The Fates

By James W. Hoddinott

The Fates follows societys search for immortality. The exploration of what each of us would sacrifice if it meant that we could live forever. Changing societal values and reducing the importance of community has resulted in a society that continues to put the needs of the individual first. The Fates explores a society made up of those that put their needs ahead of all others versus those that believe the spiritual self is the destiny of all humans. The conflict in a society and each individual that devalues the basic human characteristics that make each of us unique manifests itself in some devastating outcomes.

Each day we are faced with decisions of what each of us value and what each of us will fight for. The youth of today are influenced by increasingly uncontrolled and self-centered ideas about how they should live. The path is being set in our world where through media, we are changing culture. The Fates at one time may have seemed like science fiction; however, with our increasing knowledge of genetics and our belief that immortality can only be obtained through science rather than spiritually or through the legacies we create to make our world a better place for future generations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Apr 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490730844

James W. Hoddinott

James W. Hoddinott is a teacher, resource/special education teacher, and consultant and currently works as a vice principal. James is interested in making a difference in his own life and the lives of others. He is a believer in strength-based education and helping students find what it is that is their gift. He is an advocate for students with special needs and individuals who have not yet found their way. He also believes in creating healthy communities which understands the importance of people.

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© Copyright 2014 . James W. Hoddinott.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4907-3083-7 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-3082-0 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-3084-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014904908

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Contents

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Epilogue

Dedication

To all those who devote their lives to the service of others.

PROLOGUE

August 14, 2084

How precarious the continuation of human life is? Prophets throughout history have foretold of the end of the world. Were the prophets just giving heed to all of us so we would never believe we were invincible? Had any of the previous predications of soothsayers been accurate—I would not be telling this tragic tale for all to hear. It is now with a warning of what has become an inevitable ending—an ending I not so long ago had the power to prevent. Visions haunt me in the night; madness terrorizes my mind with unrelenting images of greed and senseless destruction. A declaration of egotism, which I, yes, I, have manufactured into this now inescapable conclusion. The world’s Armageddon was to be brought about by the atomic bomb, terrorists or self-serving, self-righteous politicians, not a scientist. Not me.

Christ himself predicated through the prophecies that one-day man will lead to his own demise. What I have been a part of has essentially made the visions of all the prophets—reality? Am I mad? No, this is not madness, for if it was madness… would I not fear the coming of my own death and the death of all the others? My own death, when it comes, will be a comfort. To join my friends, to at long last be reunited with my first and one true love, and alas, my son, I don’t think I have ever called him that, to no longer be burdened with the weight of the destruction of mankind. It is the death of the others, however, that torments me. The ones yet to come, the ones who were not even given a chance at life. Aagh, I am not even sure how I could have allowed the killing and the bloodshed, all the blood, of those that have come before me and those that were not granted life. All those lives lost, staining my skin in a devilish crimson hue marking my passageway to hell. Even the most forgiving God can never forgive my sins as the stench of the blood of so many innocents will never be cleansed from my soul. It is their stories, their lives, and my selfishness that has brought me here to tell this story. The blood of the countless innocents that perished as I was victim to a madness, an insanity, a loss of morality brought on by the narcissism of our society and compounded by this narcissist nature of a woman, whose vanity was only matched by her unrelenting self-serving desire that I saw from the start, but I was caught in this neurosis and my obsession that I could alter the world, I could change humanity. I was, well, my science was all that mattered. Aagh, but I offer excuses when there are no excuses or rational reasons only now, be it too late. And now is the time to take responsibility for my actions. I was not a man who had not heard the voices of my conscious. I just allowed them to be silenced and became blind to all others. Well, blind to all but that venomous woman who fed my compulsions, my ever-growing egocentric self until I was stripped of all that made me human. Ask yourselves as you read this tale. How much humanity do you have left?

I gave that creature everlasting life and beauty and still… How can one be given and have everything and still want more? Can one’s soul be so empty that one loses compassion even for their husband and child? I cannot lay all blame on her, but my crimes had an accomplice, for it is me who let my desire for knowledge, my desire to find the answers that allowed me to be trapped in a web of lies, which eventually emptied my soul of all that I was, all that I am, all that I was destined to be. Her stone heart, her broken cup, her soul with no footprints compounded by my inability to find my manhood that left me and mankind at her mercy. Mankind at the mercy of a narcissist. It is no wonder we lost our way as we fed our wants rather than the needs of others and future generations. She was the devil’s seed that was planted in God’s garden. She turned God’s beautiful flowers into an empty desert where not even the purest of flowers could survive. I looked into the face of pure evil and saw an angel. Aagh, when we look at others with our eyes rather than our hearts, evil finds our soul. That is the devil’s plan, to blind us of what and who is truly evil.

No, I am not mad . . . how I wish I were? Then none of what I am about to tell you would be true.

Had I chosen the life of a historian, an individual who believes that through the horrors of our past, we will discover the provisions for our salvation. Perhaps my quest would have been different. Had I embarked on what all civilizations have strived for, but alas, my self-righteousness, my arrogance, my belief, and then perseverating on what would be my eventual discovery that would change mankind. Once I held the answer in the palm of my hand, no one could persuade me to alter my course. Only I had the answers. I had nothing to learn from others. Not about science and certainly not about life. After all, for me that is all there was is time, time for living. My discovery had made that possible, and yes, I would be choosing who would be with me and those that were against me well they would not benefit from my discovery. My narcissistic lover fed that ego of mine, helped my thinking remain altered, made me feel oh so powerful. Is that you my love? I am coming, please forgive me. The story, I need to tell the story.

Yes, history, history teaches us, tells us the truths of our failures, or our greed and the tragedies that our intolerances will lead us to. It is the religions of man that teach us the only true power and redeemer is love, yet we allow our minds to twist the words of our saviors in order to breed hate, fear and mistrust in others and in the end destruction of the only true salvation of humanity.

It was during the 1950s, long after the skies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (marking the end of World War II) became the light that guided humanities fears. We entered a time to preserve life rather than destroy it. The atomic bomb and its capability of mass destruction served as a constant reminder of how fragile human life is. History has taught us that once a fear sleeps with us for too long, that fear inevitably vanishes and brings about the return of man’s greatest enemy. Apathy! Our once unwelcome bed partner becomes just part of our existence. Fear becomes something we have no feelings for—something that is just there. We neither want nor acknowledge the existence of fear. Time took away the power of the bomb as a tool of peace. It was replaced with feelings even more deadly than the atomic bomb. Feelings we are not mere humans, but the creators of life itself, the belief that it is man, who controls fate, not fate that controls man.

One would never believe the technology created in the latter part of the twentieth and early part of the twenty-first centuries would lead so tragically to a world without… without humanity. The computer and its drive to create lives for people devoid of human contact as people fabricated false lives through virtual social networks. Lives that were devoid of real feeling, seeing and not touching, not living, not experiencing but being like voyeurs surfing through the make believe lives of others. People began to soothe the mind rather than the soul and it fed our frailties, it strengthened our weaknesses as day by day we lost what made each of us real, made each of us human. By pretending we were something we were not and in the end we lost ourselves, lost what it is that makes us God’s greatest life creation, our souls.

Science and our ability to rejuvenate life through the Genome Project gave furor to the cry of eternal life. The mapping of the human DNA—increasing our understanding of the key to what makes us human opened the door, a door that was never meant to be opened, a door to what would eventually take away our humanity. The foundation to our humanity is that life is finite. Man’s time on earth is not forever and what lies ahead is for the most part uncertain. Our existence then, is to create a better world for those that follow, for it is our mortality that creates an importance to our days—an importance to our existence and the existence of others. Without an end, or purpose, life becomes a journey of sameness. We live each day with the knowledge we will have many more. It is no longer a purpose to pass on a new and better world for our children, for we are only creating a world for ourselves, and in that world, in that world that I crafted, there was no tolerance for others. What happens to the preciousness of our life—of the life of others? It vanishes along with our humanity. Each day becomes a narcissist’s dream—what is in it for me? How can I make me happy?

The quest for immortality indeed became our unknowing Armageddon. Do we as scientists really know where our godforsaken science will take us? Do we really care? Science is science, technology is technology and it must not be stopped. Never be questioned. I sang that song when through Dolly we cloned a sheep recreating—well, more than that redefining life. Did it matter where that or any of it would actually take us? What mattered is the science—nothing else. I constructed the city of Dionysus after a collection and destruction of so many innocents, so many innocent ones—a genocide that would be remembered through the ages—but alas, history only matters when there are people to learn from it, to hear about it, to teach it. Who would ever tell the truth, for those who know the truth, will never admit the truth, for in the truth all that will be found is their guilt, their role in the destruction of mankind. The destruction of humanity!

Perhaps looking back at our New World order we can trace its beginnings to a generation known as the baby boomers. This post-war group of children dominated the political scene for decades, creating massive upheaval and debt. For a group that at one time believed they were anti-establishment—they created an establishment so powerful, no one else’s interests mattered. That generation reflected fondly back on the sixties. A time of unbridled sex, drugs and protest. Their marches for equality for all, women’s rights, were nothing more than children throwing a tantrum because they did not get their way. In the end this self-serving group showed total disregard for the most basic of human rights, basic moral values. They were without a doubt deserving of the reputation as the me generation. Nothing but their pompous self-interest mattered. Self-preservation and personal indulgences were the truisms of the day. They raised their children by the hands of others. They were grandparents to golf, leisure and sun. All this could have been forgiven, but alas, as they aged, they poured all resources in the quest to stay young, a fight against the circle of life, ignoring the futures of their children and all subsequent generations. Ignoring that the purpose of being a parent was to teach their children, be their child’s moral compass, teach them right from wrong… show them how to live so that our civilization could survive. The gift of life is not about one it is about everyone. Did I or anyone know where their children, their grandchildren were? Did it matter that they were lost in the digital world being influenced by the perversities of others, being enslaved to values that made us immune to the sufferings of others. We all saw it happening, we all watched as the world lost its soul.

Allow me to sound angry for it is with this anger, not madness, I tell this story. I am sure it is not madness I am certainly not mad, but at long last affronted by my own guilt. It is not to lay blame, for all blame rests like a harness on my shoulders. I was a part of this generation. I am the remnants of that generation. I am the last self-serving, self-righteous, self-indulgent, hippie. At one time, I did not want their type of immortality. I wanted immortality through children, through my work, through the creation of a better world. The discoveries at my university had to be stopped, but when I could not stop them, I did the unforgivable. Instead of stopping them, I became the catalyst to the creation of a New World hierarchy.

I ask God to forgive me, but like Sonya, we have been in the devil’s hands far too long to ever gain salvation but perhaps God will spare all those whose souls we-she shattered. It was by her hand she destroyed my soul and the souls of so many others. She destroyed—more manipulated me into this madness that led me to this destruction of others and eventually mankind. I lost my way. I would lay my hands on each and every one of them pretending to have the cure for all their ailments, pretending to be their God. I was not a God though, I was just a scientist, a trickster, thinking I could control fate rather than fate controlling me. A medical scientist and mistakenly believed that by mending an arm, a leg or by curing cancer I was saving man, when it was clearly not the physical man that needed saving but mankind. How narrow our visions are when we heal the scar but ignore all else, ignore what is beneath a scar and what is inside a person that requires the scar to be healed. We are fixated on what we can see not in the causes. Our quick fix lifestyle in the end is a mere Band-Aid that eventually can’t cover-up the gaping wound beneath the surface. We fought for everlasting life of the flesh but in truth eternity comes through the soul not through our false images. We all fought the fight that should have never been fought. If there is anyone out there, anyone left to remember our history—read this tale. Let him or her and God be my judge of this my final confession.

What a laugh, God my judge—at one time when I spoke of God, I only referred to me?

I do not ask for forgiveness, for what I have done can never be forgiven.

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Chapter 1

April 3, 2015

Board Meeting: Harvard Medical Board Room

Listen to me! We cannot continue on this path. They are our children. They are the future. They are the ones who…

Stop babbling, Thomas. Look at me your wife. Is this not what all husbands want in their wife? cried Sonya as she seductively started to disrobe.

Stop right there. You are no longer flesh. You are no longer the woman I held in my arms, the one I made love to. The Sonya I knew, the Sonya I loved, the Sonya that gave birth to our daughter is dead. You are not Sonya, you are not a human for you can no longer feel and God no longer holds you in the palm of his hand. Your heart Sonya has become, become as cold as the stone it is made of. If you could see past the mirror, allow all your senses to tell you what you are, and then you would understand it is not beauty you possess. Look in the mirror if you dare. Look in the mirror and truly see the hideous monster you have become. Your outer shell cannot hide the emptiness of your heart, that body with no soul, a soul with no footprints. Don’t listen to those who give you false praise and feed your ego for those are things that do not matter, and they only feed your ego to get what it is their soulless life desires. Once they get what they want and have sex with a mannequin, they realize that beautiful outer shell is empty inside. Their eyes will eventually see you, see the real you. That false image disappears and the real you appears. Then like me, once I could no longer find what was left of your soul, they are repulsed. I was fooled but I see you for what you are and in the end they will not be fooled. Your ugliness will always be revealed to those who want to see. Those that have the strength to look! Listen to me, all of you, hear what I am saying. She offers you slavery. A slave to your fears of aging, of death, do not be fooled by her false image, for although blood flows through her veins her heart beats not, and she is without a soul, truly the walking dead. Thomas has spoken long but no one was listening. Sonya’s beauty had taken away the mind of the men in the room, and the women, well they were lost too. All wanting to be like her. Their false idol. Their image of perfection.

Sonya, unable and not wanting to hear her husband’s assertions either, continued to disrobe. She had listened to his babblings far too long. He was not her father. He was her husband; he was to take care of her needs and wants. He never supported her. Never helped her with her journey, she needed to find those that would. Her mom was right all along.

Since she was a young girl her mother told her that it was her looks that would bring her happiness, for without looks you have nothing. Sonya has spent her life in front of the mirror creating an image for others to admire but each time she looked, she saw flaws and was never satisfied, never beautiful enough for her or her mother. Each man she had did not satisfy her but made her feel empty as it never made her feel beautiful, always left her feeling exposed. Now here she was the most beautiful woman God or should we say man ever created and she was going to savor every moment as every man and woman around this table would admire her. She always could sense the hunger others had for her as she even hungered for herself. She enjoyed looking at herself, touching herself and using others to satisfy her desires as she watched voyeuristically in the mirrors that surrounded her bed brought her the only pleasure she knew. It only lasted a short time and then she needed more.

As she walked she exposed what appeared to be the most delicate, velvety smooth skin anyone in the boardroom had ever lay witness to. This woman who was soon to be fifty-five, had regained the youthfulness of her body—better. Her breasts were two perfectly formed orbs, firm. Nipples centered and pointing straight ahead. Her breasts only had the slightest bounce as she walked toward each board member inviting them to touch the firmness of her body. As she walked, her sparkling blue eyes were fixated on the full-length mirror in the corner of the boardroom, admiring her newly created body. Looking at herself always made her feel powerful. Her beauty gave her power.

All board members felt the firmness of her muscles, the softness of her flesh, yet something was not right. It was not warm to the touch, nor was it cool. This was not skin they were touching. Yet it looked like skin. What was this protective covering that encased her body?

You all can have a body like this. Each one of you, like me, can recapture your youth. I am offering everyone here immortality. Let the brilliant Dr. Fairholm demonstrate to you what he has created. What I have become? Sonya sat down but remained undressed to symbolize her power, her everlasting beauty—her immortality. Sonya’s eyes remained fixated on the mirror, seemingly unaware of all others in the room, a slave to her vanity.

Listen to me! All of you please listen to me! Do not be fooled by the illusion you see. Beauty is not seen through the eyes but through the heart. Sonya is no longer Sonya. She is not human. Humans have compassion, have heart, can love, grow old, put the needs of their children over their own needs. She is not woman, or man. Touch my flesh—this is what it is to be human. I am human. I am what man is to become. I am old, gray, and wrinkled, accepting of my place in the circle of life. Look at this scar on my cheek, my crow’s feet, touch my flesh, and see the tears that are in my eyes. This is what makes us human. This is who we are! Each of us different, each of us God’s creation, each of us unique, each of us in control of our immortality. There was a time when I would hold Sonya’s breasts in my hands. Her breasts were soft, real, sagged. They were alive. She was alive. All those things she has forsaken made her real to me—made her human. Do not let Dr. Fairholm tell you he can bring about immortality. Immortality is here. Thomas picked up the Bible; he had begun to carry around with him ever since Sonya had got involved with Dr. Fairholm. She did not want to die. Neither did Thomas, but death was the price of life. He went to the scriptures of past generations to find his immortality, but Sonya went to Dr. Fairholm.

Put down your Bible Thomas. It is a fool’s game. Listen to Dr. Fairholm! Behold! Sonya once again stood exposing all her magnificence. As she rose, her breasts remained motionless, they moved up as she moved up. They too stared directly into the mirror enslaved by their power.

Sonya is partially correct. Yes, I can give you back your youth. Dr. Fairholm reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small tube filled with a crimson fluid. It was the color of blood, yet it was not blood. This fluid also contained microscopic active tissue. Dr. Fairholm had been researching the extension of life for years. He began his search as part of the Genome Project. The Genome Project that began in 1990 started the process of mapping the approximately one hundred thousand genes on the twenty-three human chromosomes. Eventually he sequenced the 3 billion DNA base pairs that make up these genes. The goal of the project was to understand the basis of genetic diseases and to gain an insight into what destroys our genes and eventually understand how to protect them. Dr. Fairholm was more interested in the alteration of genes. Through his early participation in the project he clearly understood the vulnerability of our genetic make-up. We as humans could be attacked by disease, bacteria and of course viruses. His goal became one of not mapping these cells but if they were under attack how could he alter them—rejuvenate the cells. Take old cells and make them young again. In the early twenty-first century Korean researchers began to look at somatic cell nuclear transfer (SCNT). Dr. Fairholm took the findings from the Korean researchers on somatic cell nuclear transfer, which was a laboratory technique for creating an ovum with a donor nucleus. It can be used in embryonic stem cell research, or in regenerative medicine where it is sometimes referred to as therapeutic cloning. It can also be used as the first step in the process of reproductive cloning. In SCNT the nucleus, which contains the organism’s DNA, of a somatic cell is removed and the rest of the cell discarded. At the same time, the nucleus of an egg cell is removed. The nucleus of the somatic cell is then inserted into the enucleated egg cell. After being inserted into the egg, the somatic cell nucleus is reprogrammed by the host cell.

Dr. Fairholm could not hold to the strict research and technological guidelines he was placed under as part of the Genome Project. After all, if you are to discover something that could alter mankind’s existence it was not going to be by following the rules that stifle genius, his genius. It had been clear to Dr. Fairholm the key to immortality was going to be the ability to regenerate deteriorating cells. The creation of life came through the reproductive system. New cells could be harvested from embryos. Embryology was the key to the threads of life. When he told the Project of his hypothesis they were excited, but ethically how can someone destroy a living embryo to investigate the theory behind embryogeny. He then approached the Korean researchers with his thoughts on how combining their SCNT research to the Genome Project’s research on DNA make-up, and his research into the development of the fetus. They like other researchers he had spoken to were appalled at the thought of human trials no matter what the benefit. Sure, they could do embryectomies on embryos that had miscarried or were aborted, but on a living embryo, a living tissue—not possible and certainly not ethical. Somebody else’s so-called ethics were not going to stop him from pursuing the greatest discovery of mankind. This research eventually took him to what happens before creation, what exists in our cells prior to conception that can create life that can regenerate, create cells. Many living embryo’s, many lives were lost before Dr. Fairholm came to that discovery however.

This vile holds the key to Sonya’s youth. Inside this vile are the eggs Sonya has created through menstruation. Once these eggs are fertilized, we will inject this vile of living tissue into her body, which will cause a regeneration of her living organs. The result being Sonya will maintain her current look forever.

Why are you all so afraid of death? Why are you so afraid of aging? It is what we are. It is who we are? Victor Vargas, chairman of the board, interrupted.

It is not that I am afraid of death Victor. I am afraid of what lies ahead. My fear is the fear of the unknown. I believe that at the very least the extension of our lives…

Extension, Sonya interrupted. Don’t be modest my love. You offer much more than extension of life.

"Sonya let me continue please. I have created an opportunity for me to continue in my scientific pursuits. I am so close to understanding all that there is to know about humans that to