I could
tell that the Food Nazis had been in my apartment again, although this time
they'd tried to hide it. Usually when they'd been, I came home to a shambles
with everything I owned strewn about the place. This time, I noticed that several
items in my fridge had been moved out of position and a small packet of salt was missing
from my pantry cupboard.
The
Food Nazis, or as they're better known by most of the population, the
Department of Health, probably visits several thousand people in our city. The
actual percentage of the population is unknown to most of us, because people
with genetic anomalies such as mine, are strongly discouraged from
communicating with each other, and the Government will not divulge the statistics
about those of us with abnormalities, claiming that it is irrelevant and
discriminatory.
My
older brother and sister were genetically improved at conception like the
majority of the population. Unfortunately, I was an unexpected and ultimately
unpleasant surprise for my parents. By the time my mother found out she was
several months along in her pregnancy with me, it was far too late to ensure my
genes were enhanced. Most women in that situation aborted the foetus, but my
mother was one of an old-fashioned, frowned-upon minority who believed that
life was sacred. The Department of Health threatened my parents when they chose
to continue with the pregnancy, or should I say, encouraged them with disincentives
to do so.
My
siblings don't speak to me. I like to think it's because they unconsciously
believe they'll catch what I have, though more likely it's because of sheer
embarrassment. My genetic anomaly is obvious: I'm fat. Some ancestor or two of ours
had the audacity to be born with fat genes and passed them down the line to me.
There
are others like me. I've seen at least three other fat people, a child with
curly hair and several women with overly large buttocks. For others in the
population, their anomalies are not so physically obvious such as improperly
functioning organs or learning disabilities. Although the law states that we
are not to be discriminated against, we are, and often not in very subtle ways.
Our
culture has reached a "New Zenith of Health,' (as Government promotions
tell us) because when people purchase food using their citizen's cards, they
are allowed wholesome options, based on their individual health status. This is
'for our own good and for the long-term good of our society.' For me that means
salads, vegetables and lean meats, although lean meats are the only ones
available any more. All animal stocks were genetically modified decades ago to
produce only lean options.
For
people like my cousin Janjhu, it can be quite challenging. When she was
modified at conception, a small error crept into the genes and she was born
with an exceptionally fast metabolism that makes it hard for her to maintain
the acceptable ideal weight. As Janjhu is a close relative and has been a good
friend of mine since childhood, the authorities don't stop us from meeting up,
as we did last week at the BPlus Government Cafe.
"I
can't eat any more. I'm so sick to death of being force-fed," she groaned.
Her plate had included a protein-enriched mock-burger, mock-fries, and a
calcium and kilojoule-laced milkshake, which was followed up with ice-cream and
naturally-sweetened low-fat cheese-cake.
As
always, I tried hard not to look at her with envy, or to drool over the remains
of her half-eaten meal. No matter how much I ate, I was perpetually hungry.
"Check
out who's at your ten o'clock," I said, glancing at him from the corner of
my eye.
"I
couldn't be bothered," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"You
wouldn't believe the sneer on his face Oh, oh. Now he and his friend are coming
towards us," I added. "I wonder what witty observation they'll share
with us."
"Hello
ladies," the first one said with a condescending smile as he looked at the
both of us. He was physically ideal with broad shoulders, a lean stomach and a
strongly handsome face. "You girls must be twins!"
Without
even looking up from her plate Janjhu said, "Aren't you the guy I rejected
at the dance last week? The one who begged me to take him home and cried when I
said no?"
Glancing
up at him she finished with, "Oh no. You're not him. He was actually good
looking."
"Skinny
freak," he snarled as they walked away.
Giggling
I said, "That was beautifully done."
"Yeah,"
she replied with a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, "I've got a million
of them."
"Will
I be seeing you at the gym after work?" I asked.
"Yes.
Oh, the abundant joys of weight-lifting and muscle-building," she replied
with a smile.
"And
I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to running 10km on the treadmill
and the ever-present delight of my daily cardio workout," I said. "And
of course, my firm favourite is the weekly weigh-in, followed by the
well-intentioned lecture."
"Fat-ass!"
somebody hissed behind me.
Turning
I saw the culprit and said, "Oh, my ass is not all that's fat. I have an
overly large stomach, huge legs and arms and I'm working on a particularly
magnificent double-chin. I see you've achieved you're goal of an ugly, fat
mouth!"
Swinging
back, I linked arms with my laughing cousin and exited the cafe.
"Nice
work, Janjhu said. "You are getting so good at that!"
"Only
because I've learned from the best!"
* * * * * * * * * *
My
cousin was not only a nice person, she was also brilliant with computers and
worked in one of the Government's statistical sections. To me it sounded like
one of the dullest jobs on the planet, but she had schemed and worked her way
there with one ulterior motive: to help people like us.
Circumventing
the normal channels, she'd begun quietly accumulating data from government
cafes and gyms. From these she'd been able to determine what other people in
our city were likely to possess a genetic anomaly from both their food intake
and their gym activities. She was unable to access medical data or school
records without raising suspicion and so had focussed her initial attention on
people like us who had metabolic disturbances and had to eat and exercise
differently from the rest of the population.
Once we
had a list, we each investigated potential candidates for our secret group. We
had no intentions of overthrowing the government, but simply wanted to meet
with similar people so that we could encourage and support each other. From the
initial investigation of 87 candidates, we'd found 64 who fitted our profile
and the group had been meeting in a disused building for several months.
"Does
anyone know if Kaelar is coming?" Janjhu asked.
"He
said he was going to try and make it to Tonga and try to hide away there until
the cruise-airship left," Arien said.
"The
Government wouldn't permit any of us to go to the islands," I said.
"Not since seven of the island nations refused to become a member of the
United Nations Health Taskforce."
"Can
you imagine trying to enforce such ridiculous physical restrictions on people
who are naturally, genetically larger?" Pearlice, the woman next to me
said. "Plus they felt it impinged on their cultural identity."
"I
know," I replied. "How many nations are still refusing to join?"
"Fourteen,
although I've heard that Greenland is reconsidering its stand," she said
quietly as Arien resumed speaking.
"Kaelar
felt that because he had a fast metabolism, rather than a sluggish one, the
government may not have seen it as a danger to allow him to go where 'fat is
beautiful.'"
"Considering
how many thousands of tourists go there to gawk at the fat people, he might
have been able to slip through unnoticed," Berzra said.
"Does
anyone have any news they'd like to share with us tonight?" Janjhu asked.
"You
probably know that my sister Berdha is a doctor?" Berzra said, "She
said that Merteen Charnigne is going to be euthanised later in the week."
The
group let out a collective gasp.
"Three
months ago she was severely injured in a transmat accident and ended up as a quadriplegic,"
he said.
"I
never heard that," someone said.
"It
wasn't released on the news," he said.
"How
can they euthanise her?" I asked. "She's one of the best loved
musicians of the last quarter century. Surely she can contribute even as a quadriplegic!"
"We
all know that the Government regulations demand that people be classified as a
burden on society if they fit the criteria of physically incapable of looking
after themselves; quadriplegic and/or mentally ill amongst many other standards.
Since the accident Merteen has been depressed and requires both a feeding and
breathing tube to survive. That more than fits the government's 'burden on
society' category."
"It's
disgusting!" I said. "I wish that ....
Several
candles fluttered out as the doors smashed open and a squad of officers from
the Department of Health burst in.
"You
are all under arrest under Section 7A sub-section (b) of the Government Health
Act."
