In 1923, the first extended discussion of artificial wombs was given. The speaker, one J.B.S. Haldane, who was an English biologist, proposed that an egg could be fertilized outside the womb. He gave his speech, which was entitled “Daedalus, or Science and the Future” from the viewpoint of a student in 2073 writing about advances in biology over the previous 150 years.

His theories of ectogenesis were largely controversial. In 1929 an English memoirist named Vera Brittain wrote an essay that warned that in the wrong hands it could create “designer children.”

Despite the prediction, Haldane had made that ectogenesis would be possible by 1951, progress wasn't good. In fact, it wasn't until 2019 that actual progress was made on artificial wombs when a team of researchers supported an extremely preterm lamb for 5 days. In March of 2021, The New York Times reported that mouse embryos had successfully grown mice from Day 0 of development for 11 days. The full gestation of a mouse is 20 days.

Progress again slowed until 2032, when a team of scientists from Germany and America successfully brought a monkey from Day 0 of development through a successful and healthy birth. Similar tests were performed and it was another 5 years before the first human test.

Helga Stuttgart was 25 weeks into the pregnancy when she was informed she was at risk. A hereditary medical condition that had yet to be determined or recognized gave her gestational diabetes to such an extreme level that she was warned that to carry the child to term was likely going to kill her. Her husband, an accountant for the lab working on the artificial womb project, talked to her, and then they approached the director of the program. Helga volunteered to be the first subject, and the child was successfully transferred to the artificial womb. After recovery, she was allowed to visit the womb every day and look through the clear glass. She could barely see past the glass and the bio-bag inside, but she did catch a glimpse of her baby. She talked to her baby as it grew, encouraging it, telling it all about herself and its daddy. When the child was born healthy, she wept with joy and the world rejoiced.

The ability to save premature babies was now a very real thing.

After multiple other volunteers of women who were about to lose their child, or the child was born prematurely, with a 98% success rate, the manufacture of artificial wombs was begun. In addition to the womb was a wireless speaker that a mother could talk to the child through and the child would hear. Parents would use this to play music to their child, to talk with them, and to form the pre-natal bonds they otherwise would have missed out on.

In 2039, a teenage girl in New York who had just discovered her pregnancy came to Planned Parenthood for an abortion. She'd pushed past the violent mob protesting to get there, but she braved the protesters and went to speak with the social worker. When asked if she was sure, the girl responded, “If I was older, I'd love to keep it, but I'm too young. Ma would kill me.”

The social worker understood and an idea came to her. “What if I could find another way? So that you don't keep the child, don't have an abortion, and don't have to carry the child?”

“That would be perfect, ma'am.” The teenager then waited as the social worker contacted the local hospital and requested the neo-natal department. After a long bit of time, explaining things, she hung up the phone.

“Well,” said the social worker. “They've agreed if you want. You know how they help mothers who have premature children now?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, they're willing to take the child from you and put it in an artificial womb. You can find out if your boyfriend wants it, but if not, we can put the child up for adoption immediately.”

The teenager started crying, showing her first bit of emotion. “That would be wonderful! Knowing the baby's alive, but I won't ruin its life or mine.”

And that was how the first Anteabortum Procedure was performed.

News of this circulated, and soon Planned Parenthood and hospitals experienced a deluge of women who otherwise would have wanted an abortion, but preferred this. “If the man wants it so bad, let him have it,” was a common statement.

The influx was so great that hospitals dedicated solely to the artificial wombs sprung up across the country. They were labeled E.G.G. Hospitals for “Embryonic Growth and Gestation" Hospitals. The problem was what to do when the baby wasn't claimed by the biological father and no adopters came forth.

Congress met and discussed the problem and in a rare show of unity came up with the Anteabortum Rehoming Act (A.R.A.)

In this Act, it was determined that a mother choosing to have an Anteabortum procedure had to undergo a few steps before the procedure was granted. First, the biological father was to be informed. If that biological father wanted the child, he would absorb all financial costs for the development of the embryo into a child and the biological mother would sacrifice all rights, including visitation of the child. She would not be responsible financially, but she was, in truth, giving up her child.

If the biological father refused the child, then the embryo was put on a “Claimant List.” Prospective adopters needed only to pass a screening: mental health, history of alcoholism, history of drugs, history of crime…" and if they passed the screening, they were given an option to adopt the embryo. Upon adopting an embryo, the child would be transferred to the artificial womb and the adopters would absorb all costs, while both biological parents sacrificed all rights, including visitation, unless the child sought them out.

If the embryo reaches 19 weeks and nobody has claimed it, then the mother was given one last chance to keep the child for herself. If she refused, she was then granted a safe abortion. 

There were exceptions, of course. If the mother was an at-risk pregnancy and the abortion would only have been to save her life, she was given the chance to have the child brought into an artificial womb and keep the child herself. She would absorb the costs of the artificial womb, but she'd have her baby and not risk her own life.

If the pregnancy was due to rape, the embryo skipped the biological father phase and went on the claimant list immediately.

This program became very successful. The mob in front of Planned Parenthood died down, though they migrated to the termination clinics located at the E.G.G. hospitals. Some still protested at Planned Parenthood, but it wasn't as bad, nor were they as violent as some of the previous protesters had become.

The fear of designer babies was never realized, as the claimants were never allowed more information than “Race,” “Religion of Parents,” and “Health.” They wouldn't even know if it were a boy or a girl.

In 2042, the first disappearance was recorded. In the following year, 104 artificial wombs suddenly lost their embryos. The wombs had been replaced with empty ones, and nobody could find the ones that held children. 26 each quarter of the year. And odder: it kept happening, every year. In 2045, the number of vanishing children became closer to 144. The extra 40 were sporadic across the year, but it was growing worse as time went on. Security was ramped up on the E.G.G. Hospitals, but somehow nobody was caught.

What's even stranger is that the original 104 vanished children never had any complaints from the claimants. When the names of the claimants were run, they discovered that they were classified. The other 40 had angry claimants who made a stink until they were told they would be at the top of the list for the next claimant stage.

Two years passed with the number of children vanishing increasing, but always in the random cases where there were complaints. The original 104 per year remained at the same number, with absolutely no angry claimants.

August 20, 2066

Janet woke up and found she could not move her legs. She felt a slight itch in her nose and groaned inwardly.

“Gonzo. Get off.” Without opening her eyes she leaned forward and shoved gently at the large ball of brown and black fur snoring across her knees. “Get off. Reverie. Wake up, you old mutt.”

The German Shephard merely turned his head and lolled his tongue at her. Laughter from across the room startled her into opening her eyes. Kyle sat on the edge of his bunk and called over to her, “Maybe you should have been chosen for the K-9 Corps instead of being a computer-ticker.”

“The term is programmer, you numbskull. Now call this damned beast over to you. He's made me want to sneeze.”

“Sure enough,” the thin young man with the blonde buzz cut said, then signaled with his left hand. Amazingly, Gonzo rolled off her legs and padded across to him, slowly. Janet saw the dog was struggling with his aches again and felt a pang of grief. He was an old dog, and even if she were staying in the barracks after role call, she wouldn't have had him in her life long. She may have a mild allergy, but she'd grown to love the lug over the past 12 years.

Now she was going to be moving into a barracks filled with other programming students. She'd been placed in that field, and while it rankled she didn't get top tier, she accepted it. That's what good soldiers did, after all.

She, in fact, all 26 soldiers in her barracks, was now 18. She'd been the last one born, so it was exactly one week after her birthday that they were to relocate into their new squads. For the first time, she'd be with only women. The people she would be with were not all exactly her age. The oldest would be just about to turn 21. She'd be the youngest at 18. She was prepared for this new step in her career. She knew she might be in contact with the 25 people she'd grown up with within the barracks, but it wasn't likely. She was the only one from her group placed in programming, so she had to accept being alone at first. She also was in a MOS which tended to be insular…no other MOS was needed in the squad. These would be the people she might be surrounded with the entirety of her working career. She was used to that.

Janet threw her feet off her bunk, popped out of bed, and dashed to the shower stalls. She liked getting there before others so that she could enjoy the warm water. There were separate stalls for women and men, so she didn't have any hesitation stripping the moment she closed the door behind her. A short, but wonderfully hot shower later, she was dressed, bed made so tight that a pin would bounce, spare boots polished and lined up for inspection, and trunk packed and ready for the move. She stood at the end of her bunk next to the girl who slept beneath her for the past 16 years. 

“Gonna miss you, Benson," she said, using her surname.

"Back atcha, Scholl.” The door opened and they stood at attention, staring straight ahead.

The sergeant stepped in the door and barked out the command: “Chairs - Center Lecture. Now!” With that, all 26 soldiers ran to the back of the room, grabbed a folding chair from the wall rack, and brought them to the middle of the room. They flipped them open, placed them neatly in perfect rows with the two extra seats in the front. Each teen stood in front of their opened chair at attention when completed. The next command: “Sit and listen!” As one, the teenagers sat.

“As you know,” the sergeant began, “today is Moving Day. You'll be heading to the barracks you will live in for the next two years. You'll begin heavy training for your future profession.” He paused and waited as the teens shouted, “Sergeant, yes, sergeant!”

“There's more to Moving Day than just that.” He whistled, loudly, and two soldiers entered, pulling a large cart with duffle bags and boxes on them. As he continued speaking, the soldiers began putting one duffle and one box on each trunk. “Today, you are given a choice. You are officially adults and can decide if you wish to leave us. But before you decide, think carefully. If you leave, you will have to provide for yourself. Food will not be available at any mess hall for you unless you can pay for it. You will have to find work, shelter, buy your clothes, find transportation. We will not provide that for you any longer. If you stay, you will continue to have food, clothing, shelter. You also will get paid.”

The teens all murmured quietly amongst themselves until the sergeant decided they'd had enough time to process that. “Your money will be deposited into a bank account in your name. The box includes your debit card, checkbook, a book on how to manage your finances, and a book about planning your financial future. Your mentors in your new barracks will show you where the PX is and where the bank is. Now, all RISE!"

A moment later, all the teens in the chairs were standing at attention. “If you choose to leave the program, fall out and stand by the exit door, NOW!” He waited. One teenager, Jeremy Cannes, looked as if he were going to leave, but his friend, who stood next to him, whispered: “You'll starve. No free food…and no money.” Jeremy looked at the door, then looked at his friend. Seconds later, he was standing at attention again, having made his decision.

“Now you will take the oath. Repeat after me and insert your name after the word I. I," the sergeant paused as everyone said “I” and their name. "Do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."

The new-made soldiers repeated the oath and seemed to stand up straighter as they finished it.

“Congratulations, soldiers!” the sergeant continued. “Now, each of you will also be eligible to vote in all future elections from this point. In your box, you will find a booklet with all the candidates for our upcoming election. You have all been registered as Independents, but if you choose to switch parties, you may do so. The upcoming election is in November, so I encourage you to read about all the candidates and issues before then and make your decisions. Each document comes from the candidate themselves and has been left unaltered. On election day you will be taken to your polling place and you will cast your vote. Let none tell you who you must vote for, and you tell none who to vote for. Understood?”

“Sergeant, yes, sergeant!”

“Good. Finally, you will head to your bunk, open your trunks. Pack your duffel bag with your uniforms, your shoes, sneakers, and boots. Your toiletries. If you can fit anything else, you can pack it…but what you get in the duffle is what you keep in your new home. FALL OUT!”

All the soldiers stood and ran to their bunks, lifting the trunk lids, and began packing. Janet watched for a moment and saw that when they folded their clothes neatly, or some just shoved the clothes in, the bags seemed to fill fast. An idea came to her and she began taking her folded clothes and rolling them into tight cylinders. She stuck the cylinders upright, packing the clothes tightly in the bottom layer. She smiled as she saw how much space she saved.

She didn't notice how others were suddenly unpacking their duffels and imitating her, but when her last item was in the bag, including all her knick-knacks from growing up, she found she still had a little room. As stealthily as she could, she reached under her pillow and grabbed the bit of fabric there. She shoved it into her duffel and sealed it before anyone could see that she'd kept her first baby blanket. She had some time left over, so she sat on the empty trunk and watched everyone else scrambling around to finish packing.

As the last person closed their duffel, the door opened again and several soldiers came in. One stepped forward, called out ten names. Janet watched as these ten people tossed their duffels over their shoulders and fell in line behind the soldier who'd called them. Janet hadn't spent much of her time talking with them. The squad members she'd spent the most time talking to seemed a bit more intelligent than the ones who'd just left. They were heading to train in combat. They'd be the front-line soldiers who risk their lives in the heat of battle, upfront, and close. Janet didn't envy them.

Another soldier stepped forward and called four names out, then another called for three more. As the room emptied, group by group, Janet became a little anxious. She worried that she'd not fit in. Would she be the outcast of this new group? Would she find anyone to joke around with after the lights were out?

Finally, she was the only one left when the last soldier called her name. She was already up, duffel over her shoulder, and walking towards the soldier at this point. She fell in line and left the barracks she'd called home for 16 of her 18 years behind for the last time. They walked in silence out of the building, which consisted of four barracks, and across the complex. By the sun, she could tell they walked northeast. The hike was long and the duffel was getting heavy, but she'd been trained to deal with hardship as long as she could remember. She was strong enough to make the hike, no matter how long it was, to her new home.

After a two-mile walk, they reached the barracks. It was a newer-looking building, smaller than the building she had lived in. When she entered, she was shown to a room with two single beds, two large wardrobes, and two desks with chairs. Each desk had a computer set up on it. The soldier waved her to the empty bed and said, “Name's Meg Barnford. I'm your mentor and your roommate. Let me show you around, Scholl.”

Janet dropped the duffel on her bed and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it. Now, here's our room. We're the second floor, so you'll get plenty of step exercises in.” Meg flashed Janet a friendly smile that eased Janet's nerves some. “I'll be here another quarter, then you'll have a new roommate closer to your age. By then you'll be ready to mentor her. Now, follow me and I'll show you the privvies.”

The tour Meg led Janet on took her through the barracks, which were two floors of 8 rooms each. There was a common area on each floor with a sitting area, a large table with chairs, and a well-stocked bookshelf. A cabinet held board and card games, which surprised Janet. “We have time for games?"

“Not often, but every once in a while we need to relax to get our brains back.”

“Oh. Thanks.” They continued the tour outside, showing her the local mess hall, and then the PX and bank. “There are four PXs, eight banks, and two clinics. The clinics handle everything from general health, eyesight, hearing, and mental health. If there's an emergency, there's also a hospital on base, but I believe you know that.”

“I do,” Janet smiled, remembering the time she needed her tonsils removed. She had gotten lots of ice cream, and that made the experience fun.

“I suggest you keep at least two-thirds of your pay from each check. We don't get much, and after you hit retirement, you're going to want to be able to buy things. You can also invest, but that's something we can get into later.”

By the time the two returned to their room, it was already getting dark and Janet was exhausted. She unpacked as quickly as she could. The wardrobes opened to include hanging spaces, shelves, and drawers. There was a small safe in the bottom of the hanging space area, with a key attached to it. She didn't have much of value to put in there, but Janet took the key and hid it in the back of the wardrobe.

The last thing she did before getting ready for bed was slipping the baby blanket under her pillow. The next day was bound to be a long one and she wanted plenty of rest.

December 5, 2066

“Did you check for missing semi-colons?” Janet lay on her bed with her arm across her eyes. It was late, and Tanya was still struggling with her homework. As her mentor, she had to stay awake with her to help her…at least for the first month, but they'd been up well past midnight every night since the girl arrived.

She was only a few months younger than her, but Janet was beginning to think of her as a child. She was cute and had a little baby voice that grated on her nerves, she had obviously just squeaked by on the P-Test because it took several times before she understood what was being taught. And she always forgot to check for missing semi-colons in her code when it didn't work.

“Yes,” Tanya replied, though hesitantly.

“Let me see.” Janet climbed out of her bed and peered over the girl's shoulder at the code.

“Line 426. Missing semi-colon. And why did you use a GIVE command there? Also, you should be using Classes more. Procedural programming is bulky and inefficient. Classes let you re-use code.” Janet sighed inwardly. It was a month into the girl's classes, and she was still back at the rank beginner phase. Until the previous week, she'd discounted her frustration with Tanya's incompetence as her own intellectual snobbery. She was four months into her own training, but was programming at levels equal to those who'd been there over a year.

“Oh.” Tanya fixed her error, and began struggling to create the Class. Janet refused to do the work for her, so she slumped into her seat at her own desk and clicked the power on.

While most of the programming they did was in the proprietary military coding language MPL+, they were also encouraged to learn some of the more commonly used languages, such as ASP, PHP, C#, and Java. Janet found those easy as well, as MPL+ was a sort of combination of all of them, with distorted names to make hacking more difficult. Almost any programmer would know the commands “Put” and “Get,” but they wouldn't know that this language had shifted those to “Give” and “Snag.”

So, weary as she was, Janet opened up her pet project. She was creating a program that would analyze a recording of someone speaking a language, translate it to include determining if there were curses in the language and transcribe it into a separate file, classifying it for sensitive material automatically. While it seemed easy, she had to figure out how to get the program to first determine the language used and whether the language was real or a code. She'd begun this project a few days ago to challenge herself, and she was well on her way to getting that element perfected.

Janet often focused so deeply on her coding that she lost track of everything around her, so when her roommate and mentee tapped her shoulder, she reacted instantly. She came to her senses to see the girl flat on her back on the floor, looking up at her in fear.

“I'm sorry. I was so focused I didn't hear you approach, and you know. Training.” Janet held her hand out and helped Tanya up. “Next time, toss a ball of socks at me instead. Much safer.”

“After that, it might be a ball of dirty socks.”

Janet's pale blue eyes shot wide at the unexpected joke, then she snorted and laughed. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“I can't get it to work right, but I can't stay awake much longer. And you need sleep. I guess I'll have to stay late for help after all.”

“Can I ask you something?” Janet tilted her head, curious. “Do you even like programming?”

“Hell, no. But that's where they put me.”

“Let me speak to the squad leader. I wonder if they can transfer you to something you'd like better…be better at. What do you like?”

“Languages. I love languages. I listened to you as you read languages out loud for your project, and I'm beginning to understand some of what you say."

“Which language?”

“You were researching Spanish." Tanya smiled. “Recuerdo un poco.” Janet almost smiled at how proud she looked when she said it. And she had to admit, Tanya's accent was impeccable, based upon what she'd researched.

“Muy bien.”

“Gracias!” The two women laughed as they finally climbed into bed for the night.