Peace Out (The Futures Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

ANNA AND SCOTT

“In the ten years since Peace Out was authorized to operate in the United States, incidents of elder abuse have gone down significantly. We have seen the rise of the Enclave and the fall of the nursing home. The number of homeless has dropped. These are all great things for society.”

“Euthanizing the mentally unstable and infirm is a great thing for society? Are we are heading down a slippery slope? First we get comfortable with this idea of Peace Out. Then we get comfortable with making decisions about who deserves to live or die.”

“Peace Out is entirely voluntary. There is a rigorous screening process to ensure that our system cannot be abused.”

“Some would say your system is inherently abusive.”

“Our system is empowering.”

“How about this: Can a guardian choose to Peace Out his charge even if the charge lacks a directive?”

“If that charge meets the criteria for Peacing Out and if the guardian does not stand to benefit from the death of his charge.”

“How about the benefit of no longer having to care for that charge? Does that count as a benefit?”

“Is this an interview or an inquisition?”

CNN Interview with Daniel Keller, 8/16/2037

Anna stepped out of the shower. She dried off with a fluffy blue towel, then wrapped it around her still dripping hair. She walked into the bedroom. “Your turn,” she said, opening the blinds. Scott rolled onto his stomach and put the pillow over his head. Anna yanked the covers down and climbed on top of him. “Get up,” she said.

“But I can
’t move,” he protested.

Anna got off of him and went to her closet. It really was nice that the internship started on a Friday. It gave them the weekend to recover from the mixer and digest everything they had experienced. She flashed to an image of a pale toddler in the arms of his crying mother. Anna closed her eyes and thought about Scott
’s fingers interlaced with hers during the movie and how much she had wanted to kiss him right then. But she had waited, letting the tension and anticipation build.

She gave a little shriek as Scott wrapped his arms around her.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Great morning,” Scott said. “Do you always get ready like this or is it for my benefit? Because I
’m really benefitting.”

“I can tell,” she said. “I put a toothbrush out for you. Go take a shower.”

“Is that a hint?”

“More like an order.” He let go of her and went into the bathroom. She listened for the sound of the shower turning on.

Anna was good at picking good boys who would follow her rules and not try to pull any crap. Like trying to pressure her. Anna was a proud virgin and she made sure the boys she fooled around with knew it. She’d had the virginity thing banged into her for so many years, she really had no interest in having sex.

Scott was totally her type. He has such a great body, Anna thought to herself. Nice muscles, but not too bulky. She flashed to an image of a painfully thin woman with sunken eyes and a scarf wrapped around her head. Again, Anna closed her eyes. She replaced the image with one of Scott, her hands buried in his hair. Anna opened her eyes and went back into the bathroom. The door was steamy, but she could make out Scott
’s body behind the glass. He was singing softly.

She took the towel out of her hair and opened up the shower door. She pushed Scott back against the tiles and kissed him.

“Thanks for brushing your teeth,” she said, nipping at his ear.

“You
’re welcome,” Scott said, kissing her neck.

“I
’m starving,” Anna said after they were both dry and clothed.

“Me too,” Scott said.

“Yogurt, cereal, toast?” she asked.

“All of the above, please,” he said.

Anna took a box of Chex from the pantry and put two slices of bread in the toaster. “Could you get two yogurts? Bottom shelf.”

Scott complied. “Can I make a pot of coffee?” he asked.

“Please,” Anna said, getting bowls and silverware. “The filters are right above the coffee maker.”

The bread popped up. She put a slice on each plate and set out butter and jam.

“I wonder what my roommates are going to think,” Scott said, pouring some cereal into his bowl.

“Do you care?”

“Not really,” he said. “I just don’t want it to be awkward.”

“They
’re going to think you just banged the hottest intern at Peace Out LA. You can tell them you got a base hit, but that she’s saving the home run for marriage. And that she has a phenomenal body.”

Scott laughed. “How about I tell them I started dating this amazing girl and we watched a vintage copy of Harold and Maude?”

“That works,” Anna said, smiling at him. Anna loved beginnings. When everything about the other person was new and exciting. She wondered how long it would be before Scott started to bore her. They always did. The longest had been a resident advisor, but after two months he started to refer to Anna as his. As if she were some sort of property. The break up had been awful; she essentially had to start dating someone else to convince the enamored RA that she was no longer interested in being his girlfriend. After him, Anna always gave herself an out.

“Let
’s go on an official date,” he said.

“Harold and Maude doesn
’t count?” she teased.

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” he asked formally.

“Sure,” Anna said. “Where are we going?”

“I haven
’t decided yet. What do you like?”

“I
’m up for anything,” Anna said.

“I need to go back to my place to change first. Want to come back with me?”

“It’s ten in the morning. Kind of early for dinner, don’t you think?”

“We could go to the beach first,” Scott said. “Burgers and shakes for lunch?”

“Very tempting,” said Anna. “If I go back with you, we may set a record for longest date ever. We’re already fourteen hours in.”

“Let
’s do it,” Scott said. “We’re overachievers.”

“OK,” Anna said. “Let me get my swimsuit.” Anna went to her room and stuffed a bikini and towel into a shoulder bag. She stopped by the bathroom to get sunscreen.

When she got back to the kitchen, Scott had cleaned up the remains of breakfast and was loading the dishwasher.

“How does a guy like you not have a girlfriend?”

“Oh, I have one,” Scott said casually.

“Well, tell her I
’m so glad she’s letting me borrow you for the summer. I promise to give you back,” Anna said.

“Anna, I was joking!” Scott protested. “I
’m not that kind of guy. I honestly have been so busy with school that I haven’t really had time for a girlfriend. I dated a girl for a few months last semester but she got mad when I wouldn’t celebrate her birthday on her actual birthday. I had an OChem test the next day. I was going to take her out that weekend. She flipped out on me.”

“Communications major,” Anna guessed.

“Close. English,” Scott said. “How about you? How does someone like you not have a boyfriend?”

“I don
’t want one,” Anna said. “I’m nineteen years old. I’m not ready for anything serious. Even if I met the perfect man, the one I’d want to have babies with, I don’t think we’d be ready for each other.”

“So I
’m just a summer fling?”

“Statistically speaking, yes,” Anna said. “You go to Stanford. I go to Princeton. You have one year of college left. I have two. Then we have med school, grad school. Figure in residency and fellowships. Those will take us all over the country. The chances of us being able to coordinate geography every step of the way are pretty slim. And long-distance relationships never work.”

“We’re doomed before we start?”

“Not doomed,” Anna said. “Just really unlikely to go beyond what will undoubtedly be a fantastic summer.”

“I’ve never met a girl like you.”

“You never will again,” Anna promised. “Let
’s go!”

MARTY AND JENNY

Don’t let them come into schools, man. They talk to the kids about overpopulation and limited resources. They show footage of the worst fucking nursing homes from the twenties. They take them to the fucking Centers and show off the fancy buildings and pretty gardens. What do these kids know? Then they come back senior year of high school and help these kids register to vote with a fucking box they can check to adopt a fucking Peace Out Directive. Then the government holds onto that, man. How many of those kids forget they signed that? Right? That’s how they get you. Like when people check the organ donor box and the doctors screw saving you and see the dollar signs attached to your fucking heart and lungs and kidneys. You got a Peace Out Directive? Then it’s the gas chamber for you, man. Fucking Nazis.

Reader Video Response RE NY Times Article, “The Value of Peace Out Education,” 9/12/2040 Peter Campbell, age 40, Wichita, KS.

Marty didn’t bother making himself dinner. He just waited, stomach rumbling, until the doorbell rang.

“Hi Jenny,” he said, opening the door.

“Hi Mr. Lawson,” she said, holding a plate of salmon, wild rice, and green beans. The green beans even had those little slivered almonds in them. “Why didn’t you come over?” she asked. “We waited for you.”

“I just didn
’t feel up to it,” he said.

“I
’ve seen you,” she said. “You still drive. You go grocery shopping once a week. You take out your own trash. You could have walked next door to our house.”

“I didn
’t feel up to it,” he repeated. “How many hours do you have left?”

“Seventeen,” she said. “I counted the time I spent baking for you.”

“OK,” he said. “So I figure I’ve got about two more weeks of meals before you disappear. Let’s keep this a business transaction. You don’t have to invite me over anymore.”

“I
’m just trying to help,” she said. “I checked your Index. I thought you might be lonely.”

“You Indexed me?”

“My mom made me do it before she let me come over.”

“Why the sudden interest Jenny? I
’ve lived next door to you since you were five.”

“I need volunteer hours.”

“Bullshit. Tell me the truth. What? You think if you’re nice to me I’ll leave my money to you? Poor lonely guy with no family makes an easy target? Made a bet with friends that you can get me to Peace Out? If so, you’re wasting your time.” Marty glared at her.

Jenny
’s face was pale. “My grandpa died last week,” she said. “Index it.” Jenny shoved the plate at Marty and walked away, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat.

Marty shut the door. Damn, he thought. Damn. Damn. Damn.

Jenny didn’t come the next day. Marty looked for her every evening for a week, but she didn’t come. He watched her leave for school. He watched her come home. He watched her leave with a boy on a date on Friday night. He took out the trash while she was helping her mother in the yard on Saturday. She didn’t even look at him. Damn it all, Marty thought, shuffling back into the house. Why did he care?

Marty had Indexed Jenny after eating a salmon dinner he barely tasted. It required a thumbprint since she was a minor. He learned that Jenny
’s grandfather had died of natural causes at an Enclave in Boca Raton. The services were held that day Jenny first visited him. So her family hadn’t gone down for the funeral. He wondered why. It couldn’t be money. Her father was a heart surgeon. They were hardly on BL.

Marty tried to read a book on his tablet. He got about ten pages in and realized he had no idea what he was reading. He started over. That damn girl interrupting his routine, he thought. Everything had been fine. Just fine. Marty turned on the television. Digistar Lovey Michaels was doing a concert. She was pixilated perfection, a masterful piece of code. She shimmied across the virtual stage. Marty changed the channel. Detectives crouched beside a dead body. He changed the channel. Jeopardy featuring a digistarred Alex Trebek. He turned the TV off. Damn. Damn. Damn. Marty got himself a beer. Instead of going to his chair, he went to Diana
’s old desk and pulled open one of the drawers. Inside, there was still a small stack of envelopes and cards. A fancy curlicued “L” wound its way across the front of the cards. He took one out and scrounged around for a pen. He tested it on a piece of paper before opening a card to write.

Dear Jenny,

I am sorry for the loss of your grandfather. I am also sorry that I accused you of those things. I have been alone for many years now and I am not used to the kindness you have shown me. Please forgive me.

Sincerely,

Marty Lawson

Marty put the card into the envelope and sealed it. He thought about going over to her house to put it in the mailbox but chickened out. Diana had bought a bunch of those forever stamps a while back. There should be a few left, he thought. He tried the drawer with the office supplies and found a lone stamp on a sticker sheet. He neatly addressed the envelope. The mailman had already come by and tomorrow was Sunday. He would put it in the mailbox first thing Monday morning.

Feeling much better, Marty finished his beer. He went through his movies and picked out an action film. He fell asleep to the sounds of gunfire.