HELPER12 by Jack Blaine (latest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

it was the best thing, with six different doctors lined up to support her.  No, Father stays because it’s what he knows how to do.”

“I’m so sorry.”  I don’t know what to say.  Having no family at all seems so much easier, suddenly.

As if he’s read my mind, Thomas asks me about it.

“Is it true that tracked designees don’t have any parents?”

“Well, we have Biological Contributors.  And Breeders who carry us to term, after being inseminated with sperm from the Biological Contributors.  But we never know who they are.  We grow up like Jobee would have.”  I touch his cheek, softly.  He’s fast asleep again, full of cereal and dreams.

“How would he have grown up?”

“You really don’t know?”  I can’t believe that he doesn’t know how it works.  How do people think that the basic necessities get done in the world?  Certainly it’s not because of Society members—they’re too busy being educated in multiple subjects and playing at politics to actually do any work.  And in this world, a lot of work has to get done to keep civilization functioning.  Kris used to laugh about it sometimes.  “How long do you think they could go if suddenly nobody was tracked for garbage disposal?  The world would be one big stink in a week!”

Thomas shakes his head.  “I really don’t know, I’m afraid.  I mean, they teach us the general idea of it in early school, but I think it’s some homogenized version.  I remember pictures of happy looking babies being held by happy looking Breeders in frilly nightgowns.  And lots of pictures of wheels and cogs and how a successful society is a planned society.”

“Frilly nightgowns?”  I cannot believe that.

He nods.  “I swear.”

“I was designated a Breeder.”  I say it before I think.

“What?  I thought you were a Baby Helper.  What were you doing in that Ward?”

I push up my sleeve and hold my arm out so he can see my designation tattoo.

“See?  You can see where the B was—they just tattooed the H over it.  It must have just been a mistake—some test result was inaccurate.  They took out my uterus and changed me to a Helper.”

“Are you sad?”  He asks almost shyly.

“About what?”

“About not getting to have babies.”

I stare. “Breeders have the earliest death rate of all designates except Reactor Laborers.  They get impregnated, brood, cesarean, go to recovery for a month and then start all over.  They never see the babies.  They never see much of anything except the inside of their rooms.  They aren’t even allowed to live in the complexes.  They have to stay in the Breeder Wards so that they can be monitored.”

“That sounds horrible.  At least in the Ward you got to help the babies, and be with them.  You’re wonderful with William.”

I think about the babies in Pre Ward, about Helper29 cooing at them while she kills them.  About me, not cooing, while I do the same thing.

Thomas traces a finger over the H on my arm.  Then he follows the outline of the B.  He shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry, Helper12.”

I pull my arm away and cover it with my sleeve.  I start to eat.  I don’t want to talk anymore.  When he asks me if I’m okay, I tell him I’m just tired from our day.

I don’t want him to know what I really feel.

I want to be friends with Thomas.  Today I feel like I’ve seen inside him a little bit, like I’ve seen a person I could like.  I person I could trust.  But how can I be friends with someone who doesn’t know what I’ve done; what I’ve been made to do?  How can I trust someone who doesn’t even know my real name?

Chapter Nineteen

I don’t see Thomas the next day until a few hours before dinner. I’ve done my best to avoid him, staying in my room, keeping Jobee occupied with toys instead of going down to the courtyard.  But when he knocks on my door, I can’t hide.

“Hello.”  He pokes his head in after I open the door.

“Hello,” I say.

“I wanted to bring this by.”  He holds up a reader.  “May I come in?”

I hesitate, but I can’t refuse him entry.

He walks over to where Jobee is sitting in his whizby.  Thomas said I could keep it to use with Jobee, after our trip to the Commons.  It works well as a chair for Jobee—it supports him while he plays with his boggles or just looks around at things.

“How are you, William?”  He turns to me.  “How is he doing?  Is there anything he needs?”

“He’s doing well.”

“I wanted to show you this before dinner.”  Thomas sits on the bed, and pats the spot next to him.

I walk over and settle myself a foot away from him.  He flicks the power on the reader.

“See this?”  He shows me the menu displaying on the screen.  I nod.

“Here, you should take it—that way you can get the feel of it.”  He holds the reader out to me, and I take it.

It’s larger than my player is—built more solidly, too.  The screen is small, but I can read it easily.  Right now it lists what seem to be the titles of books.

“Are these what we got yesterday?”

“Yes.”

Thomas points to the first listing. It’s called Childhood Development: From Birth to One Year.

“It’s a lot like a player—you just select the one you want to read and it opens.”

I touch the title and it displays the first page.  I already see some words I don’t know.

“What if I need to look something up?”

“You just open the dictionary, and then press the star, so you can go back and forth.”  He shows me, and then lets me try it.

“See?”  He smiles.  “Easy.”

I nod.  “It does seem like it will be.  Thank you for loaning it to me.”

“You can make notes, too, like this.”  He shows me how to mark a place, and insert a note.  I practice putting one in the first chapter of the book.

“You’re a fast learner.”

“I had