This woman named Helen said I should start a Journal about my time here, so that I could make some sense of it all. That it would help me to put things into perspective. It's really hard to do that, but I'll try, for this week at least.
Last week I was picked in the PCB lottery (Population Control Board). My first time eligible, and I was picked and notified. My mom freaked out, and everyone in the family got upset. My sister Heather cried like a baby, and told mom that she should try to switch our assignments. Heather is so tired of being in the hospital, and with it being just the two of us, there isn't much for mom and dad to pass on to us.
My mom is a fighter. Dad says she is almost a force of nature, and that if anything can be done, she can do it. So he is going to follow her lead and help any way he can.
My parents separated a couple of years ago. Marriages don't last too often in our society these days, with the woman to man ratio of almost sixteen to one. That is better then it used to be a few years ago, before the lottery. Back then it was almost twenty to one. So they instituted a rule to start to bring the population into balance by culling one percent per year of the female population for ages 18 to 40. The idea is that the population will gradually swing into balance within forty or so years, even with the birthrate imbalance.
So the idea is to have a one percent solution repeated to bring things into phase. It is hard luck on the one percent, but the rest of the population absorbs it pretty well. At least that is what the social sciences professor at my high school said.
And it is not like they are doing anything in public or anything. You report to a termination facility and that is your end of story. And since human meat is now USDA available from slaughter-houses, (which defrays termination expenses) you really are not going to waste.
And the legal ramifications of trying to bribe someone or running are pretty gruesome. They hold public execution in a real painful way, usually by impalement. They got around the "Cruel and inhuman punishment" protection by having the guilty party reclassified as no longer human. That was the outcome of the court cases years ago. And that applies to all parties in the conspiracy. Not just the selectee. So getting help on the run is pretty much a thing of the past.
So mom spent Monday and Tuesday hitting the phones to find a way around this situation. She called everyone she could think of, and got squat. Then on Wednesday, we were watching the news when this broadcast came on about this place in south side of Chicago called Findley's. The reporter was talking about the selected women all trying to get into Findley's, because of some story that came out about how they treated people differently, and that they had legal help for selectees and all the rest. Mom figured maybe to find a way to cut a deal with them. So she gave them a call and they said for her to come in on Thursday for something called an intake session, and that we could talk to the legal representatives there. And regardless, they would not term me then, I could wait until Saturday.
Mom was kind of at her wits end by Wednesday night. No one had any advise. A couple of her competitors were asking when and where I would be sold. Which really set her off on a tear.
I took a different tack. I was wondering why this Findley place was so different that it was in the news. So I did the old web search thing and then tapped into Socials. It was a shock. Evidently Findley did a lot of careful screening that other places didn't talk about. And a lot of women had come in on Wednesday since the blogs hit on Tuesday night and all of them said the same thing. Everyone coming was screened for any exemptions, rejections, or complications with their selection. And they had a lot of questions about things to finish up, like wills, rental and lease agreements, mortgages, utilities and a host of other things. It listed all the stuff that was in your face when you are getting ready to die. A couple of women even talked to a woman lawyer that worked there, and got advise on things to finish up before they were termed. They got a roadmap on what to do before they came back at the end of the week.
The news article was pretty good too. The camera caught this guy throwing the reporter off of his property and getting out of the way of blockage. And he was the only man that anyone saw on the property. Women did all of the intake stuff and evidently showed people around. No bums and thugs.
So, here I am on Thursday morning, standing and listening to this naked lady talking with my mom while we are waiting for the owner's wife to come into the waiting room. And there we are with a bunch of other women and my mom, wondering what is going to happen. I have to tell you, dear diary, I was scared. And mom was nervous as heck too.
So we sit and talk with a couple of different women, and things get pretty tense. The owner's wife, Margaret, said that there was nothing she could see that was wrong with the paperwork or the process and that "some people can't get a break". Then she huddled with another woman who then took her place and talked with us for a while. As she and my mom were talking, a blonde about my age came up.
She was cute. A little taller then me, skin a little darker, and with grey eyes. Real sharp looking. And oh yea, she was naked too.
So then Carol (the woman talking with my mom) suggested I go with her for some preliminary blood work and then come back up while she and Margaret talked with my Mom.
Candy is different. She is very warm but kind different. I think I would say she was really strong and decisive. She said she was the oldest of four and she had to do a lot of work with the kids while growing up. And her mother let her swap herself for her so she could get to exception. She is a real no nonsense sort of person, which is funny cause she is only a little over a year older then I am ... Apparently she was picked out to work here with people as sort of a guide and helper. She was real nice and friendly, and I felt comfortable with her.
So when we got away, and after we talked for a few while I got my blood drawn, I asked her some questions about how she was here, what she did and I was kind of shocked to hear that her mother offered her as a substitute for herself.
I remember thinking "That sucks".
Candy didn't' seem to be too upset. "I landed here and they let me help out." After a while I worked up the courage and asked "So, how do they?"
I have to tell you, I was scared to hear.
But she said, "It's a secret. But it is real smooth and someone is with you the whole time."
That got me to feel better, strange enough. She said," Couple of sharp pinches for a minute, and then you just drift off to sleep."
I thought that must not be so bad. I had seen that news program two years ago about the woman spitted live on camera and I was afraid of what I saw there.
When I asked her how many she had seen, she said over a hundred. But she didn't count. That kind of shocked me. But she said that even then, none of them felt anything, and it was all over in a couple of minutes.
So then she got me to piss in a cup. Pregnancy testing she said. I joked a bit with Candy and asked her "Don't you have to have sex to get pregnant?"
We talked about that for a while, and I found out that she was a lot more experienced that way then I was. She had even had sex with a few boys.
When I finished with my cup, we put it on a shelf and a lady came and took it and we went into the other room. I saw a lot of boxes standing behind some tables and a couple of other women setting things up. Candy said that this was where we did our stripping of clothing and then had it shipped back the following day to the address of record. It struck me that my stuff was going to be shipped just like that. And I felt a cold chill.
Just then a woman from the side called my name and asked me to come over and get some papers. It turned out that her name was Barbara and she was a nurse who did blood, urine and a lot of other stuff there to validate and test women as they came in. She was about to buzz me back up when a man came in and over to Candy.
David Findley was a pretty ordinary looking guy. He had on slacks, sport-shirt, shiny shoes and a smile. Kind of like all of the people my mom worked with. He asked me to hang around with him and sent Candy back up to the front office.
Candy looked at me for a moment, and then said real quietly," Go with him. It will probably do you a lot of good."
I looked at her for a second, and then figured I would take her advice.
So I tagged along with Mr. Findley (call me Mr. F) and we went through some double doors while and came into a large room that looked a lot like the multi-purpose room at the High school. It had high ceiling, a couple of doors, and a set of gym seats on one wall. We walked over and opened a couple of doors and let some people in and Mr. F gave them instructions on building a tall platform, and cleaning up the area. As we talked, it sank in that they were building a gallows. It made me feel funny when he said "Those who fall off of the platforms wont' be worried about being injured".
While they were cleaning the area up, Mr. F asked me to walk over to the bleachers and we talked.
I told him about Heather, and mom, and some of the frustrations she was having. He asked me about school, and what I did. And said we didn't have a piano, yet. But I could probably study here if I stayed with them. He really seemed to be a nice guy. After a little while, he said, "I think we need to get next door. I am getting thirsty".
.... There is more of this story ...