Eight months. That’s how long Dr. Felix Aaronovich’s sister had to live.

He had been given the MRI results by his sister’s physician, a young, thinly-bearded gentleman whose voice had the slight lilt of an eastern European accent. Perhaps he was of Ukrainian descent. Felix knew from his work that there was a sizable population of Ukrainian, Moldovan, and Romanian immigrants in the area.

“Your sister’s stomach cancer is untreatable at this point,” said the doctor sympathetically. “The best thing to do is to take her to a euthanasia clinic. Please accept my condolences.” The doctor sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. “I can recommend one, if you like. It’s the best euthanasia clinic in Seattle, and the second best in the entirety of the People’s Republic of Independent Xachu.”

Felix shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “We’ll opt out of that. We would like to apply for hospice care.”

The young doctor raised an eyebrow. But he voiced no objections. “Very well,” he said, going over to the door of the office. “I’ll get you the proper forms. Your sister’s primary care physician will then sign it, your sister will sign it with two witnesses present, then you will submit the forms to the Board of Health, who will refer it to the appropriate committee, and then—”

“I am familiar with the process, doctor,” said Felix impatiently. “I work for the Health Department. I’m the Director of the Public Health Science and Data Division. I know how this sort of thing works.” Felix stood up from where he was sitting in the chair near the door of the office.

“So, please,” he said. “Help me as much as you can…” Felix slowly reached into his inside pocket, and pulled out his pocketbook.

He took out a pen and wrote something on the notebook stored in it. He had written on the scrap of paper a simple inscription: “$10k.” He tore the slip of paper out of his notebook and handed it to the doctor. “…and you’ll have my undying gratitude.”

The doctor took the slip of paper, nodded curtly, and crumpled it in his fist, before depositing it into a mini-incinerator mounted near his desk. “Your concern is noted,” he said. “I will do everything in my power to make this difficult situation easier for you to bear, Dr. Aaronovich. The well-being of you and your loved ones is of the utmost importance to the People’s Republic of Independent Xachu.”

Felix nodded. People’s Republic of Independent Xachu, he thought. PRIX. Pricks.

“Dr. Aaronovich? Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Felix shook himself back into the present, and flashed a smile as he pushed his aviator glasses up his nose. He was still young enough to feel flattered when people called him “Dr. Aaronovich.” His Ph.D may have been in physics, but he enjoyed a good ego boost as much as the next person.

“No, I am fine for now,” he said. “Thank you, doctor.” He then left.

Felix was also old enough to know that ego boosts wouldn’t keep him happy forever. As he left the hospital, forms in hand, and in possession of the name of the appropriate functionary to bribe in order to expedite the application for hospice care, he felt his shoulder ache. He’d strained it while hiking a few years ago, another reminder of his steady progress into middle age. He didn’t look forward to going to his own primary care physician to talk about that bit of pain.

As Felix waded through the crowded parking lot toward the private car which his status as a division director afforded him, he glanced back at the hospital he had just left. Surrounded by mobs of people trying to get in to get healthcare, Felix took in the sight of the building. It was a tall, glass-and-concrete construction which had seen better days, a relic of the pre-republic era. Its white walls were pockmarked by chips in the paint and large spots of rust. He recalled talking to a friend in the Seattle Department of Public Works, who had said that the building manager had been trying to get funding to clean it up for six years.

As his private car drove away from the hospital, he looked out the window, and got a good look at the newer, cleaner wayfaring sign mounted near the hospital parking lot’s entrance, by the roadside. It read: “PRIX Department of Health – Sholeetsa Medical Center.”

Felix settled back into his seat, while his driver tuned the radio. He had had to take the day off from work today to visit the hospital, and he’d have plenty to keep him occupied when he returned to the office.

“Would you like to listen to some music, Director?” said the driver. The driver was white, probably of Swedish descent. The Health Department kept track of such things, and Felix’s job required him to keep abreast of statistics related to the subject.

“No, thank you,” said Felix. He took the forms he’d been given out from under his arm and flipped through the pages. No. This was one of those days where silence was golden.

***

The report card which his daughter had brought home made Felix’s day just a little brighter.

“So, you’re at the top of your class for the second quarter in a row, eh?” he said to Dorothy, as they sat down to dinner. Dorothy, all of ten years old, sat next to her father and across from Miriam, her aunt, over a meal of asparagus, potatoes, lamb, and milk. Their apartment in downtown West Sammamish (or Bellevue, as the locals still called it) was spacious, owing to Felix’s position at work, and their food did not come from a ration package. It was imported.

“Yes,” said Dorothy. “My teacher said that I’ll probably do something important one day. She says I could get accepted into the University of Xachu when I’m older.”

“The UX, hm?” said Felix. “Very nice. An excellent aspiration. And with my alma mater in mind too!” Felix reached over to rub Dorothy’s blonde-haired head. She got her blonde hair from her mother. Felix’s hair was a thinning, graying black. He cracked a smile, and said, “You’re a smart girl, Dorothy. Work as hard as you can in school, and you’ll be even smarter.”

Dorothy looked up from her dish at her father, quizzical. “Smart like you, daddy?”

Felix chuckled, and gave Dorothy’s left hand a loving squeeze. “No, no,” he said. “Smarter.”

Miriam, who had been silent up to this point, coughed slightly, and swallowed loudly.

“Is something wrong, Miriam?” said Felix.

Miriam shook her head, and said, “No, no, I just need some water. Bit off too much.”

Felix got Miriam her water, and the three continued eating. Dinner concluded, after which Felix and Dorothy cleaned up the kitchen, while Miriam sat on the sofa. Her stomach cancer had left her progressively weakened for the two months since she had been diagnosed, and what treatments were available had left her emaciated and frail. She was thirty-seven, six years younger than Felix.

After Felix put Dorothy to bed, he sat with Miriam on the sofa in front of the TV. They were streaming the latest telenovela from the PRIX Channel. He had little taste for them, but it was a guilty pleasure for Miriam, and he didn’t mind indulging her.

“Eight months?” said Miriam casually.

“Yes,” said Felix, sitting back. The plush sofa was only three years old. An employee of the PRIX Department of Health one rung in the ladder below Felix would have been lucky to have one that was at least ten years old.

Miriam bowed her head, and took a drink of her ice water. She put down the glass, and said, “Have you selected a euthanasia clinic yet?”

“What? No, no,” said Felix. “I opted out and applied for hospice care.”

Miriam was too weak to be angry. “You… why?” she said. “I don’t want to suffer anymore. Just let me die.”

“I can’t do that,” said Felix.

“Why?” said Miriam. “Is it because abba taught us that The Lord God Adonai doesn’t like that kind of thing? Or maybe because you married a Lutheran goyim so she could save her own skin by apostatizing from her own God? Is that why?”

“No!” said Felix, shaking his head. Miriam’s word stung like needles. “I… I can’t… I can’t just… just pull a lever and send you away. Why not let it come… naturally?” Felix balled up his fists, and bowed his head. “I… I don’t care if euthanasia is a medical best practice,” he said. “It’s… it’s wrong! It’s unethical! Totally unethical!”

“Oh, so Dr. Aaronovich’s degree is in philosophy now, not physics, huh?” said Miriam. She was beginning to gasp her words. “What qualifies you to judge whether or not something is medically ethical or unethical? The front desk clerk at the nearest dental office would be more qualified to make such a judgement than you!”

“Miriam, calm down!” said Felix, as firmly as he could manage. “Your stomach!”

“I don’t— I don’t…” Miriam’s words were stopped by another fit of coughing, and Felix helped her lift her glass of water to her lips. She coughed repeatedly for a minute, before quieting down and accepting the glass of water. She drank deeply, swallowed, breathed in and out, and then leaned back on the sofa. The telenovela was still playing on the TV.

A good five minutes passed before Miriam shook her head. “Do whatever you want,” she said. “I’ll… I’ll stay alive… I’ll sign the forms, and you won’t… try to stop it from happening. I’ll just… wait for it to come. Just like that. Just… just like that.”

The telenovela episode eventually ended, and Felix helped Miriam to her bedroom, where she went to sleep. He made a mental note to dismiss the home care specialist they had engaged once Miriam would be moving into hospice care. The specialist was a charming young lady, but her services would no longer be required. Fortunately, her unit within the Health Department would still have plenty of work for her.

When he went to his own bedroom and had locked the door behind him, Felix went to his closet and lifted up a roughly carved panel embedded in the closet floor. It was hidden beneath a box containing some snow boots. Under the panel was a prayer shawl, a yarmulke, and a worn, battered prayer book with a faded blue cover and gold lettering.

He stood in the small gap against the wall between the door and the window, invisible to prying eyes. He then put on the prayer shawl and the yarmulke, and began to read from the prayer book, just like he did every night.

“Praised are You, Adonai, our God,” said Felix, “Ruler of the universe, who closes my eyes in sleep…”

***

After a ten-minute ride to work in his private car, Felix started off the morning by getting some coffee from the personal espresso machine in his office. One more privilege afforded to someone in his position.

He took his coffee, filthy black, just like he preferred, over to his desk, and used his computer to navigate to a page he frequently viewed: the official compensation tables of public employees.

He, as director of a division, was at the G-07 level, with a set hourly compensation of twenty-five dollars-per-hour, plus a Class-B apartment in a Prime Housing Zone, along with up to two weeks of paid vacation and access to Tier-4 goods.

But Felix couldn’t help but eye a certain extra benefit listed in the table under G-06 employees, one level above his own rank. This extra benefit was the full, private use of a Class-A leisure residence of his choice, with such residences typically being situated on the shores of a pristine lake. What a heavenly idea!

He could just imagine it: He and Dorothy playing in the water, while Miriam watched as she sat in the sun, followed by an evening watching the stars come out. All the while, they would cook kosher hotdogs on the grill and enjoy their time together over a meal. Miriam loved the outdoors. The two of them had done so much hiking together before her diagnosis. Perhaps she’d like to enjoy a bit of summertime weather before… before she…

But then reality hit him in the face. He minimized the window he’d pulled up on his computer, sat back in his chair, and cried silently. He wouldn’t be eligible for a promotion of that kind until his superior, the Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Office of Science and Data Policy, retired, was dismissed, or died. The first of those options wouldn’t materialize in the case of his fifty-something boss for some time. And even if something extraordinary happened which would suddenly open up the position, there was no guarantee that Felix would get the job.

Suddenly, the phone on the desk rang.

Felix was shaken out of his meltdown by the sound of the phone. He took a wad of tissues out of a box he kept on his desk and wiped his face, after which he breathed in and out a few times. He then picked up the phone on the third ring.

“This is Felix speaking,” he said.

“Hi, Felix,” said Kiana, the office manager. “Lucas Milton from up top is here to see you.”

Felix nearly jumped in surprise. The DAS? Now? Right when… He shook his head. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Send him in. I’d be glad to see him.”

Lucas Milton, the Deputy Assistant Secretary whom Felix would have to replace before he could get his lakeside leisure residence, was short and pudgy. He had a full head of dark hair and no glasses, wearing a new dark suit with no tie. This was in contrast to the tall, thin, lanky Felix, with his aviator glasses, receding hairline, and ten-year-old blue suit, tie included.

“Dr. Aaronovich,” said Lucas, in his low, squeaky voice, “it’s good to see you. I hope you’re doing well. Remind me, what are your preferred pronouns?”

“He, him,” said Felix, putting on a fake smile. “The feeling is mutual, sir. And please, call me Felix. How may I help you?”

Felix’s visitor nodded as he went further into the office. “They, them,” said Lucas. “I’d be glad to call you Felix. And yes, I’ll tell you now why I am visiting. The news is quite good, you see.”

Lucas and Felix sat on opposite sides of Felix’s desk, and Lucas began to speak. “I need the help of someone with your talents,” said Lucas, “on a project which will concern not only your division and the divisions under my office, but the entire Health Department, and maybe the whole of the republic.”

“You… you need my help?” said Felix.

“Yes,” said Lucas. Lucas picked up his briefcase, which he had set on the thinly carpeted floor, and placed it on Felix’s desk. He opened the case, and pulled a thick file folder out of it and put it on the table.

“It would be great if you could examine the contents of this folder,” he said. His voice sounded like a bicycle that needed lubricating. “My office has been commissioned by the Secretary of Health to assemble a plan for reducing the threat posed by the republic’s looming population crisis.

“The Chief Executive and the cabinet have determined that the services being provided by various public institutions cannot be sustainably delivered given current population levels. We simply have too many people inhabiting the republic to support them all. The solution, therefore, is to mitigate the problem through a population economization initiative.”

Felix couldn’t help but frown. “Economization?” he said.

“Yes, yes,” said Lucas patiently. He pushed the file folder in Felix’s direction. “Such an initiative, if properly planned and executed, would select a certain percentage of the population for immediate, systematic euthanization.

“Such an initiative would be employed to periodically reduce, or economize, the republic’s population, with a minority being removed to accommodate the majority. The logic is that a few of our republic’s citizens must commit themselves to a difficult fate for the benefit of the many. Very honorable, I’m sure you can see, and democratic, too.”

Lucas adjusted himself in his seat, cleared his throat and spoke again. “But there are problems with this matter that need to be dealt with,” he said. “We need to figure out exactly who will be subject to this economization initiative, and why they should be subject to it.

“We also have to find out how many will be economized, and then we have to find out the specific results we hope to achieve, in terms of budgets and supplies and services and logistics and supply chains, that sort of thing. There are simply a great many things that must be taken into account before we can even begin this project. I confess that all I know, based on my conversations with colleagues, is that the initiative will somehow involve the Equity Scale, which I believe is used in the various sciences.”

Lucas leaned forward, and let out a smile. “But that, Felix,” he said, “is where you come in.”

Felix, during the entirety of Lucas’s explanation, had been trying to hide just how stupefied he felt by what he was hearing. The republic had engaged in population economization initiatives before, but only against specific demographics, on small, decentralized scales, at infrequent intervals, and not since a good fifteen years ago.

Felix was naturally, if silently, opposed to such measures on principle. Of course, he could not openly articulate such principles for fear of being paid a visit by the Xachu Department of Public Assistance. But now he was being asked to help construct such a program?

“What do you need me to do?” said Felix. He absently opened the file Lucas had given him, revealing a statistical study of some sort featuring a series of pie charts.

“You are one of only a few people in the entirety of the Health Department,” said Lucas, “who is educated in a subject which qualifies you to create a model which will help us to narrow down all of the things which I have just related to you.

“I’ll be frank. Most of the people in the Health Department studied public administration, or perhaps accounting or IT or human resource management. I know three or four people with psychology degrees. Two have MD’s.

“You have a doctorate in physics. What’s more, a brief consultation of your academic record tells me that you did work in computerized population growth models at the UX before you were employed by the Health Department.”

“Yes,” said Felix. He was beginning to see where this was going. “I was part of that research project for the entirety of the three years which it took to complete. The team I worked on was nominated for an award.”

“Yes, I remember reading that on Xachupedia,” said Lucas. “Now, allow me to explain why I’m here. Your job on this special project will be to work with a team of programmers and statisticians to create a model which will automatically determine which members of the larger population will be subject to the initiative. Furthermore, this hypothetical model will be used to track the resulting economic and social outputs which will result from such inputs, insofar as such things can be measured.”

Lucas sighed heavily, and looked at his watch, before returning his attention to Felix. “I know you’re pressed for time,” he said. “Even a Division Director must deal with intense leadership responsibilities. But if you are able to assist us in this project, then the rewards could be great.

“How would you like to get a promotion?”

Felix felt his mouth drop open at this point, but he made sure to quickly shut it. “A promotion?” he said.

“Yes,” said Lucas. “I’m set to become Assistant Secretary for the Office of Planning and Evaluation, and I’ll need someone to take my place as D.A.S. You’ve done great work in your ten years at the Health Department. If you are able to help us successfully carry out this project, it would be a very large feather in your cap. Coupled with your credentials and experience, it could merit a promotion to the position which I currently occupy, but which will soon be left vacant.

“What do you say?”

Felix simply couldn’t speak for a moment. What he was being asked to do was… horrible. He couldn’t imagine what he’d be in for should he find himself before God one day. But his eyes shifted over to his computer, ever so briefly. The minimized window of the data tables page stared back at him from the bottom of his computer screen. Like a black cat’s green eyes peering out from the night.

Miriam and Dorothy would love that time by the lake so much…

Felix cleared his throat, and smiled at Lucas. “I’d be glad to be of assistance,” he said. “When would you like to get started?”

***

The senior statistician whom Felix had to work with was named Josh Gallo. He was dark-haired, in his mid-forties, and looked handsome and well-groomed. He had a shiny gold ring on his left hand.

“You’re familiar with the sort of data we’ll be working with?” said Josh.

“Yes,” said Felix, as the two of them sat with the rest of the team in a warm, well-lit conference room. They were a few floors up from where Felix’s office was. “My division is dedicated to gathering demographic statistics and creating reports on how they affect new developments in the republic’s science and technology concerns, as related to public health.”

“Okay,” said Josh. He shifted through a pile of papers which he had brought with him to the conference room, where the various members of the thirteen-man team had broken off into smaller groups to discuss different parts of the project.

Felix and Josh were discussing the computer model which Lucas had recruited Felix to help create, and the two were joined by a young software engineer named Cameron Hamler. At least, Felix thought he was young. Felix was just getting to the age where everyone with smooth skin and no extra chins were young to him. Felix guessed that Cameron was not-quite-thirty.

“I have some ideas about which programming language we’ll use,” said Cameron, “but I’ll need feedback from you two and your respective teams before we can decide.”

“It might help if we got a clear idea of what the model is meant to be used for,” said Josh, scribbling down notes. “Lucas said that it’s supposed to be used to predict… what, exactly? Suitability for econo-whats-it?”

“Suitability for economization,” said Felix blandly. “Lucas made clear during the presentation that we’re trying to figure out a means of using statistical analysis of demographic data to determine which persons will be most suitable for economization. We’ll need to incorporate the Equity Scale into the model.”

Cameron only shook his head, and said something under his breath which Felix hoped that Dorothy would never learn to utter in polite company, or any company, for that matter. “We’re going to be putting together a plan for killing a lot of people,” said Cameron. “We can at least be honest about it.”

“Quiet!” hissed Josh. “Do you want us all to get ‘economized’ too?”

“This thing’s going to die in committee,” said Cameron. “Stuff like this always does.”

“Not this time,” said Josh. “Didn’t you read the memo they sent out before we all came here? This isn’t just the Secretary of Health trying to justify her paycheck. This came all the way from the Chief Executive!”

Cameron seemed to ponder Josh’s statement for a moment. But then he just bowed his head. “Look, man,” he said, “whatever. Let’s just do this already.” Then he peered upward, and said, “Oh, and don’t you mean ‘their’ paycheck?”

“Shut up, Hamler.”

Felix, Josh, and Cameron spent the rest of the morning setting SMART goals related to their portion of the project (specific duties had already been assigned to each workgroup by Lucas), and managed to outline the foundational elements of the model the team of thirteen were to create.

“I think we did good today,” said Felix to Lucas after the session was concluded. “We’ve at least started off well.”

“That’s good to hear, Felix,” said Lucas as the two left the conference room, “but remember, there’s going to be difficulties early on. Everyone always strikes out at first base.”

“Come again?”

“What I mean is that everyone should be ready for significant problems early on, which might seem difficult to get past. But that’s only because we’re getting used to the realities of this type of endeavor.”

Felix breathed in, and said, “…I appreciate your advice, Lucas, but I’ve been on group projects before. I know what I’m doing.”

Lucas turned to look at Felix. The two were almost to the elevator at the end of the hall. “I didn’t say otherwise, Director,” said Lucas.

A chill went down Felix’s spine. He replied, “Yes, sir.”

But Lucas smiled broadly again. “Relax, Felix,” he said. “Call me Lucas. We’re both adults here, and partners too!” Lucas patted Felix enthusiastically on the shoulder, and headed toward the elevator. “Yes, yes,” said Lucas as he and Felix entered the elevator. “We’re partners in crime, and soon we’ll be riding off into the sunset with the rest of our team.”

“Partners in crime?” thought Felix. Yes. Partners in crime. Partners in crimes against humanity.

But then: Those hotdogs will smell so good…

***

Felix’s work schedule was greatly intensified because of his extra work on the PEI Model Committee, as the thirteen-man team came to be known. Felix would ordinarily have loathed working on such a committee, but Lucas, who was chairing it, was a truly singular individual, a force of nature if there ever was one.

His management of the project’s subcommittees (like the one Felix was on with Cameron and Josh) was easily the most competent action of its kind that Felix had ever seen. Lucas was a master of schedules, agendas, calendars, charts, minutes, timekeeping, budgets, and all things managerial. What’s more, he made a point of keeping Felix abreast of all of those things.

“The Assistant Secretary of Planning and Evaluation has made clear to me,” said Lucas after one meeting, “that I’ll need to make sure that my successor is well-equipped to take my place. That’s where you come in.”

Felix, who had always been more-or-less second-rate at the tasks which Lucas made look easy, was grateful for such mentorship. But privately, he sometimes felt just a little resentful of how Lucas was treating him as a thoroughly junior partner. But that was only sometimes. The rest of the time, he kept in mind that one does not look a gift-horse in the mouth.

The PEI Model Committee’s economization model began to come together, slowly, over the next three months. Felix went to meeting after meeting, kept track of update after update from Josh and his team of statisticians and Cameron and his team of programmers, and eventually, the computer model began to come together. The solid foundation in mathematics which Felix’s physics education afforded him was, as Lucas had predicted, instrumental.

But Felix was beginning to feel the weight of his efforts seep into his home life. He, and almost every other worker in the PRIX, rarely worked overtime. It simply wasn’t done. But Felix had a fire in his belly. He wanted that promotion. He wanted that lake house.

He was beginning to realize the price he might have to pay when he came home at night around eight o’clock. Normally, he came home at six. He was greeted by the home care specialist, in her twenties, who looked tired and harried.

“Uh, look, Mr. Aaronovich,” she said, “I know you’re busy, and that’s fine, and your daughter is really sweet, but… I’m not a babysitter. I’m here to take care of Miriam. I can’t make dinner for both her and Dorothy forever.”

Felix wanted to glare down at this five-foot nothing girl, but he restrained himself. “My apologies,” he said. “I have been busy at work. I’d be glad to compensate you.”

The specialist cocked her head to one side. “Uh… isn’t that a free market type of thing?” she said. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Felix smiled thinly. “Would you like me to not compensate you for your trouble?”

The specialist frowned, and then shook her head vigorously, before saying, “No.”

A small disbursement of cash later (small for Felix), Felix went over to where Dorothy was, sleeping on the sofa. He knelt down next to her, stroked her hair, and carried her over to her bedroom, before putting her under the covers. He kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep tight,” he said.

He then went over to Miriam’s bedroom, and glanced in. There was Miriam, sound asleep on her bed. Odds are she was being massaged to sleep by her medications, but at least she was sleeping.

Felix then returned to his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. Before he went to bed, he opened his wife’s old nightstand, and took out the small, Lutheran cross she had left there. The rose symbol painted in the center looked pretty.

He did not say his prayers that night.

Two more months went by. Miriam was accepted into hospice care, and Felix and Dorothy visited her every weekend. Felix by this time was hoping against hope that somehow, by some desperate, ultra-fortunate turn of events, that the project would be completed and that he would get his promotion and that he would be given a lake house in time for him to take Miriam and Dorothy to it, before… before Miriam died.

Felix was thinking about Miriam during a meeting of the committee one day, lost in thought. But then, he suddenly heard someone saying his name.

“Felix? Felix? Dr. Aaronovich?” said Lucas.

Felix immediately snapped back to attention. “Oh! Eh, Lucas!” he said, straightening up in his chair. “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

“Your report on the final version of the economization model’s algorithm,” said Lucas. “It’s next on the agenda.”

Felix, not a little flustered, quickly summoned all the wits he could, and opened his brief case to retrieve his presentation notes, after which he delivered the report. The report he gave at the meeting went well, and his colleagues all took their notes and gave their comments. After a vote, the algorithm was approved, and the meeting was adjourned.

After the meeting, however, Lucas took Felix aside. “Felix,” said Lucas, “you’ve been doing quite well over the last year on this project, and I am more than happy to make you my replacement once I receive my promotion.” Here, Lucas adopted a look of concern. “But you’ve seemed out of sorts for these last few weeks,” he said. “Is there something wrong? Are you well?”

Felix looked over at Lucas, and sighed. He felt he could confide in the man. They were close colleagues, after all. Friends.

“My sister has stomach cancer,” said Felix. “We just moved her into hospice care, and the doctors say she doesn’t have long.”

Now it was Lucas’s turn to look concerned. “Hospice care?” he said. “I don’t mean to pry, but why didn’t you just take her to a euthanasia clinic?”

Felix nearly jumped out of his skin. Had he miscalculated? “I… I…” he said.

But he managed to think a little quicker than usual.

“We’re religious,” he said. “And it was her idea. We’re of Jewish descent, you see.”

Lucas, now looking quite taciturn, nodded sagely. “That’s perfectly alright,” he said. “I’m a Satanist, if that means anything. I go to temple every Friday night.”

Lucas patted Felix on the shoulder, in his usual friendly, benign manner. “Take some time for self-care,” he said. “Keep your loved ones company for a bit. She’s your… sister, I believe? Do you have a family?”

“Yes,” said Felix. “I have a daughter too.”

“Hm. Are you married?”

“I’m a widower.”

Lucas nodded again. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. He then turned to leave. The rain clouds of early March in the Pacific Northwest were visible through the windows of the conference room. “Go home and get some rest,” said Lucas. “There’s only so much time in this world to enjoy yourself, and for that matter, to enjoy the company of family. Go and do that, alright?”

***

Felix did go and do that. He went home to the apartment, though not as late as usual, and was able to stay up with Dorothy long enough to talk about her day at school. He had since engaged a domestic to pick Dorothy up from school and to keep an eye on her until he got home.

“We worked on vocabulary today in language arts,” said Dorothy. “I learned some new words.”

“Wonderful!” said Felix. He was putting her to bed as they spoke. “What were a few you liked best?”

Dorothy peered upward in thought, and then replied, “We learned about synonyms. Different words that mean the same thing.”

“What are some examples that you remember?”

“Uh, let me think… one word was ‘thrifty.’”

“’Thrifty?’ Can you tell me what that means?”

“It means… it means not wasting money or… or other stuff. Synonyms for it are frugal, austere… and economical.”

This last word uttered by Dorothy made Felix’s heart leap into his throat. “Eco…?” he said quietly. He completed the thought in his head. Economical. Economization.

“Economical, daddy,” said Dorothy. “I don’t like that word much. It’s kind of big, and might confuse people who don’t read very much. What do you think?”

Felix managed to get his breath back. “Eh, yes,” said Felix, putting on a smile. “I believe you’re right. We should probably stick to small words. Like… thrifty.”

“That sounds like a good idea, daddy,” said Dorothy. “By the way, can I please watch TV on Saturday? I promise to only watch for one hour, like you say to do.”

After Dorothy went to sleep and Felix had kissed her goodnight, Felix left his daughter’s room. He went over to the sofa, and sat down in front of the television, which was off. No PRIX Channel telenovelas tonight, now that Miriam was in hospice care.

Felix then went into the study he had in his apartment, where he had left his briefcase full of notes and papers from today’s meeting. He put his brief case on his desk and opened it, after which he took out the papers he had gathered up from today’s work on the PEI Model Committee. Numbers, jargon, charts, summaries. It was all there. The expertly typed and formatted documents were like a set of finely stitched clothes meant to gussy up a thoroughly ugly monster.

He grimaced, almost feeling physical pain, and looked up, mouthing a prayer to God. Would Adonai forgive him? Would Dorothy forgive him? What if she found out about all of his work on this act of organized malice when she grew up? What would she think of her smart, smart daddy then?

He stared down at the papers, and took out one in particular. It was an Executive Summary, a longer version of the basic presentation he and Lucas would be giving tomorrow to the Board of Health, the Secretary of Health, and the Chief Executive. He’d need to go to bed early and get plenty of rest before he gave his part of the presentation on the computer model.

With a heavy sigh, he examined the title of the Executive Summary. The PEI Selection Model – Prepared by the Selection Model Committee Under Lucas Milton and Felix Aaronovich, Ph.D.

Taking out a pen, Felix wrote himself a note in the margins. It was a reminder of something he’d like to mention to Lucas. Op… er… ation… Thrifty…

***

As Felix conversed with Lucas after the presentation, Lucas shook his head and laughed a little to himself. “You know,” he said, “I think it goes without saying that people in any large institution aren’t known for their… imaginations. That definitely describes the Health Department, you know. I think you’d agree that our organization doesn’t make it easy to be creative.”

“Yes, that’s true,” said Felix. “But the Chief Executive liked my idea for a change to the project’s name?”

“They just told me exactly that before they left the room!” said Lucas cheerfully. “They even said that they’d mention it to the PR head at their next meeting with him. If your presentation to the Board doesn’t clinch you my old job, together with everything else, I don’t know what will!”

Felix smiled, a real smile this time, and followed Lucas out of the room. “Care for a late afternoon coffee in the Executive Cafeteria?” he said to Lucas. “I think they have cheese bagels today.”

“Of course you’d like bagels!” snickered Lucas. But then Lucas stopped. “I mean… I think you would… because you’re… well…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” said Felix playfully, lightly socking Lucas in the arm. “I like the fact that I’m Jewish. And yes, bagels are a Jewish thing.”

Lucas shook his head, smiling again. “Yeah, I’d love a coffee and a bagel,” he said. “Let’s go.” Lucas held up his hand, pretending to lift up a champagne glass. “Here’s to the completion and success of Operation Thrifty!” he said. He chuckled some more as they walked down the hall towards the Executive Cafeteria.

“By the way,” said Lucas, still wearing a big grin. “What was the source of that cute, friendly little name?”

Felix felt a stab of guilt enter his conscience. But he shook it off. Lake house, kosher hotdogs, happy family. Lake house, kosher hotdogs, happy family. “I’m not sure,” said Felix. “Call it a moment of divine inspiration.”

***

And then, a miracle. Miriam was still alive eight months after Felix had visited the agreeable Ukrainian doctor in Seattle. They were now visiting a different physician. His office was also in Seattle, just across Lake Xachu from West Sammamish.

“It’s like it just went away,” said the new physician, a well-spoken brown gentleman. Felix guessed that he was of Somali descent. “Research in this area of treatment is still going through rapid changes, and there’s still a lot we don’t know, but… the remission occurred without warning. I simply can’t explain it, Dr. Aaronovich. I can only tell you that spontaneous remission does happen, in not uncommon cases, but… this is nothing short of an act of God.”

Felix was standing behind Miriam, who was in a wheelchair, as the physician spoke to them. Dorothy stood next to Felix, nervously clutching a cloth bag full of children’s books.

“I appreciate your kindness, and the help you’ve given us,” said Felix. “You said… how long does she have now?”

“Depends, Dr. Aaronovich,” said the new doctor. “Remission usually lasts for roughly defined periods, but we have models and charts which I can show you.”

“Certainly,” said Felix. “I know something about models and charts. And please, call me Felix.”

After they left the doctor’s office, they celebrated by going out to dinner at a kosher restaurant which Felix could now afford as a G-06 employee. Lucas had followed through on his promise. Miriam was feeling much more chipper, and stronger too, and that made Felix feel happy. As he dined on gourmet falafel and extra sweet kosher wine, Felix made a mental note to ask Lucas over for dinner some time. Felix imagined that he would have to ask if Lucas didn’t mind a blessing being given in the name of Adonai before the meal.

A month later, it was the middle of summer, and Dorothy was off from school. She was so excited when her father came back to their apartment with pictures of their new, pre-furnished lake-house, along with a nice man who would be driving them to it. It was on Rattlesnake Lake, and they would be there for a week, and when they left, they’d be coming home to a nice house in a gated community in suburban Issaquah. No more claustrophobic urban living for the Aaronoviches.

When they arrived, the weather was bright and sunny. Miriam was talking again, laughing and smiling as she and Felix, also in a good mood, chatted about Dorothy’s school, the latest telenovela, and the bits about Felix’s work that he was allowed to talk about outside of the walls of the office. They were just talking excitedly about how Dorothy now had a better chance than ever of getting into the UX when the subject of Lucas Milton came up.

“Your boss is a Satanist, huh?” said Miriam. “That sounds pretty devilish.”

“Was… was that a pun?” said Felix cheerfully. “Did you just make a joke?”

“I did, I did,” said Miriam. “I think I’ll take some time to make up some better ones.”

They came to their lake house, and they settled in. The refrigerator was stocked with fresh fruit, imported soda, and kosher hotdogs. Felix was just about to start cooking the evening meal (he’d always been a good cook), when the doorbell rang.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Who could that be? he thought. Did our driver forget something? I thought he left after we finished unpacking.

But Felix went to the door of the lake-house anyway. Dorothy and Miriam were out on the deck, taking in the late afternoon June sun, which seemed to hover over the lake. When Felix opened the front door, he was greeted by two large women in business attire, with handguns on their belts. Behind them were three big men in uniforms and armored vests marked “XDPA.”

“Are you Felix Aaronovich?” said one of the women, in a dull, monotonous voice. She sounded bored.

“…Yes?” said Felix.

“I’m Brianna,” said the woman who had just spoken, “and this is my partner, Grace. We’re case managers with the Xachu Department of Public Assistance. Can you please come out for a moment?” Brianna delivered her lines in a bored monotone, like she was reading something off of a printed document out loud. “And also,” she said dully, perfunctorily, “what are your preferred pronouns?”

Felix turned around briefly. Dorothy and Miriam were just settling into a pair of lawn chairs on the lake house deck. Dorothy was helping Miriam into hers, when she looked back in Felix’s direction. The two made eye contact.

Felix looked back at the large woman who was talking to him. He never saw Dorothy again.

“Certainly,” said Felix, stepping out of the lake house, closing the door behind him. “And, eh, he, him. What can I do for you, ma’am?”

Brianna nodded, slowly. “Please turn around and put your hands against the wall of the house,” she said.

Felix complied, his heart beginning to beat very, very fast. What was going on?

“Is something wrong?” said Felix as one of the armed, uniformed men patted him down.

“Please be quiet, sir,” said Brianna. Out of the corner of his eye, Felix spotted Brianna turn to another one of the XDPA officers. “Cuff him,” she said quickly.

What?

“Felix Aaronovich,” said Brianna, still in a bored monotone, “you’ll be happy to know that you’ve been selected as a participant in Operation Thrifty. Thanks to a specialized algorithm developed by the PRIX Department of Health, it has been determined that you are an optimal candidate for this new, exciting population economization initiative which the Chief Executive has personally authorized. We would be happy to take you to the location where you will participate in Operation Thrifty. Do you have any questions?”

By this time, Felix had been handcuffed by the armed men, and was being roughly pulled in the direction of a van also marked “XDPA,” along with that institution’s logo and colors. He had become as white as a proverbial sheet.

“There… there must be some kind of mistake!” said Felix. “I’m the Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Office of Science and Data Policy at the Department of Health! I helped design the algorithm! I’m… I’m Jewish! I’m a G-06 government employee! I should be exempt from Operation Thrifty!”

But Brianna only shook her head. “That ain’t a question, honey,” she said as they proceeded towards the van. “If you have a statement, you can give one during the intake interview at the venue where Operation Thrifty is being conducted. Now, do you have any questions?”

Felix began to cry. He had a good idea of what the “venue” for Operation Thrifty would be. The division head whom he’d talked to about the subject had mentioned something about barbed wire fences and guard towers. “Only… only one,” he said weakly. He turned to Brianna, whose face was like a block of granite. “Do you… do you think I’m getting what I deserve?”

Brianna just shook her head. A sliver of sympathy broke through in her eyes. “Oh, honey,” she said, “don’t be sad. I’m not religious, but I… you know, believe in a higher power. I really do believe that everyone eventually gets what they deserve.” Brianna paused for a moment, and then said, “I think Grace over there is a Lutheran, though. Grace?”

“Lapsed,” said Grace, who sounded tired. “Let’s go already.”

Brianna gave Felix a friendly pat on the back as the XDPA officers roughly shoved him into the back of the van. “So, you seem like an alright guy,” she said to Felix, a little more sweetly. “No need to worry, okay?”

Then the door closed, and Felix was left in the back of the van, accompanied by two of the guards and the other case manager, Grace. She looked bored too.

The van trundled along, as Felix wept quietly. Dorothy… he thought. Miriam… why? Why did it have to end like this? What will happen to you both? Grace said nothing, not that she could say something that would comfort Felix.

But Felix said something, and by saying it, he was doing the only thing he could think of which could possibly make things better.

“Hear, O Israel,” said Felix, still crying softly. “The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep… keep these words that I am commanding you today in… in your heart. Recite them to your children and… talk… talk about them when you are at home and when you are away… when… when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them… bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your… your… gates. Amen. A… amen.”

And he repeated these words until he reached his final destination.