, and we’ve reached an all-time low for global population numbers. We have now sunk to the lowest human population in recorded history.” He pauses again, and this time the murmurs around the room sound concerned.
“As a result, the NAA government has decided to enact a critical priority measure on the Compulsory Marriage and Reproduction Act.”
Jo speaks up, “What does that mean? It’s already mandatory—how much more critical can it get?” Her match shifts uncomfortably at her side.
Eric looks around gravely, “There are a few additional measures to be put in place now that the population has reached critical levels. The main one, though, is that there is no longer a release clause once you’ve had two children. You are still able to separate from your husband if you feel you’re incompatible, but you will need to remain in the program.”
Jo speaks up again, angrily this time, “For how long? Three kids? What’s the number?”
Her match puts a hand on her arm, but she swats him away without a glance.
Eric smiles nervously, “There is no number. The mandate will remain in place until the population as a whole leaves the critical range.”
Gasps erupt around the group. Jo’s face turns red, and she clenches her fists. I see her match—Elijah, I think?—try to put another calming hand on her, but she’s not having it. “I told you to keep your slimy hands to yourself!” she shouts at him, uncaring that everyone is staring at them.
Elijah steps back, a displeased look on his face, “Now be reasonable, Josephine. It’s for the greater good.”
“I don’t give two figs about the greater good! This is basically slavery! You can’t keep us in this damn program forever!” She spins angrily and approaches Eric. “I won’t do it! There is nothing you can say that will make me marry this little weasel, and I’m certainly not going to waste my life moving from man to man at some program director’s whim! It’s unconstitutional!” She’s shouting, and from the side door I see two burly guards enter. She doesn’t see them, though, so caught up in her rage at Eric.
“Josephine, I hope you understand there’s nothing any of us can do!” Eric has both hands up, but his placating tone isn’t working for her.
“This is BS! Of course there’s something you can do—let us live our own friggin’ lives!” The guards reach her, and as soon as the first one grabs her arm she takes a swing at him. “Get your hands off of me! I mean it, I will kick you in the balls if you don’t back off!”
Instead of releasing her, the second guard grabs her other arm tightly. She makes good on her threat, and knees guard-one in between his legs, he hunches, but doesn’t release her. Dr. Mitch appears out of thin air with a syringe in hand.
“Oh, my god, what are they doing to her!” I clutch Matthew’s sleeve, and go to run forward. He grabs me around the waist.
Dr. Mitch grabs her head and forces it to the side, plunging the needle into her neck.
“No, Sadie, you don’t want to get in the middle of that,” Antonio agrees.
“We can’t just let them do this to her! Let go of me!” I twist, and manage to escape by ducking under Matthew’s arm. Before I’ve made it three steps out of his reach, Patrick appears in front of me, blocking my way.
He grabs me in a bear hug, pinning my arms to my sides. I struggle, but he leans down close to my ear, “Sadie, I promise you we will help her. But you can’t help her if you’re sedated with her.”
I’m furious, but I stop struggling. He’s right, but it eats me up inside to watch the two guards hauling a limp Josephine out of the room between them. Beth-Ann looks like she might faint. Phil is holding her up. Several of the other girls are sobbing and clutching onto their match, or each other. But not me. I can’t find tears for this moment, only rage. The door swings shut behind them, and I turn my eyes to Patrick.
“Nothing about this is okay.” My voice shakes.
He nods, and loosens his grip a bit, “I agree, Sadie. I agree.” His voice is as solemn as I feel.
Shotgun Wedding
As much as I want to go find the gym and punch something for a while, I’ve got a date and Beth-Ann’s wedding this afternoon. I try my best to put on a happy face for my date with Patrick, but it’s obvious neither of us is really feeling it after what just went down with Jo. I groom up Hercules, and Patrick chooses Maggie, a beautiful bay mare. Michael does his thing with Patrick and Maggie in the round pen while I let Hercules steal a few illicit bites of the manicured lawn.
They finish up quickly, and we’re off. Today we pick a yellow trail marker, and we’re instantly plunged into thicker forest than I’ve seen so far. The chill in the air makes me pull my flannel further down my arms. We ride in silence for several minutes, neither of us wanting to break the calm. Eventually, I decide to ask, “How did you learn to ride so well? Did you have horses growing up?”
“No, actually, but one of my good friends from school did. My parents had to travel often for my father’s job, and I’d sometimes stay with his family for two weeks at a time. His mom taught me when I was with them,” he says casually.
“Wow, that must have been really hard, being away from your family for so long. How old were you when he started traveling like that?” My interest is pulled off of horsemanship, and onto young Patrick.
He takes a moment before answering, “It could get lonely at times, but Steve’s parents made me feel like I belonged. Sometimes it was nice to pretend I was just their other son, you know? That I wouldn’t have to go home when my parents came back. I was probably around ten when his traveling went from a few times a year to most of the month.”
I can feel my heart pull at his words. “I’m so sorry. Do you and Steve stay in touch?”
“Oh, it’s all right,” he says lightly. “And we do stay in touch! I spend my
holidays from work with them. My dad is still working and traveling most of the time, so they aren’t usually home for me to visit.”
There’s another natural lull in the conversation. Our horses are continuing along, following the trail without much help from us. I let my mind wander. I’m torn between incredibly sad for Patrick that he has so little contact with his family, and incredibly relieved for myself that he’d probably be willing to stay near my own family. Most of my matches are these powerful, well-off men who came from all over the NAA. Of those who are left, only Patrick and Grant actually live in Georada. I shove thoughts of the other men aside, focusing back on Patrick.
“So, Glitch is really something else.” I change the subject to something a little more upbeat.
Patrick chuckles, “Yeah, you could say that. He’s a good guy.”
“How long have you two known each other?” I ask.
“I guess it’s been about two years now, since I entered the Guard service. We both started at the same time,” he says right as our trail empties into a small clearing.
We guide the horses towards the right side of the clearing, and they happily walk around the edge while stealing snatches of the taller grass. “So, is he tech support for the guards or something?”
“Well, not exactly.” Patrick shifts in his saddle, “Technically he’s just a regular guard, like me.”
Realization dawns on me, “Are you telling me he somehow gave himself access to the security cameras, plus all of that extra Bachelor Book information? He’s not supposed to have that?”
“Not so much, no. But please don’t mention it to anyone, because we’d all get in pretty big trouble for that. That’s just Glitch for you, though. Wherever we work he has to have access. He is the most brilliant person I’ve ever met, and I think that’s the only reason he hasn’t been caught,” he says with a nervous edge.
“I won’t say anything. The security cameras make sense, you two being guards and all. But, why hack the Bachelor Book?” That part doesn’t make sense to me.
He doesn’t answer for a beat, and I look over to see the faintest hint of a blush spreading up his tanned neck.
“Oh my gosh! You put him up to it, didn’t you? What, were you checking out the competition or something?” I stifle a laugh at his embarrassment. He’s so cute!
“Hey, can you blame me? The rumors started spreading about a record-breaking number of matches. I needed the inside scoop to have any shot of matching up against all those hot shots. Plus, it took him like twelve minutes, and he loved it,” he justifies.
Now I’m just grinning at him, “So, if you asked him to hack into the Bachelor Book for you, you must have really liked me.”
He pretends he didn’t hear me, “Hey, look! There’s the trail marker again. Do you want to do another lap, or should we head back and get you ready for Phil and Beth-Ann’s wedding?”
I sigh, my care-free bubble popped, “Yes, I guess we should go back. Are you coming to the wedding?”
“I’m scheduled to work tonight, unfortunately.”
We ride back down the little trail, and banter back and forth along the way. After we unsaddle, we both give our mounts a cool-down brush before saying goodbye. We’re standing outside the barn when he reaches over and twines his fingers with mine.
“I’d love to give you another goodbye kiss, but I’m pretty sure you’d rather that news not get around to your other matches,” he says, and I appreciate his consideration. “I’m pretty sure the bushes have eyes around here.” He glances conspicuously over his shoulder, to where Michael is whistling and polishing a bridle in the doorway.
“Probably for the best,” I agree with a chuckle. “So, have you been to a lot of weddings here?” I ask as we start walking slowly back towards the dorms.
“No, not really. I’ve only been to one before this. The groups are usually a lot smaller than this, and most of them don’t ever see us guards, let alone invite us to their big day,” he states.
“Is our group really that much different?” I’m surprised to hear that.
“Yes, it really is. There usually aren’t ten girls at once, and also the kidnapping attempt was pretty far out there. I’ve been guarding New Life Centers for two years, and that was only my second one. And the first one was amateur hour by comparison; it was a girl’s boyfriend from home who tried to spring her in the middle of the night,” he snorts. “It’s pretty ridiculous how night and day different that was.”
“Aww, he must have really missed her. Poor guy. What happened to him?”
“He got sent home, and she got married the next day. The NLC does not take the whole no-illegal-relationships thing lightly.”
“Well, it could be worse.” Guess they can’t get away with treating men how they treated Josephine. I keep my morose thoughts to myself as he drops me off by the front steps.
✽✽✽
An hour later, I’m showered, dressed, and seated next to Beth-Ann in the bride’s room of the dormitory. Elena and Jenna volunteered to be the hair crew, and we’re going all out getting dolled up for Beth-Ann. I wouldn’t say it’s truly a jovial atmosphere, but we’re trying for her sake. Jenna has her signature loud, upbeat music pumping through the speaker system.
“It’s just so exciting!” Elena says while brandishing a hot curling iron far too close to my face for comfort, “You’re the first one of our group to get married! How does it feel? Are you excited? Nervous? Nauseous?”
Jenna giggles, “I’m pretty sure she knows what’s going to happen tonight, seeing as they’ve dated for what, three years, you said?” She looks to Beth-Ann for confirmation.
Beth-Ann smiles happily, “Yes, three years! I knew he was the one from the very beginning.” She sighs dreamily, “And no, I’m not nervous about tonight. More so about the permanence of marriage. I love him so much, I just hope it stays this way for life, you know? What if he gets tired of me, or doesn’t find me attractive anymore after I have a baby?” she says with a worried frown. “Or what if my parents drive him off?”
“Beth-Ann, you’re going to be married. Even if they try to split you two up, it will be up to you and Phil to decide to stay together,” I say in my best “keep calm” voice.
“Yeah, and surely they’ll get on board once you have a grandbaby to spoil. Aren’t they in politics? Carrying on the family line looks particularly good in re-election campaigns, and a messy divorce could really blow up their perfect image. Just work that angle,” Jenna says confidently.
“You really think having a family matters in the elections? Being childless has no bearing on your ability to do the job at hand,” I argue.
“No, she’s right,” Beth-Ann agrees. “It’s been a few years, but I remember my dad saying a vote had been put up about switching the NAA to a monarchy, since voting has been getting harder to maintain as cities keep getting closed and citizens moved all over the country. It didn’t pass at the time, but he said it’s come up twice already. My dad says people trust politicians with families more than those without.” She stops talking abruptly when Jenna starts coating her hair in a toxic cloud of hairspray, while dancing back and forth to the song that just came on.
“Good lordy, I think that’s enough,” I cough out. “My eyelashes are going to get stuck together just being next to you.”
Jenna stops spraying, but switches to some dance with aggressive fist pumping and jogging to the beat. “Don’t worry, your turn with the can is coming,” she finally says when she stops.
Elena pipes up, “But, how could they switch us to a monarchy when there’s no ruling family? I mean, who would be the king and queen? Do they already have kids?” The curling iron veers so close to my neck I can feel the heat through the bottom layer of my hair. I flinch to the side and she snatches it back, pulling my roots.
Beth-Ann thinks for a minute before responding, “Well, they’d probably appoint someone who’s already high up in government.. Prime Minister Royce has two kids, but nobody knows muc
h about them. I think he’s pretty popular, too. He’s been re-elected for most of the last ten years, maybe more —they might just elect him.” She shifts in her seat, and Jenna freezes with bobby pins in her mouth.
“Holf stiwwl owr Ihm goihnn to pohkh you,” Jenna grumbles.
“What?” Beth-Ann asks, shifting again.
“HOLF SWIWWL OWR IHM GOIGNN TO POKHHH YUHHH!” she mumbles louder.
“Hold still or she’s going to poke you with a bobby pin,” Elena translates.
“Oh, sorry!” Beth-Ann looks sheepish.
“I still just can’t imagine the NAA as a monarchy,” I say, still caught up on the whole politics discussion, “I know the re-election limits were dropped when my parents were kids, because the political pool is too small to change leadership so often. But, I mean, that’s a huge change for the country.” I lean forward, getting into the conversation.
Elena flicks me on the forehead, “Now you hold still or you’re going to get your neck burnt!”
Beth-Ann laughs, “You two are dictators! You’re not the Royces, you can’t tell us what to do!” she jokes.
Jenna slides the last pin into Beth-Ann’s hair, and then gestures animatedly with a round brush, “It’s not like they’re opposed to changing things, especially after that announcement this morning. I read through some more of the details of the official announcement, and the only way to get out of being pushed from man to man is after three failed matches, you can switch to using a sperm donor, but only if you have family or husband who isn’t a genetic match willing to take you in and sign an agreement to help care for the children.”
“That’s outrageous!” Elena says, “So what happens if you are successful with the sperm donor? How many kids do you have to have?”
“That part’s even worse,” she says angrily, “You have to report to your nearest NLC and stay until you’re successfully pregnant, however long that takes. Then, even after you give birth you only have eighteen months after until you have to report back again and repeat the process.”
