The Fetus Maker

By Ken Youngblood

It's a story of a woman who has to deal with the controversy of having her own morals challenged. Not by the community, but questioned by herself and to what extent she is willing to go without loosing her own identity and values. Selling out her own ideals for profit.and mostly the questions concerning abortion and how far is society willing to go to justify behavior. The degeneration of modern society. Where do good and evil collide, or do they?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Youngblood
• Release date: Nov 25, 2015

Ken Youngblood

I spent 40 years in television and the music business. In the military, I worked at the Armed Forces Korean Network as a news cameraman and film editor in Seoul Korea in 1965-66. After returning to the states, I worked the sound stages of the Army Pictorial Center in Long Island City, Queens New York as an assistant cameraman, making training films for the U.S.Army. Later, during the 1970's, I worked at WVUE-TV and then WWL-TV in New Orleans in T.V. News and later as a producer, cameraman, film editor, song writer, I also produced music videos for the Peabody award winning show 'A Sunday Journal.' I moved to New York and decided to go full time producing music for Daytime dramas, aka 'Soap Operas.' Some of the shows to list a few were 'All My Children' 'Ryan's Hope' 'One Life to Live ' 'Another World' 'Texas' and 'Capitol.' I created music for 3 Networks and after 20 years I retired. I also received a nomination for a JUNO award in Canada. 'Another Woman's Man' sung by Susan Jacks. I've always enjoyed writing stories, so I hope you find this story, "The Fetus Maker" though dark in tone, a worthwhile read.

Book preview

The Fetus Maker

By Ken Youngblood

Cinetics Publishing

Madison, Tennessee

Copyright 1993 and 2016

Kenneth Youngblood

All Rights Reserved

[e-mail]

The story and its characters and entities are fictional. Any likeness to actual persons, either living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

Contents

Preface

Chapter 1 Let There Be Light

Chapter 2 The Garden of Eden

Chapter 3 The Temptation by the Serpent

Chapter 4 The Appearance of the Archangel

Chapter 5 Banishment of The Mortals

Chapter 6 The Awakening

Chapter 7 Trust in Me Saith The Lord

Chapter 8 The Immaculate Conception

Chapter 9 Clean of Heart

Chapter 10 Flight of The Albatross

Chapter 11 The Other Kingdom

Chapter 12 The Truth Shall Set You Free

Chapter 13 Twas The Day before Christmas

Chapter 14 The Christ Child is Born

Epilogue

About the Author

Preface

It’s a story about a young woman whose DNA code may be a cure for the HIV virus which eventually leads to AIDS, but can only be accomplished through the production of her fetuses. The year is 2035.

Megan O’Connor has to deal with the controversy of having her own morals challenged. Not by the community, but questioned by herself and to what extent she is willing to go without losing her own identity and values. Selling out her own ideals for profit and mostly the questions concerning abortion and how far society is willing to go to justify behavior.

It also deals with Medical Ethics and the Business of Medicine in general.

The degeneration of modern society and where do good and evil collide, or do they?

I hope you find this story, The Fetus Maker though dark in tone, a worthwhile read.

The Fetus Maker

Chapter 1      Let There Be Light

Thursday p.m. twilight, September 27, 2035

Megan O’Connor was too preoccupied to deal with the elements of cold and rain; too preoccupied to notice the faceless people locked in little glass bubbles leaving the Land of Oz. She could think only of her upcoming blood test and what it would mean to her future - or would she even have a future?

On the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 168th Street in Washington Heights, she stood alone in the chilling drizzle, as thick streams of fog slithered down the streets and curled around the buildings like pythons in a forest. The small electric cars were now beginning to clog the arteries and capillaries to the George Washington Bridge, and the congestion was a daily occurrence. As usual, New York City was suffering from both chronic pneumonia and acute angina, and all Megan wanted to do was cross the street.

The walk-don’t-walk signs were out of sync to the traffic lights. Had it not been for the congestion from the small electric cars clogging the arteries, Megan would have found the crossing impossible; thereby disproving the theorem that the addition of negatives can never result in a positive. But it also proved that even chaos sometimes can result in something good.

The hues from various neon lights and headlights were diffused by the fog and rain, creating soft oblique spectrums, flaring from obtuse angles. Rainbows of the real kind, the kind made by sunlight, no longer existed. Megan moved carefully, gracefully, between shadows and light. She always did.

Due to recent climatic changes, mostly attributable to the past century, the weather was never predictable, and yet, almost always pretty ugly. Only a few days into autumn and the temperature was colder than normal. But then again, no one counted on normal anymore.

Her short blue patent-leather jacket and skin tone body suit offered little protection from the cold and rain.

The red and white leggings tucked inside her boots and extending above her knees were also of little use.

In her cropped strawberry hair, small beads of water began to gather, forming little pools and rivers, running down to emerald eyes dressed in shades of pink and magenta. Black eyeliner was also running down her cheeks, but it didn’t obscure her natural beauty. Her face and body were sculptured by the Gods of Love on a clear Sunday afternoon; but today, only her candy red lip gloss remained shiny and undisturbed. Megan O’Connor, twenty first century’s Ms. Captain America, would not be deterred from making her journey.

Walking down the last couple of blocks along 168th Street to Genetics Family Health Clinic, next to Presbyterian Hospital, Megan again did not take notice of the other faceless ones who always huddle in small tight groups beneath tattered awnings of rundown buildings. Every day, old men in rags would feed the fire in rusty drums with pieces of flooring, posts from wooden banisters and whatever debris they could gather.

Keeping warm, surviving the cold wet night, was their only future. Dealing drugs and prostitution were their only sources of income and for the most part had been overlooked, as long as the activities were confined within the ghetto. The cops normally looked the other way when it came to nonviolent crimes. The new normal, when it came to crime, was constantly changing and not always for the better.

She briefly took notice, as two workers from the coroner’s office loaded a corpse into a body bag onto a stretcher and pushed it into one of the coolers at the back of a med-van truck. The stench from the decay of the man’s body lingered in the heavy air from the alley to the street, but Megan stayed in the direction of the clinic.

The corpse was now the ward of the state and would either be used for anatomy studies at Columbia Medical School, or, if too decomposed, cremated for reasons of public health. In any case, four pictures from a digital camera would be taken of his upper and lower teeth and then stored into a data base along with his DNA blueprint and reference number J.D. 2035-712. John Doe, in the year of our Lord 2035 was the 712th unknown person to perish in the streets of New York. Since the .38 slug, leaving a four inch hole in the top of his head, having exited from previously having entered his skull by way of his left eyeball, had never been found, the official cause of death was listed as Exposure. Another faceless one with no name; and Megan didn’t look back.

Blessed are they who mourn: for they will be comforted.

Amongst the fog and rain were the sounds of steam bellowing from pipes below the streets like geysers erupting, gushing intermittently. There were sounds coming