Free The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity by J.M. Bambenek

he’s
brought to the same facility. Those are our orders,” she said.
    “What
kind of punishment?” I asked.
    “They’re
disqualified from the colony selection for disobeying the law. But in most
cases, they end up in prison camps depending on the capacity. Otherwise, they’re
taken to the euthanasia facilities where they’re put away,” she explained.
    “Put
away? You mean killed? But what happens to the children?” I asked, unable to
regain control of my breathing. Sonya sighed again.
    “If
they’re healthy, the babies are sent to a special pediatric unit to decide if
their lives can be funded. Sadly, due to conditions and lack of resources, most
of the newborns don’t make it past a few weeks. Our supplies here are too
limited, and demand is too high. Everything available to the public is
documented. If they see we’re using more than we’re supposed to, well… our
benefits get cut to compensate. It’s a hard balancing act. Sometimes our
workers give up their benefits to help spare these poor infants. But it’s not
enough to save them all,” she said.
    “But
those children are innocent. How can they be allowed to do this?” I asked with
wide eyes.
    “The
parents are far from innocent. They brought them into this world illegally,
irresponsibly. The death of those children is merely a consequence of breaking
the law. Don’t you understand? Because of the war, our territories don’t have
the capacity to accommodate new life. And as much as we need them, the
birthrate must be regulated, or else we’d all die. Don’t forget that
we’re the fortunate ones. We still live our lives with protection, with food,
water, and shelter. But it comes with a price. We give up some of our rights to
serve the whole. It’s the only way our future will be a success,” she said.
    “But…
civilians are being used as bait, as—as slaves to prepare the colonies they
might never get into. Now they’re letting future generations die? How is this
helping our future?” I was out of breath as I fought her rapid pace. She spun
around.
    “It
takes a while to get desensitized to this, but you just have to. Just remember,
we have these rules for a reason. People will die, even children, and we do
everything possible to keep them alive, but sometimes there’s nothing we can
do. Sooner or later, death is something we must accept,” she said. I continued
to stare, unsatisfied with her response. She looked to me with pity, but her
soft expression hardened before I could accept it. “I’ll go get someone to show
you what you’ll be doing. Take a seat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She left
me alone behind the empty desk.
    Anger
tore through me. The world was dying, yet life for future generations was just
beginning. Being born in this time was never their fault, but they’d suffer the
consequences of being alive. We all would. Ending life would only bring about more
suffering to an already dark world, more innocent souls lost to chaos and
control. These children would never know the comfort of a warm bed, a full
tummy, or even the pleasant soothing sound of a lullaby. They were the true
victims, forced to open their eyes to darkness.
    After several moments of silence, a mellow cry echoed
from a distance. I checked both ways before standing up, noticing guards
blocking the exit doors in the far corners of the hall. I took a deep breath
before wandering away from my chair, following the sounds of muffled wailing.
Then, I stopped in front of the windows as I gazed at the array of newborns.
Each were dressed in black and white to segregate their gender. Black for male,
white for female. A few were marked with assigned numbers, most with red X’s.
By now, everyone knew what an X meant. It was a label. It became an indication
that something was damaged past the point of repair. For them, it implied
death. And as I pressed my fingers up against the glass, I imagined their
need—the demand for nurturing, for love and