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Ly
The Expatriation Office is in a heavily fortified compound. There are concrete barriers on the sidewalk. Thick walls and razor wire. Soldiers are everywhere with machine guns. We park in a large, mostly empty, lot outside the walls. “I love you,” I whisper.
Ly
Only Ly
Individuals make the long walk from the walled compound to the waiting area, and the near constant flow of hopelessness is overwhelming. One person after another approaches, shakes his or her head, and then breaks down, soon joined by others’ screams, wails, and tears. No one commits suicide while I watch, but the dead eyes are almost as bad.
A few people walk in with good news, but they are subdued, their happiness tempered out of respect for the walking dead around them. Still, the hushed cries and tears are of happiness, and it is oddly uplifting. As a young man walks in and nods his head, a woman rushes over and throws herself in his arms. I am genuinely happy for them and wonder where they will settle. London? Tokyo? Madrid? Moscow? It doesn’t matter. They walk out with a future.
And there is Ly
She hugs me, and I cry.
A couple in another car pull in as we walk across the parking lot, Ly
I don’t remember the trip home. I don’t remember much at all. I just hold Ly
I am filled with more happiness than I knew was possible as the love of my life will be safe and this wonderful amazing woman who has filled my life with such joy will not have her light go out due to the cruelty of the heavens or fate or whatever has decreed that life is now nothing more than a lottery she will live she will live she will live.
• • • •
A few days later, Ly
“Hey, what’s up? Slow news day?” I smile. There is no longer such a thing as a slow news day.
“I quit.”
I put my book down and stand up. “What? Why?”
“The government has commandeered all of Star News’ North American transportation to maximize expatriation efforts.”
I collapse back on the couch. “Oh.” There goes any hope of the company getting us out.
“They fucking lied to me, Em. They knew this was going to happen for weeks.
My boss knew
! They just were negotiating how late they would have to wait before handing over the keys to the government.” She slams her fist into the wall. “They knew.
They fucking knew
!”
“Then why didn’t they fly us out earlier?”
“I don’t know. Because they’re evil bastards. Because I was doing my job too well. Does it matter?” She sits down next to me. “We’re
fucked
.”
I put my arms around her and rest my head on her shoulder. “No we’re not. You’re safe. That’s something. And my appointment is in a few days.” I had hoped my appointment wouldn’t matter, but now it would be the single most important moment of my life. Ly
She
is
crying now. I hold my palm against her cheek. We kiss, and there isn’t anything else to say.
• • • •
When we arrive for my appointment, I leave Ly
her
turn to wait amongst the desperation. During my walk to the gate I think about the unfairness of it all. This entire trip would be u
I go through a metal detector, a magnetic resonance sca
I walk up to a guard at a booth on the other side of the security room and hand him my ID. He looks at it and then at my face. He nods and swipes the license through a magnetic stripe reader. “Room 5A.” He points to his left. “Down the hall and make a right.” He hands my ID back and waves to the person behind me.
I enter room 5A. Ly
“Ms. Hollister. Nice to meet you. I’m Sam.” He stands to greet me and sits down only after I say hello and seat myself.
He proceeds to recite a script about the background of the Meyer Asteroid, the difficulty in dealing with the scope of such a catastrophe, and how if the government could relocate everybody then, my goodness, of course they would.
But they can’t, he notes, and he continues to go on about the origin of the Expatriation Lottery, why it’s not perfect but that it’s the best anyone could come up with.
He says all this with a natural cadence and a pleasant voice. He’s friendly, and I’m rather fond of how sympathetic he sounds as he outlines something that will kill hundreds of millions of people. But before he can continue with his well-worn script, I stop him.
“Now Sam, is it
really
the best the government could come up with?” I ask the question with my most pleasant politically-honed voice.
“Well, um, yes it is. We are a democratic country, and we wanted to give everyone an equal chance.”
“But you get to emigrate even if you don’t win the lottery when your other family members win. Is that fair?”
“Well, you see, Ms. Hollister, it would be a real tragedy to break apart families. Certainly you can understand that.”