Dirk Bauman has been recently published in the literary magazine Flights and was a recipient of the Spectrum Award for outstanding achievement in student writing and was recently named as a finalist in the Dayton Daily News short story contest. Dirk currently lives and works in Dayton, Ohio.   Dark Planet is designed and edited by Lucy A. Snyder. If you spot any errors, or if you have any comments, please contact her at lusnyde@cyberus.ca. All materials copyright 1996-2000 by their respective creators. No stories, articles, poems or images from this webzine may be posted or published without the written consent of their creator(s).

Want Not, Waste Not by Dirk Bauman   By the year 2020 A.D. the science of fertility had been refined such that anyone who wanted to have children could. A system of clinics was established throughout the world to handle the specific medical services related to fertilization and embryonic medicine. These agencies soon began to handle all medical and social services related to children and later became known as the U.N.I.C.E.F. Fertilization and Children's Services Clinics. --Earth Encyclopedia Vol. Five, 2079 Doctor Javitz watched the children playing in the waiting room on the other side of the one-way mirror. About twenty-five boys and girls played the spontaneous make-up games that only young children can invent upon the spur of a moment and enjoy. Their innocent enthusiasm provided a stark contrast to the young couple seated in the chairs in front of his desk. He turned his head slightly and gave them an inconspicuous glance. The young woman had her head buried on her husband's shoulder. She clutched a crumpled tissue against the side of her face and sobbed quietly. The husband sat with his arms wrapped around his wife, offering mumbled words of comfort. Doctor Javitz knew that he would have to give the couple another minute or two to collect themselves before he'd begin the interview. This was always the hardest part of his job. He focused his attention upon the children for another moment and decided the time had come to get things started. Doctor Javitz quietly cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can get for your wife; a glass of water perhaps, or another tissue?" The young man looked up with eyes staring out of deep hollow sockets and shook his head slowly back and forth. "Thank you, but I believe she'll be all right in a minute or two. This has been a very difficult time for us." "I understand all too well. I know that this has not been easy for the two of you, but you have to remember that sometimes these things just don't work out the way we expect them to." At his words, the wife lifted her head from her husband's shoulder and glared at the doctor. "How can you begin to understand? I carried my baby in my body for nine months. We sacrificed so much, only to wind up with nothing to show for it. We've wasted five years of our lives; how can you sit there and pretend that you understand what we're feeling right now?" "Heather, please," began her husband, and Doctor Javitz lifted a hand to silence him. "It's all right, young man." Doctor Javitz turned and looked at the angry young woman seated before him. "You're quite right, I'm afraid. My wife and I have raised two children and we find ourselves quite blessed by the experience. You mustn't blame yourself, though, for what has happened. Sometimes these things are a matter of timing. Somewhere down the road, you and your husband's time will come, and you too will know the joy of parenting." Heather dabbed at her eyes with the tissue one last time and stood up. She walked across the office and stood in front of the one-way glass. She silently watched the children at play for several minutes, her attention fixed exclusively upon a small girl dressed in shiny black patent leather shoes and a pink pinafore dress. The girl had blond pigtails and bright blue eyes. She stood in the center of a small group of boys all vying for her attention. She laughed and one could clearly see that, given the time, she would one day grow up to be a real heartbreaker. Heather turned from the glass and looked towards her husband. "Oh, Jon," she began, and suddenly she started to cry. Her husband rushed from his seat to stand at her side. He put an arm around her shoulder and together they stood watching the small girl. "She's beautiful isn't she, Jon?" "Don't do this to yourself, Heather." Heather turned her face up and looked into the eyes of her husband. She knew how difficult the past couple of months had been on him. He had been a virtual tower of strength and understanding during her period of grief. He had never wavered in his love for her no matter how hard she had railed against him. She was lucky to have such a wonderful man, and she couldn't help but feel that she'd failed him as a woman. "I just can't help thinking what might have been." "It's all right, angel; our time will come, and I'm sure you'll be a wonderful mother. Come on, let's sit back down and get this process started." Jon took his wife by the hand and gently guided her back to her seat in front of the doctor's desk. "Okay, Doctor Javitz, what do we do now?" Doctor Javitz smiled and opened the manila folder lying upon the desk in front of him. "The process is pretty straightforward from here on out. You've both completed the mandatory evaluation by our psychiatric unit. The home environment and the work histories have been thoroughly evaluated and confirmed. All we need now is your signatures on the final processing forms, and we'll handle the rest of the details for you." He turned the folder around so that the forms within faced the couple in front of him and holding out his pen he indicated the appropriate places for their signatures. He smiled at the young couple. This was always the most delicate moment of the process, and if the couple were to back out and change their minds, this would be the time things would collapse. It was the wife who reached out and took the pen first. She placed the pen upon a dotted line and then paused. "She won't suffer, will she?" She asked. "Not at all," Doctor Javitz replied, and nodded towards the one-way glass. "As soon as the paperwork has been completed by the remaining birth couples for all of the children in the holding room, one of our matrons will enter the room. She'll serve the children a lunch, each of which will contain a carton of juice. The juice contains a very fast acting sleep agent, which will put the children under quite rapidly. Then, once the children are sedated, our attendants will enter the room and collect the children for processing." Heather turned towards her husband and smiled weakly. "I thought I could handle it. I was so sure I could handle it all: the family, the career, and the social life, but it was just too much. She was simply taking up so much time. Our friends no longer called. My work was starting to suffer. What else could I do?" Jon looked at his wife, reached out a hand and softly brushed her cheek. "It's okay, honey. You've got to do what's best for you." Heather looked back at the forms in front of her and began placing her signature on the dotted lines. Doctor Javitz looked at Jon. "If it serves as any consolation, your daughter is going to help a lot of desperate people. There's a real shortage of available donor organs at the moment. A lot of people are waiting out there for the eyes, heart, and hands that your generous gift will provide. Your daughter will wind up impacting a lot of lives in a very positive way." "Thank you, doctor. That's comforting to know." Jon reached out his hand and accepted the pen from his wife. She began pointing to the places where his signature was needed, and one by one he began to sign his name on the dotted lines.   THE END