Radiation Children

1

Welcome to the Witheree Family Morning Routine: normalcy sprinkled with Luka's frantic search for his phone. He lost it all the time. I don't know how—Mom set out a special box for him on the kitchen counter to put his phone in when he wasn't using it, but Luka isn't even responsible enough for that. Dad consistently tells him with flippant indignation that a community college student shouldn't lose his phone every morning, My little sister Lucia laughs so hard about the situation that she ends up spitting out her applesauce. I just tease Luka the whole time, and Mom taunts me back by reminding me that I read in the shower and have ruined half my books doing so, so I have no room for teasing. 

Beside my bowl, my own phone buzzed. At the same time, Mom's dinged, and Dad's whistled. Another phone buzzed across the table near Lucia.

"Gotcha!" Luka announced, making a beeline for Lucia. My five-year-old sister laughed and shoved her hands through her black curls. "I don't have your phone. It's hiding."

Luka growled, "You'll be receiving a visit from the Rain Man."

"No!" The smile faded from her face. "Not him! He hates me!"

Luka poked around her seat and retrieved his phone from under her leg. "That's the point. He takes little girls who take their brother's phones and keeps them locked—"

"Luka," Mom warned. "Lucia, what did I tell you about taking your brother's phone?"

As Luka bit down another half-hearted threat, I grabbed my phone to see one of those breaking-news notifications everyone gets at the same time—amber alerts, tornado warnings, hurricane watches...the sort of alerts that send shivers down your spine after you read them.

Breaking News, the article linked to the notification read in big bold letters, Senator Allahay releases information on the TB-81 vaccination law required for all people born after 2001. The vaccine was created, Allahay said in an exclusive interview with TIMES, by scientist and leader of CORPALARKI, Alison Corpalarki Vega.

My hands went cold. Alison Corpalarki Vega was one of the household names I grew up hearing about in whispers and shrill conversations. Alison Corpalarki Vega's name appeared on newspaper headlines, on the six o'clock news broadcast every Monday night, and on stupid memes of mad scientists my classmates throw around like rumors. All I really knew about her was that she hates the way things are going in the United States right now, and that she wanted to make a change, but I never put too much thought behind her or her name. Politicians bored me with their worldwide let's-change-the-world talk, partially because it's impossible for a single person to change the world and partially because I don't have time to think worldwide when a biology exam could determine if I get into AP chemistry next year. 

I scrolled through the article, and I didn't have to look up to know that Mom and Dad were exchanging worried glances across the table. The article said that Vega bribed seventy senators to pass the law stating that all kids had to get a vaccination in 2001. Federal agents arrested her this morning after Senator Allahay confessed about the bribes. Trial dates were listed, along with a close-up shot of the middle-aged scientist casting a glare across a crowd of spectators as she was being led by officers into a squad car in D.C. 

"Why did Vega want to pass the vaccination?" I asked.

Mom fingered a dark curl and looked at Dad. Dad set his fork down and folded his hands together. "The law says that when kids are born, they have to get that vaccine to protect them from a particularly nasty airborne infection that causes warts on the hands and feet."

"My phone was in Lucia's pants, in case anyone was wondering," said Luka, stuffing bacon into his mouth.

Lucia laughed and lifted a chubby brown fist in the air. "I saved it from mutual destruction!"