Began this story a VERY long time ago... I add to it as the inspiration comes to me.
Comments please?
An Eye For An Eye
by Porkchop
"…will the defendant please rise for sentencing?" the bailiff instructs.
Both sides of the jury room arise as instructed. Shannon Thompson adjusts her pretty pink dress she'd worn especially for this moment. Her lawyer had tutored her in the fine art of appearing as innocent as possible for her situation was one of great desperation. Shannon pressed the pleats of her dress tightly as she stood, clasping her defense attorneys hand tightly.
The Foreman, an older gentleman stands up to the microphone, cleared his throat saying, "Your honor, on the matter of the people vs. Shannon Thompson on the charges of Involuntary Manslaughter; we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson…."
Shannon squeezes her lawyers hand even harder, closing her eyes and silently prayed to a God she didn't believe in, to save her.
"….guilty as charged!" He declares.
"Judge," Shannon's lawyer interjects quickly, "May we know the verdict of each of the charges individually?"
The Judge nods and asks the foreman to proclaim each charge individually.
"On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of James Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty. On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of Sarah Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty. On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of Margaret Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty.
On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of Billy Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty," the foreman drones on.
Each sentence sending sharp volts of terror into Shannon's heart and soul; each verdict condemning her forever. Mr. Jacobs, Shannon's lawyer leans over and whispers quietly to his sobbing client.
"Your honor," he says, "Ms. Thompson has agreed to waive her appeal and throws herself on the mercy of the court."
The judge nods dutifully, leans over to speak with the bailiff, "Counsel will meet with me in my chamber in one hour!" The judge barks and then pounds the gavel with disdain.
The bailiff escorts Shannon back to the waiting room, motions her inside and locks the door behind her.
Emotions of the day's event finally reach a crescendo; Shannon is unable to display the brave face that she's put forth all day long. She slumps down onto an awaiting chair and sobs… deeply! Tears flow on and on and on, she grabs a nearby box of tissues, blowing her nose loudly.
Her lawyer, Nick Jacobs walks in suddenly to check on her.
He's been a trial lawyer for over ten years, won and lost dozens of times yet the awkwardness and inability to show empathy is easily apparent on this seasoned prosecutor's face. Such is the life of a lawyer!
"… I tried my best kiddo, but I've heard that you have an option. I still haven't figured it out yet, and as a matter of record none of the lawyers that I know can figure out what happens," he says with a puzzled look on his face.
"What are you talking about?" Shannon sobs.
"Well Miss Thompson, it seems that during a case such as this where the defendant is a woman involved in a capital case where a life is taken… there seems to be some kind of deal they cannot refuse," he says gesturing his hands mystically.
A knock at the door breaks up their conversation.
"It's time, the judge is ready to see you now," the bailiff says, speaking to Shannon only.
"As counsel, it is my right to accompany my client in any legal matter," Nick warns very legally. "True enough," the bailiff responds, "But the judge instructed me to relay to you that the deal is with Miss Thompson alone. It's either alone with the judge or back to the open court room to face sentencing!"
Shannon looks back at her lawyer who can only shrug his shoulders in agreement.
The bailiff handcuffs Shannon to himself again and gestures back towards the court room.
"Turn left here," he says. Shannon nods her head and trudges forward.
The bailiff releases her bonds only to attach them to the chair.
"…. wait right here," the bailiff says incredulously as if she had another choice.
"Miss Thompson has arrived," he says after knocking twice on the judge’s chambers.
"Come…" is the stern reply from inside.
Releasing Shannon from her shackles the bailiff signals her in.
"I'll be right outside," he says and closes the door behind her.
Judge Reynolds, sitting behind his desk, peers at her through bifocals momentarily before continuing with paperwork.
"Have a seat," he says, "I'm just going over your sentence."
Shannon gulps involuntarily but has the sense to remain quiet and motionless whilst he carries on.
"Miss Thompson, did your lawyer inform you of the seriousness of the crime that you've been convicted of and the potential time of incarceration involved?" Judge Reynolds asks in a monotone voice.
"Errr, yes…ummm, I mean, no… I mean, he told me that I could get 25 years to life for my crime… but he didn't know or understand why you wanted to see me… err, alone.
I mean… err, alone … all by myself, in your chambers… err, your honor? She responds.
"Twenty-five years to life… for each life you destroyed," Judge Reynolds emphasizes harshly.
Your negligence took not only four lives, Miss Thompson; you killed a family… a whole family!" He corrects her soundly.
"I know Judge, I know!" She begins to sob.
"If this were one hundred years ago, we'd simply lock you up for good; you'd die in jail Ms. Thompson!" He says sternly.
Shannon can only nod her head in agreement.
"… but, this is the 23rd century and since you are a young, healthy female," he says with his eyes still immersed in paperwork, "We have options."
"There it is!" Shannon mumbles quietly to herself, "This crooked judge wants me to have sex with him to reduce my sentence! I can't believe it!"
Tears stream again from her young eyes; she shakes her head in disbelief.
Standing, she starts to slowly undress, her whimpering barely audible.
"I guess this will help me?" Shannon says, her eyes averted towards the floor to avoid the sheer shame of it all as her dress crumples into a heap by her ankles.
Finally, the judge looks up and is flatly shocked!
"Miss Thompson, pull your dress back up and sit down!" He shouts angrily.
Stunned, she redresses quickly and plops back onto the bench.
"…but… but… you said," she tries to explain.
The Judge realizes his mistake and softens his tone, "Miss Thompson, I'll have you know that I'm an honest, credible judge with over 25 years of public service and there is no way I’d…” He pauses briefly, composing himself,” …and there is another way to atone for your crimes!"
"Like I was saying, the twenty-five years to life is consecutive, you'd be behind bars for the next hundred years. Can you imagine yourself staying in jail for the rest of your life?" He asks her.
"No, Judge… no… but, what else can I do?" She responds shyly.
He pauses for a moment for effect, making her wait for a possible solution… an answer to her prayers.
"There is a little known, experimental place called "Multiple Organism Treatment, Healing and Replacement" facility where a woman like yourself could go and make things right again," Judge Reynolds interjects.
Shannon's eyes light up, it sounds promising to her.
"They can take the DNA of the lives you destroyed and recreate each family member as if this never happened. After their bodies are cloned per se, they can introduce each individuals’ engrams from the moment of the accident and it'll be as if this entire unfortunate accident never occurred," he states patiently.
Shannon is silent, not sure what to say or do.
"It's not a fool proof system; the fact that some religious zealots think that creating a life belongs solely to God Almighty," Jude Reynolds says, "But it’s either bring back the four lives you ended or one hundred years in jail. The choice is of course, up to you."
"So… I have a baby and they somehow replace the Nichols family," she queries.
"Yes, that's just about right Sarah, only you owe four lives… and they won't exactly be babies," he corrects her. Either way you have to decide here and now, I'm due back in court in five minutes," he says, perturbed that she's taking so long for what seems like a simple solution.
Shannon tries quickly to comprehend what he's just said but the idea that she may not have to spend the rest of her life in jail is too much to pass up.
"I… I'll take it," Shannon murmurs nearly inaudibly.
"Speak up girl, what did you say?" Judge Reynolds bellows.
"I'll do it Your Honor; I accept your offer!" She replies.
"Good… and a wise choice for you Shannon; I hope to never see you again in my chambers," he says with authority, "Bailiff!"
The next several days are a complete blur for Shannon as she travels to her new home.
Shannon is jostled awake by a large bump in the road; she looks around bewildered and confused trying to discern where she is.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," a voice calls to her, "I wasn't sure if you'd ever wake up!"
Shannon looks up and finds a beautiful young woman staring back at her, one eye cocked with confusion and wonderment.
"The names Abby, Abby Conwell," she says, offering a hand of friendship.
"Shannon… Shannon Thompson," she answers, "Wha… what, err where are we?"
"The only thing that I can figure out is that we're on an island somewhere, I saw what looked like the ocean a while back and the driver said that we're about 30 minutes from MOTHER," Abby answers.
"MOTHER?" Shannon queries, "What the heck is MOTHER?"
"Boy, you were sleepy… you know, MOTHER… that place where we all are supposed to atone for our crimes, pay back society… at least that's what the judge told me," Abby retorts.
Looking around, Shannon discovers the bus full of woman, some as young as she, some older and all with the same confusing look about their faces.
"So… what are you in for, what did you do Shannon?" She asks.
"Oh… I…" Shannon stammers sheepishly.
"Okay… I'll go first. I'm a military pilot flying a routine low-level hack and, well even though it wasn't really my fault due to poor intelligence… I accidentally killed 14 Marines in a "friendly fire" incident. I was in all of the papers… unfortunately," Abby sighs.
"So, they told you too that we'd have babies and replace the lives we lost… err, stole," Shannon asks.
"Yeah," she says, "Though I still don't understand how it's going to work. For example, what about those girls who can't get pregnant? How am I going to replace 14 lives, do I have them one at a time, or multiples, or what? How long do we have to stay to 'pay our debt to society' and really, "Where the hell are we?!"
Shannon just nods her head, "DWI," she says, her eyes looking downward, "I killed four people because I was driving drunk, blitzed out of my mind."
A tear emerges, dropping to the floor from Shannon's eyes.
"Well, we'll stick together through this Shannon, you and me kid," Abby says with a hug.
As they round a curve on the road, all of the woman aboard collectively shout out in unison as their final destination approaches.
"Oh my goodness…LOOK!" Abby shouts, pointing.
"That's right ladies," the bus driver pipes up via the bus microphone, responding to the lady’s excitement.
"That'll be MOTHER on the horizon, the new home for you pretty ladies for quite a while… some of you, a very, very long time. You'll find your new home to be a great place despite the gravity of your crimes," he says.
Suddenly they all quiet down.
"Names Jasper," he says, introducing himself as they turn the corner to the entrance of the complex.
Jasper, an elderly African-American gentlemen of nearly 70 years of age. Tall and lanky he is with snow-colored hair and beard, a white shirt adorned with a plain red tie, suspenders holding up his dark blue jeans.
“It's okay ladies, I've heard damn near all of the stories.
“Been driving women like yo’ selves up here for many, many years," he continues.
"It's not so bad… they'll feed you and take really, really good care of all of you. Ain't but a few guards in the whole damn place anyhow! All you gots to do is make lotsa pre-borns and grow your tummies out nice and big… yep, that's all you gots to do, get nice and big!" he chuckles.
Turning the corner into the complex he presses a button on the dashboard of the bus and the massive gate to the complex begins to slowly swing open revealing an elegant, brilliant alabaster white facility in the foreground filled with lush foliage and exquisite trees. Multiple row of buildings are in view, each splendid in luscious color causing the new residents to wonder amongst themselves.
The din of the bus grows exponentially as the ladies stand up to get a good look at their new home.
“A pool, I see a pool!” One of the new inmates shouts.
“Look at the ocean, it looks like it goes right up to the ocean,” another woman exclaims.
“Ah yes, Jasper says, “Plenty to see and do here at MOTHER, aside from growing big and round. You’ll be able to get to the beach also I hear…”
“…providing of course, you can still walk,” he mumbles quietly.
The bus rounds a corner, coming to a full stop in front of the main structure of the vast complex; “The Meeting Place” as it is called.
“Well,” Jasper says rising awkwardly from his seat. “You’ve arrived at your new residence ladies, isn’t it beautiful?”
All of the ladies aboard gather their belongings and slowly shuffle off of the bus.
“Please ladies, follow me,” the kind, older gentlemen instructs them at the top of the stairs.
Mindlessly, the new inmates follow him, like children succeeding the Pied Piper.
Two gigantic oak doors creak open, responding to Jaspers presence, he ushers them all inside like a preschool teacher to his students.
Slowly, the crowd of women shuffles into the auditorium, all eyes turning towards the front stage.
Several men and woman in sterile, pristine white lab coats issue seating instructions and the new arrivals sheepishly take their assigned places.
Suddenly as if on cue as the last inmate sits the auditorium lights grow dim as the stage light brighten.
"Welcome to the Multiple Organism Treatment, Healing and Replacement facility ladies," he says, pointing at each word on the large display.
"'MOTHER' as many have called it.
My name is Jim Fingers, I'll be your primary contact, your liaison and general helper in your transition," he says.
"Now I'm sure that all of you have dozens of questions to ask but if you'll be patient for about an hour or so, I'll try to..." he pauses for a moment and chuckles,"....fill you up with information."
His audience responds with guarded laughter, the newest members remaining apprehensive.
“Please relax and be at ease, hopefully my assistant Mr. Jenkins has arranged you all so that you'll be seated in the proper seats and the packages on the seats have your names on the covers,” Mr. Fingers says.
“Please check and raise your hands if they do not match.”
“There are just twenty of you ladies in this new batch of arrivals so this should go fairly smoothly…” He pauses watching the ladies attentively ensuring that indeed, their packages match their owners.
“Now within each package you all will find a timepiece, a watch of sorts. Please take it out and place it on your left wrists,” he instructs them and all comply quickly.
The auditorium seats about 250 guests, each chair within is deep plush purple and extremely comfortable; each equipped with a desk with a flat panel monitor to its side.
Jim Fingers presses a button on with a simplified remote control causing the lights to dim slightly, each individual monitor lights up showing the company logo, MOTHER.
This corresponds with an identical image on the auditorium screen behind the speaker, Mr. Fingers.
“Okay, now each of you ladies has committed a crime and have subsequently been found guilty.
The punishment phase… well, the rehabilitation phase begins here where we try to make things right again, that's what the judges have told all of you, right?” He asks.
All of MOTHERs newest occupants reluctantly nod in unison.
“Yes, yes… I understand all of you ladies have done bad things in your recent past, but we at MOTHER are not, we were not created to dwell in the past, but to create a future!” Jim says with exuberance.
“It's not an easy task reintegrating the lives you've taken back into society, matter of fact, it’s pretty damn hard!” Jim says, raising his arms in exaggeration, “But the point is, we can do it! Sure, you all have taken lives, but we're here to right past wrongs, to set things back into motion and make the world a much better place!”
“I'm not required to brief you ladies like this but I do it because despite the gravity of all of your crimes we here at MOTHER endeavor to make your stay here as positive as possible,” he says.
“Yes, you all are inmates here, incarcerated for various terms until you've repaid your debts to society which, in your cases, giving back the lives you've stolen. Yes, I am a warden and this is a prison without doubt. We do have guidelines and mandates to follow, but the rest… well, let’s just say that the rest of the story is highly subjective.
That we accomplish our mission is critical but the HOW, yes the HOW we accomplish such a mission is another story,” he says.
“So… how does this work you might be asking yourselves,” he queries his captive audience.
All the young ladies nod in near unison, their cumulative attention focused on him.
“Well before each of you arrived we began the time-consuming processing of gathering the DNA, the building blocks of each and every life you've take and our staff prepared for your arrivals.
Each of you has a burden to bear, yes that pun was intended and you'll find out more information as you go through the packets provided,” he says.
“Most of you will simply deliver one life at a time, the gestation period for each pregnancy is 12 months no matter how many “pre-borns” as we call them,, that you carry.
It doesn't really matter what size or shape you are in, you'll all be able to carry the “pre-borns' safely the entire year,” Jim carries on emphatically.
“Some of you will discover certain privileges and helpful hints from the others that are already serving their various sentences here; I encourage to ask around to find out the secrets of this place.
Now MOTHER, as we have coined the place is located at secret location, on a small island in the South Pacific.
“Sir… uh, Mr. Fingers?” A cute brunette pipes up, raising her hand, trembling with trepidation.
Jim pauses, “Yes Ma'am, Miss… Miss Jenkins?” He says looking at his seating chart.
“But how is this done and isn't this like 'playing God',” she asks.
“Well, I'll get to the 'how' in a moment, but you've asked a very, very good question,” Jim answers, pausing to get the right words, the proper attitude to motivate his young, fertile inmates.
“Yes, in a sense, we are playing God… but is it wrong to fix things, to reset the balance of good vs. evil in favor of good? The God of the Bible that I believe in is a God of life and of the future. Should we just stand idly by and let tragedy consume us or should we do something about it, I ask you?!” He says emphatically.
Mr. Fingers pauses for a moment, begins his welcome speech again, “We are proud to say that we are completely self-sufficient and well able to care for each and every one of you during your stay here.
Here on the island you'll find the latest and most modern equipment available! We have a very large swimming pool area not to mention the beach area which is fully maintained by our staff, just for you!
We have tennis courts, a bowling alley and an excellent recreation center stocked with every form of entertainment imaginable. Yes, this is a jail of sorts but that I mean, you all have committed crimes and all will serve them out, here but that doesn't mean we cannot provide a few luxuries, does it?” He asks.
“For example, each of your suites sports 60” plasma TVs, your own personal computers to communicate with your families… I could go on and one but again, all things are explained in your information packet as well as the video I’m about to show you,” Mr. Fingers reiterates.
All of the newly assigned ladies’ smiles, “This may not be so bad after all,” a young Scandinavian woman says.
“Yes, there are guards but just a few to monitor your progress and mete out discipline when required. There are far more medical staff to assist you than guards to harass, I assure you,” Jim says.
“Now, I could go on and on telling you about the facility and how each of you fit in and how you'll be serving you time here but my staff as made a short film for you which should be able to explain or handle most of your questions,” Jim says.
“Jenkins, if you please…” Jim says, motioning to his assistant.
The recent arrivals are enraptured by the short video describing their stay at MOTHER, each looking cheerful and expectant (pun intended) as the house lights return to normalcy.
“Okay…” Jim clasps his hands together as if looking for something else, “Are there any last questions before we continue on and get you ladies to your dormitories?”
He looks around, all the woman are silent and seemingly anxious to get on with their new journey.
“Yes…yes,” he pauses, “I think I've explained and answered your questions, if you all will now press the green button on your newly assigned wristwatches, your various sentences shall begin,” he instructs.
Each girl does so without question and the din of chatter begins as the girls suddenly realize what they'd done.
One of the newly inmates raises her hand, “Excuse me… err, Mr. Fingers. Umm, did I… err, did we just impregnate ourselves?”
Jim removes his bifocals for affect, pauses for a moment whilst the women squirm.
“Well, no… not really ladies. You did however, set things into motion.
Since some of you are going to be here awhile and have chosen your sentences versus spending the rest of your lives in some miserable prison we decided to include you into the process.
Sort of like “buying into” a deal.
At any rate, by pressing the button, our monitors began and essentially you started things going. You were all impregnated during your initial examination… while most of you were still unconscious,” he replies nonchalantly.
The young women gasp and simultaneously reach for their newly pregnant bellies.
“It never ceases to amaze me that after I say those words, you woman always do that, always reach for their tummies!” He guffaws.
Checking his watch, he says, “No… you all will begin the prenatal process in about an hour's time and…,” he stops, snaps his fingers as he is suddenly reminded of an important detail. He grabs a folder and shuffles through some paperwork.
“That reminds me...err, Ms. Conwell. Ms. Abby Conwell?” He queries.
“I'm sure they told you that four is a bit too ambitious for your first time pregnant but it also says here that you were very insistent on it so… I'll tell you that you might want to change into your maternity garments as soon as possible. Unless, of course, you planned on bursting out of your current clothes,” he states.
A wry, smile rolls across Abby's face, not one of shocking surprise but joyous anticipation.
“Umm, thank you Mr. Fingers, I'll go get changed right away!” She answers.
End of Part1
Comments please?
An Eye For An Eye
by Porkchop
"…will the defendant please rise for sentencing?" the bailiff instructs.
Both sides of the jury room arise as instructed. Shannon Thompson adjusts her pretty pink dress she'd worn especially for this moment. Her lawyer had tutored her in the fine art of appearing as innocent as possible for her situation was one of great desperation. Shannon pressed the pleats of her dress tightly as she stood, clasping her defense attorneys hand tightly.
The Foreman, an older gentleman stands up to the microphone, cleared his throat saying, "Your honor, on the matter of the people vs. Shannon Thompson on the charges of Involuntary Manslaughter; we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson…."
Shannon squeezes her lawyers hand even harder, closing her eyes and silently prayed to a God she didn't believe in, to save her.
"….guilty as charged!" He declares.
"Judge," Shannon's lawyer interjects quickly, "May we know the verdict of each of the charges individually?"
The Judge nods and asks the foreman to proclaim each charge individually.
"On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of James Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty. On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of Sarah Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty. On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of Margaret Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty.
On the charge of Involuntary Manslaughter of Billy Nichols we, the jury, find Shannon Thompson, guilty," the foreman drones on.
Each sentence sending sharp volts of terror into Shannon's heart and soul; each verdict condemning her forever. Mr. Jacobs, Shannon's lawyer leans over and whispers quietly to his sobbing client.
"Your honor," he says, "Ms. Thompson has agreed to waive her appeal and throws herself on the mercy of the court."
The judge nods dutifully, leans over to speak with the bailiff, "Counsel will meet with me in my chamber in one hour!" The judge barks and then pounds the gavel with disdain.
The bailiff escorts Shannon back to the waiting room, motions her inside and locks the door behind her.
Emotions of the day's event finally reach a crescendo; Shannon is unable to display the brave face that she's put forth all day long. She slumps down onto an awaiting chair and sobs… deeply! Tears flow on and on and on, she grabs a nearby box of tissues, blowing her nose loudly.
Her lawyer, Nick Jacobs walks in suddenly to check on her.
He's been a trial lawyer for over ten years, won and lost dozens of times yet the awkwardness and inability to show empathy is easily apparent on this seasoned prosecutor's face. Such is the life of a lawyer!
"… I tried my best kiddo, but I've heard that you have an option. I still haven't figured it out yet, and as a matter of record none of the lawyers that I know can figure out what happens," he says with a puzzled look on his face.
"What are you talking about?" Shannon sobs.
"Well Miss Thompson, it seems that during a case such as this where the defendant is a woman involved in a capital case where a life is taken… there seems to be some kind of deal they cannot refuse," he says gesturing his hands mystically.
A knock at the door breaks up their conversation.
"It's time, the judge is ready to see you now," the bailiff says, speaking to Shannon only.
"As counsel, it is my right to accompany my client in any legal matter," Nick warns very legally. "True enough," the bailiff responds, "But the judge instructed me to relay to you that the deal is with Miss Thompson alone. It's either alone with the judge or back to the open court room to face sentencing!"
Shannon looks back at her lawyer who can only shrug his shoulders in agreement.
The bailiff handcuffs Shannon to himself again and gestures back towards the court room.
"Turn left here," he says. Shannon nods her head and trudges forward.
The bailiff releases her bonds only to attach them to the chair.
"…. wait right here," the bailiff says incredulously as if she had another choice.
"Miss Thompson has arrived," he says after knocking twice on the judge’s chambers.
"Come…" is the stern reply from inside.
Releasing Shannon from her shackles the bailiff signals her in.
"I'll be right outside," he says and closes the door behind her.
Judge Reynolds, sitting behind his desk, peers at her through bifocals momentarily before continuing with paperwork.
"Have a seat," he says, "I'm just going over your sentence."
Shannon gulps involuntarily but has the sense to remain quiet and motionless whilst he carries on.
"Miss Thompson, did your lawyer inform you of the seriousness of the crime that you've been convicted of and the potential time of incarceration involved?" Judge Reynolds asks in a monotone voice.
"Errr, yes…ummm, I mean, no… I mean, he told me that I could get 25 years to life for my crime… but he didn't know or understand why you wanted to see me… err, alone.
I mean… err, alone … all by myself, in your chambers… err, your honor? She responds.
"Twenty-five years to life… for each life you destroyed," Judge Reynolds emphasizes harshly.
Your negligence took not only four lives, Miss Thompson; you killed a family… a whole family!" He corrects her soundly.
"I know Judge, I know!" She begins to sob.
"If this were one hundred years ago, we'd simply lock you up for good; you'd die in jail Ms. Thompson!" He says sternly.
Shannon can only nod her head in agreement.
"… but, this is the 23rd century and since you are a young, healthy female," he says with his eyes still immersed in paperwork, "We have options."
"There it is!" Shannon mumbles quietly to herself, "This crooked judge wants me to have sex with him to reduce my sentence! I can't believe it!"
Tears stream again from her young eyes; she shakes her head in disbelief.
Standing, she starts to slowly undress, her whimpering barely audible.
"I guess this will help me?" Shannon says, her eyes averted towards the floor to avoid the sheer shame of it all as her dress crumples into a heap by her ankles.
Finally, the judge looks up and is flatly shocked!
"Miss Thompson, pull your dress back up and sit down!" He shouts angrily.
Stunned, she redresses quickly and plops back onto the bench.
"…but… but… you said," she tries to explain.
The Judge realizes his mistake and softens his tone, "Miss Thompson, I'll have you know that I'm an honest, credible judge with over 25 years of public service and there is no way I’d…” He pauses briefly, composing himself,” …and there is another way to atone for your crimes!"
"Like I was saying, the twenty-five years to life is consecutive, you'd be behind bars for the next hundred years. Can you imagine yourself staying in jail for the rest of your life?" He asks her.
"No, Judge… no… but, what else can I do?" She responds shyly.
He pauses for a moment for effect, making her wait for a possible solution… an answer to her prayers.
"There is a little known, experimental place called "Multiple Organism Treatment, Healing and Replacement" facility where a woman like yourself could go and make things right again," Judge Reynolds interjects.
Shannon's eyes light up, it sounds promising to her.
"They can take the DNA of the lives you destroyed and recreate each family member as if this never happened. After their bodies are cloned per se, they can introduce each individuals’ engrams from the moment of the accident and it'll be as if this entire unfortunate accident never occurred," he states patiently.
Shannon is silent, not sure what to say or do.
"It's not a fool proof system; the fact that some religious zealots think that creating a life belongs solely to God Almighty," Jude Reynolds says, "But it’s either bring back the four lives you ended or one hundred years in jail. The choice is of course, up to you."
"So… I have a baby and they somehow replace the Nichols family," she queries.
"Yes, that's just about right Sarah, only you owe four lives… and they won't exactly be babies," he corrects her. Either way you have to decide here and now, I'm due back in court in five minutes," he says, perturbed that she's taking so long for what seems like a simple solution.
Shannon tries quickly to comprehend what he's just said but the idea that she may not have to spend the rest of her life in jail is too much to pass up.
"I… I'll take it," Shannon murmurs nearly inaudibly.
"Speak up girl, what did you say?" Judge Reynolds bellows.
"I'll do it Your Honor; I accept your offer!" She replies.
"Good… and a wise choice for you Shannon; I hope to never see you again in my chambers," he says with authority, "Bailiff!"
The next several days are a complete blur for Shannon as she travels to her new home.
Shannon is jostled awake by a large bump in the road; she looks around bewildered and confused trying to discern where she is.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," a voice calls to her, "I wasn't sure if you'd ever wake up!"
Shannon looks up and finds a beautiful young woman staring back at her, one eye cocked with confusion and wonderment.
"The names Abby, Abby Conwell," she says, offering a hand of friendship.
"Shannon… Shannon Thompson," she answers, "Wha… what, err where are we?"
"The only thing that I can figure out is that we're on an island somewhere, I saw what looked like the ocean a while back and the driver said that we're about 30 minutes from MOTHER," Abby answers.
"MOTHER?" Shannon queries, "What the heck is MOTHER?"
"Boy, you were sleepy… you know, MOTHER… that place where we all are supposed to atone for our crimes, pay back society… at least that's what the judge told me," Abby retorts.
Looking around, Shannon discovers the bus full of woman, some as young as she, some older and all with the same confusing look about their faces.
"So… what are you in for, what did you do Shannon?" She asks.
"Oh… I…" Shannon stammers sheepishly.
"Okay… I'll go first. I'm a military pilot flying a routine low-level hack and, well even though it wasn't really my fault due to poor intelligence… I accidentally killed 14 Marines in a "friendly fire" incident. I was in all of the papers… unfortunately," Abby sighs.
"So, they told you too that we'd have babies and replace the lives we lost… err, stole," Shannon asks.
"Yeah," she says, "Though I still don't understand how it's going to work. For example, what about those girls who can't get pregnant? How am I going to replace 14 lives, do I have them one at a time, or multiples, or what? How long do we have to stay to 'pay our debt to society' and really, "Where the hell are we?!"
Shannon just nods her head, "DWI," she says, her eyes looking downward, "I killed four people because I was driving drunk, blitzed out of my mind."
A tear emerges, dropping to the floor from Shannon's eyes.
"Well, we'll stick together through this Shannon, you and me kid," Abby says with a hug.
As they round a curve on the road, all of the woman aboard collectively shout out in unison as their final destination approaches.
"Oh my goodness…LOOK!" Abby shouts, pointing.
"That's right ladies," the bus driver pipes up via the bus microphone, responding to the lady’s excitement.
"That'll be MOTHER on the horizon, the new home for you pretty ladies for quite a while… some of you, a very, very long time. You'll find your new home to be a great place despite the gravity of your crimes," he says.
Suddenly they all quiet down.
"Names Jasper," he says, introducing himself as they turn the corner to the entrance of the complex.
Jasper, an elderly African-American gentlemen of nearly 70 years of age. Tall and lanky he is with snow-colored hair and beard, a white shirt adorned with a plain red tie, suspenders holding up his dark blue jeans.
“It's okay ladies, I've heard damn near all of the stories.
“Been driving women like yo’ selves up here for many, many years," he continues.
"It's not so bad… they'll feed you and take really, really good care of all of you. Ain't but a few guards in the whole damn place anyhow! All you gots to do is make lotsa pre-borns and grow your tummies out nice and big… yep, that's all you gots to do, get nice and big!" he chuckles.
Turning the corner into the complex he presses a button on the dashboard of the bus and the massive gate to the complex begins to slowly swing open revealing an elegant, brilliant alabaster white facility in the foreground filled with lush foliage and exquisite trees. Multiple row of buildings are in view, each splendid in luscious color causing the new residents to wonder amongst themselves.
The din of the bus grows exponentially as the ladies stand up to get a good look at their new home.
“A pool, I see a pool!” One of the new inmates shouts.
“Look at the ocean, it looks like it goes right up to the ocean,” another woman exclaims.
“Ah yes, Jasper says, “Plenty to see and do here at MOTHER, aside from growing big and round. You’ll be able to get to the beach also I hear…”
“…providing of course, you can still walk,” he mumbles quietly.
The bus rounds a corner, coming to a full stop in front of the main structure of the vast complex; “The Meeting Place” as it is called.
“Well,” Jasper says rising awkwardly from his seat. “You’ve arrived at your new residence ladies, isn’t it beautiful?”
All of the ladies aboard gather their belongings and slowly shuffle off of the bus.
“Please ladies, follow me,” the kind, older gentlemen instructs them at the top of the stairs.
Mindlessly, the new inmates follow him, like children succeeding the Pied Piper.
Two gigantic oak doors creak open, responding to Jaspers presence, he ushers them all inside like a preschool teacher to his students.
Slowly, the crowd of women shuffles into the auditorium, all eyes turning towards the front stage.
Several men and woman in sterile, pristine white lab coats issue seating instructions and the new arrivals sheepishly take their assigned places.
Suddenly as if on cue as the last inmate sits the auditorium lights grow dim as the stage light brighten.
"Welcome to the Multiple Organism Treatment, Healing and Replacement facility ladies," he says, pointing at each word on the large display.
"'MOTHER' as many have called it.
My name is Jim Fingers, I'll be your primary contact, your liaison and general helper in your transition," he says.
"Now I'm sure that all of you have dozens of questions to ask but if you'll be patient for about an hour or so, I'll try to..." he pauses for a moment and chuckles,"....fill you up with information."
His audience responds with guarded laughter, the newest members remaining apprehensive.
“Please relax and be at ease, hopefully my assistant Mr. Jenkins has arranged you all so that you'll be seated in the proper seats and the packages on the seats have your names on the covers,” Mr. Fingers says.
“Please check and raise your hands if they do not match.”
“There are just twenty of you ladies in this new batch of arrivals so this should go fairly smoothly…” He pauses watching the ladies attentively ensuring that indeed, their packages match their owners.
“Now within each package you all will find a timepiece, a watch of sorts. Please take it out and place it on your left wrists,” he instructs them and all comply quickly.
The auditorium seats about 250 guests, each chair within is deep plush purple and extremely comfortable; each equipped with a desk with a flat panel monitor to its side.
Jim Fingers presses a button on with a simplified remote control causing the lights to dim slightly, each individual monitor lights up showing the company logo, MOTHER.
This corresponds with an identical image on the auditorium screen behind the speaker, Mr. Fingers.
“Okay, now each of you ladies has committed a crime and have subsequently been found guilty.
The punishment phase… well, the rehabilitation phase begins here where we try to make things right again, that's what the judges have told all of you, right?” He asks.
All of MOTHERs newest occupants reluctantly nod in unison.
“Yes, yes… I understand all of you ladies have done bad things in your recent past, but we at MOTHER are not, we were not created to dwell in the past, but to create a future!” Jim says with exuberance.
“It's not an easy task reintegrating the lives you've taken back into society, matter of fact, it’s pretty damn hard!” Jim says, raising his arms in exaggeration, “But the point is, we can do it! Sure, you all have taken lives, but we're here to right past wrongs, to set things back into motion and make the world a much better place!”
“I'm not required to brief you ladies like this but I do it because despite the gravity of all of your crimes we here at MOTHER endeavor to make your stay here as positive as possible,” he says.
“Yes, you all are inmates here, incarcerated for various terms until you've repaid your debts to society which, in your cases, giving back the lives you've stolen. Yes, I am a warden and this is a prison without doubt. We do have guidelines and mandates to follow, but the rest… well, let’s just say that the rest of the story is highly subjective.
That we accomplish our mission is critical but the HOW, yes the HOW we accomplish such a mission is another story,” he says.
“So… how does this work you might be asking yourselves,” he queries his captive audience.
All the young ladies nod in near unison, their cumulative attention focused on him.
“Well before each of you arrived we began the time-consuming processing of gathering the DNA, the building blocks of each and every life you've take and our staff prepared for your arrivals.
Each of you has a burden to bear, yes that pun was intended and you'll find out more information as you go through the packets provided,” he says.
“Most of you will simply deliver one life at a time, the gestation period for each pregnancy is 12 months no matter how many “pre-borns” as we call them,, that you carry.
It doesn't really matter what size or shape you are in, you'll all be able to carry the “pre-borns' safely the entire year,” Jim carries on emphatically.
“Some of you will discover certain privileges and helpful hints from the others that are already serving their various sentences here; I encourage to ask around to find out the secrets of this place.
Now MOTHER, as we have coined the place is located at secret location, on a small island in the South Pacific.
“Sir… uh, Mr. Fingers?” A cute brunette pipes up, raising her hand, trembling with trepidation.
Jim pauses, “Yes Ma'am, Miss… Miss Jenkins?” He says looking at his seating chart.
“But how is this done and isn't this like 'playing God',” she asks.
“Well, I'll get to the 'how' in a moment, but you've asked a very, very good question,” Jim answers, pausing to get the right words, the proper attitude to motivate his young, fertile inmates.
“Yes, in a sense, we are playing God… but is it wrong to fix things, to reset the balance of good vs. evil in favor of good? The God of the Bible that I believe in is a God of life and of the future. Should we just stand idly by and let tragedy consume us or should we do something about it, I ask you?!” He says emphatically.
Mr. Fingers pauses for a moment, begins his welcome speech again, “We are proud to say that we are completely self-sufficient and well able to care for each and every one of you during your stay here.
Here on the island you'll find the latest and most modern equipment available! We have a very large swimming pool area not to mention the beach area which is fully maintained by our staff, just for you!
We have tennis courts, a bowling alley and an excellent recreation center stocked with every form of entertainment imaginable. Yes, this is a jail of sorts but that I mean, you all have committed crimes and all will serve them out, here but that doesn't mean we cannot provide a few luxuries, does it?” He asks.
“For example, each of your suites sports 60” plasma TVs, your own personal computers to communicate with your families… I could go on and one but again, all things are explained in your information packet as well as the video I’m about to show you,” Mr. Fingers reiterates.
All of the newly assigned ladies’ smiles, “This may not be so bad after all,” a young Scandinavian woman says.
“Yes, there are guards but just a few to monitor your progress and mete out discipline when required. There are far more medical staff to assist you than guards to harass, I assure you,” Jim says.
“Now, I could go on and on telling you about the facility and how each of you fit in and how you'll be serving you time here but my staff as made a short film for you which should be able to explain or handle most of your questions,” Jim says.
“Jenkins, if you please…” Jim says, motioning to his assistant.
The recent arrivals are enraptured by the short video describing their stay at MOTHER, each looking cheerful and expectant (pun intended) as the house lights return to normalcy.
“Okay…” Jim clasps his hands together as if looking for something else, “Are there any last questions before we continue on and get you ladies to your dormitories?”
He looks around, all the woman are silent and seemingly anxious to get on with their new journey.
“Yes…yes,” he pauses, “I think I've explained and answered your questions, if you all will now press the green button on your newly assigned wristwatches, your various sentences shall begin,” he instructs.
Each girl does so without question and the din of chatter begins as the girls suddenly realize what they'd done.
One of the newly inmates raises her hand, “Excuse me… err, Mr. Fingers. Umm, did I… err, did we just impregnate ourselves?”
Jim removes his bifocals for affect, pauses for a moment whilst the women squirm.
“Well, no… not really ladies. You did however, set things into motion.
Since some of you are going to be here awhile and have chosen your sentences versus spending the rest of your lives in some miserable prison we decided to include you into the process.
Sort of like “buying into” a deal.
At any rate, by pressing the button, our monitors began and essentially you started things going. You were all impregnated during your initial examination… while most of you were still unconscious,” he replies nonchalantly.
The young women gasp and simultaneously reach for their newly pregnant bellies.
“It never ceases to amaze me that after I say those words, you woman always do that, always reach for their tummies!” He guffaws.
Checking his watch, he says, “No… you all will begin the prenatal process in about an hour's time and…,” he stops, snaps his fingers as he is suddenly reminded of an important detail. He grabs a folder and shuffles through some paperwork.
“That reminds me...err, Ms. Conwell. Ms. Abby Conwell?” He queries.
“I'm sure they told you that four is a bit too ambitious for your first time pregnant but it also says here that you were very insistent on it so… I'll tell you that you might want to change into your maternity garments as soon as possible. Unless, of course, you planned on bursting out of your current clothes,” he states.
A wry, smile rolls across Abby's face, not one of shocking surprise but joyous anticipation.
“Umm, thank you Mr. Fingers, I'll go get changed right away!” She answers.
End of Part1
