(cont. from part1)

In fact, J was so successful that it wasn't inconceivable that one day soon the Department was likely to become obsolete. Even now they had reached the point where they did their work only to keep people aware of the need for vigilance on this issue. As time went by, the community itself did more and more to solve the overpopulation problems. There was no longer a need to exterminate any particular individual or defined element in society.

As always, the humming created by the air conditioners and peripherals of the giant computers dominated the offices. It was a constant reminder to anybody in the building that the machines were always busy digesting the previous day's information about the activities of each one of the billions of citizens in the country, to add new data to each magnetic dossier, to keep the computers' knowledge up to date about the activities and behaviours of each individual, so that consideration could be given to every act ever performed by every citizen when a decision had to be reached on who was to be next on J's list.

"What's on today?"

J's question was a thought spoken aloud, but before he could reach his desk, Don had already taken the orders from their sealed envelope and was eagerly reading the information.

"A baby and a young woman", he said. "Two in one day, right here in our district. The latest population figures must show some pretty bad trends... a bit drastic, though, don't you think? Two in one day, I mean".

It was indeed an unusual occurrence these days. Double eliminations, even triple or quadruple eliminations, had been the order of the day in the early stages of the New Constitution (NC), but had become practically unheard of over recent years.

J preferred those days when there were no subjects at all in his area, when he could stay in the office to analyse the statistics. Only once every few months was there a necessity for him to go out on a job. He didn't have to do it himself, of course, but he felt morally obliged to show leadership by example, to demonstrate to his agents throughout the world that he didn't expect them to do anything he wasn't capable of doing himself. And so he kept his instruments always with him, always prepared and at the ready, for when he was called upon to set a good example.

But two in one day hadn't happened for a long time. Something important was happening.

There was no point in delaying the inevitable. They took their official car, a large limousine with the Department's crest on its doors, and Don drove them towards their first subject. This one was the baby, living outside the city in one of the better satellite villages.

Babies always spelt trouble. Inevitably, they had stupid parents without regard for the law, who tried to prevent the Department from carrying out its obligations. A very immature attitude, as J often thought. After all, they couldn't just disobey the computer orders just because they had to deal with a baby. If people didn't like the laws, they could always apply to have them changed. Or they could try to find the Other Country.

Actually, nobody was sure whether there really was such a place, but rumours never quite died down that the GOvernment allowed another country to exist for those citizens who couldn't live under the laws of the New Constitution. It seemed a little incredible to J - after all, the GOvernment was based on democratic principles, and the laws of the majority were for the benefit of all the members of society and had to be obeyed.

They reached their destination shortly after morning coffee time. They were in no hurry. It was such a nice day. One couldn't spoil such a beautiful morning by rushing.

"Good morning, Madam. Isn't it a nice day? We are from the Department for the Prevention of Overpopulation. We would like to talk to you. May we come in?" J said in a monotone. It was always the same little speech, he had used this introduction many times before.

"Come in", she said and stepped aside. She didn't seem at all upset. A sensible woman, thought J. No fight, no fuss, that's the best way. She probably realised that there was no point in attempting to stop them. A very good attitude.

They sat down and accepted the drinks she offered. She smiled and joined them.

"I have been waiting for you. I expected you much earlier. But then, better late than never." She was a very beautiful woman. Beautiful and sensible.

"Ever since I had my last baby, I knew that we had broken the population code. It was an accident... the baby, I mean. You see, the doctors thought that our other daughter was suffering from an incurable disease and was about to die, but then she got well again. We have a doctor's certificate for that. Do you want to see it?" She left the room to return shortly with a piece of paper which she handed to J. Then she refilled their glasses and sat down again smiling towards them. "Anyway, when it happened, the baby, I mean, that's when I applied for a licence to commit suicide. That should bring my family back within the norm."

J was taken by surprise. So that's why she was so easy on them. She was under the impression they had come to investigate her claim for the licence. J had a most unpleasant feeling. It had been much too good to be true. He took out his papers and checked the name, not because he didn't know exactly what it was, but to bridge his moment of embarrassment.

"This is going to be difficult to explain, but I am afraid we haven't come for you. I understand you have a child called Beta. 241 days old. I am afraid we must ask you to bring us your baby." J didn't look at her while he spoke.

It was to be expected that she would be upset. But even though he anticipated it, her scream startled him. She had dropped the dressing gown which had covered her. Her sudden nudity caught J off-guard. It didn't strike him until then that her body and hair were still wet. She must have come from a bath or shower when she had opened the door for them. That's probably why they had to wait so long.

All that flashed through J's mind during the split-second it took her to cover the short distance between herself and him. But, as quickly as her attack was executed, Don, well-trained in professional efficiency, was even faster: she never reached J. Don dived towards her, grabbed her by the leg, and threw her to the ground.

The injection worked immediately. She tried to stand up again, but collapsed on the floor and lay there, quite still now. Her scream of "Take me instead, I want to die" had been most unpleasant. Didn't she realise that they were just performing their duty? Didn't she understand that they couldn't just ignore the computers and take her instead? If her death had been more beneficial to society, the computers would have selected her.

Don and J went upstairs to look for the baby. It didn't take them long. The little girl was asleep in her room, a beautifully decorated room, obviously designed with a great deal of love. People really should know better. Love can only lead to pain.

J went downstairs to keep an eye on the mother. Don, with the enthusiasm so typical of him, had requested the honour of performing this duty on behalf of society. What rot, thought J, while he handed over the pistol. Even the up-and-coming Don was filled with too many emotions. J watched as Don gave the pistol to the baby, which was now awake, looking with big eyes towards the strange men, and grasping towards the shiny toy she had just been given. That's when J left the room.

Sitting in the living room, J could hear the two shots. At each of the cracking sounds the mother's body shook in convulsions; then she returned to her drug-induced sleep.

J didn't enjoy the new rule that the subjects had to be shot. In earlier days they had been executed through injections, but this had proven less effective. The sight of blood, and the newspaper pictures of it, had a much stronger psychological impact on the average citizen.

Don returned from upstairs. He cleaned the pistol carefully and handed it back to J, slowly, with great hesitation, as if he couldn't bear to part with it. J put it back with his other instruments. Don seemed unusually happy today, he bore the self-satisfied smile of one who knew he had served his country well.

J took one last look at the scene and the naked woman lying on the floor. He removed a blanket from the sofa and placed it over her body. Then he telephoned the Central Information Agency (CIA); the photographers would be here shortly, turning the house into a disaster area, spreading the mud of their feet everywhere, looking for every possible angle for sensationalism, trying to squeeze every ounce of blood from this story. Then, by evening, the papers would cover the event in front page headlines, the tele-screen news services would devote half their time to it, and the pictures of the splattered blood would be carried into every home in one way or another. People would be reading about it, watching it, listening to it, while eating their dinners or playing with their children. Slowly but surely, over months and months of the same pictures, it would sink into their minds, it would educate them, frighten them, stop overpopulation. An unpleasant system, but a good one.

"By-the-Constitution, you are getting soft. Putting the blanket over her, as if the news people wouldn't have it away again in five minutes. What do you think you are achieving? I'm sure you are getting too old for this job. We aren't social workers, you know." Don seemed genuinely upset. What an idiot J was, incapable of performing his duty properly. The President would have to be informed; after all, one couldn't afford to leave such an important position in the hands of a soft fool.

Don was driving again; he enjoyed it. J felt tired; it was not even lunchtime yet, but he was already exhausted. Maybe Don was right, maybe he was getting too old for this sort of work. What hurt most was not the possibility of getting old, but the fact that it was Don who noticed it first. And it would be Don who would make the most of it.

But it was such a nice day, why the hell should he worry about the future now? Why should he worry at all today? It was just so beautiful to be alive.

J enjoyed the ride, particularly since he didn't have to drive. Just another sign of getting old, he thought. How time flies, he mused. The last few years had really passed quickly, he hardly knew what had happened to them. He was at school until he was twenty, a long time, far longer than the average citizen. No wonder he had climbed the ladder of the GOvernment hierarchy so rapidly. With his education he had a clear head-start on his competitors.

Then he spent two years at the Compulsory Social Values (CSV) course, learning about the higher qualities of life, about the socially correct and ecologically sound system of society, and the great benefits to be derived from the benevolence of the GOvernment. After graduation, he had immediately entered GOvernment service, and now he had already grown old in it. Another ten years, and he would be entitled to retire with a full pension.

Don stopped the car. They were outside a beautiful house, modern, but with a touch of old-world grandeur – large, with a beautifully landscaped garden and lawn around it, and a garage large enough for three cars - obviously the home of a high GOvernment official. At first, J was too deep in thought to recognise it, but when he did, a sudden apprehension overtook him: they were parked in front of his own home.

What was Don up to? How did Don even know J's address? J had never told him - he never mixed his private life and business.

"Female, Caucasian, thirty years old, 162 cm tall. That's what the list tells us; this must be it." Don continued to read the print-out in front of him.

J was too afraid to check it. Why had he not looked at the list beforehand? But he realised it had to be the truth, because Don was far too serious a person to make a joke about something like this. In fact, Don never joked at all; he had no sense of humour.

Or did he? Hope briefly rose in J, yet, at the same time, he knew that it wasn't justified. But hope is a strange thing - it sticks around until it is completely destroyed.

"You are kidding, aren't you? You must be kidding! You must be!" J tore the roll of computer print from Don's hands and read it himself. But he knew the answer even before he had asked the question.

Don looked at J. He really didn't know what this outburst was about, and he didn't understand what had come over J. He had never seen his boss act this way.

J's hands were so unsteady, he shook so much, that he could hardly read the paper in front of him. But there was no point to that anyway. He knew what was written there, and he knew that it meant his wife. There was no question about that.

GOvernment orders had to be obeyed, no matter what; the GOvernment knew what is best for its citizens. There was no sense in questioning it or arguing about it - those were the facts, and J had to face them. The well-being of the community, the continued existence of society and its GOvernment had to come before any individual wants and desires. This was a great country. A great society. A great GOvernment. And none of this was built on selfishness and lack of co-operation from the people, but through their will and determination to do their duty for the greater benefit of all. Justice and happiness for all, those were the only issues of importance.

J left the car; he had to do his duty, and the quicker it was over, the better it would be for everyone. Don, who still didn't understand the situation, was already waiting at the front door of the house. J sent him back to the car. At first, Don questioned this request, but when J put it as an order, he finally began to comprehend. This job had to be handled by J himself, it was his personal crisis, to be mastered by no-one but J on his own. For the betterment of the country. Of society. And of the GOvernment.

"You are early, darling. Is anything wrong? Are you sick? You look pale. Come in, sit down. I'll call the doctor."

J watched his wife as she tried to move towards the telephone. But he held her back. Her movements, her voice, her beauty - he couldn't help but be fascinated by them, excited by them. But soon she would be no more.

J put these thoughts from his mind... he almost felt like a traitor, allowing himself to resent an order given for the benefit of all. He tried to smile.

"No, darling, I am all right. I have come to..." His voice broke. Instead, he gave her the scroll of paper he was still clutching in his hand.

He led her to the couch and they sat together, while she read. The silence pained him, he didn't know what to say or what to do. Finally he went to the kitchen and prepared coffee. This took his mind off the immediate problems. There were a few biscuits left in the small tin, and he suddenly felt peckish. He arranged them carefully on a silver plate.

He placed the coffee, the plate, and the thin, transparently shiny china on a Japanese serving tray and returned to the living room. His wife sat quietly, her eyes wide open as the baby's had been a little while ago, and she had that same expression of a frightened child. But she was calm. She understood his purpose in coming home early. She understood what had to happen and why.

J joined her and filled the cups. He still could not speak, but the silence between them said more than words ever could.

J remembered how he had met her while she was entertaining the students at the GOvernment Social Values Centre (GSVC), and how he had liked her immediately. He was young then, inexperienced, fresh out of college, a novice to life. He showed 'a lot of promise' as people used to say, but that was all. He was just another nobody in love with a big star.

After the show he went back to the dormitories with the other students, joined their discussions of what they would do if they were ever alone with such a fabulous girl, joked about her sensuality. The next day, and the day after, he went to see her show again, bought tickets from other students for inflated prices, dreamed about her all the time.

After the last performance he went to her dressing room, only to find dozens of other young men waiting for her. He returned to the foyer, wrote a love-poem, and sent a messenger to deliver it.

© 1996 Maurice Benfredj

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