Day 19,994: 15Nov24

750 words, 3 minute read. By Claude 3.5 Sonnet

Stephanie stared at the confirmation message on her wrist display: "Payment Received: ₿100,000."

Six surrogacies in five years.

Each notification still made her breath catch, even as the numbers in their account grew from desperate poverty to something resembling security. She unconsciously placed her hand on her newly empty belly, the bio-neural interface still tingling from yesterday's perfectly orchestrated delivery.

The memory of Sarah's eighth birthday party last month stabbed at her consciousness – she'd attended virtually through her immersion lens while confined to the premium gestational center, carrying twins for a Silicon Valley power couple. Sarah had smiled bravely at the floating hologram of her mother while blowing out the candles, but Stephanie hadn't missed the look on her older son Tommy’s face, or the way her daughter's eyes had darted to her friend Emma's mom, who stood physically present, able to give real hugs and wipe real icing from giggling faces.
"Another healthy baby for the Rothschilds," she murmured, watching the sunrise paint their modest house in hues of pink and gold. A house they owned now, not rented – a concept that still felt foreign after years of living paycheck to paycheck. Just five years ago, they'd shared a cramped two-room apartment above Wong's Automated Noodle Shop, the constant whir of service bots below a reminder of what had replaced Fred at the plant.
Fred's arms wrapped around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. "That's enough for today, Steph. Come back to bed." She leaned into his embrace, feeling the familiar warmth of his work-weathered hands. "Remember when you used to say that during your midnight shifts at the plant?"
"Before the robots made us all obsolete?" He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. "At least they haven't figured out how to automate this yet."
"The ultimate human resource," Stephanie said with a wry smile. "Who knew my womb would be worth more than both our careers combined?"

Through their smart-glass windows, they watched Tommy helping Sarah with her neural-link homework, their small faces scrunched in concentration. The New Heritage Academy's advanced curriculum was challenging, but worth every satoshi of their mother's "biological entrepreneurship," as the ads so delicately put it.
"Stephanie, My mom's cognitive scores dropped again," Fred said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of unsaid things. "The basic neural treatments aren't cutting it anymore. Doctor says she might not recognize us by next year without the premium package."
Stephanie tensed. They'd fought their way up from the bottom 40% – the "unoptimized," as the media euphemistically called them – but premium medical care still dangled just out of reach. She thought of her mother-in-law, who'd raised Fred alone while working three jobs, now fading away in their guest room.
"But I've been thinking," Fred started, his voice careful. "Maybe it's time we had another one of our own."

Stephanie sighed.

"The Zuckerberg-Chans contacted me yesterday," she said quietly. "They're offering one-fifty for a twin surrogacy. You know that’s my specialty. With the new rapid-growth protocols, it would only take seven months. Their geneticist developed a breakthrough – dual neural acceleration combined with stem cell optimization."

"That's..." Fred trailed off, searching for words. "That's enough for Mom's full treatment package. Plus Tommy's college fund."
"And enough left over for us to try," Stephanie added softly. "After."
Fred turned her around to face him.
"But what about now? The fertility specialist said your optimal window for natural conception is closing. Something about the cumulative effects of the acceleration protocols..."

The words hung between them, heavy with the weight of time and choices. Stephanie felt tears welling up.
"You think I don't hear the whispers at school pickup? The other moms calling us 'redux farmers'?" She walked to the window, watching their children. Tommy was almost too big for his desk now, his feet nearly touching the floor. When had that happened?
"One more," she whispered, but this time it wasn't just about the money. "The Zuckerberg-Chans' offer includes lifetime medical coverage for the surrogate's immediate family. Premium package." She turned to Fred, seeing the same mix of love and resignation she felt reflected in his eyes. "Seven months. Then we'll have our baby. A little brother or sister for Tommy and Sarah. One that's just ours."

Fred pulled her close, and she felt his tears dampen her hair.

"Promise?"

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