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The End of June

Abigail Smith

    Annie tried ignoring the television in the corner of the waiting room but it droned on, “With an ever-increasing population, and the diminishing resource crisis, projecting is the responsible thing to do. Think Expiry, think SOMS. Help the planet by visiting your local Expiry agency...” She shook her head, clicking her fingers loudly across the keyboard. Behind the desk she typed the names and medical histories of each patient that walked through the revolving door. She was in the middle of processing a file when Dr. Nate Scott leaned out of the back office.
    “Ready for the next patient,” he called quietly down the short hallway. His handsome features and hearty charisma had become weathered. Lines ran along his forehead and around his mouth forming a persistent scowl despite his usually kind nature.
    “Mrs. Cobb, the doctor will see you now,” Annie said to the waiting room. The woman’s son pulled his 84-year-old mother up from her plastic, blue waiting room chair.
    “Let go of me! I’m fine,” the woman barked.
    The older people got, the crueler they became. With her son holding one arm and her granddaughter the other, the woman walked through the office door and down the hallway plastered in wallpaper with colorful flowers that no longer grew. Annie forced a smile towards the old woman while avoiding eye contact. Sacrifice One, Many Survive, Annie thought. Expiry’s mantra, shortened to SOMS because euphemisms were easier to sell.
    The family disappeared from view. She relaxed; pulling down the high ponytail that had trapped her hair all morning, and scratched the sore spot it had left on the back of her scalp. After a minute she faced the buzzing computer screen now trying to ignore the crying that leaked under the back door. An hour later Mrs. Cobb’s family stepped out of the room. The girl wiped her running nose along her black sleeve. The man’s face strained to keep his emotions in check as he shook Dr. Scott’s hand.
    “You did the right thing,” Dr. Scott said.
    The man was in his late forties but, as he walked down the adjacent hall for billing, he wandered like a child in a crowded mall. Nate Scott went over to Annie’s desk.
    “Nate, I know we’re doing good work, logically speaking. But I still don’t understand how you do it.” He put his hands on the desk and stretched, letting out a small moan. Then he picked up a peppermint fudge piece from the jar of assorted rainbow candies on the counter. Several patients looked up from their outdated magazines as Nate crinkled the plastic wrapper and popped the red piece into his mouth.
    “Some days are worse than others,” he said “but you know it needs to be done. We’re making a difference... SOMS” He rolled his shoulders back a few times. “So, how many more do we have?”
    “Three. Do you want a break?”
    “Let’s just finish. I’m ready to go home.”
    Annie watched as each family held hands walking into Nate’s office and came out crying, one member short. On some level Annie knew the Expiry Company had to exist, but that didn’t stop her nails from digging her palm every time she called a name. After the last family moved on for billing, Nate came back to her desk. He glanced around the empty waiting room, leaned down and kissed the top of her coarse, sandy-brown hair. “Ready to go home and print some invitations?” he asked.
    “We also need to make the place cards.” The only up side to Annie’s job was working alongside her fiancé. Nate had popped the question last spring while on vacation in the swamp region. Of course for Annie there was no question. Nate was kind, handsome, a young doctor with a big future. “No,” wasn’t an option.

*

    Nate set the table as Annie sat on the couch, pulling her apron off. Nate went into the kitchen to grab forks as the show they were watching switched to an ad for Expiry. “Are you tired of seeing your family slowly deteriorate? Is it too painful or too much of a financial burden placing them in an assisted living community? Expiry is your solution. We humanely take care of your loved ones who aren’t able to live on their own, providing a better future. With an ever-increasing population, and the diminishing-resource crisis, projecting is the responsible thing to do. Think Expiry, think SOMS. Help the planet and visit your local Expiry agency for information on projection. You can also visit our websi-” Nate clicked the television off.
    “We’re ready,” he said in a cool tone. That brief segment just cost him a pleasant dinner.
    Annie sat at the table across from Nate. She threw her napkin in her lap. “I was serious earlier; when I asked how you do it everyday. I know sacrifice one, many survive but all those people... they die in that room. Nobody seems to remember that when they say SOMS.” Nate took a bite the small chicken breast on his plate; how many more times would he need to explain this? “I just don’t think I would be able to do it,” Annie said.
    “Annie...” his voice was tired. “More people are dying of hunger every day. The people who I- we help, they’re heroes.” This was the official approach Expiry had trained him with, but she had gone through the same training. Annie didn’t accept this reason then and after countless arguments, Nate knew it wouldn’t suffice now. He tried again, “You know it has to be done. Our world can’t sustain many more people.” He motioned to the desert landscape outside their house’s thick, tinted windows. The world was only swamp and desert now. “We’ll all starve to death.” He watched Annie eat her equally small ration of chicken. Her head bobbed from side to side thoughtfully. He continued, “The Limited Family Law isn’t enough. There are some people still having second children and just paying the fine. We provide a service.” He sipped his water, “Besides, half of the people we see don’t even know what’s going on.” Annie’s head snapped up, eyes narrowed. This notion comforted Nate; the people he assisted were either unaware or else resolved to doing their part in helping the Earth they destroyed. He back peddled before Annie could swallow. “Didn’t you ever put down a dog when you were a kid?”
    “You know I did! Snuffles had liver cancer, and was fifteen, but the bottom line is he was a dog. These are humans. Why do people always try to use that comparison? It’s SOMS, people should have to say it. Sacrifice, killing. Dogs and people are not the same.”
    “It is the same thing! You have to look at it that way.” A dust storm was kicking up outside. Nate got up and closed the shutters. He picked his next words carefully. “We help put these people out of their misery.”
    Annie finished her rations and took a sip of water. Her fingers moved to her bottom lip and pinched. She wanted to argue, but the whistling wind outside cleared away any fight she could muster. “I guess... the families are really the ones who decide,” she said slowly. “We’re just doing a job.”
    “Exactly,” Nate said with a little too much conviction throwing out his hands.
    “I just... I know we’re doing a noble thing. I just meant to say that I wouldn’t be able to do your job.” Annie bent her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.
    “I know,” he said slightly condescendingly. He took her hand. “You’re still an important part of the team. We would be- I would be devastated if you quit.” It was true. He had resolved in medical school to not reproduce, and focus on population control. He used to wonder why anyone would bring life into this desert and swamp world, chiding attachment as weakness. Since meeting Annie he had begun to understand attachment.
    “You know I can’t do that.” Annie bit her tongue, still hungry. Even with Nate’s salary, she needed to work to pay for her grandma June’s living expenses. Even with a bachelor’s degree, she couldn’t find a better job than Expiry receptionist.
    “I know. Just remember it’s for June.” He smiled his most charming smile and for an instant his wrinkles faded. June had raised Annie creating a soft spot between them. He hoped that would be enough to prove Expiry’s worth.
    “Sweetie, I know you’re conflicted, but if this was inhumane in any way, why would the government allow it? Expiry paid for my school, this house, and your ring.” The material comforts were the only things most people had to live for anymore. Nate took Annie’s left hand and swished it back and forth, letting the machine made diamond sparkle under the lights. “These people have nothing else. I just help them get to their final destination a little faster.”
    Annie nodded. “You’re right. Sacrifice one, many survive.”

    That night the phrase played over in her head. She knew the disaster stories. The world was filled with children who were starving. Annie remembered the first time she heard of Expiry. How uneasy she had been but how excited the rest of the world was. Expiry would allow there to be food for everyone. She fell asleep remembering the lines of people standing with their soon to be projected family members.
    Annie was standing in the waiting room when the door to the office opened. She walked inside, thinking she should be at her desk, but her feet wouldn’t turn. She kept walking down the hall until her feet throbbed with blisters. Then a door opened at the end. She didn’t want to go in, but her feet kept moving forward. She had no choice. It was the right thing to do. She walked into the blackness of the doorway.

*

    Annie had the next day off. She took the train out of the micro-city. Metropolises were demolished when the riots over food had reached critical mass. Now business’s gathered in micro-cities comprised of ten companies within a square mile. Every micro-city had a ration station that was heavily guarded with steel and guns. There was also an unnaturally bright colored Expiry, a train stop, a hospital protected by barbed wire and a Block Center, previously known as City Hall. The people zoned to the micro-city got to vote on the other five stores. All dwellings were at least fifteen miles from the micro-city, but together they formed a block.
    Annie had driven in that day to take the train leaving her micro-city. She was going one block west to see her granny at the Simple Living nursing home. Since Expiry opened its labs seven years ago, patients in nursing homes had decreased severely. Security increased. After the first few extremists tried to bomb some nursing homes in the swamp regions, security increased all over the continent. June was only one of the twenty members in Simple Living but she liked it that way.
    “Hey Gran,” Annie called as she walked into the apartment. Instead of a studio, Simple Living gave every guest a one-room apartment in an attempt to make it more appealing.
    “Is that my Annie bell?” Granny asked bustling around the corner. June had never accepted her name being Anabeth. She had told her son she would change it if she ever got the chance. Of course, when the adoption papers came through, June couldn’t do it. The nickname endured though.
    “With a new seating chart!” Annie and June clapped. They walked into the living room where two glasses of lemonade and some rationed sandwiches cut into triangles had been set out. Sunlight came through the thick glass and opaque green curtains. “How are you?” Annie asked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come last week. The office has been ridiculously busy since Christmas ended.” She sat across from June, “I guess people aren’t feeling charitable anymore.”
    “Well hello Miss Grinch,” June said, batting her granddaughter’s arm. “Don’t be so judgmental. It’s hard work keeping old folks like me alive.”
    “Now who’s the Grinch? Even without help, you’ll out-live us all.” She blushed and stuffed a sandwich in her mouth.
    “I’m not so sure about that dear.” Granny looked at her wrinkled hands in her lap and let out a sigh. “I spoke with the community’s doctor last week because of some back problems I’ve had and...” More wrinkles appeared on her brow. Whether June’s pain came from her back or her news, Annie couldn’t tell. “I have something called atherosclerosis... it’s not good.”
    The sandwich caught in Annie’s throat. She coughed, trying not to choke. June gave her a firm pat on the back.
    “What?” Annie’s voice was scratchy and her eyes watered. She looked at Gran, waiting for the punch line to this bad joke. “I don’t understand.” Any sickness was serious now. Annie had contracted pneumonia when she was twelve. She was in the hospital for a week, SOMS floated around ominously. June had kept her safe, nursed her back.
    How can I nurse Gran when I can’t even pronounce the illness? “What is that? The nurses didn’t say anything. Wait, why didn’t you call me?” Annie stood up and paced in a little circle. “I could have been here sooner.”
    “Genius! If you had come sooner, the sickness would have just gone away!” She paused, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why- this is out of my hands Bell. My arteries are being clogged with plaque. They’re as hard as rocks, and it’s not going to stop,” June finished seriously.
    “W-we can do something, right? There’s a specialist we can talk to?”
    “Come here.” June motioned for Annie to sit next to her. She obeyed, taking Granny’s hand. “The doctors here are top notch. Dr. Barons has treated enough people my age to know that at this stage, there’s not much we can do. Even if we put off Expiry until the wedding in March, I would be on permanent bed rest.”
    “The wedding...” Annie soaked in the features of the aged face in front of her. The dark freckle over June’s left eyebrow, and the way her lips turned down at the corners. “There’s really nothing?” She pleaded.
    “Maybe some extreme options, but I don’t want any of it. I’ve had a good, long life. I don’t want lasers cutting me open just so I can squeeze in a few more months and take up more resources.” Her voice shook slightly.
    “But Gran...” There were tears in Annie’s eyes. “Don’t do this.”
    “Bell, I’m not doing anything. Atherosclerosis builds up over time. Even if I did something extreme now, it would only come back later. I’m almost eighty. That’s plenty of time on this Earth.” June put her arms around her granddaughter. Annie only vaguely remembered her parents’ deaths. It had been early in the food shortages when the riots were bad; their small store never stood a chance. Annie felt a resurgence of old pain. Her heart felt like ash. She cried into her granny’s neck letting the hot tears sink into the soft folded skin.
    Annie steadied herself and looked June in the eyes. “So what now? How much longer do we have?” she asked. Growing up in her generation, she learned to attempt calmness in times of crisis. She clenched and unclenched her fists, resisting the urge to scream at her gran to do something. Anything.
    “Well, ball’s in your court kid.” June looked away from Annie, embarrassed by what came next. “I want to be projected Annie. I need you to sign the paper work.”
    “What? No,” Annie said. “Projection? Expiry? That’s only for people who... who...” who are already dying. “I don’t want Nate to have to do that, not to you. Please, let’s just see how long you’re healthy first.”
    “I’m already not healthy. I’ll be in a lot more pain soon and frankly, I want to die with some dignity left. I want to die as myself.” She let go of Annie’s hand. “You know pain does funny things to people. I want you to remember me as I am.” June turned to the desk beside her and pulled some papers out of a drawer. “I would sign these myself, but you know the law still considers that suicide. I need your help.” It was June’s turn to hold tears in her eyes. She had been trying so hard to keep everything inside for her granddaughter, but the fear of what was coming for her was winning out.
    “No,” Annie said sharply, taking June by surprise. She stood up, twisting away from June’s reach. “I can’t do that. I won’t let you throw your life away. Nate is a doctor; he might know what do to.” Annie turned in circles, grabbing her purse, her jacket. She couldn’t stand still. “I’ll come back soon. I’ll have answers. We can save you.” Annie kissed her granny’s tear-stained cheek. Ignoring the moisture, she left the apartment.

*

    For the next week Nate covered for Annie as she used sick days to search for any ounce of information that might help June. He came home from work and would find her crumpled on the couch. Atherosclerosis hardened the arteries. It usually led to worse things or progressed until the body couldn’t function. June was diagnosed late; her time frame only contained months.
    “You have to stop looking at that stuff,” Nate said one night. “Try to think about something else.” He knew the advice was unwanted, but he couldn’t stand watching her rot away on the couch. He took the computer gently from her lap. Annie didn’t seem to notice. He opened a new tab in the web browser and looked up how many resources the average septuagenarian used.
    “Look at this Annie,” he said turning the screen. She tried to only move her eyes and huffed when she had to turn her whole head.
    “What is it?” She was too exhausted to read more painful information on the glaring screen.
    “Statistics. How much it’s costing to keep June alive.” Nate thought that if he couldn’t fix June’s illness, but he might be able to help Annie come to terms with things.
    “Nate, this isn’t a logic problem. Trust me, I know she should be dead.” With great effort Annie sat up on the couch. “I know it’s hard for you to deal with, but this is an emotional problem. I can’t wash this away just because some numbers say I should.” She hunched over, rubbing her face in her hands.
    When Nate had proposed, Annie ran straight to June’s. They started planning the wedding that night while Nate made them dinner. Every week Annie came back from June’s with a new wedding idea. They planned until it became a monstrosity. Over one hundred and fifty guests, the biggest town hall room in three micro-city blocks, but it made them happy. So Nate let it go on. “I can’t shake the thought that she won’t even stay for the wedding. She’s the only person I have to walk me down the aisle...now she’d rather just die,” Annie said cruelly.
    “You don’t mean that,” he said stiffly. “Please just go to bed, come to work tomorrow, and seriously you have to talk to June. I can only take her calls for you for so long.”
    “I know,” Annie sighed. “I’ll try to call her tomorrow, maybe the next day... definitely by the end of the week.” She smiled weakly.
    Once Annie was in the bedroom Nate looked at the computer in his lap. It listed the same facts about the food shortages and over population that he had heard since high school. In another window there was link after link of the same ad: Expiry information! Expiry is here for us. Expiry is the solution. Expiry, It’s the humane thing to do.

*

    The patients in the waiting room shifting the blinds kept Annie distracted. Sunlight flooded the pale green room, and was then cut off as the elderly bickered loudly. She wondered how many patients had asked their loved ones to let them die. She noted an old woman whose daughter was wiping drool from her mouth. Senile, Annie thought, probably for the best. On the other side of the room was an old man dressed in a linen suit. He was reading a book with a fedora style hat perched on his crossed knee. He looked to be in perfect health. On the other hand his daughter had a splotchy red face and swollen eyes. Annie looked down at her list of names.
    “Could Mr. Walters come up for a second please?” She bit her tongue. Why? Mr. Walters stood and squeezed his daughter’s hand before approaching the counter.
    “I’m Mr. Walters.”
    “I’m sorry.” Annie struggled in a low voice, “There’s nothing written under the ‘reason’ section of your form.” She put the clipboard on the counter and showed him the blank box.
    Mr. Walters looked taken a back. “I thought that was optional.”
    “Oh, it is. I’m sorry. We just, uh...” her thoughts fought to catch up with her intentions. “We hoped people would fill it out to help with, um, research purposes?”
    Annie felt his green irises pierce her; her red cheeks gave her away. “Is this a medical or personal question?”
    “I’m sorry, never mind. I’m just trying to understand, but of course, you don’t have to say.” Annie’s face grew redder.
    He chuckled. “You and my daughter should have just asked me together, would save me some time.”
    “I’m sorry, really-” She shook her head.
    “It’s fine. You can write that I am going to meet my wife.” Annie raised her head. Mr. Walters continued, “She died six years ago of lung cancer. I decided to wait until my daughter didn’t need me anymore. Now I can finally go see my Jeanine.”
    Annie consciously relaxed her brow, hiding her surprise. “Thank you for- you didn’t have to but thank you.” Mr. Walters nodded and walked back to his daughter. Annie called him into the back room half an hour later. As he passed her down the hall, he tilted his hat. Her throat tightened.

    That night Annie sat in bed, next to a heavily breathing Nate. Moonlight siphoned into the small bedroom through the slotted blinds. Mr. Walters swam through her mind. She thought about how Gran had stuck with her through her parents’ death, her schooling, and Nate. Annie looked down at her ring. It sparkled, even in the dark.
    She can’t leave just before the good stuff. Annie wanted to retain this single ounce of normalcy in a world where signing her grandmother’s termination contract was an act of love. Annie had grown to accept Expiry was necessary. She wouldn’t want to live longer than her usefulness. But Gran is useful.

*

    Nate woke to an empty house. There was a note on her pillow prompting him to cover for Annie. He went in to work, telling everyone that she was under the weather again. Annie had never been one to act erratically, which was part of why he loved her. Around ten he stepped out of the office in between patients and tried for the fifth time to call her. It went straight to voicemail.
    The woman standing in for Annie was not timely, and clients were often behind on their paper work when Nate was ready for them. The day also brought one of those rare and terrible occasions when he had to project a child.
    “Katie, the doctor will see you know.” Nate heard the replacement say. Annie wouldn’t have said it that way. She never called patients by their first names, even if it was a child. Katie’s charts said she had a brain tumor that couldn’t be removed. Nate welcomed her and her parents into the back office. They had been sitting, holding one another for a long time before Nate could attend to them. She was only ten, so Nate knew the procedure wouldn’t take long.
    “What do you want your last words to be?” Nate asked Katie.
    She looked at her mother, pulling a small key chain from her pocket. It was a triangle with a circle and line in it. “All was well,” the girl said. Her mother’s smile quivered. Nate had heard these last words before. It was usual for people to quote their favorite stories.

    He came home from work and sat in his car for a minute, urging his legs to move. When he finally opened the front door Annie stood at the table muttering.
    “What have you been up to?” Nate asked without judgment.
    Annie jumped, blocking the table from view. “Go shower. Put on something nice. It’s a surprise,” she spoke in short bursts.
    “Okay, can I get a kiss, or hello, or something first?” He was not in the mood to be dragged around town trying to save June. He knew her chances, and agreed that Expiry was for the best. Not that he had told Annie this.
    “Oh, sorry.” She kissed his cheek. “Now go shower and change. This is time sensitive.”

    Nate knew where they were going as soon as he got in the car. Annie drove to June’s at a frantic pace. He placed his hand on her knee every time she began to veer between cars or double the speed limit.
    “Can’t help anything if we die,” he said loudly and she slowed down.
    Nate and Annie walked up to the apartment door. She knocked until it hurt. June opened up, looking surprised since they never knocked.
    “Okay,” Annie said resolutely.
    June stood still for a second and then threw herself into her granddaughter’s arms. Nate had never seen her move with such force and purpose. “Oh thank you my love, thank you,” she said.
    Annie pulled back a little, “I have one condition though. You have to come to my wedding first.”
    June pursed her lips. “Annie bell, don’t try to pull that. You know I can’t wait.”
    “I know.”
    In the back seat of Annie’s car lay a marriage license and a white dress. They drove to the Block Center talking about all the things they had been planning for the wedding.
    “There was going to be a live band, no one ever has live bands anymore,” June said.
    “That’s because no one can be a musician for a living anymore,” Nate joked.
    They got out and Nate saw that his parents were waiting just inside the Block Center. “Annie called us,” his mom, Shannon, explained. “She didn’t think we would want to miss out.”
    Annie got changed in the bathroom. Shannon fussed over her last minute dress while June did her hair. “It’s better than the pictures,” Annie said.
    “And to think, we were going to pay someone to do all this.” June barked a laugh that made Shannon laugh too.
    There was no aisle to walk down. There were no flowers to hold. The judge stood before Nate and Annie and June and asked, “Who gives this woman?”
    “I do,” June said in a strong voice. She hugged Annie tightly and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for doing this.”
    “Thank you for everything,” Annie whispered back. They let go. Nate took Annie’s hands in his. They spoke unplanned vows, stumbling to find the right words on short notice. Nate’s spiraled into vows to June.
    “I vow to always protect her, from heat and hunger and people. I vow to love her like you would want me to, or really expect me to. I vow to do my best for you.”

*

    There was no honeymoon. The next few days they got June’s affairs in order and signed paper work. On June’s last day, Annie sat in the sun filled Expiry waiting room staring at the girl behind her desk. Her arms and legs crossed tightly, her elbow digging into her right knee, as she pinched her bottom lip. Nate wouldn’t be performing the procedure. He had taken a personal day to be waiting beside them. June wore her Sunday best sitting resolutely. Annie barely held it together.
    “June Wilson, the doctor will see you now,” the receptionist called.
    Annie, Nate and June all rose and followed the doctor to the back room. He was a good friend of theirs, but today he stood taller than usual, spoke in a soft, soothing tone and made eye contact to the point of discomfort. Everything the Expiry training had taught him to do when working with a patient.
    Inside the back room was a long, plush chair, with a small, yellow love seat to the right of it. A stool sat on the left. Granny lay back in the big chair. Annie sat on the edge of the love seat, clinging to her hand.
    “Now there will be a little pain, but it fades quickly.” The doctor said mostly to Annie. Then he gave his full attention to June, “What would you like your last words to be?” Nate winced. He had said the same sentence in this room more times than he cared to count.
    “Let’s get this show on the road,” Granny said. The doctor smiled as he dimmed the lights. He took a rod from the side of the chair and flipped a switch. A steady blue beam protruded from the end of it, buzzing with electricity. He leaned June’s chair back until she faced the slanted ceiling.
    The doctor reached his hand under the chair and it rose until June’s body was eye level with the people around her. Annie’s arm rose with the chair. Then the rod was inserted through a hole in the headrest and into the back of June’s head. She let out a gasp and squeezed Annie’s hand for a moment. Then the projection started.
    The light from the rod danced through June’s mind and streamed out of her eyes, onto the ceiling. The first solid image was of Annie and Nate standing side by side at the Block Center saying their vows. Then it jumped through different visits with Annie. Seeing Annie off to college, graduate high school, Annie moving in with her at the age of ten. Her son’s funeral, Annie’s birth, her son’s wedding.
    Tears tore down Annie’s cheeks. She had almost forgotten how her parents looked. For a moment she didn’t think about what was happening to June. She watched her grandmother’s life in reverse. It flashed in figments and highlights, everything that had led June to this moment. The world before the shortages, a huge Thanksgiving feast spread across a table. June’s first day of school, her first words, her first steps. Then a doctor’s office was projected and a flash of white light. Then blackness. June’s hand went limp.
    The chair was lowered and the doctor tuned to his chart, giving Annie and Nate a moment of privacy.
    “See you later Gran,” Annie whispered, pushing her face into her deceased grandmother’s arm. Nate gently pulled her away and she slumped into his chest. Once Annie had pulled herself together, they were ushered down the second hall for billing. She was absent, analyzing all the memories June had slipped out for her to see. Sacrifice one, many survive.

*

    “Mrs. Stellerin, the doctor will see you now,” Annie said to the waiting room. A woman with her husband and daughter walked into the back room. Nate was waiting there, steeling himself to recite the same script and watch the same tears, all in the name of SOMS. Annie understood it finally. There weren’t enough resources for everyone. Even with the laws and Expiry, everything would be gone soon.

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