Author's Note

.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ

Love youuu 💗

HOUSE OF REFUGE, 1897

Snyder slammed The World's evening edition on his desk as if he were killing a bug. "Negligence! Corruption, abuse!" Snyder bellowed, pointing at the big, bold letters splashing the front page.

Whalen studied the paper, smearing the still-wet ink.

"That meddling, society bastard," Snyder rambled, pacing madly in his office. "I want him fired, and I want him fired now."

"The board won't take his word over ours," Whalen shrugged, nursing a glass of bourbon. "Not everything printed in the papers is true. And besides, who will want to listen to a disgraced doctor's unfounded mocking?"

Snyder grabbed the newspaper again, scanning the words frantically. "Fuller claims he has an inmate willing to give testimony at the committee meeting."

With an enraged snarl, the warden ripped up the paper and threw it over the desk. He fell back into his chair, glaring at Whalen. "I'm giving you the rest of the week to put a stop to this. Understand?"

"Perfectly," Whalen replied with a slow nod.

A knock at the door only sent Snyder further into a frenzy. "Enter!"

Dr. Sayers cautiously stepped into the office, sensing the tension. "I do apologize. I hope I haven't come at a disagreeable time."

"Not at all Dr. Sayers, come in," Snyder said, exhaling deeply and shaking the doctor's hand. "Thank you for remembering our appointment. Things here have been quite…unorthodox in the past few weeks."

"Not to worry," Dr. Sayers replied. "I see I've come at just the right time. How can I be of assistance?"

"I no longer trust Dr. Fuller to carry out his medical practice at my institution," Snyder began, offering Sayers a cigar, which he politely declined. "As you've no doubt read from this evening's edition, this reformatory is well on its way to becoming a madhouse since the day he arrived. And I cannot have such a scandal on my hands."

"Yes, I have read the article," Dr. Sayers nodded. "I am terribly sorry to hear about the poor chap who took his own life. Dreadful business."

"The boy was insane," Snyder corrected him, offering a pointed look. "And with the help of my team of psychologists, I have concluded that the other boys in his ward are mentally defective and unable to comport themselves like upstanding citizens. It's the reason they are in here."

"Oh, well, perhaps that is the case," Dr. Sayers said hesitantly. "But surely—"

"I've read your publications, Dr. Sayers. Your work with Dr. Francis Galton in the field of eugenics has been most illuminating. You are well on your way to a scientific breakthrough," Snyder said with a smile. "As you said in your monograph, 'if there is nothing abnormal about the criminal's body, there must be something abnormal about his brain.' I'm sure your progressive ideas are celebrated in the medical circles."

Sayers paused with a shrug, more than humbled by the compliment. "That's truly kind of you to say, Warden Snyder. The field is still rather new. Only a handful of my colleagues have embraced the spirit of Dr. Galton's philosophy. Pseudo-science, some are calling it. But I suppose that's what we said about pharmaceuticals in their infancy."

"Hm," Snyder gestured for Sayers to take a seat before his desk. "Well, I would like to offer you a chance to prove them wrong. Do something for the good of the people of this city, for humanity."

Sayers leaned close, eager for him to continue.

"The worst boys in my Refuge pose a most troubling dilemma concerning genetic criminality and immorality," Snyder went on. "Your opinion on the issue would be helpful, Dr. Sayers. As you know we are a state-funded home for these boys. The courts have judged them to be degenerates, unfit to remain in society."

"Your Refuge is quite revered, Warden," Sayers said. "With most generous benefactors such as the director of Bellevue."

"Thank you," Snyder grinned, pouring Sayers and himself a glass of bourbon. "My issue is once these boys reach the age of twenty-one, I am lawfully obligated to discharge them from my institution. This means, unfortunately, they will be left to generate more juvenile delinquents like themselves. Their own parents were of inferior stock. Their fathers were drunks and criminals – immigrants, most of them. And their mothers offered no consolation – many were prostitutes, morphine addicts, weak-minded madwomen. I have one boy in here whose mother was treated for hysteria on Blackwell's Island when he was born. Do you see a pattern?"

Sayers exchanged a look with Whalen, and then back at the warden. "I believe I'm following you, sir."

"Two years ago," Snyder continued. "one of them impregnated a female inmate, despite my strict rule against such fornication, and the girl died of birthing complications. I had to send the baby to the good people of the Children's Aid Society for care. I understand the child has a fine home out west now, but his birth should never have occurred in the first place."

Sayers nodded slowly, running a hand over his beard. "I see…"

"If they're freed," Whalen spoke up, taking the cigar out of his mouth and blowing out a cloud of smoke, "they'll breed."

"And a renowned man of science such as yourself can clearly understand what a problem that will pose for the fine citizens of this city," Snyder finished, folding his arms. "I trust you have a resolution for us."

Sayers took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. "You're talking about conducting a medical procedure? Surgical sterilization?"

"Precisely," Snyder replied.

Dabbing his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief, Sayers considered this. "This could take time depending on the number of patients. We charge high for vasectomies—"

"Money is not my concern," Snyder interrupted him with a smile. "And with our recent, tragic loss, we'll only need seventeen procedures."

"Then I'll need written consent from each of those boys, of course."

Snyder tilted his head, giving Sayers a knowing look. "Dr. Sayers, I thought we understood each other. They are in no position to give sound, reasonable consent. It's best I make the decision – for them and for the greater good. After all, this would be a marvelous opportunity for you to show your critics how important this work is. Why, I'll even donate to your laboratory research."

"Well, if that's so, then I suppose it's all settled then." Dr. Sayers raised his glass at the warden. "To progress," he said, nodding to Whalen.

Snyder brought his drink to his lips, staring at the doctor in satisfaction.

Jack shivered as he sat in his bunk, regretting smashing the windows as the wind blew through the dormitory. New York's skyline appeared alive in the pink sunset. He studied the pattern of light that caught on a spiderweb entwining the window bars. Somehow, the dormitory felt lonelier without Calico.

It was odd not to hear his incessant coughs, his clever quips every now and then. Jack could tell Grim, Tide, and No Name had been devasted most by the loss.

Boot-clad, Tide was pacing obsessively, back and forth, back and forth like he was training for the marathon.

The news Whalen had shared with them had cast a rather grey cloud over the rest of the day. Whalen vaguely described the scheduled procedure in crass terms: 'you'll drop your trousers and lay on the table.' He said they better do what Dr. Sayers ordered them to do or else.

"I heard the way it's done is they cut your balls off," Crazy mumbled to Alexei. "And then your voice gets all high. Like a girl."

Alexei shook his head. "That can't be right."

Jack felt sick to his stomach. His breath, pulse, and heart quickened, matching Tide's rhythmic stomps. By the end of the week, they'd all be under the knife if Fuller didn't file his report in time.

The boys hung about in the dormitory, weighing their options. They were a dark painting of miserable revolutionaries in the aftermath of battle: skinny limbs, all elbows and knees, mops of unkempt and unwashed hair, scars and wounds, half-dressed, fully defeated.

Jack slumped against his bed, glaring at the opposite wall in a stupor.

"I don't understand the point of it," Fleet muttered. "What's a vasectopscope anyway?"

"Vasectomy," Shakespeare spoke up. "Stops you from knocking a girl up."

"Little late for that," Lion whispered to Cards as he stared toward Grim.

"So…we're getting castrated?" River asked flatly. "Like dogs?"

Doc sighed, shaking his head. "Not quite. I don't know much, but I don't think it's that...involved."

"Does it hurt, Doc?" Jack asked, continuing to stare off.

Doc said nothing, completely unfamiliar with the procedure. His silence only made the others more anxious.

Marquette's face fell. "We'll never have children?"

No Name sat by the window, watching the clouds. "Maybe it's for the best," he muttered. "Babies just ruin your life. I mean, look at how we turned out."

"Debatable," Cards said, rolling his eyes.

Grim held court in his dingy white Henley and uniform trousers. "Fuller won't let it happen. This ain't legal, right?" he asked despairingly, following it up with a laugh in disbelief. "No way this is legal."

"I don't even want kids," Muggs growled from his bunk. "But I ain't letting that surgeon anywhere near me."

Jack sat up. "We have to fight back," he said. "They ain't trying to reform us no more. If we all stick together, they'll have no choice but to listen. Look at the damage we did to this dorm. Imagine what we could do to the whole damn Refuge."

Grim looked around at the others, watching them nod in agreement. "Then its unanimous. If we don't act together, then we're nothing. And if we can't trust each other, then we're nothing," Grim said, meeting Jack's worried eyes. "So, what's the plan?"