Part 2: Control

Part 2: Control

Tuesday afternoons were always slow. In years past, Kevin worried about the post lunch lull in business, but that was when the lease had been new and creditors were dark figures in highrise offices plotting his demise. Now he just called his landlord “Bob” and couldn’t envision the man plotting anything more devious than sneaking off his diet. The quiet time had grown on him. It allowed Kevin time to clean his little pharmacy after the hubbub of the lunch run, but it was bit of a relief to hear the digital bong of someone entering.

Kevin propped his push-broom against an aisle of rubbing alcohol and cotton balls and took to straightening his white lab coat. He knew his halo of white hair was a ruckus, but he could only worry about things in his control.

He had to step quick to keep up with the young woman who’d entered. She passed the aisles of candies and second-rate movie disks to head straight back to the pharmacy counter. There she stood like like a cattail in a bog—straight and sure with only a slight rocking with the breeze. Kevin smiled awkwardly as he pushed through the counter door, “How can I help you today?”

She could have been no older than twenty, her skin chalky white and dark hair pulled up in sloppy pony-tail, and deep plum circled her eyes. She didn’t look him in the eye. “I need some elixir.” Her hand delved deep into a coat pocket and pulled a ungainly wad of small bills that wafted to the counter.

It all sat so wrong. Kevin sold dozens of viles of elixir daily. Some buyers were cheery, bashful, embarrassed, purposeful, or giddy. True, the elixir had been available for just over ninety days but he’d seen so many requests come though that he felt he knew it now, and this girl didn’t fit. She wasn’t a girl looking to invite a baby into the world. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to grill customers on what they asked for, and questioning a request for elixir was a very new yet potent taboo. Undeterred, he drew a quick breath, “Looking to get pregnant?”

Her glare was acid. For a moment Kevin feared she would combust, lash out, vomit a tirade about respect and stomp out, but then her features softened and she cast a glance back over her shoulder. He followed her gaze out the glass doors and up to the curb. An old 2010 model pickup was stopped in front of the store, the driver sat with an obviously impatient air about him.

The girl said only, “Please?”

And he understood. In a broken mote of a moment he knew what brought her to him, and what he had to do. Without knowing he meant to, Kevin said, “I can help you ...

... with lemonade.”

He may as well of started pantomiming trapped in a glass box for the look she gave him, but he didn’t let it stop him. As he moved out into the store he motioned for her to follow. She scrambled to followed him to the tall, glass-door refrigerators. Among the Mylar bags of Coca-cola products there rested an often neglected shelf of breakfasty beverages. Long-time tradition served the citrus drinks in 12 ounce plastic cups with a pullback foil lid. He swung the door open, his excitement fogging the door in the second it took to snatch one serving of lemonade from the shelf.

The girl was just caught up to him when he clapped the door closed, and reversed direction back to the pharmacy. Behind the counter there was the box that contained the elixir. It was white and green with impressionist leaves and doves all printed on high-gloss—therefore the 1 by 3 inch sticker that showed the contents peeled off easily. He placed the sticker on the lemonade lid, aligned it carefully, and smooshed in on.

It was a poor counterfeit, and it wouldn’t fool anyone for long. But it didn’t need to. He slid it down the counter like a gold-rush barkeep slinging whiskey. His sense of accomplishment took only a small dent when she asked, “What’s this?”

He composed himself and replied, “It’s lemonade, and it won’t do a damn thing but get him off your back. This is all I have right now, but if you come back in a few days I’ll have more.”

Her breath quickened, and a small panic infected her voice. “He knows what the stuff looks like.”

“No, don’t worry. This is a new, flavored product. And it’s all I have. That is what you want isn’t it?”

The cogs of her mind ground and groaned, but slowly peace came to her. “Yeah, that’s what I want.”

* * *

“You won’t believe this,” Courtney growled as she stomped up to his desk. She slammed a sheet of paper onto his desk like she wished it harm.

Doctor Archibald Mercer had to struggle away from what he’d been reading to turn his attention to his college’s paper. The Department of Human Health and Continuation had been created a year ago in order to coordinate hundreds of studies on the infertility plague, but it had taken a cure to make him really busy.

Archibald adjusted the spectacles on his nose. Her paper was an AP story, but she curtailed his reading by raging, “There’s a town in Utah that is trying to add elixir to the culinary water supply.”

He didn’t allow her to derail his concentration—by now he was accustomed to the younger Deputy Director’s passions. According to the article the city council had presented the idea at a public meeting, and the proposal was widely approved, but there was no firm plan to implement it yet. He couldn’t help a mild chuckle, “Maybe we should get them in touch with this company. I just got a report of a company in Georgia that has started production on a pseudo-elixir that looks just like the real thing with no affect at all.”

It was hard to believe that her face could get any more purple, but darken it did. “What? Why?”

“Exactly this. A pharmacist came up with the idea specifically to prevent women from being medicated against their wills. Now there’s court cases being filed. Some people want an injunction to assure that this won’t fool people seeking real elixir, and the opposition says if there’s a way to see the difference it won’t serve it’s purpose. There are counter-suits to stop in the injunction, and further suits saying that the creation of such a product is reckless.” He could only sigh, shake his head, and tsk quietly to himself.

Courtney was more outraged than ever. She stood with her teeth clenched and a hard set to her eyes. She was always good at thinking things through, then fervently fighting for the side she determined right. That was a good thing.

“Think about it tonight. We’re going to be getting calls from the Senate and the White House tomorrow, and we want to have these things thought through.”