“The first time I crossed the line I felt so guilty. But then I didn’t. And maybe I’ve just justified it in my head. I mean, I’m not married. I never hook up with married men. I’m also not having sex and the virgin thing is a big deal.
“I mean, is it realistic to expect people to stay chaste until marriage? Especially because people get married so late these days? It’s not like I would take a poll, but I bet I can count on one hand the number of people at my church who were virgins when they got married. And they’ll all be over fifty.
“What I do now is just practice. You’re part of my education, Scott. My future husband thanks you.”
Scott laughed. “I am happy to provide you with instruction at any time.”
Anna finished her glass of wine. “So that was the long story of why I prefer to keep my parents in the dark about boys generally and you in particular.”
“I get it,” Scott said.
“Your turn. Tell me something highly personal.”
“OK,” Scott said. “How about this? My mom and I were on BL for about five years when I was a kid.”
“No way!” Anna said in disbelief. “Other than that couple today, I’ve never met anyone on BL.”
“That’s because they do a good job keeping them away from everyone else. Special housing. Special schools. Special grocery stores. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a BL Breakfast Pack.”
“What’s that?”
“Plastic tray. Algae substitute sausage, egg, cheese, and biscuit.”
“Sounds disgusting.”
“But nutritious. We went in every week to the grocery store for our rations. We got real milk because I was a kid. But other than that it was algae food packs for every meal.
“My mom and dad married right out of high school and had me a few months later, so she didn’t go to college and never worked. When he skipped out on us she was too proud to go to her parents for help. So we went on BL until she earned a degree and got a job.
“Most people who get off BL don’t like to admit they were ever on it. I don’t blame that couple you talked about this morning. Life on BL is pretty bleak. A week with ocean views, real food, and time with someone who actually listens to you? Peace Out LA must be like heaven for them.”
The doorbell rang. Anna went to answer. She gave the deliveryman her thumbprint and took the cartons of food into the kitchen. Scott poured more wine while she set the table.
“How was the rest of your day?” Anna asked, opening a carton and spooning some chicken marsala onto her plate.
“I had some trouble focusing,” Scott said, grinning at her, “but it was fine. We had a batch of ten in from the government. Have you heard of Sanctuary?”
Anna shook her head.
“I’m not surprised. They don’t get much publicity. The government runs a bunch of Sanctuaries and act as guardian for people who can’t care for themselves and have no one to care for them - the mentally ill, disabled, elderly. They’re all on BL anyway, but the government carries the extra cost of supervision and assistance. They stay in Sanctuary until spots open up in a charitable Enclave. Then they transfer. But if the Sanctuary reaches capacity and needs space, they take the people who’ve been there the longest and Peace them Out.”
“Like dogs at a pound,” Anna murmured.
“What was that?” Scott asked.
“Never mind,” Anna said, brooding.
MARTY AND JENNY
I have a lot of friends who have taken the Pledge. The thing is, it is just something you put on your Index. There isn’t anything binding. So it is just a symbol, a badge of your pledge to the future. But how easy is it to take the pledge when you are twenty? I’d like to see if any of them voluntarily Peace Out when they hit 70.
NBC News Segment: “Pledge 70 on the Street,” Interview with Betsy Bonner, Age 23, 4/12/2050.
Five days after Marty mailed the card, he decided to return the dinner plate to Jenny’s mother. The letter had been his final attempt. It had clearly failed. Marty got his coat and put it on. Tucking the plate under one arm, he cut across the lawn and stepped onto Jenny’s porch. He knocked on the door. Jenny’s mother answered.
“Hi Pat,” Marty said.
“Hi Marty.” Pat’s expression was neutral.
He handed her the plate. “Thank you for sending dinner over. You have a good daughter.”
“I know,” Pat said.
“Did she get my card?”
“She did.”
“Did she tell you what I said to her?”
“She did.”
“Well, just let her know I really am sorry and tell her thank you.”
“I will.”
Marty went back to his house. He opened the freezer and looked at the stacks of dinners. He shut it. He decided to order Chinese.
Marty got back into his old routine. He still looked out the window for Jenny every now and then, but really, he was back to his old self. The Falcons were in the play-offs and he was holding a strong second place in fantasy football. Jason16 had a girlfriend and wasn’t on as much, but they still chatted during games.
Marty was eating a Hot Pocket in front of the TV. There was a knock. Marty went to the peephole. It was Jenny and she looked upset. He opened the door.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure,” Marty said. He directed her toward the formal living room. Jenny took a seat on the couch and picked up a throw pillow. She looked around.
“This is nice,” she said. “It’s cleaner than I thought it would be.”
“Thanks a lot,” Marty said. “I have a housekeeper. She comes every week.”
“Oh,” Jenny said. She played with the braiding on the pillow. “Did Mrs. Lawson make these?”
“Diana? She wasn’t so crafty,” Marty said. “She was good at buying things though.”
“Oh,” Jenny said.
“Um, would you like a glass of water?” Marty asked.
“Sure, thank you,” Jenny said. “No ice, please.”
Marty went to the kitchen and got a clean glass from the dishwasher. He filled it from the tap and brought it over to her. “It’s good to see you again,” he said. “I thought you were still mad at me.”
“I was,” she said. “You were so mean. Your card was nice though. It is the first piece of real mail I’ve ever gotten besides packages and stuff.”
“But you didn’t come back,” he said.
“I figured you wanted to be left alone, so I was going to oblige you. That maybe that was how I could help you the most.”
“So why are you here now?” Marty asked it gently.
“My parents are having a big fight and I needed to get out.”
“I’m sorry. Is everything OK?”
“It’s my uncle. Dad’s brother. He and my aunt are behind on their rent. Dad wants to help out. Mom doesn’t. She says now that Grandpa is dead Dad doesn’t have to worry about guilt trips and he can just wash his hands of his whole worthless family. Dad didn’t take that too well.”
“I’m sorry,” Marty said.
“Yeah, well it’s the main thing they argue about. Grandma and Grandpa weren’t so good with money. They didn’t go to college. Growing up they were on BL whenever Grandpa was in between jobs. Dad bailed them out more than once. He never got any thanks until they needed money again. I guess some people never grow up. How hard is it to not spend what you don’t have? I guess life skills wasn’t a required course when they were in high school.
“When they were old enough to go, Dad paid for an Enclave in Florida. My mom went through the roof over that. But Dad pointed out that it was better to do that then let them run up bills again. Mom wasn’t supposed to tell me, but I guess they ran up fifty thousand the year before Dad put them into the Enclave. They were like children trying to outdo each other. Grandma would get new cushions for the couch. So Grandpa would get some power tools. Grandma would see those in the garage so she’d go buy a new dress. Then Grandpa would get a new co
at. And so on. They were going to go to jail for not paying, so Dad footed the bill. Then he cut up all their credit cards and put badges on their Index to prevent them from getting any more.”
“How long were they in the Enclave?”
“Grandma was only there a few years before she died. Grandpa was there ten years,” she said. “Mom says that I better get a scholarship for school because all my college money went to pay for the Enclave. I told her not to worry. My grades and scores are great. I’ll be fine.”
“You didn’t go to your Grandpa’s funeral.”
“Mom said I shouldn’t miss school and she wasn’t going to spend another cent on that man. Dad went by himself. His sister was there and said her son needed money for the next semester’s tuition or they were going to kick him out. And money for books.”
“What did your dad do?”
“He always talks to Mom first. She said that they had to send him the bill and he could directly pay the school. That was her way of saying no because she knew they would never send it. Then my uncle calling today about rent money was the last straw. She said they were bleeding him dry and he could spend his retirement on BL but she as sure as hell wasn’t going to.” Jenny finished her glass of water and set it on the coffee table.
“My dad is a good guy,” she said. “He loves his family. I was never close with any of them. We saw each other when I was younger, but once all my activities got going we couldn’t really get away for the summers to visit anyone. We call them on birthdays and holidays, but we really have nothing in common. It is hard to talk to them. Awkward. It is even more awkward because of everything I know about them with the money stuff.
“My dad didn’t know how bad things were until his junior year of college. He was top of his class in high school and got a full tuition scholarship to Brown’s Bach/MD program. His parents told him they had room and board covered. Then his junior year, he got this notification that he was in default on a credit card. He didn’t even know he had one, but the company had all his information. He called his parents and found out they had been putting his room and board on the card for two and a half years, all the while paying the minimum. Then they stopped paying.”
“Holy crap,” Marty said.
“Yeah,” she said. “He could have just taken out loans and the interest would have been nothing compared to the credit card. He almost had to quit school, but the credit card company gave him a deal after they saw his Index. They garnished his wages the first ten years he was a doctor.”
“Was he mad?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He never talks about it. My mom is the one who told me the story. She wanted me to understand why she had no love for his parents. I felt awful when my grandpa died. Not because I missed him, but because I felt nothing. He died and I felt nothing. That’s why I made you cookies.”
“Old guy next door equals grandpa replacement?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe atonement? Is that OK? I guess I really was using you.”
“It’s OK, Jenny,” Marty said. “If you want to finish up your hours that’s OK. If you don’t, that’s OK too.”
Jenny’s phone rang. “It’s my parents,” she said. “They must be done fighting. I should go home.”
Marty walked Jenny to the door.
“Can I come by again?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said.
SAMMY AND BECCA
This be a message, yo
Girl ain’t your fuckin’ ho
You fuckin’ with the rules
You fuckin’ with Quid Pro
Check this out
Fuckin’ crystal of him fuckin’ Crystal
Fuckin’ aim my pistol
Who’s my bitch now?
Peace ‘em out.
Peace ‘em out, yeah.
Stick a mag in yo glock, yeah.
Peace ‘em out.
Peace ‘em out yeah.
Pull the trigger and he shot, yeah.
Quid Pro, Excerpted lyrics from Crystal, Billboard Number 1 Hip Hop/Rap Single of 2033.
The girls wandered around the flower garden until they heard the bell ring. The followed the sound back to the gazebo and waited while Mr. Eggers did a headcount.
“The next part of our tour is inside,” Ms. Alfano said. “Let’s go back to the bus so you can drop off your fruit. Usually we do the gardens last, but our very special speaker had a last minute emergency so we had to switch the schedule.” They all followed her back to the front of the mansion. The twins and Christy waited near Mr. Eggers and Ms. Alfano while the rest of the class piled back on the bus.
When everybody was done, Ms. Alfano took them into the lobby. “In here, we need you to wear name badges.” She pointed at the coffee table. “We had these made while you were in the gardens. They are alphabetical by last name.” The kids clipped them onto their clothes. Ms. Alfano took a badge out of her purse and attached it to her blazer.
“This is the lobby. Here, our receptionist Stacy does intake. Anyone who comes in, whether under directive or not, comes through here. There are forms to complete. Peace Out requires full access to your Index. If someone is brought in under guardianship, we require access to the guardian’s Index as well.
“Once the forms are complete, the applicant is scheduled to meet with a Facilitator or a doctor, depending on the situation. If someone is here under directive, there is no waiting period, just a confirmation of diagnosis.”
“Why?” asked Sammy.
“Well, because everyone with a Peace Out Directive has made their wishes known. They come here because circumstances have activated the directive and it is our duty to honor their wishes.
“All of you will have an opportunity to activate a Peace Out Directive when you turn eighteen. Until that time, your parents serve as your guardians.”
Ms. Alfano confirmed that the children were wearing their badges and headed past the reception desk. Sammy grabbed Becca’s arm and pulled her into the crowd of kids trailing after Ms. Alfano. “Don’t look at Stacy,” she whispered. “She might recognize us.”
Ms. Alfano took them into a little auditorium. “Please have a seat. We show movies here three nights a week for our applicants,” she said. “I have a short film to show you now, and then we will hear from our speaker.”
Ms. Alfano turned off the lights. The stage in front of them faded to black and the inside of a living room appeared with an elderly couple sitting next to each other on a couch. It was an old holo.
“That’s the Kellers,” whispered Sammy. “The couple from the brochure.”
“Shhh,” Mr. Eggers said.
“My name is Daniel Keller,” the man said. “This is my wife Elizabeth. You may know me as the inventor of crystal computing, as the founder and CEO of Crystal Technologies. But my true life’s work began when Elizabeth and I founded Peace Out. It has been our mission to bring the right to Peace Out to every citizen of the United States. Not only that, but to create a place where it could be done with love and support, away from the clinical detachment of hospitals. Before the Supreme Court’s ruling in Peace Out vs. The United States in 2026, the right to end one’s life was only legal in a handful of states and there were very substantial barriers. After the Court’s recognition of inherent human dignity and extension of the constitutional right to privacy to a choice to Peace Out, we were able to open our first Center in Washington.
“Over the past decade we have opened facilities in Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, and Atlanta. We have countered every attack against us. We have obtained not just legality for Peace Out, but actual government sanction as the only authorized purveyor of our services.” Keller stopped talking and turned to his wife.
“Daniel and I are both seventy,” Elizabeth said. “Our bodies are failing in a slow attrition that will end with our deaths. The best doctors in this country can only slow the tide that is taking us. We choose not to allow death to take us on its terms. We choose to go together. Peace Out is ou
r legacy. A legacy that will last long after we are gone.”
“We set up the Keller Trust to ensure that Peace Out has the resources it needs to maintain the high quality of service that we are known for,” Keller said. “Peace Out will always be free to those who need us. No one should ever profit from the difficult end of life decisions that will face you all one day.”
The holo faded to black and text floated above the stage. “Daniel and Elizabeth Keller Peaced Out on March 16, 2038. With sixty Peace Out Centers across the United States, their legacy lives on.”
Ms. Alfano turned the lights back on. “And now, I have a special treat for you all. The Chief Executive Officer of Peace Out, Ms. Tara Fredericks!”
The children applauded politely as a woman with silvered hair wearing a black pantsuit took the stage. “Thank you for the introduction, Ms. Alfano,” she said. “I am so glad to have this opportunity to speak with you,” she said. “I started as a junior Facilitator right here at Peace Out Bellingham. Over the last twenty years I worked my way up to Chief Facilitator and eventually took over as CEO two years ago.
“Ms. Alfano, can you turn up the house lights, please?” she asked. Ms. Alfano complied. Ms. Fredericks came to the front of the stage and sat down, her legs dangling. She was wearing bright red heels. “That’s better,” she said. “I like to see who I’m talking to.” Ms. Fredericks looked over the class, smiling. Her gaze rested for a moment on Sammy and Becca. She cocked her head. “You know, you two look so familiar to me. What are your names?”
“Sammy and Becca Bishop,” Sammy answered.
Ms. Fredericks nodded. “The Bishop twins,” she said. “You’re about ten now, aren’t you?”
The girls nodded.
“Ms. Alfano and mister...” She looked inquiringly at their teacher.
“Eggers,” supplied Ms. Alfano.
“Could I see you for a moment? Please excuse me class.” The adults stepped into the hallway.
Peace Out (The Futures Trilogy Book 1) Page 9
