Right to Die

church’s newspapers. They refuse to print my letters anymore, and the bishop told them not to.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “How do I know? How do I know? You think you people are a hierarchy, with chiefs and captains and sergeants, you should deal with the Church for a while. I did. For thirteen years I was in Fiscal, the assistant bookkeeper for the Diocese. Well, for a lot of the diocesan activities, anyway. In all that time, do you think the Church encouraged me? It did not. Instead of taking the time, the effort to bring me into the fray, on the side of God and Life, they pushed me out of a job. Pushed me to go outside the Church to bring my message to the people.”
    “And just what’s that?”
    “What’s that? I’ll tell you what’s that. They want to kill us all.”
    “Who?”
    “The atheists. Like the pagans of old, they believe in human sacrifice. The sacrifice of the unborn and the undead. That’s where they start, that’s where they always start, down through history. They kill the babies and they kill the elderly, and that’s how they get everyone used to the idea.”
    Playing the card, I said, “I don’t get you.”
    “The atheists have taken over our government. They’ve maneuvered their people to the point of being in power everywhere. The legislatures, the courts, even the Supreme Court of the land, where they said it’s acceptable, it’s a woman’s right, to kill her own baby. Now they’re trying it with the elderly too.”
    “Explain it to me.”
    “Look.” O’Brien leaned forward, warming up. “We’re in a hospital, and someone’s Aunt Emma is on the kidney machine. She’s basically just being maintained, with some pain, because there is no cure right now for what’s wrong with her. Well, Aunt Emma has put aside some money by working hard over her long life, and the only heirs are a couple of nephews. Do you follow me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Now, Emma’s doctor is getting a little tired of seeing her on that machine. Oh, Emma can afford it, although she is starting to eat into that money she’s saved. But the doctor has in mind this younger patient, who’s not on a machine because the hospital doesn’t have enough machines to go around. The medical insurance companies would pay for this younger patient to be on a machine if one was available. The nephews see their money, their inheritance, shrinking, so they decide to use her pain. One says, ‘Aunt Em, it’s so bad to see you hurting like this.’ And the other says, ‘Aunt Em, I don’t know why you’ve got to go through all this.’ And then the first one says, ‘Aunt Em, let us talk to the doctor, see if something can be done.’ Et cetera, et cetera.”
    O’Brien’s parable sounded like something he’d once heard someone else present. “So?”
    “So? So the atheist nephews and the atheist doctors, with maybe some help from the atheist lawyers, get the atheist judge to let them turn off the machine on Aunt Emma. Pull the plug so the patient the doctor wants on the machine can have it.”
    “Pretty farfetched, isn’t it?”
    “Read the papers. They do it all the time in Massachusetts and New York . All the time.”
    “Yeah, I was at a debate up in Boston last night about it.”
    O’Brien withdrew a little. “Debate?”
    “Yeah. That’s what they were talking about. This doctor, Eisenberg, I think it was, and—”
    “Eisenberg! One of the worst.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “Come on. He’s supposed to be this big-time defender of the right to life? Writes books and papers and gives these courses in the med school and speeches all over. But he’s in with them.”
    “With the atheists.”
    A vigorous nod. “I went to see him a couple of times. At these speeches. And I hung around afterward, to talk to him. I thought, after what his people had been through, over in Germany with Hitler and all, Eisenberg would understand. He’d see what’s happening in this country.”
    “But he didn’t.”
    “He’s in bed with them! He gets up and talks about this stuff on the same stage with these people, even has dinner with them. For him it’s like this intellectual exercise, like he’s just talking about something that’s not real instead of fighting something that is real, that’s horrible and threatening us all.”
    “Eisenberg’s not fighting like you are.”
    “Of course not! The things he writes, he told me himself, they get edited by the people at the magazines—or journals,