\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/438234
Image Protector
Rated: 13+ · Book · Writing · #1097072
For the rest of my Writer's Cramp Entries
#438234 added July 4, 2006 at 11:19am
Restrictions: None
The Baby Factory

Prompt:Write a story about the future in which laser labels (which tell us information about the products we purchase) are commonplace.
*Gift1*Winning Entry: 02/19/06*Gift1*

________________


“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked for the umpteenth time.

Again, she trained a smile at him – a weak one - but a smile nonetheless. She felt anything but okay. Her tongue felt dry and heavy within her mouth, her lips chapped as she did her best to lick them at various intervals. Her throat felt parched and she longed for a drink of purified water – something to quench this perpetual thirst that refused to leave her. Her heart gave a staccato beat with each step they took, her stomach churned with a thousand butterflies of fear.

She couldn’t believe they were doing this; that she was actually going through with this. However, desperation could cause one to do irrational things and this was just one of those moments.

The sudden grating sound of the steel doors being opened, jarred her from her turbulent thoughts. She wrung the white handkerchief in her trembling hands and felt her feet frozen to the cemented floor. She couldn’t move, no, she felt she would never be able to move again. This had all been a mistake. She shouldn’t have agreed to this from the beginning.

“Da…David…” she croaked through lips that felt as frozen as the rest of her.

Her husband of five years (five very long years) finally stopped as he noticed his wife was no longer with him. He turned with a quizzical expression on his handsome visage and she could see the faint lines of strain around those beautiful blue eyes. He too was suffering, she could tell, but there had to be another way. Right? This couldn’t actually be their last option, could it?

“Come on, Clare,” he cajoled softly, walking back to her to place a gentle hand upon her elbow. “It will be over in no time.”

“But…but…” She swallowed and fought against the tears. They had tried for so long together. Night after night of fruitless attempts and now…

“Let’s try again, David,” she begged fervently, her eyes misting over as the tears threatened to fall. “This is so impersonal.”

So cold.

“There now, sweetheart.” He pulled her within his arms and gave her a fierce hug. “We’ve talked about this already and this is what we’ve decided, right?”

“But…”

“Please, Mr and Mrs DuBois,” the doctor said with slight impatience in his tone. “We do have a waiting list…”

“Yes, of course, doctor,” David replied quickly, whispering softly to his wife in reassurance.

As they approached the doors, the sharp but sweet smell of talcum powder was a welcome surprise to her senses. She wasn’t sure of what she had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. She had heard so many stories about The Factory and none of them had been really good ones. She had expected a room full of darkness and smoke, the steel clanging sounds of cauldrons and chains as laborers were forced to produce these live products day after day. She did have an overactive imagination after all and although they had gotten brochures in the mail about The Factory’s 100% satisfaction guarantee, it still hadn’t dispelled her fears.

The doctor led them down a narrow corridor, a world of white walls and matching floors and through another set of double doors where they were to make their purchase.

“Oh…David! They’re…they’re wonderful!” came the breathless gasp of delight as she left her husband’s side to dash to the landscape windows which seemed to go on for eternity on both sides of the long hallway. Nurses dressed in pristine white uniforms walked the length of the cool room and between what seemed like a million incubators, noiselessly. The only sounds came from the low whirrs of the machines that gave the tiny creatures life and oh goodness, they were so many delightful angels to choose from.

“If you will follow me this way, Mr and Mrs DuBois,” the doctor said briskly as he led them into one of the rooms. “Please wear this. Our products are sensitive to outside interference…or germs as they say.”

The couple, who couldn’t stop staring in awe at the sight before them, did as they were told and slipped into the white gowns, plastic caps and gloves. The doctor motioned for a nurse to lead them to the right incubator and soon enough, Clare and David found themselves standing before their very own bundle of joy.

Tiny fisted hands curled around rosy cherub features, eyes as blue as David’s, stared at the newcomers with curiosity, while tufts of hair as brown as Clare’s dusted her small head. She was simply perfect in every way and they couldn’t have made a better choice.

“We should just do a final check,” the doctor said with a small smile as he turned the baby to the side gently to scan the narrow barcodes which had been etched into the nape of her neck. As he held the scanner to them, the new parents watched the information scroll across a small screen attached to the incubator. Their baby was a pure breed with no traces of possible or harmful diseases in her make.

“Excellent. Looks like she’s good to go,” the doctor crooned. “Now all we have to do is have you sign a few more papers and you can take her home with you.”

“Can I hold her now?” Clare pleaded fervently.

“I don’t see why not. Mr DuBois, if you’d follow me please?”

David watched his wife lift the healthy baby within her arms and smiled at the beautiful expression that came to her visage. He had always known she would make a good mother and he had no doubts he would become a great father as well. For although they had paid a lot of money to get the perfect product, it was all going to be worthwhile raising her with as much love and devotion as they could give.



Word Count: 995
© Copyright 2006 iKïyå§ama (UN: satet at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
iKïyå§ama has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/438234