text: (WP) Kill ‘Em With Kindness People were saying that it was something like a miracle, that we’d been blessed beyond measure, when the crime rates started to drop. Religious people thought had they’d achieved The Rapture, or reached enlightenment. Our tiny town was special now, and not just for the many tasty varieties of pie. But then, it began to spread, a sickness that killed dark impulses and tore up violence by its roots in humanity. People prone to rage and violence were suddenly docile, and at first, no one could figure out why it was happening. I’d felt bad for scientists before now, but now they were overwhelmed and funding for their research was scarce. Prison wardens and nurses reported record lows as they observed their newly kind and gentle wards. It was like something out of a dream, until we realized the fallout that came from such a virus spreading throughout the global population. World peace began to spread, but as a result, it left the people affected with the inability to bear children. We should’ve known that something so drastic came with a hell of a sting at the end of it. There were some people that thought lifelong infertility was but a small price to pay for the world peace we’d all spent years working toward, but others were angry, bitter. I didn’t know how I felt about it, myself: I’d decided long ago that I didn’t want children, because the world had seemed like such an ugly place when I was growing up. But this: Some said that we’d achieved the utopia our ancestors had dreamed of eons ago. But what was the point, if the human race could no longer reproduce? I sat in the waiting room at the doctor’s, waiting for my test results. There was almost no testing that existed now that didn’t require a waiting period. I picked up a magazine and flipped through it listlessly, reading articles that were years out of date. The only noise I could hear over the ringing in my ears was the insistent, incessant *tick, tick, tick* of the clock. An eternity passed before the nurse came out, calling my last name. “Reynolds?” She called; there was no need, really; there was no one there but me. But I stood up, the magazine falling out of my lap. Before I could pick it up, she was walking down the hall, and I hurried to keep up. She led me to a small room with flowery, vintage wallpaper, and had me sit down on a bed while she took my vitals. “Dr. La Mer will be in to talk about your results in a moment.” She said, giving me a small, sympathetic smile before walking out of the room, closing the door behind her. After another short wait, the doctor in question entered the room. He was tall and thin, with long, bony hands and a gentle smile. His eyes, bright hazel, twinkled; he looked entirely too happy. “I have good news for you, Miss Reynolds.” He said, beaming at me. “Your results are negative, so you’re free and clear to have a child, if that’s what you wish.” My stomach dropped at his words. Was I a bad person for wishing that the results had been positive? Some people would kill for the chance to have a healthy child, and here I was, disappointed over it.