Dear Diary

(originally published in 1997 as Aqualung)

Dear Diary,

I know that it's been nearly a year since I last talked to you, but it's not my fault. Remember when I told you that I thought I might be pregnant? Well, I was right. I had taken the crosstown to the Institute and they had checked me in right away to be tested. Once they had confirmed that I was pregnant, they took me to a small, dark room where they had me watch an orientation video. Most of it was stuff I already knew, but some of the scenes were more graphic than anything they had shown us in school. I knew that it had been bad back then, but the narration and the video was chilling. Did you know that nearly 20,000 people were murdered each year? Murdered, Dear Diary! Just because someone was upset with someone else. And the babies! People were having them in bathroom stalls and leaving them behind. Or throwing them in dumpsters or tossing them down the stairs. What horrible, horrible, people, Dear Diary! There were so many, in fact, that they built massive prisons holding millions of them! Can you imagine that? And even then, there were still millions more roaming the streets, preying on others at every chance that they could. It sounds so terrible, Dear Diary. You know how I enjoy walking in the park at two in the morning. Everything is so quiet and the stars are so bright. I've never ever dreamed that someone might jump me and knock me out. Or worse. The video said people did it because of how they had been raised. Some of them could be helped, but others were hopeless. Every child is the most precious thing that we have in our society and raising a child properly needs care by trained specialists. We all know this now. The task is simply too important to be left to neophytes. When the video had finished, I was taken to another wing of the Institute where I was assigned a room. There were other girls there, too, and we played games and told stories to occupy the time. The food was nutritious, if a bit bland, but we all understood that it was important to make sure our babies had the proper diet. When I finally gave birth, it was a boy, and I named him Billy, after his dad. For the next three months, I nursed him and held him regularly. They said that the biological mother was needed for the initial imprinting. Once that was done, however, they would take over and simulate my voice and my heartbeats. They would look after him until he was sixteen and ready to join society. Last night, they came and took him away for the last time. If I had known then that I would never see him again, I would have held onto him just a little bit longer. Please don't tell anyone, Dear Diary, but when I think about my little Billy, it makes me cry. I know that's wrong, but I can't help myself. Oh, well. Gotta go. Talk to you later!

J.

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