Noah moved further down the shrub border. They were making good progress in clearing it out as they talked.
"The thing is, it isn't silly. Twenty years ago, who could have imagined this? Who could have imagined that the government would've grown so dismissive of basic rights, so ferociously and pig-headedly right-wing? Not me. But it has, and we've allowed fear to drive us to this. I'm not sure that we can turn it around. At least, not in my lifetime. It's easy to lose rights, hard to gain them back. I feel sorry for all of us, but more for the women. My mother's generation fought for women's rights, and in their lifetime, they've seen that stripped away, put into a worse position than before. As my mother says, 'We've been made no more than broodmares. Welcome back to the Medieval Ages.' The thing is, I'm not so sure she's exaggerating. After my first wife died, I was matched in the lottery. May is forty-eight, and it's insane that she should be expected to have children at that age."
Noah stopped to wipe sweat off his forehead. He grinned ruefully. "And sorry. I'll get off my soapbox now. Give me a quarter-inch, and I'll run with it."