short story - argent

Argent was not really sure if they wanted to procreate in this lifetime. Lecture upon lecture of the biological imperative, performed by their father and echoed by their mother after his father had lost his grip onto the mortal coil and shot off into the void of the non-living, had largely turned the aging teen off of the idea. But now, a year into the rest of their life in the age of majority, Argent was faced with a dilemma. They had never felt an urge to spawn or pass on their genetic code, but had always held to the side the potential that their mind would change as they developed and life turned to new directions and priorities. It was very clear that they did not want children now. However, now was the only time, they discovered, they would have that opportunity. Over the past several months, Argent had been facing medical symptoms that had as of late become increasingly dire. They had postponed consulting with a professional or anyone of expertise for as long as willfully possible, but the will eventually bends to the needs of the body; the biological imperative of survival was not one Argent was entirely devoid of. At least, not since gaining the economic and interpersonal freedom that had accompanied adulthood. So Argent, aware that a long path of what would hopefully be considerable as recovery was no longer on the horizon but mere inches away, had to enter the ultimate decision-making process of whether to sire children, definitively. Of course the first options considered to keep hold of their refusal to answer said question were run down in order, but there was no success in freezing or extracting or reverse-engineering; no traditional delays were available. The choices were to go through with the process of creating a child or children post-haste, or forever hold their peace. On the last day of attempts to elude the ending of the era of avoidance, Argent mused to their physician that perhaps a child could be suspended rather than the fragments of DNA required to create said child. Being that the intent was to freeze the child until such time as Argent decided whether they actually wanted to have children, the potential for that decision concluding in the negative and what actions would be taken at such time worried the doctor enough to request that Argent leave the premises and not return under threat of, at most friendly, adjudication. Evidence was mounting that Argent, should they at any point wish to have generational offspring, would need to take it upon themselves to… well. This task, should they decide they had the intention to execute, had multifold challenges, not least of which being their complete (and not internally controversial) disinterest in the acts and practices necessary for procreation. They also weren’t ready to divulge the nature of their very personal medical struggles to any potential partners of that type, thus would have to feign interest in such things to achieve this relatively urgent goal. They needed to learn how to simulate human behaviours they had never had the most minute interest in mirroring. Argent approached the task with the tools with which they had familiarity; they unlocked their smartphone as they flitted away from the litigious physician’s office, dodging kempt sentries and launching over a small retaining wall. They touched the screen a few times, turning on wifi and keying in to the local coffeeshop’s connection as they rounded a corner and ducked into the baristas’ entry of the café. The shop had some isolated chairs tucked into corners for focus and privacy, and they slid into a particularly remote one and installed a few applications. They created a short description heavily laden with Wilde quotes, and published the most visually appealing pictures of themselves they could find. A few esoteric references and well placed puns, and their profile was complete and live across the internet. No matches illuminated their screen. Several hours later, Argent sat in the chair in the electrically lit café, the light outside fading, their motivation to succeed in their task disappearing with it. Pokes, likes, superlikes, and even a few premium memberships sat, unmatched, unnoticed, ignored. They called a friend, who suggested they let it sit overnight as many of the prospectives only used that method of communicating in the depths of loneliness under cover of darkness. Argent tucked the phone into a pocket and twiddled their thumbs anxiously until a barista’s darting eyes drew their attention. They understood they had overstayed their welcome without a single purchase, and dropped a twenty on the bar as they sauntered out. The city was slow at night. Quarantine had shut down the night life, and it wasn’t coming back at any great speed. There was not much to do but wander the streets, listen for gunshots, and brace oneself against the chill November winds. They did so, meandering until their feet were sore and their ears both numb and burning concurrently. Eventually, they found their way back home, climbing the stairs and avoiding the piles of debris lining the hallways. They collapsed into their bed, checking the applications one more time. A few matches had sprung up, and they tried flirting back. One unmatched right away. Another seemed mildly intrigued. Argent blocked them and uninstalled the application. They would call the doctor in the morning, and schedule their hormones next week. Children weren’t worth the effort.