National Demographic Recovery and Control Program Memorandum: From Nadine Johnson
To: Vanessa Edney
Subject: Public affairs; amendment to selection criteria; single-parent analysis
This memorandum is private and confidential.
Public affairs
There have been a number of discussions held internally regarding public communications of the Child Lottery system. We remain committed to using the term “Child Lottery” as it has positive connotations, implies the results are determined by chance and suggests low chances of success. This is important for expectation management. Further to our discussion, your concerns regarding “misleading” the public are noted. However, we are uncomfortable with the idea of providing more information. Statistically, we are still at a stage where demand for child allocations far outstrips supply. It is preferable for the public to believe they have a chance, rather than explain the details of the algorithm.
Amendment to selection criteria
Further to assessment of Q1 and Q2 data, decision has been made to reduce threshold of “ideal socioeconomic bracket” to $32,000 household income. Successful implementation of nationalized healthcare system across remaining states has reduced concern of healthcare provision for children.
Single-parent analysis
We are carrying out a significant study （quantitative and qualitative data） of single-parent families with two close family members living within ten-mile radius with over ten hours childcare per week. Hypothesis that women in this category should be upgraded to equivalence with those in long-term （three-plus year） relationships.
Suffice to say she’s lacking some tact. Nadine, author of the memo in question, is director of the American Demographic Recovery and Control Program. Some quick googling reveals that she used to work at the NSA. That won’t help either; it’ll feed into a narrative that it’s all a government conspiracy. Evil overlords doing evil things when, in reality, I suspect it’s a misguided attempt at doing the right thing.
After an all too quick nap in the car, I make my way into the office. Zara meets me in the corridor before I go in.
“Thank God you’re here,” she hisses. “Gillian’s being a nightmare.” I actually quite like Gillian, so I stay silent. Although, I don’t like her enough to defend her to Zara, who has no doubt been dealing with her many concerns for the last two hours while I made my way here from Heathrow.
“She’s panicking that our plans for the Child Allocation Service will be interpreted in the same way as the Americans’ has and she’ll be made to look like the bad guy.”
“Understood. We’ll sort something out.” Zara visibly relaxes and I, not for the first time, wonder why she’s my boss when she’s prone to panicking like a flustered chicken.
“Dawn!” Gillian sounds pleased to see me, at least. After the many hours we spent sorting out the Working Draft together, she’s come to respect me. Her fears pour out of her. Our proposed system is similar to the American one, people seem horrified by the use of socioeconomic factors to determine who has a child, we weren’t planning on setting out the criteria, does that mean we’re keeping secrets, what if it leaks, what if it’s all a disaster? It reminds me of when my daughter started at a new school when she was eleven and every day she would come home with multiplied anxieties, spilling out over the dinner table, ranging from not being good enough at math to seven more years of school feeling like a very, very long time.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I say. “The plans have been well thought through. We’ve been working on them for months. You didn’t throw them together in a few hours. Let’s start with the first concern.” If in doubt, make a list. My mum taught me that and it’s never done me wrong. “The biggest concern is public perception and the simple answer is that we must announce the Child Allocation Service sooner rather than later, and be honest about the criteria through which women will be chosen.”