by John Bromley
In all these activities, they succeeded. Today the Wall is considered by the public to be as much of an omen of bad luck as black cats are, and for equally mysterious reasons. With fathers unable to explain to them the fate of their female relatives, sons soon stopped asking, and their sons did not know there was something about which to ask. The reward for reporting a “thought crime” still exists, though in much diminished form, since the chances of anyone committing such an offense are much smaller today than in the past. This is due to the last, and most important, function of the Department.
While the Department’s guidelines controlled human speech, and did so very well, an equally successful program, simply called “Treatment”, was initiated to deal with everything else. “Treatment” was, and is to this day, the process whereby every reference to females, or anything even remotely connected with them, is removed from art, literature, music, and all other forms of mass communication. As soon as the program was in place, it was required that everything be subjected to it—every copy of anything which conveyed any kind of idea, from opera to rock music, from Da Vinci masterpieces to paint-by-number, from Hollywood films to TV scripts to home video, from classic literature to daily newspapers to third-grade essays.
The Treatment process was never explained to the public, of course; you cannot successfully eliminate an idea if you tell people what that idea is. The common man was told only that it was now illegal to possess anything un-Treated, and that summary execution, the Thompsons’ personal favorite, was the punishment. Today, the process of “Treating” a written document is almost completely computerized, to the point that even the men controlling the operation don’t know exactly why such letter combinations as “waitress”, “feminine”, and “tampon” are illegal. They only know that there is a very long list of words, known only to the computer and updated periodically, that must never be found in written communication. Once the text has been “Treated”, it is their job simply to make sure that no incomplete phrases remain. For example, the computer would reduce one of the Bible’s Ten Commandments to “Honor thy Father and thy.” It would then be the human’s responsibility to remove the last two now-meaningless words, yielding the familiar, and very incomplete, “Honor thy Father.”
Jim visibly stiffened, and broke out in a sweat. It was the third time in less than a week that this phrase had come up.
Mike noticed that he had stopped reading, and recalled what Jim had told him of his visit to the antique shop. Jim, meanwhile, reached into his duffel bag and withdrew the stolen pages.
Honor thy Father and thy Mother.
Mike whistled. “Do you suppose the women know about that antique store?”
“I don’t see how they could.”
“You mean it’s just a coincidence that they mention the same text you have in your hand?”
“Probably, but it’s more than that.” Jim was getting excited now. “Look at the last word here, on the page I ripped out, the one they say the computer would have eliminated. ‘Mother’. If this story is right, that would have been one of the most forbidden of all words.”
“And your Treated Bible says ‘Honor thy Father’, just like they said it should.”
“Maybe this isn’t ‘proof’ in the strictest sense, but combine it with everything else we know, and it’s good enough for me,” Jim said, still staring at the screen. “And if they’re right about Treatment...”
“Then the rest of it is probably true, too,” Mike agreed.
They read on…
Life on both sides of the Walls quickly became pure hell. With the men being legally unable to talk directly or indirectly about women, facing execution if they did, the death rate for males rose to nearly the same level as during the height of the original crisis.
On the inside, it was even worse. The buildings had been designed for their projected population of ten million women, but at the start of their confinement, there were more than ten times that many. A “triage” process was quickly developed. Since their sole purpose now was to produce children, only those women or young girls who were, or soon would be, fit for this duty were allowed to live. Those who were too old (or too young), or suffering from some physical or mental disability, were declared “unfit” and killed as soon as they arrived, if not before. It was not enough, however, just to be capable of bearing children; it was also required that females accept the life to which they had been condemned—and that they do so quickly. Women who resisted transport, or those who demanded more of a “life” than mere child-breeding—in other words, those who showed any spirit at all—were also deemed “unfit” and met the same fate.
Even those who survived triage did not fare well. Food was severely limited, and no one ever had enough. The unofficial policy in the women’s ghetto was “only the strong survive”; thus only those who could endure the short rations escaped death. Starvation claimed nearly as many victims as executions did.
The second President Thompson, like his father, was unconcerned about any of this. It was his notion that the country was “too crowded” anyway, so a little attrition in numbers was actually desirable. It was his aim that the total population, men and women, decrease to a maximum of one hundred million people, or less than a third of the current number. Eventually, large-scale reproduction would be necessary, and by then, he was certain, the mechanics of fertilization—joining male sperm with the female egg—without breaching the Wall, would be perfected. Until that time, there was no rush. Different methods would be used experimentally. Those that worked would be recommended to the President for further study. Those that didn’t would be relegated to the trash heap, along with the participants.
“A hundred million,” said Mike quietly. “About ten million women. Means, we should have ninety million men but, last I heard, we were a little short of that.”
“I’m confused about something,” said Jim, rereading the last few lines. “Remember the other day when Angela told us that women were the only producers of children? Well, if they’ve got all the women in one place, what more do they need? What are these ‘mechanics’ and ‘methods’ that they’re worried about?”
“They mention ‘male sperm’,” Mike responded. “It sounds like this ‘sperm’ comes from a male and the ‘egg’ from the female, and that the two must be combined. It follows, therefore, that both are needed for women to reproduce.”
Jim sat back, thinking. “So... women have children... but first they need sperm, and it can only come from a male. My God, Mike, do you know what that means?” His voice grew louder with excitement, and he didn’t wait for an answer. “That means we are as necessary for reproduction as women are.” For some reason he found that revelation very satisfying. Then his face clouded over again. “But... if the women are all in there, and the men are all out here...”
“And if none of the other men have heard of ‘sperm’ either...” added Mike.
The two officers looked at each other. Jim shook his head in amazement. “Now I see what they meant by the ‘mechanics’ of the problem—how to get sperm from men who don’t know they have it, and can’t be told why it would be needed, into a place where men are afraid to go, and from which women cannot escape. Given those restraints, how is reproduction achieved?”
Mike pointed to the screen. “Apparently by using something called ‘artificial insemination’.”
After studying the description of the procedure, and favorably commenting on the efficiency of it, Jim shook his head, dissatisfied. “The basic question still hasn’t been answered: Who provides the sperm? I know, it says men do, but I mean who, specifically? I know I’ve never done it—I didn’t even know I had any of it. Surely, no one man can do it alone for all those women… can he?”
They read on...
After years of trial and error, during which the national population dropped by over a hundred million, it was decided by President David Thompson that death-row inmates would become involuntary sperm donors. Several weeks befor
e a scheduled execution, the inmate would be transported into the women’s compound via underground tunnels being created at the time, to a special isolated facility, where his duties would be explained to him. He would then face a choice: he would produce sperm, by a process which used to be known as “masturbation”, for later implant into a female, or he would be allowed to have actual sex with a woman (the specific female was selected by a committee, based on who among the population was in most need of immediate fertilization). If he chose the former, he would never see an actual female, but he might be permitted to contribute sperm to the collection center for up to two months, after which his death sentence was carried out within the compound. If he selected the second option, however, he faced summary execution as soon as the act was completed. If the “old-fashioned” sexual method was used and the woman failed to conceive, which often happened, it was not a cause for concern; there was always the artificial method, and there were always more death-row inmates available, due to the enormous number of capital crimes in force by this time.
This is the primary method in use today for the general population. There are very few, but very notable, exceptions, which we shall discuss later.
One thing has always amazed those of us who track such things: fully forty-five percent of the males chosen for sperm donation opted for the so-called “old-fashioned sexual” method, despite the “one-time” nature of the event, and the guarantee of a prompt and painful death. Many expressed the view that being able to fulfill that instinctive biological urge even once in their lives was worth any price they might have to pay.
Nine months after fertilization successfully took place, a baby would be born. If it was unhealthy or deformed, it was put to death, whatever its gender. If it was a girl, and if, sixteen or so years in the future, she was projected as a replacement for an older woman (who by then would no longer be capable of breeding), she was kept within the compound, often by the female who had borne her. A baby boy was sent, within a few days of his birth, to a state-run “placement agency” outside the Walls, where he was assigned to a man chosen at random, but based on the needs of the population; if a man died in Texas, a baby boy was sent to be raised by someone in Texas. “Unnecessary” children were defined as those who were not needed to replace a deceased male or a non-breeding, soon-to-be-killed female. These were considered to be “unhealthy”, and disposed of accordingly.
This practice, now in place for at least twenty generations, has completely destroyed the concept of the “biological family.” Before the Disaster and subsequent Isolation, the “sperm donor” and the “father” were most often one and the same person, and raising a child was carried out by two people who knew and cared for each other deeply. Now, especially for male children, it is a process involving three people: a man who performs his sperm-donation duty and dies, a “nonexistent” female whose job ends at birth, and another man, almost certainly unrelated to either of the other two, who is selected by chance to carry on from there. No official records are kept anywhere linking a particular male child with a particular breeding female. Thus it is possible, and probably has happened many times, that a capital criminal might have his sperm implanted into a woman who was, at birth, his sister, or even his mother.
This method of selecting sperm donors has a major flaw, which is being felt world-wide. Capital criminals, though seemingly plentiful in the immediate wake of the Disaster, never made up more than a low percentage of males. This is an even greater concern today. While most capital crimes still remain on the books, the number of men who violate them has fallen to lower levels than ever. For several generations, humanity has been building its future on a relatively small gene pool, which continues to shrink and weaken due to inbreeding, and a general lack of diversity. This results in a population which is more prone to physical and mental problems than “normal,” a general lowering of the intelligence level, and a significant lack of what was usually called “imagination.” This is evident today in the fact that no major advancement has been made in any field for over four hundred years. In fact, several areas of knowledge have actually retrogressed, due to the lack of enough people sufficiently intelligent to participate in them, or simply understand them. For example, the now-defunct space exploration program at one time was capable of landing men on the Moon and sustaining people in Earth orbit for weeks at a time. Its demise, hundreds of years ago, had the unfortunate side effect of dooming several technologies, such as the Global Positioning System and space-based communication, to the scrap heap—if you can’t make it into space, you can’t launch or repair satellites. Even something as simple as naming a child has become too difficult for some people—witness the number of men who carry a large numeral in their names.
(Jim and Mike both identified with that, since they were Jim Parker the Seventh, and Mike Wilkins the Ninth).
Knowing that this outcome was inevitable (which he did), why did President David Thompson select this faulty method of sperm collection?
It was his feeling that a reduction in intelligence would be a benefit to him and his descendants. A less intelligent population tends to be more placid, easier to lead and control, less likely to rebel against absolute authority. As always, maintaining their hold on power was the Thompsons’ overriding concern.
The mention of the Thompsons raises a final question. When the President decides that it is time to produce an heir, does he employ the method that the rest of the country is required to use? If not, who supplies the sperm?
Since its establishment, the President has always personally provided his own sperm to ensure the integrity of the Thompson dynasty. For this purpose, he makes frequent visits to the women’s Ghetto, during what are officially called “working vacations.” In addition, two females are set aside for his exclusive use—always two, so that if one is pregnant, the other is available for “non-reproductive,” or “recreational” sex, something to which the average man has no access. The President personally selects these females based on his own preferences (the incumbent, William Thompson, seems to prefer women who are rounder, softer, more “feminine” than average), and often replaces them when they no longer interest him. In that event, the rejected female is almost always killed, especially if she has produced a presidential heir, so that no Thompson genes can possibly find their way into non-Thompson children. The two chosen females live apart from all the others in luxurious apartments near the entrance to the Ghetto, a residence jokingly referred to as the “Second White House.” As of this writing, the two presidential females have both just been replaced.
Jim and Mike sat back, trying to digest all that they had heard.
“It explains everything, even things that I didn’t know needed explanation.”
“Yeah, everything, except this,” said Mike as he faced his friend. “This is a tragic story, I’ll admit, but—what are we supposed to do about it?”
“I wish I knew. I did ask our geo-caching friend why he had selected me to receive this information.”
“And he said, because you’d seen the un-Treated Bible, right?”
“Oddly enough, no. He said, ‘because he was asked to’.”
“Who asked him? The women?”
“Had to be. I can’t imagine our illustrious President Thompson suddenly wanting to lay this information bare.”
“But when—”
“I don’t know, Mike—he didn’t exactly tell me his life story back there in the tunnel. The next time we see him, maybe he’ll be a little more forthcoming.”
“Obviously, he had contact with the women at some time, and lived to tell about it,” said Mike.
“And, if he can do it,” Jim said, turning to look at the Wall, “we can do it. If we’re going to help them in any way, we have to do it. We’ve got to get in there.”
CHAPTER 23
The two men did not have the luxury of a very restful night. Sleeping outdoors in the cold Canadian night air was bad enough, but that was compounded by heavy
traffic, as at least a dozen more cars came to call on the mysterious building across the road, dropped off their passengers and departed. All of the new arrivals were like the first man that they had seen, older and well-dressed. In addition, their campsite came under attack by three groups of assassins that they knew about (and perhaps others that they didn’t, handled by their unseen friend from the Wall, “watching their backs”). Mike actually captured one of the goons alive and tried to force him to talk, but he chose to take his own life rather than give up any information.
“Not that there was much he could tell us anyway,” Jim said. “He probably had no idea why he was supposed to kill us—just following orders.”
Thus it was that two weary officers finished reconnoitering the area at first light, and made their way back to their campsite from opposite directions. When they were about fifty feet away, they each spotted the same thing.
They had a visitor.
Jim approached the man from behind, Mike from the front. Jim was almost ready to pull the trigger without even issuing a challenge, when he saw Mike wave him off, and lower his own gun. At this point, the intruder stood up and turned toward Parker.
“You boys ready for a little adventure today?”
“I don’t believe it,” Jim said, meaning every word. “Sam Swenson, you old son-of-a-gun! How can it be you? We saw you—”
“Yeah, well, it takes more than a few pounds of explosives to do in this old dog,” Sam said, reaching to shake Jim’s outstretched hand. They shook, and then clapped each other on the back.
