Turnabout Read Online Free PDF Page A

on the computer.
    “Um, something about families looking for kids to adopt. Nice families,” she told the computer. Even though she knew it was ridiculous, she hoped the computer didn’t hear the note of anxiety in her voice. This was an old model—she got it five years ago when she was pretending to go to college—but it still had the obligatory emotion sensor. She and Anny Beth joked that computers had become so human there was no reason for people still to exist. But everyone else in the twenty-first century was so used to computers they didn’t think a thing about it.
    “Good morning,” the computer said in a voice oozing empathy. Yep, the emotion sensor was still working. Unfortunately. “Would you care for informationabout adoption costs? Adoption laws? Adoption process and procedures? Adoption statistics? Availability of children to adopt? International adoptions?—”
    Sometimes Melly really hated computers.
    “No, no,” she said irritably. “I don’t need information that would help me adopt a child. I’m fifteen years old, for God’s sake. I want to find someone to do the adopting.”
    The computer made a sound that could have passed for a gasp.
    “Ah,” it said. “Now I understand your anxiety. You are the victim of an unwanted pregnancy. And just a teenager . . . oh my. You need counseling, my dear. I don’t mean to pressure you, and I certainly will not judge your actions, but you face several important choices. One should not rush too hastily into any of them. Shall I refer you to a counseling service right now?”
    “No,” Melly said. “Just show me a list of people wanting to adopt kids.”
    “But my dear—”
    Melly switched off the computer’s speakers. Seconds later the screen was flooded with images of happy families frolicking together in autumn leaves, playing pitch and catch, laughing together around a dinner table, building snowmen in a tree-lined yard. In spite of herself, Melly had to blink back tears.She’d taken marketing classes once upon a time, she knew it was all just image. She lived near dozens of families and had never seen any of them act so happy together. But the videos got to her anyway.
    Because she’d killed the voice option, the images were quickly replaced by text.
    THE ADOPTION SITE! the screen trumpeted in large letters. Then, in smaller print, it urged, “Choose the family that’s best for your baby!”
    Then the screen filled with choices: race, creed, color, religion, spanking/no spanking, strong disciplinarians/lax disciplinarians, income level, professional standing, geographic preference, urban/suburban lifestyle, athletic/sedentary, intellectual/nonintellectual, casual/formal, pets/no pets, boaters, bikers, swimmers, aversion to water sports, cat people, dog people, ferret people . . .
    Melly typed at the bottom, “ I don’t care about any of that.”
    “Congratulations! Your selection process resulted in” appeared on the screen. Melly waited. “500,000 families!” blinked out at her.
    Melly gulped. She should have known. Birth control had been virtually perfected fifty years ago and made mandatory for all women from puberty onward, unless they and their mate could pass the rigorous Parent Test. So very few women had babies they didn’t want. Meanwhile, medical ethicists hadprevented cloning, and fertility problems had skyrocketed because of environmental disasters. So there were lots of potential parents who wanted babies they couldn’t have.
    “Great,” Melly muttered. “I’m going to be a hot commodity in about fifteen years.”
    “Would you like to see your selections?” the computer screen blinked at her. She hit Y. When the list of names scrolled out in front of her, she picked one at random.
    “Sound, please,” the computer prompted.
    Sighing, Melly turned the speakers back on.
    The screen showed a curtain opening.
    “Have we got a family for you,” boomed a male voice.
    A couple stood on stage, waving.
    “Hi! We’re