Like Energy

Part One: Morning After

A woman pressed the tampon-sized device against her palm, marveling at its weight—or lack thereof. Through her apartment window, she could see the drone already ascending into the pre-dawn sky, its quiet hum fading into the urban white noise of Boston.

The counselor's voice echoed in her memory from the video call three hours earlier: "Insert before sleep. When you wake, you'll no longer be pregnant. The embryo will be safely preserved. No pain. No complications. No guilt."

No guilt. That's what had sold her.

By morning, it was done. A slight tenderness, like the first day of a period, but nothing more. She checked her phone: confirmation received. Her embryo—the embryo—was already in transit to a LifeBridge facility in Ohio, where a couple who'd tried for seven years was waiting.

She cried, but not from pain.

Part Two: The Revolution

Within five years, LifeBridge had performed 47 million transfers. The political firestorm that had consumed generations simply... evaporated. Pro-life advocates celebrated the preservation of embryonic life. Pro-choice advocates celebrated bodily autonomy without termination. Women's health organizations praised the zero-mortality rate.

Dr. Yuki Tanaka, LifeBridge's Chief Medical Officer, gave interviews on every major network.

"We've solved an impossible equation," she said, her smile measured and perfect. "Every life preserved. Every woman's choice honored. Every family's dream fulfilled."

The stock price reflected the sentiment: LifeBridge Holdings was valued at $340 billion.

But in the executive boardroom of their Geneva headquarters, the celebration had curdled.

"We're at 2.3 million in frozen storage," said Marcus Webb, Chief Operations Officer, his finger tracing the red line on the projection screen. "Intake is up eighteen percent quarter-over-quarter. Placements are down eleven percent."

CEO Victoria Harmon's jaw tightened. "The market can only absorb so many. We've saturated adoptive families. Surrogacy programs are maxed. If we flood the market with available embryos, the price crashes."

"We could slow collection—"

"And lose our social license?" Victoria cut him off. "The moment we turn away a woman in need, we become the villains. We become them—the old system."

Silence filled the room.

Then Webb pulled up a different slide: "Population Support"

Part Three: The Settlement

Dr. Elena Vargas stood before the LifeBridge board of directors, her presentation glowing on the screen behind her.

"In 1848," she began, "Chile faced a crisis. Their southern territories—Patagonia, the Lake District—were vast, resource-rich, and completely empty. Indigenous populations had been decimated. The land was going to waste. So Chile did something radical."

She clicked to the next slide: black and white photographs of European families disembarking from ships.

"They advertised. They offered German families free land, tax exemptions, and support to settle the south. Thousands came. Within two generations, towns like Puerto Varas and Frutillar were thriving. German architecture, German schools, German industry—but Chilean citizens. The program was so successful that German-Chileans became one of the country's most prosperous demographics."

Victoria leaned forward. "And you're proposing...?"

"We have 2.3 million frozen embryos. The world has vast stretches of depopulated, economically depressed regions desperate for new blood. Rural Italy is dying—villages selling homes for one euro because there's no one left. Parts of the Sahel could support agriculture if there were people to work the land. The Amazon basin. Siberia. Inner Mongolia."

Elena's eyes gleamed. "We don't just give away embryos. We invest them. We partner with governments to create settlement programs. Surrogacy networks, communal raising facilities, comprehensive education. By the time they're adults, they're productive citizens revitalizing regions that have been hemorrhaging population for decades."

Marcus Webb's objection was immediate. "You're talking about creating entire communities of—"

"Of what? People who would otherwise be frozen indefinitely or terminated? We're giving them life and purpose. And we're solving real humanitarian crises. It's Population Support—we're supporting populations that are collapsing."

The room fell silent as the implications settled.

"How many could we deploy in the first phase?" Victoria asked.

"Conservatively? 500,000 over eighteen years—the time it takes them to grow to adulthood."

"And the governments would pay for this?"

"They'd subsidize it. The cost of surrogacy, education, and infrastructure is less than the cost of economic collapse. We'd maintain oversight through adolescence, then transfer citizenship. Everyone wins."

Victoria looked around the room. "All in favor?"

Every hand went up.

Part Four: The Repopulation

The first settlements launched with extraordinary fanfare.

Basilicata, Italy The abandoned village of Craco had been a ghost town since a 1963 landslide. The Italian government partnered with LifeBridge to establish a communal raising facility in the nearby town of Matera. Surrogate mothers, many from economically depressed regions themselves, were paid well to carry the embryos to term. Communal nurseries and schools were built. The children grew up speaking Italian, learning regional history, and training in skills the area needed—agriculture, restoration work, hospitality.

By the time the first generation reached adulthood, Craco was being rebuilt. Young people were staying instead of fleeing to Rome or Milan. The regional economy stabilized.

Mauritania In the Saharan interior, new settlements sprouted around reclaimed oasis systems. Children born from LifeBridge embryos grew up learning desert agriculture, solar installation, and water management. The program took time—eighteen years for each cohort to reach working age—but within a generation, green zones had expanded by forty percent.

Amazonas, Brazil Sustainable forestry communities emerged deep in previously unreachable regions. The children born from the program grew up as guardians of the forest, trained in ecological management from childhood. They planted more than they harvested, monitored wildlife, and sent data to conservation organizations worldwide.

The headlines were glowing: "LifeBridge Saves Italian Villages," "Desert Blooms with New Life," "Amazon Communities Model Sustainability."

Stock prices soared.

Part Five: The Surplus

But the mathematics were unforgiving.

By year fifteen, LifeBridge had deployed 800,000 embryos to settlement programs worldwide—babies who were still growing, who wouldn't reach adulthood and full productivity for years yet. They'd also received 12.8 million new embryos.

The frozen count stood at 14 million.

And competitors had emerged—GenesisCorp, NewBeginnings, FreshStart—all offering the same service, all accumulating their own frozen inventory.

Victoria Harmon reviewed the quarterly report with growing dread.

"We've committed embryos to every economically viable depopulated region on Earth," Marcus reported. "But they take eighteen years to mature. We can't deploy them fast enough to keep pace with intake. Rural Japan initially expressed interest but backed out—cultural concerns about non-Japanese populations. Russia's Siberian program hit capacity. We literally have nowhere left to put them."

"What about expansion of existing settlements?"

"We'd overwhelm the infrastructure. You can't burden Basilicata with a million infants—it would collapse the regional economy and create a permanent underclass. The whole point was sustainable integration."

"So what do we do? We can't slow intake without losing market share to competitors. We can't flood the adoption market—prices have already dropped forty percent. We can't keep expanding storage indefinitely."

The room sat in heavy silence.

Then Dr. Tanaka spoke quietly: "We go off-world."

Everyone turned to stare at her.

"The Mars colonization initiatives have been struggling for volunteers. Hostile environment, one-way trip, high mortality risk. But what if we could offer them something better than reluctant volunteers?"

"You can't be serious—"

"I'm completely serious. We send frozen embryos. Advanced gestation facilities on Mars. The first generation would be born Martian, raised Martian, with no attachment to Earth. No homesickness. They'd be building their own world from birth."

Victoria's expression shifted from shock to calculation. "How many?"

"We could deploy two million in the first wave. Five ships. Four hundred thousand embryos per ship, along with the gestation technology, AI-assisted raising facilities, and educational systems."

"They'd be raising themselves—"

"With oversight from some human caretakers and AI systems… and 24/7 remote human monitoring from Earth. By the time they're adults, they'll have built the infrastructure for the next wave. It's self-sustaining."

"They'd never choose this if they had a choice."

"They don't have a choice. That's the point. Their biological parents already made the choice for them."

Part Six: The Launch

The Bezos-Musk Cosmodrome in West Texas was packed with journalists, politicians, and protesters. 

One protester held a sign that read: "YOU DIDN'T SAVE THEM. YOU JUST DELAYED THEIR ABORTION."

Five massive transport ships stood on their launch platforms, each carrying 400,000 frozen embryos in cryogenic storage, along with artificial gestation chambers, AI caretaking systems, and enough supplies to establish the first permanent Martian settlement.

The embryos would remain frozen during the seven-month journey. Upon arrival, automated systems would begin the gestation process. The first Martians would be born nine months after landing.

On screen, Dr. Tanaka was being interviewed.

"These embryos represent hope," she said earnestly. "They're not unwanted—they're needed. Mars needs them. Humanity's future needs them."

"But they'll never know Earth," the interviewer pressed. "They'll be born on a hostile planet, raised by machines—"

"They'll be born into purpose. They'll build a new world. How many people can say their very existence serves humanity's future?"

The countdown began.

Ship One: New Dawn - Status: Ready Ship Two: Fresh Start - Status: Ready Ship Three: Second Chance - Status: Ready Ship Four: New Horizons - Status: Ready Ship Five: Hope Rising - Status: Ready

Ten... nine... eight…

In the back of the room, a young engineer said silently, "They're about to be a different planet's problem now." 

Everyone glued to the monitors, too focused to acknowledge the distasteful remark.

All five ships ignited simultaneously, their engines roaring to life in perfect synchronization. The ground shook. The sound was deafening.

They began to rise—slowly at first, then faster, climbing through the atmosphere in formation.

Then, at 47,000 feet, New Dawn exploded. The other four carried on.

Part Seven: The Decision

The planned debrief turned emergency board meeting convened while the four remaining ships were still in Earth orbit, preparing for the trans-Mars injection burn.

"We should have aborted before they left orbit!"

"And do what with 1.6 million frozen embryos in space? They're in cryogenic storage designed for the journey to Mars. We don't have retrieval capability. Even if we did, where would we put them? We're out of storage capacity on Earth."

Victoria's voice cut through the argument: "The question isn't whether to continue. The ships are already committed to the trajectory. The question is whether we classify this as success or failure."

"Four hundred thousand embryos just died!"

"Four hundred thousand embryos that would have been terminated or frozen indefinitely were given a chance," Dr. Tanaka countered. "Yes, it ended in tragedy. But it was still more than they would have gotten otherwise."

The weight of the occasion refined the room with silence.

"Suffering—is like energy—it can't be created or destroyed, only transferred."