The Numbered

Chapter One

Seventeen Years Earlier.

"You're ten centimetres dilated, Diana. You may start to push as soon as you feel the urge," instructed the midwife.

Through tired, blurry eyes Diana looked over to her husband for encouragement and received a smile.

"Not long now, darling," her husband, John whispered. He gave her hand a small squeeze.

The reassurance wasn't enough. The fluttering fear in the pit of her stomach that she was so desperately fighting worsened.

"But what if she isn't perfect, what if something is wrong?" she gasped, as the wave of pain rose up again.

"Hush, my love, she'll be perfect I promise."

Diana closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and bore down on the pain that had begun to consume her.

"That's it. Breathe through it and push out from your bottom. Yes, good, keep it going," instructed the midwife.

And then the urge had gone again, albeit a momentary respite. Diana opened her eyes to the yellow artificial glow and saw the top of the midwife's head at the bottom of the bed behind the green screen.

"John, I'm scared," she said, her words rushed, as the bite of pain returned.

"Mrs Page, you must concentrate solely on the birth of your daughter and nothing else," came a smooth, formal voice from somewhere near the door.

The consultant had finally arrived in the room and went straight to the bank of monitors to the left of the bed.

"Your scans show no abnormalities, the gene testing came back clear and your joint SPR rating is 98.9. My dear, you should not concern yourself."

Even while panting, in the middle of excruciating pain, and feeling the tell-tale stinging sensation that the baby was close, she winced when the consultant reminded her of their score. Good, but not quite good enough, and that was why they were in this room, on this floor of the hospital. Had their score been higher, she'd have been in a more comfortable bed and allowed a more effective pain medication.

The SPR score was everything. Allocated at birth and re-evaluated every year, it determined the quality and longevity of a person's life, their freedoms, and their right to procreate. The score decreased throughout a person's life, and was based on criteria that the general population were not privy to. The government would regularly change the criteria when they deemed it necessary to support an optimum standard of human life. Everything came down to a simple percentage.

Diana was no longer worrying, now totally focused on pushing the pain away. She panted like an animal as she delivered the head, and after two more pushes and a sudden release, the midwife announced that the baby had arrived. Diana fell back limply against the pillow, trying to catch her breath as John wiped her brow with a damp flannel.

In line with hospital policy, the midwife shielded the baby from the parents behind the screen. Having checked the baby's airways, she wrapped it in a towel, placed it on the evaluation trolley and pushed the trolley to the waiting consultant.

"The evaluation process should take thirty minutes, Mrs Page. I will be back then to give you our findings," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. This was a process he carried out at least twice a day for many years.

As the consultant he wheeled the trolley out of the room, the baby gave its first cry. The sound echoed down the sparse corridor.

"John, our baby, that's our baby girl!" Diana began to sob as the desperate feelings of separation swamped her.