“Some things about living still weren’t quite right, though.”
-Kurt Vonnegut, Harrison Bergeron

Molly Stevens was feeling pretty good. No, Molly Stevens was feeling pretty great. It’s true she had been nervous this morning, everyone was nervous the morning of their annual, but things could not have gone any better. Molly swung her feet against the exam room table.

Molly’s interviewer this morning, Shelia, had been impressed with Molly’s dietary journal, as well she should be- a three day cleanse every four weeks and nothing less healthy than a handful of walnuts and unsweetened craisins as an indulgent afternoon snack. Shelia had even complimented her on her lipstick choice. Becoming. That was the exact word she had used to describe her make-up.   A very good sign. The doctor would be here any minute. If it was anything like her last year’s eval, he would check her vitals, review her chart perfunctorily and ask her about her goals for her health this year which he would only half listen to and then give general instructions to continue her exercise regiment and see her herbalist regularly.

Molly knew the interviewer’s opinion counted very heavily towards your overall Wellbeing quotient. Her WBQ would be decided by the whole team, including the doctor, nurse, nutritionist, and aesthetic consultant and of course, her lab results and fitness markers would factor into her score, but making a good impression on Shelia was very important. If Shelia was her advocate, she could be almost assured of a WBQ somewhere in the range of 1200-1400. A score like that would guarantee her a promotion at work and acceptance of her application into Morningside Villa, the most exclusive gated community in Arborvale, catering only to HiQues. Molly hopped off the exam table and read the titles of the two pamphlets offered in the wall display Put Your Best Face Forward: Minimally invasive procedures that will change your life and A Better Tomorrow Begins Today: Be A Part of the Revolution. Same pamphlets that were here last year.

Molly picked up a copy of America Now and leafed through it distractedly.  There was an article on a resurgence of international tourists visiting American towns. Such beautiful cities and beautiful people, one tourist from Budapest was quoted as saying. You used to have to go to Paris or Milan to see such beautiful people but everywhere you look just one stunning American after another. Another article featured an in-depth interview with Dr. Sandra Loch, the director of the CDC in which she credited the Public Health Initiative Act for reducing the incidence of Diabetes Mellites Type II to less than one percent. The PHI Act has given Americans the gift of accountability. Americans are now motivated to make good healthy choices. Always remember: Care for yourself, Care for society.

Molly checked her watch. She had been waiting twenty minutes. It was one thing for the Health Department to require she miss work to attend her mandatory evaluation and it was another thing to make her wait. There had to be a better use for her time. She peeked her head outside the exam room. The hallway was empty. Molly began to do lounges, passing open doors and empty exam rooms. What she wouldn’t give for a kale smoothie. She hadn’t eaten anything since last night in preparation for the weigh-in this morning.

As Molly made her way down the hallway, she lifted her arms up overhead as if she was performing overhead presses. It was a technique she had learned at a fitness seminar she attended last fall. You tense your muscles as if you’re resisting weight even though there’s no actual weight in your hands. It’s called phantom fitness. Phantom bicep curls. Phantom deadlifts. Wonderful. Occasionally Molly would catch sight of herself in the mirror of an open exam room and admire her toned arms and firm rear. It was in the last exam room, the one right by the elevator banks that Molly’s eye was caught by a movement in the corner of the mirror- a movement not reflecting her calisthenics. Molly took a step towards the door and felt herself being yanked inside, the door slamming behind her.

The first thing Molly saw was the doctor, bound and gagged with his legs tied to the bottom of his little rolling stool. Well, that explains his tardiness, Molly thought. When Molly turned around, she saw the room’s other occupant, the source of the movement in the mirror, and a sight more shocking than the trussed doctor. The woman had wild frizzy hair, greying at the roots. She wore a pair of baggy sweatpants stained at the knees and an oversized t-shirt the color of pea soup which did nothing for her complexion and Molly could swear she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. But the worst of it was the woman’s size. The flesh on her upper arms hung like window curtains. Her thighs were wide as planks. She must have been eighty pounds overweight at least, with a BMI of no less than 45.

Molly had seen LowQues before, of course she had. There was a woman in her apartment building who insisted on dressing as a fall when she was clearly a spring and had a terrible case of uncontrolled asthma. Molly could hear her wheezing every time she passed her on the stairs. But her neighbor was nothing compared to this woman. This woman looked like the “before” pictures in the ubiquitous America. Changed. advertisements. She was just so repulsively, unapologetically, undeniably fat.

“Don’t say anything.” The woman put her finger up to her lips and moved in front of the door, trapping Molly inside. There was no way Molly would be able to push past this behemoth. The woman’s eyes were wide with fear, her face a mottled red. Whatever plans Molly had interrupted clearly weren’t going well.

Molly took a step backwards and almost tripped over the doctor who was jerking his body awkwardly in an attempt to roll his stool forward. “Oh, Sorry,” Molly said.

“Shhh,” the woman hissed.

“What exactly is happening here?” Molly whispered back.

“Just be quiet. I’m trying to think.” The woman pressed her hands to her face, her sausage fingers rubbing her eyes.

Molly shrugged, rested her back against the wall and slid down for a wall sit. Seeing this woman made Molly want to run five miles on the treadmill. She pictured the woman’s yellow narrowed arteries snaking their way up her body to choke her heart. Molly began doing some deep squats.

“Stop doing that.”

 “Doing what?”

“Moving up and down like that.”

“They’re called squats.” Molly rolled her eyes. If anyone needed a good set of squats it was this woman. “You should try them. Great for your hamstrings and glutes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Listen, I’ve got a four o’clock spin class to get to. Do you think I can get out of here before then? It’s a great class. The instructor’s super motivating.  And maybe you could let the doctor go? He still needs to do my exam.  I’m Molly by the way.”

“Cheryl.”

“Are you here for your annual too Cheryl?”

Cheryl nodded her head miserably. All three of her chins wobbled. Molly had heard rumors of people who bought candy bars and potato chips on the black market. There was no way anyone could get as large as this woman eating the government approved foods sold at Greens.

“Funny, I don’t remember seeing you in the waiting room.”

Cheryl’s laugh came out as a short bark. “People who look like me get sent through the back door to wait in waiting room B.” 

“People like you? No offense, but I thought the Public Health Initiative act eradicated obesity.”

“Well, they’re certainly trying. Right, Dr. Fineman?” Cheryl turned angrily to the doctor. Her massive shoulders heaved. “Hospitals no longer treat obesity related illnesses. Too cost prohibitive. An unnecessary drain on government resources.” Cheryl’s voice became shrill. “You got a clogged artery? Well, too bad. Just sit around and wait for your heart attack to finish you off.”

Molly looked at the doctor. His sheepish expression confirmed Cheryl’s accusation. “I think we should all take a few cleansing breaths and calm down,” Molly said.

Cheryl seemed not to have heard her. “Dr. Fineman says my WBQ will be under 500 this year. They’ll say I’m an unfit mother. They’ll take away my kids.” Cheryl began to sob. Her great beefy shoulders heaved. “I’ve got to do something.”

“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do. I think you should just go home, take a nice Epsom bath and spend time with your family.”

“There is something I can do.” Cheryl squared her shoulders and looked at Molly. “I need to change my WBQ in the system and I’m going to need your help. What was your WBQ last year?”

“1115,” Molly said proudly. It had been her highest WBQ yet.

“We’re going to take a trip upstairs to the conference room and you’re going to login to your account. Then we’re going to transfer all the information and lab results into my account.”

“You know how to do that?”

“I’m a computer programmer. I can figure it out.”

“And the doctor?”

“He can stay here. We don’t need him anymore.”

“What if I say no?”

Cheryl thought for a minute. “If you say no, I’ll find someone else to help me and after I get into the system, I’ll change your WBQ too. I’ll give you a score of 450.”

Cheryl and Molly rode the elevators up to the fourth floor. They entered the first conference room on the right through the glass doors and Cheryl turned on the computer. The floor was empty. Conferences took place on Fridays and today was Tuesday. There would be no one to interrupt them.

“Sign in.”

Molly did as she was told. She opened her file from the previous year. Cheryl was sitting right next to her. Her breathe smelled like seaweed and sweat was beading at her hairline from the exertion of walking down the hallway. There were lines between her eyes that could easily be taken care of by a little Botox.

“Now move over. I’m going to try to transfer the files.”

“Wait. Let’s read it first. You might need to edit identifying information.”

“Ok. But quickly.”

Molly’s lab results had all come back within normal limits. The Image scanner had scored her at a 70% symmetry which wasn’t too bad but made Molly feel better about her decision to get rhinoplasty last June. Her lowest score was for her hair which had lost points for split ends. Her fitness exam had gone very well- endurance, strength and agility all in the 90^th percentile.

Molly clicked on a tab labeled Intake Interview.

Evaluee: Molly Stevens

Patient ID: 23G75B

Wellbeing Health Clinic Interviewer: Andrea Sims

Evaluee expresses a strong commitment to physical fitness substantiated by her signed fitness affidavit. Evaluee’s dietary diary demonstrates good knowledge of healthy eating practices and food accountability. Evaluee appears well groomed and is styled in accordance with best appearance practice. Her make up however is overdone and clumsily applied. 

Molly looked up from the screen. “Overdone? Clumsy? I was wearing the new Mac eyeshadow book and Lancôme rouge. I bought them specifically for my eval.”

“Who cares,” Cheryl reached over Molly shoulder and typed onto the keyboard. “I’ve got to move this over to my file.”

The door to the conference room swung open loudly, nearly shattering the glass wall behind it. Molly shrieked and pulled herself away from the computer.

“In here.” A Wellbeing Service Officer called to three security guards who were racing down the hall.

Even with Cheryl’s great mass she was no match for the three burly guards who had her handcuffed and marching for the elevator in a matter of seconds.

“Third one this month,” Molly heard one of them mutter to one of the other guards as they left the room.

The WSO followed them out and then remembering Molly turned back when he got to the door. “You can go back downstairs and finish your exam Miss. Dr. Fineman’s just washing up in the bathroom. He’ll be with you shortly.”

Molly watched Cheryl be escorted down the hall, her figure a solid wall between the guards on either side, excess flab pinning her shirt into rolls under her arms, her pants pulled snug over the wide expanse of her trembling behind. Molly swiveled back to face the computer. The screen was still open to Cheryl’s file. All the information had been transferred over. If Molly pressed save, Cheryl’s records would look good enough to generate a WBQ above a thousand at Friday’s conference. Assuming Cheryl wasn’t in jail, she may be able to keep her kids.

Molly pressed delete and turned off the computer. The America. Changed. ads were always saying every person has the power to make America great or make America weak. It was time people experienced the consequences for their poor choices. Molly took the stairs down to the exam rooms one floor below. With any luck, she could still make it to her four o’clock spin class.

– Malka Daskal