Anna was at the stove when Peter got back that evening, and when he saw her earnest expression, the lines of concentration etched into her forehead, it reminded him of the first time he’d seen her, staring up at a Grange Hall instructor, desperate to please, to Get Things Right. She turned when she heard him come in, her face immediately easing into a smile, and Peter rushed over to pick her up in his arms, before lifting up Ben and holding him aloft. Ben’s skin was impossibly soft and he immediately broke out in giggles as Peter nuzzled his tummy with his nose. He wished Dr Edwards could see this; to see why really being young was so much better than Renewal. No drugs or synthetic proteins could create the youthful excitement and abandonment that came so naturally to Ben.
‘So how was your day?’ Anna asked, stirring what looked like soup.
Peter shrugged and put Ben down. ‘It was good,’ he said noncommittally.
‘You saw Pip?’ Anna mouthed the words and Peter nodded.
‘And?’
‘Nothing,’ he mouthed back. ‘Nothing new.’
Anna nodded. ‘No, come here. Oh, you naughty boy.’ Ben was crawling towards the kitchen door and Anna left the stove to chase after him, scooping him up. ‘He needs more space to move around,’ she sighed, as she returned to her cooking. ‘I wish we had a bigger garden.’
Peter grinned. ‘Say it a bit louder and they might hear you,’ he said mischievously, then leant down so his head was nearer hers. He breathed in the smell of her hair, felt the thrill that always shot through him when he was close to her.
Ben cried and Anna pulled away to pick him up. He had crawled under a chair, knocking it over in the process and was now trapped with the chair on its side.
‘Oh, Ben, oh little man. Oh, come here. It’s OK. It’s OK,’ she soothed. ‘He’s been grizzly all day. I think maybe he’s tired.’
‘You think you should put him down to sleep?’ Peter asked.
Anna shook her head. ‘If he goes down now, he’ll be awake at the crack of dawn. I’d rather wait. And he hasn’t eaten yet.’
Peter picked up the chair and sat down on it heavily, his eyes resting on the gnarled wood of the kitchen table in front of him, the marks and knots that had appeared as the tree it was made from had grown. The table was old, inherited from Anna’s parents. It was made from oak, a solid thing. Oak trees lived for hundreds of years, he found himself thinking. That wasn’t wrong. It was natural. Were there different rules for different species?
‘I think maybe Ben’s hungry. I might give him a little snack before we eat. Can you turn off the stove?’
Peter stood up and flicked the switch absently.
‘There we go. Lovely yogurt,’ he heard Anna say. Then she lowered her voice. ‘So what did Pip say?’
Peter shrugged, trying not to resent the fact that he never seemed to get her full attention these days. ‘Oh, nothing really,’ he mouthed dismissively. ‘Don’t worry about it. So, any post today?’
Anna pointed to a pile on the table; a pile she’d left untouched, her mind preoccupied with other things, with Maria, with the Surpluses up and down the country. Peter rummaged through it, discarding half of the letters as junk without opening them. Then he started slightly.
‘We got these today?’ he asked, picking out two large envelopes with the distinctive logo of the Authorities stamped across them. Anna’s eyes widened; she hadn’t even noticed them.
Peter took his and turned it over in his hands. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
Anna said nothing, but the look in her eyes suggested that she was. Slowly, Peter slipped his thumb under the flap, ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter.
‘Dear Peter,
As you are approaching your sixteenth birthday, I am delighted to enclose the Declaration for you to sign. As you will know, signing the Declaration entitles you to take Longevity™, prolonging your life indefinitely.
The Declaration is an important
document, and I hope you will take the time to read it carefully.
Longevity™ has changed the world for humans, allowing us the
freedom of limitless time and limitless health. It is a truly
wondrous thing, but there is a cost to be born . . .’
Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. This was it. This was the letter.
He scanned it quickly, taking in only snatches. ‘. . . by signing the Declaration, and thereby benefiting from a prolonged, healthful life, you agree to take all necessary precautions to ensure that you do not bring any Surplus life into the world . . . Should you discover your responsibility only when a Surplus life is born into the world, it is imperative that you contact the Authorities . . . cooperation will reduce any sentence imposed . . .’
It was signed by the Secretary
General of the Authorities. But the letter was of less interest to
Peter than the document with it. He handed the letter to Anna, who
read it, her eyes widening as she did so before she handed it back
to him. Then, slowly, deliberately, Peter turned to the document
itself. Across the top was written: The Declaration. He’d
heard so much about the Declaration, blamed it for so much that was
wrong with the world. And now, his own was in his hands. Feeling
his heart quicken, Peter began to read.
When in the course of scientific development and progress it became clear that the function and roles of humans had changed fundamentally, that the basic tenets of procreation for survival had been challenged and found wanting, it became compelling for humankind to respond to this development and progress.
Man has for many thousands of years relied on Nature to increase their numbers and has, at the same time, been in thrall to Nature and Her whims, including disease, pestilence, famine and other plagues that have culled great numbers of humans.
The cycle of birth, life and death has resulted in other burdens, reducing humankind to the enslaved position of animals, with no control over their future. Indeed, so used to slavery was Man that he created masters to worship and follow, gods who imposed rules and laws that contradict and contravene Man’s true nature.
It is in science that Man has finally surpassed Nature; through science, Man has developed Longevity™, the most significant discovery of Man’s time on earth. Longevity™ enables humankind to live as gods, to live freely, unencumbered by the ravages that Nature imposes on them. Longevity™, through the process of Renewal™, has brought about a New Age for Man, an age of comfort, joy, prosperity and learning. An Age of Freedom.
Freedom, however, brings with it responsibilities: responsibilities to the planet, to our fellow man, and to Nature Herself. Therefore, as a responsible citizen of the United Kingdom, under the governance of the Authorities of the United Kingdom, I, the undersigned, do solemnly Declare, that I will take every measure and precaution to ensure that I will never be responsible for the creation of new human life (forthwith to be referred to as Surplus), accepting any method deemed appropriate by the Authorities and allowing their appointed doctors to insert implants or other methods as appropriate, and that if I should break this Declaration either through intent or by error, or discover that a fellow subject has broken the Declaration on my behalf, that I will contact the appropriate Authorities forthwith and submit myself and any other parties to the action determined by these Authorities, in the full knowledge that the balance of Nature must be maintained, that A Life for a Life is enshrined in law and in everything that is moral and right.
Accepting this, and confirming that I gratefully accept the indefinite life that Longevity™ will provide me, I do hereby solemnly swear.
Signed:
Witness:
Date:
He put it down. A light veil of sweat coated his forehead; his hands were shaking slightly.
‘They don’t even mention the Opt Out clause,’ he said. He had intended his voice to appear light, confident, as though receiving his Declaration didn’t faze him in the slightest, but his throat caught, making him sound strangled, tense. ‘So are you going to open yours?’
Anna shook her head, her lips pursed together. ‘Why should I?’ she said. ‘I’m not interested in the Declaration.’
Peter frowned. ‘You’re not even curious?’
‘No. I’m not signing, so why should I even look at it?’
‘Just because I want to read my Declaration doesn’t mean I’m thinking about signing it.’ The words left Peter’s mouth before he’d had time to consider them, to realise how defensive, how aggressive they sounded.
Anna looked at him incredulously. ‘Of course I know that. Why would you even say that?’
‘Pip thinks I might.’ He hadn’t realised how much Pip’s doubt had got to him, how much it had unsettled him.
‘He can’t do. Why would he?’ Anna’s eyebrows were raised, a look of utter disbelief on her face. She trusted him completely, Peter realised. It wouldn’t cross her mind that he might be tempted to sign.
He shrugged. ‘How should I know? Maybe he’s worried about the Pincent blood in my veins. Maybe he thinks I’m too young to know what I want.’
Anna moved towards him, put her arms around his neck. ‘Don’t listen to him. You’d never sign the Declaration,’ she whispered forcefully. ‘I know you wouldn’t.’
Peter turned his head and looked at her for a moment, remembering how convinced she’d been when he first met her that Surpluses were a Burden on Mother Nature, that it was their duty to work hard, to serve Legal people, to pay for their Sin of existence. He pulled her head down and kissed the top of it. ‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ he mouthed, stroking her hair. ‘We’ll grow old and wrinkly and have children. And we’ll put an end to Longevity too, I promise.’