My announcement wasn’t intended to be controversial and yet I’m met with silence. Zara is frowning.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Gillian says hesitantly.
“Circumstances have changed and we need to adapt to them. The public’s views have shifted, thanks to the American leak. At the very least, you can’t be accused of deceit. People might disagree with the plans but they can’t deny you’re being open about them.”
Gillian nods; she’s convinced. “Next, the criteria for choice. We were already going to allow councils to have some flexibility in their application of the criteria and that should be emphasized.”
“Keeping it local makes it sound less ‘Big scary government controlling everything,’” Zara says.
“But the response has been so vicious,” Gillian says. “The use of the criteria seems to be an inherent problem. Shouldn’t we make it random?”
“No,” I say simply. “That would be irresponsible. Age, health, proven ability to look after a child. Those are not the criteria of a mad dictator ruining lives. Those are sensible pieces of information that have to be used to ensure the highest chance of success of demographic recovery.”
“It just doesn’t seem fair.” Gillian sighs and I’m reminded, yet again, of why she is a politician and I’m not.
“None of this is fair,” I reply in as patient a tone as I can muster. “There are many more women who wish to have children than men and donated sperm. It will never be fair. The goal is not to be fair. The goal is population recovery with minimal civil unrest. The US government and the UK government have almost complete control over who within those countries have children. Almost no baby is an accident now. We all have to get used to that idea.”
“But the prioritization of people in long-term relationships? Surely that’s unfair.”
“As the only person in this room who has actually raised a child alone, I’m fairly well placed to say that raising a child as a single parent is very difficult. We can remove the prioritization of women in relationships if it makes you feel better, but don’t delude yourself about what having a child alone, in this world, will take.”
Zara and Gillian look at me in stunned silence and I suppress the urge to sigh. I rarely bring up my personal life and this is why. Once you develop a reputation as someone who is professional, competent and private, any information about your personal life is treated with the same care and awe as a nervous breakdown.
“If only for the public perception, I think we should take out the required prioritization of people in long-term relationships. We can allow councils to apply relationship criteria as they see fit,” Gillian says.
We spend the next few hours changing the plans and running the public statement through the various communications people who need to approve it. Finally, finally, it’s ready to go to the prime minister for her approval.
Gillian goes on her merry way and Zara and I sit in the meeting room, exhausted.
“Did you ever think,” she says, “when you decided to do this job, that you and I would have a meeting about which women are allowed donor sperm?”
I shake my head. “Weirdly enough, no. It never crossed my mind.”
CATHERINE
London, United Kingdom （England and Wales）
Day 1,500
A few hours before I’m due to meet Libby and her brother, Peter, for “pre-Christmas” drinks, Nadine Johnson’s memo and the surrounding furor hits the internet with a velocity that leaves much of the world reeling. It’s the impossible question the world needs to answer: How will we repopulate? Who gets to have a baby?
I meet Libby and Peter in a bar in the city. I rarely venture here to this land of glass skyscrapers and well-dressed women with smart handbags, heads bowed over their phones. Each time I’m here, though, I’m struck by the vast difference from before. Before it was mainly men with some women. Now the few men stand out, their suits glaring against the dresses and skirts.