FATED: Part 1

Fun Fact: I first wrote this story waaay back in 2017 after a conversation with a friend of mine: we were playing the old 'ring game' to find out how many kids we were supposed to have... I came out with only one girl, and, for some reason, felt very insulted by it. After I wrote the story, I was so proud of it I included it in a small, personal book of early short stories to keep on my shelf. I still have that book, by the way, and was so proud of this one that I posted it's (very) rough draft to the Fiction Press account I kept years ago. Extra brownie-points if you can find it there, haha!

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I gazed back at my own reflection, unable to believe that it was mine. A pale face, wide eyes, unkempt hair. This person could not be me. I couldn't be pregnant. Not again.

My first child, Dex, was born on a warm summer morning. It was the happiest day of my life; one that I had been anticipating for my whole life. My husband was just as proud and when Dex was delivered he burst from the hospital to announce to the world that he had a son. But of course no one thought anything of it. A proud father made the same announcement almost daily in the city of Haven. It didn't matter that the parents all knew the outcome of the birth. The pride and excitement of witnessing your child being brought to life was as euphoric as it had always been. I was a little disappointed after the birth, however. When I realized I would never experience that joy again. I was only ever meant to carry one child, a son. It had been that way since before I was born.

Eons ago our world was locked in a constant state of war, with various countries fighting over the most trivial matters. Over-population and the shrinking supply of resources threatened to doom us all unless a solution was found. Finally, after decades of endless research, our most skilled scientists discovered the key to our genetics and how to rewrite the naturally flawed programming. The experiment that followed a simple one: with 100 volunteers, 50 couples were matched together based on their existing genetic make-up, and underwent genetic surgery to correct various imperfections. It was only an experiment at the time, one that no one paid any attention to. But it worked. Those afflicted with illness or pain from aging, were completely cured; couples previously incapable of carrying children themselves suddenly found it easy to have as many as they desired; disabilities across the board became nonexistent for the first time in history.

The experiment succeeded beyond expectations. So much so that it was repeated the next year, and then the next, and on and on for centuries to come. Government mandated programs were eventually launched to ensure that every citizen was genetically perfected, which would therefore ensure the survival of our race. Every couple was altered, their genes reprogrammed, so that only one natural birth in a lifetime would be possible. And for centuries this policy was enforced. The population dwindled down to a manageable size, the wars ended, and natural resources were restored to bountiful levels. Everything was now pre-determined for every single person: our careers, our marriages, even the children we would have. Our society flourished according to this carefully planned design. Our people prospered and we were able to live again. Until now.

I took a deep breath and braced myself against the bathroom sink, staring down into the porcelain bowl at the positive pregnancy test sitting inside. I had purchased it under the guise that it was for a friend. I kept it well hidden from Duce, my husband, and waited for the right time. He was away on his shift patrolling the city and wouldn't return until early the next morning. I had to think fast – he couldn't know the truth. I took another deep breath and composed myself carefully before exiting the bathroom. I walked silently down the hallway and stopped to peek in on Dex. He was sound asleep with the covers pulled up to his chin; his cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink. He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. His starry night-light spun slowly from the corner casting glowing yellow star-shapes against his bedroom walls. His abandoned toys were piled haphazardly into the corner just outside his toy box. Naughty boy, I thought with a smile. But my smile faded as I looked back to my son, the only child I was meant to have. He was born to be a leader in the community; a member of the High Council. But now… now all those carefully laid plans were shattered beyond repair. If my secret was ever exposed, to anyone, my beautiful little boy would share in my fate.

I turned away as the tears burned my eyes and walked back to the bedroom. I shut the door softly before falling weakly onto the bed. I choked on my own sobs as I thought about the prospect of execution. Though they were very, very rare, there were times like this when the genetic re-programming failed. Someone suddenly became sick, a disabled child was born – a woman became pregnant with a second child. It didn't happen often. But when it did happen, the actions taken were swift and drastic. Death was always the sentence, followed up by a thorough evaluation of all surviving relatives. Some even argued that all remaining relatives be executed; the risk of tainting the collective genetic pool was too great. But these people were fanatics, everyone knew that. Only the flawed were to be executed, and no one else.

"No one except for my son," I muttered aloud. At this realization I broke into a series of fresh sobs. Dex was my progeny, as well as my husband's. That inherently made him the product of a genetically flawed line. What else could be done with him? What other choice was there?

"No," I gasped standing straight up. I paced the room with tears still flowing, but a renewed since of survival filling my heart. "No, that can't happen. I won't let it happen! They're not taking my son." I stopped at the window and glared at my reflection once again. I glared out into the glittering skyline of Haven.

"They're not going to kill my son," I whispered.

***

The surrounding wilderness of Haven was our only means of escape. I reasoned that perhaps we could even find a township that didn't enforce the laws. Most likely not. But still, it was a chance we would have to risk. We couldn't stay in the city for much longer. Not when the earliest signs of pregnancy were starting to make themselves known. The first trimester was the easiest to hide, even as I felt my belly slowly growing larger near the end. But after, it was only a matter of time before my secret was discovered. And in a world without sickness it was rather difficult to hide the earliest symptoms. But I made do and busied myself with house work and shopping and managed to forget about the nausea from time to time. Sometimes when I looked too sickly, Duce merely chalked it up to fatigue and insisted I spend the day at home; just like he did on the day of our escape.

My Dearest, I thought fondly as he tucked me into bed and brushed a kiss against my brow. He then left for work and wished me well, promising to return as soon as possible. I smiled as I watched him go. I supposed I never did love Duce, though he was a good man. Love had very little to do with our marriage since we had been promised to each other long ago, probably before either of us were born, just as our parents had been promised to each other and theirs before them. We were, all of us, matched for a single simple reason: our individual make-ups promised to produce an equally perfect offspring. Love was never part of that equation.

Still, I would often fantasized what it would be like to be "in love" with my husband. I'd heard several times over the years how some were lucky enough to find love with each other. Of course, they all loved their children, and their parents and families like anyone else, but being "in love" with your partner, that was a different experience completely. At least, that's what the lucky few insisted. It didn't change the fact that Duce was my husband and the father of our son; I wasn't sure if I would ever be "in love" with him, but I was fond of him and cared deeply for him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. That hope, however, was now forever dashed. I knew he would be angry and confused. I knew that our escape, though it would spare his life, would also break his heart. It was the part of my plan I most regretted. If only he could've come with us. If only he understood. The patter of feet reached my ears and as I looked up, Dex raced into the room before leaping gaily on the bed next to me.

"Mommy, are we going on vacation today?" he asked curiously, excitedly.

"Yes my Darling," I answered with a smile, "Tonight, just like we talked about."

"Why isn't Daddy coming?" My smile faltered slightly as the answer flashed through my mind: because he would turn us in. Because then we would all be executed.

"Because Daddy has to work," I explained calmly, "Daddy's job is very important, and keeps people safe. He needs to stay."

"But what about us? Who's gonna keep us safe?"

***

"Oh my little Darling," I replied softly, pulling him close into a tight embrace. "I know it's confusing. But please understand, Daddy needs to stay here and we need to go." I held him by the shoulders and looked into his light brown eyes.

"Remember, you can't tell anyone we're leaving." I stated more urgently. "Not even Daddy. This is a secret mission for our secret baby, understand?" Dex furrowed his brow and stared back at me with worried eyes; my poor little Darling. I can't help but worry that I might have frightened him through the whole ordeal. He must've known something was wrong, and it must've frightened him worse not knowing what it was. But he nodded his head diligently and muttered, "Okay." He then hugged me as tightly as he could and I squeezed him back, assuring him that everything was going to be alright.

"Don't worry Mommy," Dex added brightly, and patted the small mound of my growing belly. "I'll keep us safe. I'll protect you and the secret-baby."

"I bet you will," I giggled and reached down to tickle his underarms.

- Edited 11/26/23; 12/19/23