"It's Inhuman!"

The time had come when the process of creating and raising a child could be performed completely free of human beings, thanks to the wonder of the Human Cultivation Facilities, though most people just called them “farms”. Donated sperm fertilized a donated egg sitting in an artificial womb, the incubator nurturing the fetus until it had matured to the point of birth. Childcare robots catered to every need of the children, physical, emotional, and educational. Although the farms were highly controversial at first, they proved hugely successful in their origin of Japan. It wasn’t too long until the United States had legalized farms as well, and by now there were fewer souls in the country who remembered natural birth than there were states.

It had only been a few years since young Albert Crohn reached the age to leave the farm, and for want of a better career he went back in, as assistant to his local farm’s administrator.

“Here’s your coffee, Mrs. Barsi!” Albert said as he entered the main office.

“Call me Jill,” the administrator offered as she took the coffee from Albert’s hands, not once averting her gaze from the enormous window that allowed her to oversee the farm’s nursery.

“J…Jill?” stammered Albert. “Could I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” she answered, still not turning her eyes towards Albert. “What is it?”

“Why do we have farms anyway?” he asked. Without warning, Jill turned her chair around to face Albert.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just…” Albert searched his mind to find the words he wanted. “It seems strange to raise kids like this. Never knowing who their parents are. Never even really seeing an adult until they become one themselves, you know?”

“Well, the Japanese invented the farms to combat their steadily declining birthrate,” she explained. “Too many couples were unwilling to have children, so why not just…have children without them?”

“But there was never a declining birthrate here,” countered Albert. “I don’t think, at least.”

“Well, the decision to import the farms to the United States allowed us to analyze the donated gametes and find the best potential genetic match-ups, insuring the production of the best children, you could say. More important, though, is the…”

“‘THE BEST CHILDREN?!’” interrupted Albert in shock. “Is that what this whole mess is? Some strange Nazi factory?”

“No, Albert, it isn’t like that,” assured Jill calmly. “The biggest reason is…”

“Shut up!” shrieked Albert. “I don’t want to hear it! I can’t believe I’ve bothered working for a place as horrible as this! Breeding children like machines without the care of their parents! It’s inhuman!”

Albert stepped out of the room. Jill chased after him, pleading for him to come back, but eventually realized it was a futile effort. She returned to her office and continued watching the nursery, and Albert left the farm, never to return again.


“And so she said it was to create the best possible children!” Albert said later that day as he regaled the tale to Myra. The two of them had been living together since the day they were deemed adults by the farm. They weren’t married, and not even entirely sure how to be, but for all intents and purposes the pair could’ve been seen as husband and wife.

“Sounds awful,” Myra said apathetically as she took two beers from the refrigerator. “So the whole farm thing’s like a crazy experiment?” She handed a bottle to Albert, which he seized, opened, and drank without hesitation.

“Yeah. It just…it just pisses me off, you know?” Albert said, already feeling the effects of the drink. “I wonder what it’d be like if I didn’t grow up in that damn farm. I bet…I bet my dad would’ve been the greatest, you know? I could’ve seen him walking down the street once, but I’ll never know it’s him. I…I can’t believe they took my life away for some wacked-out science shit, you know?” He took another swig of his beer.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” asked Myra as she put her arm around Albert’s shoulder. “Tell the news or something?”

“I have a better idea,” Albert said as his eyes widened, turning to face Myra. “Everyone loves the farms so much they’re not willing to make a kid naturally anymore, but it’s not against the law or anything. Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“Let’s have our own kid. Let’s show them that no baby farm can match the love of good old human parenting.”

“Well, Albert…” Myra replied hesitantly, brushing at her ragged red hair. “I don’t really know. I mean, it sounds like you’re out of a job, and I don’t feel like I’m ready for a kid.”

“Finding a new job’s easy,” assured Albert. “And besides, it’s perfect. We’ll be the heroes who proved a point. We can…we can set an example to follow. We’ll let the farms rust from disuse. I mean…we can’t let kids grow up like that anymore. It’s inhuman.”


Seven years had passed since Albert and Myra had given birth to young Marvin Crohn. Albert had gotten a job cleaning up at a hospital, and made a decent sum from it. Myra took up the duty of homeschooling the child (all the schools were part of the farms, and Albert flat-out refused to let his son into the place he reviled so.

“So Jupiter’s the really big planet…” Marvin said, reciting the lesson he learned.

“That’s right…” complimented Myra. For any other flaws in her life, she enjoyed teaching her son. Most of the information in these books were new even to her.

“And Saturn is the one with the big rings!”

“Yes! Good job!”

“Saturn…Saturn…” the child repeated to himself. “Mommy, why do the planets have all these funny names?”

“I don’t really know, sweetie,” said Myra. “Maybe we can find another book wi…” she stopped speaking as she heard the sound of a car rolling up the driveway. “Oh! Your father’s home!” she whispered. The previously talkative Marvin immediately grew silent.

“Open,” said Albert in a slurred tone. The door opened to his command, and Albert staggered in, a half-empty bottle of beer clutched in one hand.

“Hi honey!” welcomed Myra warmly.

“Yeah, yeah,” dismissed Albert. “What’s for dinner?”

“Oh, I was going to start dinner when I finished the boy’s science lesson.”

“‘I was going to start dinner when I finished the boy’s science lesson!’” repeated Albert mockingly. “What the hell have I told you? I’ve told you a hundred times, haven’t I? I want dinner when I’m home! I’m fucking late getting back and you still haven’t started!”

“And why are you late?” asked Myra, looking at the bottle in Albert’s hand. “Did anything happen at work?”

“Shut up!” screamed Albert, backhanding Myra. “You want to teach the brat so much? I’ll teach him,” he said as he looked through the pile of textbooks and pulling out one for math.

“He’s in the middle of his science lesson right now,” corrected Myra, trying to get back on her feet.

“Shut up!” repeated Albert as he turned through the textbook inattentively. “Here we are. Division.”

“He hasn’t started multiplication yet!” interrupted Myra again.

“SHUT UP!” Albert boomed. “Why don’t you show some fucking respect for the man of the house for once?” Myra looked at her husband with tears fighting to leave her eyes. She still remembered the young man proclaiming himself as the hero to destroy the farms. They showed up on the news a lot, at first. The parents of the first natural baby in years were a brief sensation, but public interest waned almost as quickly as it first exploded. No couples tried to follow their example. The farms went on. And the product of their failed plan stayed with them.

“All right. Division,” began Albert. “This is…this is finding out how many times a number goes into a bigger number. Got it? What’s twelve divided by four?”

“…I’m not sure how to do that,” complained Marvin softly.

“It’s finding out how many times a number goes into a bigger number,” repeated Albert. “Jesus, what’s the point of all these school lessons if you’re going to be so dumb? Shows what you get learning from your mother, though,” he chuckled as he looked back at his wife, who still hadn’t managed to summon the emotional strength to stand up again.

“Twelve divided by four,” Albert asked again. Marvin sat at his desk, saying nothing.

“TWELVE DIVIDED BY FOUR!” boomed Albert.

“A…all right…” whispered Marvin. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t try! Do it!”

Marvin sat thoughtfully, piecing together his own way to solve the equation as best he could.

“…Eight?” he answered.

“Wrong!” yelled Albert as he slapped Marvin in the face. “What’s the matter with you? You want to be a failure?” he asked loudly as he gave his son a sharp poke in the chest.

“That’s your problem! You think you can fuck up without consequences! What do you want me to say, kid, huh? ‘Good job you got it wrong?’ Hell no!” He punched Marvin in the stomach. Deciding it was pointless to try to prevent it, he began to cry.

“Don’t cry!” he hissed, punching the child in the face. “Be a man! You think I’m going to feel sorry for you?” He picked Marvin up, placed him on his knee, and repeatedly spanked him. Myra reached for her pocket.

“I’m doing this because I love you, you see? I don’t want you to be a failure! You start doing badly in school, then soon enough you’re in prison and getting raped up the butt by old men! If a kid does something wrong, his father should punish him, right?” Marvin couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“…Right?” Albert repeated. Marvin worked up the strength.

“I didn’t…”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!” Albert boomed.

“…Right.” Marvin said, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Right,” Albert said, throwing Marvin into a closet and locking it. He panted heavily before hearing the sound of distant sirens.


“If there’s anything we can do for you, please let us know,” said one of the policemen, briefly glancing as his partner placed Albert into the back of their car.

“Thank you, officer,” said Myra with exasperation. “Can…can I still visit the kid in the farm?”

“Of course,” the officer assured her. As Myra returned to her house the elder officer pulled out a notepad and pencil he always carried in his pocket and began to prepare the early draft of his report.

“Marvin...Crohn...” he mumbled to himself as he wrote. "Son of...Albert..."

“The father of the first natural babies since the farms came,” said the younger officer once their criminal was secure. “Never imagined I’d end up catching someone like that.”

“I’m not too surprised,” said the first policeman, briefly stopping from writing to wipe some sweat off his wrinkled forehead. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-five, sir,” his partner answered. “Why?”

“I can’t believe I haven’t retired yet,” mumbled the older officer half to himself. “You may not believe it, kid, but I was a natural birth.”

“Really?” responded the younger officer with astonishment.

“Yep. And it’s a miracle I turned out the way I did. I have a…dim remembrance of those days. You know how they say the farms are to make the best matches, or whatever?”

“I do.”

“I’m sure that’s a part of it, but it’s hardly the main reason why they brought it to the States.” The elder officer said, still fixated on his notepad.. “The problem wasn’t with the children, but with the parents themselves. There were good parents, to be sure, but there were too many who didn’t really see their kids as human beings. More possessions than anything. And if you want to break your toys, you can. There were thousands, hell, millions of kids attacked regularly by the only people on Earth who, no matter what, are supposed to love them. Most kids like that never grew up psychologically normal. Even beat kids themselves later on, maybe. And those were the kids lucky enough to survive.”

“That sounds awful,” said his partner softly.

“No kidding. That’s why we had to get rid of the old way of raising children,” the officer said as he put away his notepad, turning to face his partner. “It’s inhuman.”