| Giovanni Castellucci smiled at his wife, Rosa, as she stirred the hot oat bran cereal and scooped out generous helpings into three china bowls. "Angelica!" she shouted. "Breakfast!" There was a moment of silence, then the thunder of feet as eleven-year-old Angelica hurtled down the steps and into the kitchen. "Mama, Mama, did you hear the weather report?" Angelica asked, panting. "It's supposed to get up to 80 today! Can I go to the park with Lisa this afternoon?" Rosa shook her head as she poured pulpy orange juice into three big glasses then placed the glasses on the kitchen table by the bowls of steaming bran. "You have to go to the Health Center today, dear." Angelica's smile faded into an expression of dread. She ran to her father's side and grabbed hold of his sleeve. "Oh Daddy, do I have to? Please say I don't!" Giovanni patted her little white hand gently. "I'm afraid so, sweetheart. It's only because we love you that we take you there. You know that, don't you?" The child was fighting tears, but she managed a brave nod. "Does that mean the Petersons don't love Sarah? She hasn't had to go to the Health Center once." Giovanni shared a knowing glance with his wife as she laid out three dessert plates loaded with a selection of vitamin pills in bright colors. "Sarah Peterson will probably be a drug addict by the time she's fifteen and die in a drunk driving accident before she's eighteen," Rosa said with conviction, tucking a wisp of black hair tinged with gray back into the tight bun she habitually wore at the back of her neck. She sat down at the table and tucked her napkin into her lap. Giovanni and Angelica sat with her at the table, and they joined hands to say grace. "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen." Rosa smiled at her husband and her daughter, then ate a big spoonful of the oat bran. Angelica sniffed at the cereal and her nose crinkled. She scooped some of it onto her spoon and allowed it to plop back down in the bowl. "Don't play with your food, darling," Rosa said. "Remember the starving children in Bangladesh." Angelica's eyes widened with horror and she quickly stuffed two spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. She had to pinch her nose closed to swallow it and she quickly washed it down with big gulps of orange juice. Then she smiled at her parents in an attempt to convince them she had enjoyed it. Giovanni looked at her suspiciously for a moment, then set to eating his own cereal. A few spots of almost-white oat bran lodged in his dark beard, which was graying more slowly than his hair. "You know we just want you to have the same advantages growing up that we did," he said. Angelica nodded as she forced herself to swallow a vitamin pill the size of a marble. After the family had finished breakfast and the dishes loaded into the dishwasher, Rosa bade her daughter change into her jogging suit. "Why, Mama?" "I thought we'd jog to the Health Center today since it's so nice out." "But it's five miles!" Angelica wailed. Giovanni clicked his tongue at her reprovingly. "Now is that any way to talk to your mother? Exercise is good for you. Will we have to repeat your heart disease lesson?" Angelica shuddered and looked down at the ground. "No, Daddy. It's a wonderful day for jogging." Giovanni thumped her on the back hard enough that she had to struggle not to fall forward. "There's the spirit!"
Dressed in their jogging suits, Angelica and her parents started for the Health Center. Giovanni and Rosa were aware that their daughter's short legs would not allow her to jog as fast as they, but they kept up a challenging pace to ensure Angelica of good cardiovascular health in the years to come. When they reached the Health Center, they found the waiting room crowded with parents and their children, all waiting for their appointments. After checking in at the registration desk, they sat next to a mother and an adolescent boy who was clutching onto the arms of his chair with white-knuckled hands. The mother smiled at them, but the boy just grimaced. A fat nurse, dressed in a white uniform that made her look like Frosty the Snowman in the process of melting, pushed open the swinging doors behind the reception desk. She glanced down at her clipboard. "Roger Bennet?" she said. The adolescent boy sitting next to Angelica made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as his mother stood and pried his hands away from the arms of the chair. The nurse had not looked up from her clipboard, and as she held the door open with her hip, high-pitched screams echoed from the depths of the Health Center. When the orderlies had come and dragged the boy into the back, Angelica reached over and clasped her mother's hand. Giovanni was shaking his head. "Children these days," he muttered, then turned to pat his daughter on the top of the head. "Thank goodness you don't carry on like that boy." In another twenty minutes, the nurse came back out with her clipboard and called Angelica's name. Determined to make her parents proud, she bravely walked with the nurse through the swinging doors and into the center without so much as a pleading glance behind her. The nurse informed Giovanni and Rosa that they could pick up their daughter at 10:00 that night. The Castelluccis went home and showered, then spent a pleasant Saturday at the mall, catching a movie at around five. After the movie, they enjoyed a vegetarian dinner and reminisced over mineral water about their childhood visits to the Health Center. When it was almost 10:00, the Castelluccis set out in their electric Honda to pick up their daughter. They would have walked the five miles for their hearts' sakes, but they had been taught in their youth how dangerous it was to walk in the dark. They arrived just as a nurse led Angelica through the swinging doors and into the waiting room. The child was naturally fair-skinned, but now her face was entirely bloodless and her eyes red. Her jogging suit was soaked with sweat and her hair stood out at all angles. When she saw her parents, she ran sobbing into her father's arms. He picked her up and cradled her head against his chest as Rosa went to the desk to pay and to set up the next appointment. "Your name?" the receptionist asked, cracking her gum. "Castellucci," Rosa replied. "And what simulation did your child receive?" "Childbirth." The receptionist looked up. "Oh, that's a rough one! My mother made me go through it three times, and the last time I had triplets! Taught me not to sleep around, I'll tell you!" Rosa smiled, remembering her similar ordeal. She paid the receptionist, then scanned the list of simulations her daughter had not yet experienced. In the end, she decided on the lung cancer session. After all, Angelica was nearing the age when it might enter her mind to puff on a cigarette . . . | 
