Chapter 22: Die Hard with a Vengeance

THE COLONEL’S NEW YEAR’S EVE PARTY drew more people to our house than the Christmas party had. I constantly expected protesters to show up in front of the house because so many people knew Jack, Evelyn, and Lily were in residence there. But while it was common knowledge in the neighborhood, it seemed to be a tacit secret elsewhere. By the end of the party, there was another stack of gifts for Lily under the Christmas tree. It was like the entire community was bringing gifts to the manger where blessed baby Lily lay.

Aside from a continuing barrage of ‘need to know’ requests, I was able to concentrate on writing an article describing the changing society brought about by the Testevirus. Mattie told me it looked like the requests coming in from Washington were automated now. Everyone in the city had gone home for the holidays and left a stack of requests on a timer to be mailed every two or three days.

Thirty days after he was attacked, Jack confessed to feeling better but still too sore to work. On the other hand, Evelyn had a brighter smile on her face than she’d had for a long time. It looked like the couple were reconnecting in a very physical way. Both Sheila and Dr. Simpson signed statements indicating Jack would need another thirty days of rest before he could be of use to either the NRP or the NIP. Both organizations immediately joined in a public relations war with each other.

“We are taking care of the specimen,” reported Dr. Pius of the NIP. “He is getting the best possible care. Our number one objective here is to protect Mr. Adams and see that he gets the rest he needs to recover fully and produce the best apples he can. In thirty days, we’ll be harvesting apples by the bushel and the NIP will begin planting those seeds in fertile fields where more apples will grow. Before long, we will have a regular orchard full of apples.”

I grimaced at the release from the director of the NIP. I wasn’t certain if Pius was really that backwards or if he was simply a horticulturist and didn’t know any better way to speak. Dr. Mangeler’s release was at least as confusing.

“We have determined the sperm of Mr. Adams is no longer needed to launch a national reproductive resurgence,” Mangeler said. “While he is of interest as a curiosity, we have determined that the virus will run its course in about twelve years. This comes from extensive testing we have conducted on male babies under the age of one year who were born after the release of the virus. While these infants are currently incapable of producing sperm, examination of the testicles indicates they will develop normally. As a result, we expect normal reproductive activity as soon as the current crop of baby boys reaches sexual maturity. It will merely give us twelve years of reducing the strain on the earth’s resources—a badly needed respite.”

Of course, there were others releasing their own opinions, not the least of which were Dr. Simpson’s of Orlando General Hospital.

There is nothing wrong with our sperm, according to Dr. Simpson. “The problem is in the epididymis and not in the sperm production. We are working on ways to shock the epididymis back into activity so the sperm released to it are able to mature before ejaculation. This process normally takes about two months but we are seeing positive movement in test subjects. We expect men treated with our solution will produce viable sperm in sixty to sixty-four days following treatment.”

Not all the news was as positive. With the turning of the New Year, protests began in earnest in Washington DC and threatened to turn violent. Antigov, a newly organized resistance movement, marched on the White House and Capitol, loudly demanding the government stop interfering in their reproductive rights. At the other end of the Mall, right wing Ejaculators demanded “No redhead babies!” Their protest seemed directed toward genetic purity. Signs also read “No yellow babies!” and “No black babies!”

That made it a matter of racial protest and the Rainbow Coalition, revived from the 1960s, moved between the two groups at the Washington Monument protesting racial purity and advocating government regulation of sperm distribution with an equal balance among the races. And, of course, there were still those on the other sides, proclaiming conspiracy, advocating to “Clean up Earth, abandon humanity!” and even small groups advocating adoption, decrying abortion, and declaring “Defund Doctors!”

Of course, the National Park Service had to call in reinforcements for crowd control. Not being content that the various demonstrators would escalate to violence on their own, local police and the National Guard were called in to make sure they did. This gave all sides of the protest a common enemy and signs were dropped to be replaced with rocks and eventually, Molotov cocktails.

Stimulated by the conflict, the stock market rose and regained nearly all it had lost in the aftermath of the initial announcement of world sterility. For most of the month of January, Jack was blissfully forgotten.

“Gin!” I declared, laying down my cards and taking another sip of my third martini.

“Vodka,” Jack laughed as he recorded the points and drank from his own glass.

“It’s been quiet,” I said. “Too quiet. When was the last riot?”

“Not sure. I think it was a week ago. Wasn’t that Martin Luther King Day?” Jack responded.

“Yes. That’s it. Everyone wore blackface and sang ‘We are one in the spirit.’ No one countered them because it was a Federal Holiday and all the government employees were off work. It was the first peaceful demonstration since the first of the year. Maybe they all figured they’d won.”

“It was all pretty scary,” Jack said as I poured another round. “I don’t want to go back to Washington, Ramsey. I won’t go back.”

“Do you think the Colonel, the Smiths, and SORDID will let you escape?”

“I don’t know. But if anything should happen to me, please make sure Evelyn and Lily are safe. Will you do that?”

“Do you really think they’d abduct you and lock you up?”