In the After

mother had Adam .
    “All adults have the right to petition the Committee for Genetic Diversity if they wish to be parentally responsible for their offspring. Otherwise children produced in New Hope are the wards of New Hope until they themselves become adults. Any adult may choose expulsion at any time.”
    The film ended the way that the others began: happy children playing.
    “Rice.” I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry. “That last bit, about the babies . . . they can’t expect women to give birth every three years.”
    “They do,” he confirmed. “Unless there is a medical risk.”
    “So women don’t have control over their own bodies? When do you have to have your first pregnancy?” I asked, my voice trembling.
    “Not until you become an adult.”
    “At seventeen?”
    He shrugged. “I submitted my genetic material last year. It’s not a big deal. Our population’s up; the children are healthy.”
    “Wait. You have children?” I asked.
    “I don’t know. I never made an inquiry with the committee. I don’t want to petition for parental rights, not until I’m . . . um, settled with someone.” He adjusted his glasses awkwardly.
    I stood, shaking. “This is too much. I need some fresh air,” I told him, motioning for Baby to come with me. When I tried to open the door, it didn’t budge.
    “It’s restricted,” Rice reminded me apologetically. He fished out his key card and opened the door, leading us back outside. I sat on the ground, taking time to think. Baby crouched next to me and held my hand. Rice waited patiently a few feet away.
    There were so many secrets, so many rules. I understood the need for structure, but how could they decide what a child is going to be when they’re in kindergarten? How could they make some people work two or three jobs, while others only have to work one? How could they tell people who they can have children with?
    And forcing women to give birth, like we were nothing more than incubators. It made sense, all the pregnant women in the cafeteria, in the Quad. I thought about my mother, who turned forty this year. Adam was two. For some reason, this understanding made me even more upset. She not only helped design our new society, she was also an outstanding member who followed her own rules.
    I stood up and walked over to Rice. “Who makes New Hope’s rules?” I asked. “My mother is a scientist. . . . I don’t understand why she’s the director.”
    “The director certainly has a say on regulations but she isn’t solely responsible for the policies for New Hope,” Rice explained patiently. “She’s in charge of the lab, the scientific sector. Dr. Reynolds is really the one—”
    “Dr. Reynolds?” I interrupted him. “The creepy psychiatrist?”
    He shook his head. “Dr. Reynolds isn’t creepy. And who better than a psychiatrist to determine how a society should be structured?” he asked defensively. “We’re lucky to have him. He was in New Hope when the Floraes came. He headed psy-ops for the military. He’s a brilliant man. It’s like he can see into the core of people, determine what we’re made of. He did it to me. He saw a lost, young orphan in me and decided I had the potential to be more,” Rice told me passionately. “He’s the one who recommended that Hutsen-Prime take me under their wing. He’s the one who has checked on me over the years, made sure I had the best education, the best chance to succeed. And now he’s molding New Hope. We have the ability to rebuild the world and make it better.”
    I looked at Rice, horrified. After the propaganda speech, I didn’t think I could stand to hear any more of the party line, even from someone I trusted.
    The more I learned about New Hope, the less I saw my place there.

CHAPTER TWENTY
    “Did Baby come to visit me today?” I ask Dr. Thorpe .
    “No, that was last week, Amy.” She hands me my pills and a cup of water, which I dutifully swallow. I hate taking all this medicine. Nothing changes. I’m always confused; sometimes I lose myself in a memory, only to forget a few seconds later what I was thinking about. My time in New Hope is coming back to me slowly, but there’s so much I can’t remember .
    I look at Dr. Thorpe and I know I can’t fight her on the drugs. They monitor me all the time. “When will Baby be back?” I ask. “I think it will help with my treatment if I can see her more often.”
    “I’m not sure. Dr. Reynolds supervised the