If a man hopes to throw a six in a game of dice and succeeds, we would never say he threw the six intentionally. If the same man puts a bullet in an otherwise empty six-chambered gun, spins the chamber, and points it at his enemy, and shoots the enemy in the face, we'd say he killed his enemy intentionally. Would this same theory apply if the enemy became the mans offspring?
He rolls the dice, which hangs in the air for what seems an improbably long time, finally hitting the white baize and landing up on the number two. Its two black spots as dead to the world as the man who rolls it. The man's eyes well up with tears as the plastic opaque medical cot is wheeled away by an anonymous male, through scuffed, well-used porter doors as the crying man walks out the room through the doors opposite. Ten seconds later a woman's wail is heard. The black jacketed dice dealer sits behind the white baize table and scoops up the dice with clean-cut fingers. It was a controversial decision to introduce such a cliched set-up into the wards of the maternity ward, but even more controversial was the new governments population control.

You ever hear of the Hindi saying, "Hum do, hamare do"?

It's a slogan used in India to promote and reinforce the message of population control. Its meaning translates as "One family, two children" in English. Sadly, for most of the English speaking population nowadays, its a case of one child to one family. The population in Europe had increased threefold since 2012, in America the official figures had doubled, but just like Chinese governments denial of the infanticide of newborn girls in the 1990s, the American government couldn't cover up that it was a secret everyone knew, and the figure was at least double the 'official' given out.

The dice dealer takes out a finger-thick wad of paperwork which hits the baize with an echoey thud. The room is white, with a frightening amount of yellow blotches on the walls and floor. The walls are pock marked with reminders on the NHS's policy on the fight against germs, which at best seem sarcastic and at worst, offensive. Against the pitch-black jacket he is wearing, the dice dealers skin is perfect, artificial looking almost. He grimaces to stand up, contorting his face into wrinkles not dissimilar from a Sharpei dogs. He was a social outcast because of his job, there were no pro's to the profession, the door was never held open for what the public call a 'dealer of death', he was the governments fall guy. He had no power over who lives or dies and he made no contribution to the governments overall decision for such an extreme measure of population control. The jobs for what the government called 'Population Control Draft Controllers', of what the media called 'Dice Dealers' and of what the man on the street called 'absolute cunts' were given to repeat offenders of non-fatal sexual or non-sexual crimes. For the man on the street this meant that the 'absolute cunts' who pushed the button on who lived or died could have committed arson, he could have perverted the court of justice or he could have committed sexual assault on a minor.

The well scuffed door opened inwards to reveal another plastic opaque medical cot with another anonymous male. The Dice Dealer surveys the cot for the infant, his plastic-looking skin bouncing off the light given off by the cot, making his face one that the child would never forget, however long the child lives for.

"Time of its arrival?", the Dice Dealer had a Southern London accent, one that in this day and age is rarely heard of. It was sharp and uncaring.

"12.29am", the anonymous males accent was forgotten as soon as his lips had gone silent.

"It's name?"

"Adam Trout"

A figure appears in shadow form on the frosted plastic window of the door, the entrance opens and we learn less about the man who enters before the door was opened. He's visibly nervous, and looks like a young William Shatner.

The Dice Dealer smiles, "You look like William Shatner"

The man who entered stands staring at the cot containing his newborn son.

"You look like William Shatner", the Dice Dealer repeats.

The man looks up towards the smiling black-jacketed Dealer, his face evolving from one of sorrow to one of astonishment, "Get on with it."

Sneering but clearly taken aback, the Dice Dealer starts to read out the necessary Government Paperwork explaining the rules.

The humble dice was chosen after it was decided that other lottery systems were both impractical in time and in 'ethics'. It was said that if the lottery was based on a system like the Premium Bonds, attachments would have been formed between the offspring and parents by the time the paperwork and results had been drawn. A National Lottery type machine was considered untrustworthy. A roulette wheel, too complicated for such a simple result. A flip of a coin, too easy to manipulate. A dice thrown by the parent was seen as an ideal way of 'passing the buck', the parent having to accept responsibility for his own actions, even though the action was being forced upon him. The only requirement of the parent in throwing the dice is for it to hit the end panel of the baize closest to the Dice Dealer.

"Do you understand the purpose of the actions you are about undertake and accept responsibility for the outcome?", the Dice Dealer became pokerfaced. His lips pursed and his eyes locked on with the William Shatner lookalike.

"I don't have a choice in the matter though do I"

"Bluntly, no.", the Dice Dealer said, bluntly.

"Do you gain satisfaction in this job?"

The Dice Dealer didn't look up from his pile of documents, "I don't have a choice in the matter"

The parent takes the pen off the baize and scrawls a shaky signature on multiple pieces of paper.

The baby in the cot started to wake. Gurgled. Screamed. The parent took a step towards the cot, the anonymous male who brought the cot in stepped forward with a firm grip on a standard issue revolver in his back pocket. William Shatner took a step back towards the baize. The Dice Dealer finding the whole situation amusing, reverts back to his smirking face that we've seen before.

"I'm sure you understand the rules and regulations, but I'm under orders to ask if you if you do not," the Dice Dealer reverts again back to his status of Population Control Draft Controller. As much as he is reviled, he seems to take great satisfaction in his job. We learn later on that he has three convictions of public indecency, two counts of sexual abuse and was on trial for the disappearance of a 13 year old boy.