Unworthy: Marked to die. Raised to survive. by Joanne Armstrong Read Free Book Online Page A

track.
    “What did they name the baby?”
    “Bethany,” he answers.
    “That’s nice,” I say. It’s a pretty name. “How is she?”
    “Good, I think,” he shrugs. “The vaccine is obviously working, she’s got no spots or anything.”
    I shake my head. “You know that sometimes a weakness doesn’t show itself till later, and sometimes there are no symptoms at all.”
    He stops and turns to face me. “I know that’s happened once, Dia, but it’s very rare. The doctors almost always get it right. Bethany is fine; she’s not going to die. She’s strong.”
    “She’s strong,” I murmur. “I hope so.”
    He puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles down at me. “Why don’t you come over and meet her this afternoon?”
    “I’d better not,” I say. “You don’t want me near just in case…”
    “You know I don’t believe that rubbish about you being dangerous to babies. And nor does Chloe,” he says sharply.
    “Well, still. Just in case.” I never go near newborns if I can help it. But this is different, this is Chloe’s baby; Bastian’s niece. I want to meet her, I’m just scared.
    “It’s alright,” he says gently. “It’s safe to love her. She’s not going to die.”
    I swallow and realise that he’s seen through my reluctance correctly. When a baby is marked as ill or weak, it serves as warning for others not to get too close - both physically and emotionally. There is the minute risk of contamination from a sick child, although extremely unlikely as the rest of the population have already proven their resilience. The emotional risk is more subtle. The cross reminds a family not to become too attached. The next sunset will come all too quickly.
    If the baby does survive, the mark has implications as s he grows up, as I know so well. As a very active child, the first law that I became aware of was that there was no medical attention available to me. Grandad gave up trying to keep me out of situations that could result in injury and so over time we both became very thankful for his healing skills and herbal remedies.
    “You’d think a baby would have proven that it’s strong by recovering from the newborn illnesses!” I say in frustration. “Why is a marked child not celebrated as a survivor, rather than outcast as a weakling?”
    Bastian considers my outburst thoughtfully for a moment. “I suppose it has its roots in history. The Polis wanted to make sure that our limited resources were being used on raising the strong rather than the weak, but there is more to it than that. The ancients had let all babies live – even the weak ones. In a time of such prosperity, physical weakness and anomalies were never discouraged. Children with weaknesses such as allergies grew to fragile adults with susceptibility to diseases, and they passed them on. Each generation was weaker and less physically able than the last. All relied on medical intervention for survival. Essentially, our species was weakening.”
    I’ve stopped and am staring at him. Bastian isn’t one for long speeches, but aside from that, he sounds like he’s swallowed a text book. A Polis text book.
    “So what you’re saying is…” I start slowly, wondering if he’s really saying what I think he’s saying.
    “That the Polis has the long game in mind. They are working to strengthen our species.” He’s nodding now, pleased that I seem to have caught on to his point.
    I can only accept so much Polis adoration in one session. “It’s for the good of the species then?” He sounds like he’s talking about breeding horses.
    “Yes, every generation we’re getting stronger rather than weaker. The ancients had it the wrong way round.” He catches sight of my Mark, which I am holding out to him, and sees the look in my eye. He stops.
    “Should I take my own life now then? For the good of the species?” I say quietly, never taking my eyes off his face.
    He has the grace to look abashed, and his face is reddening. For a