Like the other hundreds of girls at the Center, I would become a womb incubator for the Composite project.
“You’ll go in every three or four months,” Leslie explained during recess that day. “The schedule depends on how many capsules are available. You’ll be taken into the surgical theater—”
“Theater?”
“They call it a theater. I don’t know why. Once you’re in there, they play music, lullabies usually. The doctors pretend to be very nice and kind, but really they only care about getting the fertilization to succeed. It doesn’t always, and when it does, the offspring most often die within a few days. It’s depressing.” She stretched her feet in front of her and raised her cheeks to the sunshine. “When each round is over, you get to come here for a while to recover until a new capsule is av
