Tannenbacher

 “Welcome to Tannenbacher Medical, producer of beautiful human fetuses for space travel.” the screens showed happy children playing in a field from wall to wall under the company logo. The main promenadium was as busy as Dr. Sobol had ever seen it, white-swathed personnel and patients shunting their way to their morning preliminaries under the ever-present ceilings. “Tomorrow’s astronauts are being conceived every day. Here at TMC we reach for the stars.”

He was holding a folded periodical in his hand, showing a full-page cross-section of the D-457 lifepod with improved embryonic fluid chambers. Performance technology was his hobby, although he was just a spectator.

“We have an order!” his technician Dorothea flagged him down, her narrow chest moving back and forth between the bodies.

“Yes isn’t it exciting?” he responded.

“But I’m not sure if these figures are correct…” she showed him a printout with some number blocks on it.

2821 3506 4133 5127 6250 7000 1218

“Do you understand what those are?” Dr. Sobol asked her.

“Yes, they’re birth weights.” she replied.

“Don’t say ‘birth’ in front of patients.” he lowered his voice. “They’re gestational weights.”

“Oh I see, but I was wondering about the range.” she pressed on. “If they want infants as heavy as these why are they asking for one that weighs just 1200 grams?”

“That’s because they want different stages of development for this shipment.” he answered. “The last one is in its second trimester.”

“Oh.” she said blankly. “I guess I just… Normally I would choose the healthiest ones, I mean the genetics are so promising.”

“Yes but technology has to be tested or there’s no point.” he explained. “You don’t have to worry about being selective, just label them and when the time comes someone else will move them.”

She nodded with a sniff and continued down the hall. Her reaction made him think she’d be turning in her smock soon despite the great strides their team was making. She was too attached to the subjects and that was a shame. When she approached him with another invoice she looked as if she had been rubbing her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dr. Sobol said gently before she could speak, “I’m so pleased with your performance let’s go ahead and do your evaluations to start your advancement up the ladder.”.

“That’s fine but there aren’t enough chambers in the lab for all of these.” Dorothea frowned.

“The labels aren’t just for container embryos but all our inventory.” he looked at her with air of superiority.

“You want me to… label the mothers’ bellies?” she responded, holding her hand to her face and walked away from him.

Dr. Sobol was right, the problem was just rhetoric. Perhaps a new kind of qualifications was needed. As he sat down at his desk there was a sports magazine someone had left out for him. He sat down and flipped through it curiously.

He came to a full-page TMC ad with a drawing of two teenage girls. The first one was a tall, intelligent-looking brunette with a tight-fitting shirt and athletic shorts, carrying a handful of books and a hockey stick with the words “Smart Girl” written above her head. The second girl was a shorter, ditzy-looking blonde staring off into space wearing an unflattering white dress with a plunging, frilly neckline and the words “Unattached Friend”. The rest of the ad read…

“You are a smart girl. You get high scores and have successful

relationships. You have a bright future, but your unattached friend

doesn’t. She doesn’t have your gifts, her chances of being

valued contributor to society are lower. She wants to have

children. Here at Tannenbacher Medical all of our patients are

the mothers of astronauts. You will receive $12,500 toward a

scholarship of your choosing, and your friend will earn

$14,000 for each successful fertilization. Be a smart girl, bring

in your unattached friend!”

2

The waiting room in the Admissions department was as different from the labs as night is from day. Two college-age girls came in the front doors and approached the sliding permaglass above the welcome counter. One was a tall brunette who more-or-less resembled a lot of attractive women, but her friend was the absolute spitting image of the blonde girl in the ad. She was even wearing the same artsy-looking white dress. She had a beautiful long, slender nose and her yellow-blonde hair cast a glow on her face. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown, except that she was slightly cross-eyed.

“May I help you?” the woman at the counter welcomed them.

“Yes my name is Madison Mills and this is Cherilu Astrid!” the first girl declared as if she was cheering.

“And what brings you here today?” the woman replied dispassionately.

“Well we saw this AD…” the first girl held out the classifieds of a student newspaper. “I’m looking for charitable contributions toward my scholarship and Cherilu needs a job! I want to be her sponsor. Doesn’t she look like she would make a good mother?”

She gestured as if she was presenting a runway model and Cherilu mimicked her perfect smile, although it was only a timid shadow of a smile.

“Um, we don’t have any program like that…” the woman started to say, but a male supervisor pushed his way forward, struck by their qualifications.

“What did you ladies have in mind exactly?” he asked, taking them aside.

“Well my scholarship comes from a grant that allows matching charitable funds.” Madison said smartly. “And she’s always wanted to have children.”

She literally reached down and rubbed her friend’s belly, making Cherilu smirk.

“But what do those two things have to do with each other?” he looked back and forth between them.

“So if she was in the Special Olympics I could sponsor her, see what I mean?” Madison continued. “My senior thesis was on community outreach, so the question is how do I help Cherilu?”

After talking with them the man started nodding and went back behind the counter where his coworkers were gathered.

“She wants us to pay her for admitting someone else?” one of them whispered. “It doesn’t work that way, the patient herself has to decide.”

“We need patients like these.” he reasoned. “The one making the decisions isn’t the one applying. It’s like her judgment resides in someone else, like it’s been removed! Let’s get an admissions counselor.”

The two girls found themselves sitting in a cozy private office with a spectacled woman who wore a white jacket embroidered with the company logo.

“So our approval process begins with a series of evaluations of the patient to determine if she is a qualified candidate.” she spoke strictly. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourselves?”

“Well I’m majoring in applied mathematics.” Madison leaned forward in front of her friend with a smile that filled the room. “But I’m also interested in helping the community. Our graduating class is breaking up and we might never see each other again! Productive citizenship begins with the people you know, right?”

She turned and the girls smiled at each other.

“So you are moving on to college but Cherilu is not.” the counselor replied.

“Yes and I want her to succeed.” Cherilu added, squeezing her friend’s hand.

“So tell me about your situation.” the counselor craned her neck around Madison to be able to see her.

“Well…” Cherilu shrugged as if it was an unpleasant subject. “My parents were never married, we moved a lot and that’s because most girls in our family get pregnant right after high school. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always wanted to have children. I would be okay with it, I mean a baby of mine would be loved. If it was a boy he would be a prince and if it’s a girl I’d be a better parent than my own mother was to me. That’s what matters, right?”

The counselor was momentarily puzzled by this answer.

“But what are your interests, hobbies, talents?” she interjected. “What is your favorite subject in school?”

“We play field hockey together.” Madison answered for her. “I’m always encouraging her to score goals!”

Cherilu rolled her eyes and jabbed her friend with her elbow. The counselor was writing this down on a checklist that was divided into two categories….

PROS

donor girl talks about herself

trusting relationship

jealousy

unsuccessful with men

hormonally active

CONS

medical condition

drug use

asks too many questions

shows resistance

“But what qualities are you looking for in a potential mate?” the counselor leaned forward.

Cherilu struggled to think back to her very first crush.

“Remember that boy you liked in the fifth grade?” Madison interjected. “Cherilu and I have known each other since kindergarten!”

“You see she bounces from topic to topic without her friend realizing.” the admissions director spoke from the dark room behind the mirror.

“We need to check her relationship history for any domestic abuse.” the observing psychologist said. “Being led by someone in this way is abnormal; it could mean she is not wise enough to make her own decisions. Trust me, uncertainty is a factor you don’t want in a pregnancy.”

“No it just makes it an unplanned pregnancy.” the director stated. “You can’t tell by the health of a newborn if the mother had wisdom or not. The old psychological flags are based on life in the outside world, but those considerations have changed now. Apparently you just have to segue to something else.”

“So the next step in the approval process is a psychological evaluation to determine if you are mentally fit to be a mother.” the counselor resumed. “In-vitro fertilization is painless, however pregnancy comes with mood swings and discomfort so you have to be certain this is something that you want.”

Cherilu nodded and her friend squeezed her hand supportively.

As soon as the session was over and the two girls stepped back into the empty hall they looked at each other wide-eyed, Cherilu covering her mouth nervously.

“I can’t believe how easy that was!” Madison whispered in amazement. “We are going to make soooo much money!”

They giggled and exchanged high-fives, doing a little victory dance before continuing down the hall arm-in-arm.

“Out of curiosity,” one of the observing technicians asked, “what do you think would happen if one of the test fetuses survived to adulthood?”.

“And what if I was a king?” the director responded from the shadows. “You mean if they kept testing the same one and it survived over and over each time? Well then the program would have more to report back to us than just more orders wouldn’t it? Pin a medal on him, how should I know?”

3

Madison and Cherilu tried out the indoor tennis courts that were part of the residence, then Cherilu was given a tour of her quarters. Every surface of the apartment was white and it had a strange organic shape like the chambers of a heart. The doorways had sloping lips and sealed with the turn of a wheel like the hatch on a submarine. Every wall had screens of children playing in a field.

When it was time for the girls to part ways Madison threw a little party for Cherilu with some friends from their graduating class. The girls’ tearful parting made them both emotional so Cherilu was given a full dose of supplements, this one to help her sleep.

That night she had a bizarre dream. She was looking at what seemed to be a dairy farm with long, white barns made of plastic. But when the plastic sheets parted the barn was not lined with cows but nude women standing in a double row like a regiment. A man Cherilu didn’t recognize approached them wearing a white uniform with gloves up to the elbows, accompanied by a tall, severe-looking nurse. In the man’s hand was something that was clearly an artificial insemination device. It looked like a male member the size of a caulking gun, it even had a trigger and a hose coming out of it connected to their… irrigation system?

The nurse clapped her hands forcefully and a dozen women turned to face them on cue. Then she shouted “Present!” and they all dropped to the floor in their stalls and spread their legs, plastic cuffs snapping around their wrists and ankles. Cherilu gasped and awoke with a start in her bed.

The next morning she reported to the clinic in her white scrubs, trying to shake the dream wondering if she should tell them about it. It would have been frightening if it wasn’t so ridiculous. The young nurse had her sit on the exam table with her knees together and asked how she was doing. After taking her vitals she asked her to lift her shirt so she could label her belly.

The nurse pressed a device that looked like the scanner they use for produce at the supermarket against her stomach. Cherilu felt a thump and a tattoo like a bar code was imprinted from her navel to the side of her waist. She explained that each bar would move and change color as the baby developed.

“So right now your due date looks like December first!” the nurse congratulated her.

“Wait a minute, how can I have a due date already?” Cherilu asked her.

“The technology here is incredible.” she replied. “We know it within twelve hours of fertilization.”

“But when was I inseam… insemana…?”

“Don’t you remember? You were inseminated last night.” the nurse turned her back.

Cherilu looked puzzled. She didn’t have any memory of being in the clinic last night or anyone mentioning it to her. She looked across the way and saw some people passing behind the permaglass dividers; one of them she recognized as the man from her dream. All of the supervisors here were men.

“Who is that doctor over there?” she inquired.

“That’s Dr. Sobol, head of our nutritional labs and infant processing.” the nurse answered. “Would you like to speak with him?”

She nodded and the nurse went over and whispered to him. Then he came over and introduced himself.

“I’d like to…” Cherilu’s voice caught in her throat at the sight of him. “I’d like to see a video of my insemination please. They record everything here, right?”

“No, inseminations are all the same.” he said, turning away from her.

“Wait, can you at least describe it to me?” Cherilu bolted up and tried to follow him, but two of the staff held her back.

“Present!” Dr. Sobol turned back and said over his shoulder. Cherilu instinctively dropped to the floor and spread her legs. When she realized what she had just done she put her hands to her face and let out a scream.

4

A red-eyed Cherilu was taken back to her quarters and sealed inside. She told herself the dream was ridiculous; this wasn’t a farm, she didn’t think of herself as a cow, they used modern insemination methods like everyone else. Nevertheless she was pregnant, and she wasn’t pregnant the day before. It didn’t feel like she expected it to. It was supposed to be a cause for celebration but the way she found out had been taken from her. Why would they do that? It was so small and precious a thing to take.

The next day in the cafeteria Cherilu approached another patient and asked her how she was inseminated. The woman stared at her.

“They don’t need to train women to drop and spread ‘em on command, I mean I signed the papers and it’s over in a few seconds!” Cherilu was exasperated. “The doctor could have knocked us all up himself and we would never know it, right? It’s ridiculous!”

“I think the reason is obvious.” the woman lowered her voice. “In fact, it’s working right now.”

“What does this mean?” Cherilu asked, but two orderlies had already come in to take the woman away.

They secured her from either side while a nurse stood flicking a giant syringe, which she failed to understand since manual syringes were a thing of the past. The woman howled at the sight of it as if it was her worst nightmare.

“Tell me what it means!” she demanded as she rose from her chair.

“No subject has EVER survived the tests you idiot!” the woman fought them but an orderly clocked her on the head with a baton, a shocking act of violence that made Cherilu gasp and bring her hands to her face. Why did they have to do that? She was no threat to them.

Cherilu herself was escorted back to her quarters, her face red from the tears streaming down it as they sealed her in, the locks closing as they turned the wheel.

“Madisonnn!!!” she cried out as she struck the door with her small fist, then a beeping sound that seemed to be coming from her belly startled her. The first of the silver bars on the barcode stamped across her stomach was flashing green. Her first trimester was underway.

Cherilu sank down to the floor. Eventually she would get up again to wash the dried tears from her face, going to her private sink to find something to wipe it with. As the faucet came on she looked down at the drain and there was the company logo again, the water swirling down it in a crooked spiral.

Fear is a useful tool, especially irrational fear which goes against the grain of rational physicians. It succeeds where nothing else does, if someone fears what they don’t understand then keep it in your medical cabinet like a spiked mace. If you can prevent reason, taking it so long to dawn on a patient who is otherwise sane you have found a perfect middle ground that leads to capitulation, absolute capitulation. This perfect balance is what Tannenbacher stands for. Goodnight.