Welcome back. I’m Adeline Atlas, 11-time published author, and this is the Depopulation Series — Are We the Last Biological Humans?

In this video, we’re going to explore a less discussed—but no less important—dimension of the global birth collapse. Not the science of infertility. Not the ethics of artificial reproduction. But the money. Because wherever there’s crisis, there’s opportunity. And the business of infertility is booming.

By 2030, the global in-vitro fertilization (IVF) market alone is projected to exceed 42 billion dollars. That number doesn’t include adjacent sectors like egg freezing, sperm banking, embryo storage, fertility hormone treatments, surrogacy services, or reproductive genetic testing. Add those in, and you’re looking at one of the most rapidly expanding segments of modern medicine. Reproduction, once a biological given, is now a multibillion-dollar marketplace.

This is what we mean when we talk about the infertility economy. It’s an entire ecosystem built on the collapse of natural reproduction. And it’s not just about solving infertility. It’s about profiting from it. Normalizing it. And in some cases, quietly incentivizing it.

Let’s begin with the medical-industrial complex.

For decades, fertility clinics were seen as specialty providers—reserved for older women or couples facing clear medical challenges. Today, they’re becoming part of the standard reproductive journey. In many cities, fertility clinics now advertise egg freezing as a rite of passage, targeting women as young as 25. The message is simple: delay motherhood, build your career, and “freeze your future.”

There’s no question that for many women, egg freezing provides real empowerment. But there’s also no denying the business logic behind it. Clinics charge thousands per cycle, and most women require multiple rounds to bank a usable number of viable eggs. The medications, the storage fees, the monitoring—none of it is cheap. And none of it is guaranteed to work.

And yet, demand continues to rise. Not just because infertility is increasing, but because fertility is being reframed—not as something natural and abundant, but as something fragile and scarce. A ticking time bomb. Something you must preserve in a vault, like gold.

This fear-based marketing plays directly into a culture that already prizes productivity over parenthood. And this is where corporate interests come in.

Today, some of the world’s largest companies—Apple, Facebook, Google—offer to cover the cost of egg freezing for female employees. On the surface, it looks like a generous benefit. A progressive policy that supports women’s choices. But dig a little deeper, and the logic becomes clearer: a woman who delays children is a more available worker. She travels more. Works longer hours. Takes fewer leaves. Needs less accommodation. In short, she’s cheaper and more efficient.

The same logic applies to childless workers in general—regardless of gender. Employees without children tend to be more mobile. They can relocate at short notice. They don’t need flexible hours for school pickups or sick days. They’re easier to manage, easier to replace, and less likely to request long-term family-related benefits. In an economy increasingly dominated by just-in-time labor and hyper-efficiency, childless workers are an ideal fit.

This isn’t a conspiracy. It’s a business model.

Companies aren’t just passively benefiting from childlessness—they are, in many subtle ways, promoting it. Through workplace culture. Through benefits. Through lifestyle branding. “Freedom” is the new fertility. Autonomy, mobility, flexibility—these are the values that dominate corporate advertising today. And children? They’re framed not as a legacy, but as a liability.

Just look at the explosion of what’s now called the “childfree movement.” In previous generations, choosing not to have children was often stigmatized. Today, it’s celebrated. Instagram accounts, YouTube channels, and entire podcasts are dedicated to the joys of being child-free. Influencers showcase luxurious lifestyles, global travel, financial independence—all made possible, they say, by choosing not to reproduce.

Some of this is genuine expression. Many people, for valid reasons, choose not to have children. But the way that choice is now being packaged, monetized, and promoted suggests something more systemic is at play. Childlessness is not just a personal decision—it’s becoming a product. A brand identity. A lifestyle to be sold.

This trend is especially visible in urban centers, where the cost of living, housing, and childcare are prohibitive. Instead of addressing those barriers to parenthood, society is offering a workaround: don’t have kids. Buy pets. Travel. Build a brand. In short, redefine success so that reproduction is no longer a part of it.

And this shift is being aided by government policies, or more accurately, the lack thereof.

In countries facing population decline—South Korea, Japan, Italy—the fertility crisis is undeniable. And yet, government responses often fall flat. Small cash bonuses for new babies. Slogans about patriotism and duty. These token measures fail to address the deeper issue: that society is no longer built to support families. Housing is unaffordable. Wages are stagnant. Education is expensive. And work culture is relentless. So people delay children—or skip them entirely.

And when they do, the infertility economy is there to catch them. To offer a technical fix for a cultural failure.

Instead of asking why fertility is collapsing, we treat the collapse as a given—and build industries to profit from it. Instead of making it easier to become parents, we make it easier to outsource parenthood. Instead of healing our relationship to reproduction, we medicalize it, monetize it, and eventually, mechanize it.

This model is profitable. But it’s not sustainable.

When fewer people reproduce, societies age. The ratio of working adults to retirees shrinks. Health systems strain. Pension funds collapse. Labor markets tighten. And automation, immigration, or reproductive outsourcing become stopgap solutions. But they don’t restore what’s been lost: the organic continuity of human life. The chain of generations born not from labs, but from love.

It’s worth asking: who benefits when natural reproduction collapses?

Biotech companies. Pharmaceutical firms. IVF clinics. Cryo-banks. Corporations that prioritize profit margins over parenthood. Governments that see families as economic units, not cultural foundations. And media outlets that frame fertility as regressive, while promoting hyper-individualism as liberation.

And who loses?

The future does.

A society that forgets how to reproduce is a society that forgets how to renew itself. Children aren’t just economic inputs—they’re meaning-bearers. Carriers of memory. Extensions of hope. Without them, civilization becomes static. Aging. Cynical. Hollowed out.

What’s more, a population that no longer reproduces biologically is one step closer to being replaced technologically. Synthetic wombs. AI nannies. Digitally engineered embryos. These aren’t solutions to infertility—they’re alternatives to humanity.

Which brings us back to the deeper theme of this series.

Depopulation is not just a biological crisis. It’s an existential one. When reproduction becomes optional, outsourced, and commercialized, we lose more than numbers. We lose identity. Continuity. Connection.

We begin to ask not “How do we make life better for future generations?” but “Do we need future generations at all?”

And when that question becomes normalized, it’s already too late.

The infertility economy is not inherently evil. It helps real people overcome real obstacles. But it must be understood for what it is: an industry. Not a solution. Not a savior. And certainly not a substitute for the biological continuity that defines our species.

If we allow markets to define meaning, then meaning will always be transactional. And reproduction—once sacred, once mysterious—will become just another product. Designed, priced, and sold.

And that is not the future of life.

That is the end of it.

So as we move forward in this series, remember: this is not about blaming individuals who choose not to have children, or who seek help through IVF. It’s about understanding the broader system. The incentives. The narratives. The profits. The policies.

Because someone is shaping the future of reproduction.

And it may not be us.