Elinore

 The building was ugly: it was a concrete box with barred windows.  The bars had been painted white, once, but the paint was flaking and peeling away and the iron underneath had rusted orange and had stained the concrete around it.  The square corners of the building had been eroded by wind and rain and there was graffiti on two walls -- the ones with the sheer drop below them as the building was sat on the edge of a cliff.  The two walls that were easily accessible had been ignored, probably not enough of a challenge.

There was no sign of a door.  There was a hatch in one accessible wall though: you could walk up on a broken-flagged path with green weeds poking through the cracks, or you could drive up to it as the path got very narrow indeed as you reached the hatch.  There was an iron handle, also rusting, which you could pull down and it revealed a small, padded box inside.

This was the baby drop-off.  Here you could deposit your unwanted children, close the handle on the hatch and walk away.

The law was clear: since the repeal of the abortion Act and the demonisation of medical care during pregnancy, the lives of all children were now, somehow sacrosanct.  It might be nearly impossible for a woman to give birth safely, and helping her do so could make you an accessory to a crime, but once she did the baby had to survive no matter what.  The hypocrisy and stupidity of the situation wasn't lost on many people, but seemingly it was on the majority of the voters.  So the drop-offs were enabled: after you'd been forced to risk your life having a child you didn't want you could at least be rid of it and make it the problem of the people who'd made it your problem to begin with.  Petty, vindictive, and entirely in keeping with the way the nation was going.

Inside the building was a nursery, a day-care, and medical facilities for looking after children.  The doctors and nurses that worked here came in through an underground tunnel that connected to a strip-mall a few hundred metres away so that there was no indication of where they were going or what they were doing.  Security guards were stationed along the corridor at three intervals, though the medical staff nervously joked that they might just be there to execute them if the law changed again.  The guards were implacable and impassive and, sometimes, terrifying.

The whole operation was overseen by Elinore, or rather ELINORE, a supposedly AI system that would monitor the medical activities, ensure the health of the children, and distribute once they were old enough to be rehoused, to needy families.  Assuming any could be found.

It was Monday when Elinore announced that there were no more deserving families to deliver children to.