The Impossible
Dawn Leman knew something was wrong, so she went to her computer and Googled her symptoms. The answer she found terrified her. Cervical cancer. The sixty-eight-year-old retired editor felt her heart fall to her stomach.
"What should I do?" she wondered.
It was a reasonable question. She had two options: go to the doctor for treatment or simply let nature take its course. If she went to the doctor, she would no doubt have to undergo surgery and chemo. That meant costly hospital bills, and her Medicare insurance would only cover some of the costs. On the other hand, if she did not go to the doctor, how long would she have left to live? The former editor hemmed and hawed for two months before finally summoning the courage to make an appointment with a gynecologist, the same one who delivered her son and daughter more than thirty years earlier.
After asking the usual battery of questions that normally began an office visit, the nurse handed the patient a hospital gown and told her that the doctor would be in shortly. Dawn removed her clothes, put on the simple cotton garment and waited on the examination table with a sheet over her lap.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," she said.
"Hello. I'm Dr. Keith Benchley," the physician announced, introducing himself.
It was not surprising that he did not remember her. After all, it had been more than three decades since he had seen her. In all that time, he must have delivered hundreds, if not thousands, of babies.
There were a few more questions, and then the doctor instructed her to slide down on the table and place her feet in the stirrups. The patient gritted her teeth when the speculum was inserted.
"When did you go through menopause?" Dr. Benchley asked.
"Eight years ago, when I was sixty."
"You can sit up now. I'm going to run a few tests."
Dawn's pulse quickened. Something was clearly wrong.
The doctor extended his hand and helped her move away from the edge of the table. He then walked out of the examination room. His nurse came in a few minutes later to draw blood from the patient's arm.
"We're going to need a urine sample as well," the young woman announced and handed Dawn a plastic cup.
Twenty agonizing minutes passed. When Dr. Benchley returned, the patient noticed a change in his demeanor. He appeared nervous and uncomfortable.
This isn't good, she thought.
"I don't know exactly how to tell you this," he began. "In all my years in gynecology and obstetrics, I've never come across this, nor have I ever read about it happening anywhere else."
Tears came to the patient's eyes, and she wondered how soon the end would come.
"You're pregnant."
At first, his words did not register. She looked at him, uncomprehendingly.
"I sent your blood sample to the lab, but I already know what the result will be. I could tell from the exam, and the high levels of hCG in your urine confirm it. You're going to have a baby."
"But that's impossible."
"I would have thought so, too. However, it's true."
"I've been divorced for seventeen years, and there's been no one since my husband."
"Do you mean you're not sexually active?" Dr. Benchley asked.
"That's exactly what I mean."
"You're right," the astonished physician said. "A pregnancy at your age is one thing, but asexual reproduction is quite another. Such a pregnancy is biologically impossible."
* * *
Three days later, Dawn Leman was back in Dr. Benchley's office. As he had suspected, the blood test further confirmed his diagnosis.
"Normally, at this early stage in a pregnancy, I see patients once a month, but I want to keep a close eye on you. I'd like you to come in every week."
"Doctor, I ...," the patient began but found it difficult to continue.
"What is it?"
"I don't want to have this baby. Frankly, I can't afford it."
"You needn't worry about money at this point. I'll offer my services pro bono, and I can arrange for the hospital bill to be covered as well."
"It's not just that. I'm retired and living on a fixed income. I can't afford formula, diapers and all the other expenses like clothes and toys. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to the child. I'm old enough to be its great-grandmother."
"You don't have to raise the child yourself," Dr. Benchley pointed out. "I know of several young couples who would make excellent parents."
"And what about the risks involved? Many women over the age of thirty-five have children with special needs. I'm way over that age!"
"There are tests that can be done. We'll start with an ultrasound to determine how far along your pregnancy is. Then we'll do a CVS, a chorionic villus sampling, where we take sample cells from the placenta which can detect certain diseases. As your pregnancy progresses, we'll do an amniocentesis."
Although relieved that she didn't have cancer, Dawn was nonetheless disheartened by her condition. She was too old to have a child.
"I don't want to go through with this. I'm a grandmother for Christ's sake!"
"I can understand how you feel, but ...."
"Look, Doctor, if you have religious or moral objections to abortion, I'll go somewhere else."
"That's not the case. I'll be honest with you. If this were a normal pregnancy, I wouldn't try to influence your decision in any way. But this isn't normal. Asexual human reproduction is unheard of. There hasn't been one recorded case in all of history. If you have this child, you'll be doing a tremendous service to science."
"Let me think about it."
Short of locking the office door to prevent her from leaving, there was little Keith could do to prevent her from driving to a clinic for an abortion. As an obstetrician, it was his duty to assist women during pregnancy and childbirth. He was a father himself and experienced firsthand the joy of parenthood. However, he knew certain circumstances often resulted in unwanted pregnancies, and occasionally he helped terminate them. In Mrs. Leman's case, though, he was firmly against such action. He wanted to closely study all three trimesters of her gestation period.
This is uncharted territory, he mused. Will such a pregnancy last forty weeks? If she doesn't miscarry, will the fetus develop the same way and at the same rate as one with two parents would?
So many questions ran through the obstetrician's mind. Would the child be a genetic copy of its mother? Would it have the exact same appearance, DNA, fingerprints, etc.? And what about its thoughts? Would inheriting all forty-six chromosomes from one parent affect the child's mental and emotional state?
What I wouldn't give to spend the rest of my life studying this child.
* * *
Dawn slept fitfully that night. Unlike the two children she had when she was a young woman, she felt no maternal instincts toward the fetus in her womb. To her, it was not a baby waiting to be born.
"It's just a collection of cells that are reproducing," she told herself. "In many respects, it's not much different than the cancerous tumor I feared."
When she rose from her bed the following morning, she had already made up her mind on a course of action. She did not want to be pregnant. She had been through it twice already. The morning sickness. The weight gain. The leg cramps. The heartburn. The hours of painful labor.
"Back then it was different. I wanted children. I couldn't wait until they were born so that I could hold them in my arms. But this time ... As Dr. Benchley said, something like this has never happened in human history. What will the child be like when it's born? And what kind of life will it have if it's going to be the subject of scientific study. No, I simply won't have it!"
Then, the unthinkable happened. Someone—whether in the doctor's office or in the lab—leaked the news of the bizarre situation to the local television station. Not long after the story broke on the evening news broadcast, reporters from network and cable news outlets showed up on her doorstep, begging for an interview.
Dawn locked her door and refused to answer her phone. The reporters then went to Dr. Benchley's office. By insisting he must protect his patient's privacy, he as good as admitted the senior citizen was indeed pregnant. While the legitimate news sources searched for corroboration of the facts, the tabloids printed their usual sensationalized innuendos, wild guesses and downright fabrications. One not-so-outlandish headline touched on the truth: PREGNANT GRANNY SEEKS ABORTION.
"How did they know that?" she asked the obstetrician when she phoned his office. "Did you tell them?"
"Of course, not! You know how those rags are. They print all kinds of lies."
"Well, this one happens to be the truth."
"Do you mean you're still considering termination?"
"I'm past considering; I've made up my mind. I'm not going to go through with this."
According to an African proverb, it takes a village to raise a child. In the twenty-first century, an entire community weighs in on whether a child will be born or not. Men and women, nearly all of whom had never met the expectant mother, had opinions on the fetus growing in Dawn's womb. Alas, they did not confine their comments and rants to social media posts. Some, rather than voice their sentiments on Twitter or Facebook, painted them on signs and showed up on her doorstep. The arrival of a horde of protestors on her front lawn brought back the reporters and their camera crews.
"Can't you do something?" she cried to the police officer who responded to her 911 call.
"We can ask them to stay off your property, but they're free to stand on the sidewalk."
"I can't leave my house. It's as though I'm under siege!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but unless someone breaks the law, we can't take any action."
Tears filled Dawn's eyes as she slightly parted her drapes and peeked out the window. One man held a placard claiming ABORTION IS MURDER. A woman, holding the hand of a small child, carried a sign that read BABY KILLER. There were a few people present who held dissenting opinions; however, the pro-choice people were in the minority.
Throughout the morning, the besieged homeowner attempted to keep calm and carry on (the latest catchphrase on T-shirts, coffee cups and bumper stickers). But it was difficult to do so behind closed blinds and drawn curtains. As she walked from room to room, she needed to turn on the lights. To drown out the cries of the protestors, she listened to music on her old Sony Walkman. But after playing the same five cassettes over and over again, she took out the earbuds and returned the player to the desk drawer.
Three days into her self-imposed imprisonment there was a loud and persistent knocking on her front door.
"Go away!" she hollered.
The pounding continued. Finally, she opened the door a crack. A group of five men stood on her front steps: two Catholic priests and three ministers.
"Yes? Can I help you?" the beleaguered woman asked.
The pastor from the evangelical church acted as spokesman.
"We have come here to give you spiritual guidance."
"I appreciate your concern, but ...."
"Your soul and that of your unborn child are both in jeopardy."
Although not a religious person, she invited the clergymen into her home when it became apparent that they would not be easily deterred in their mission. Once they stepped over the threshold, two of the men began to pray.
"This is a miracle!" the Methodist minister announced.
"Yes," the priest from Holy Trinity Church agreed. "There hasn't been an immaculate conception in over two thousand years!"
"Surely, you don't think ...," Dawn began, stunned that these educated men would seriously compare her pregnancy to that of the Virgin Mary.
"In these ungodly times, our heavenly father has seen fit to send us another savior!" the evangelical pastor cried.
"No. This is no miracle; it's just some weird anomaly of nature," the woman argued, likening herself more to a sideshow freak than the mother of Christ. "Besides, Mary was a virgin. I'm the mother of two children."
No amount of argument would change the minds of these devout men.
They honestly believe I'm carrying a twenty-first-century messiah, a Jesus Christ 2.0! I suppose that's better than some ignoramus claiming I'm carrying the antichrist.
She was no Virgin Mary or Rosemary Woodhouse. Her child was neither the son of God nor the progeny of the devil. She was Dawn Leman, an ordinary sixty-eight-year-old American woman who was being forced to endure extraordinary circumstances.
* * *
The same day his patient was serving coffee to the five clergymen, Keith Benchley received a visit from a small delegation of scientists and physicians headed by Ulric Creighton. The world-renowned doctor, who sometimes served as a consultant to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, was considered by his colleagues to be the most gifted medical researcher in the world.
"You're obviously curious about Mrs. Leman," the obstetrician said.
"Curious, yes, but also skeptical."
"I assure you this is no hoax. The woman is pregnant."
"Even if there is a fetus in her womb, that doesn't necessarily mean that it is her baby."
"You think it was implanted, like a surrogate child?"
"I don't have enough data to form an opinion yet. That is why I am here. I would like both you and your patient to take a lie detector test."
"I may not have gone to Harvard or Johns Hopkins," Keith said indignantly, "but I ...."
"If you are both telling the truth," Ulric continued, brushing aside the obstetrician's objections, "I'm prepared to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime."
"What are you talking about?"
"I can arrange funding for a research project the magnitude of which you never dreamed. I will arrange for someone to take over your practice so that you can devote all your time and energy to serving as one of my associates."
Keith was miffed that Creighton intended to take over, but he supposed he ought to be grateful that he would not be completely left out of the loop.
"I'll arrange for a private residence for both you and Mrs. Leman in a state-of-the-art research facility. Neither of you will lack for anything while you are there."
"Have you spoken to her yet? Has she agreed to cooperate? The last time I talked to her, she was bound and determined to have an abortion."
"I plan on seeing her this afternoon," Ulric replied. "I'm not one to rely on pop culture clichés, but we're prepared to make her an offer she can't refuse."
"You're not going to put a horse's head in her bed, are you?" the obstetrician laughed uneasily.
"No, but she'll never have to worry about money again. Once the child is born, she'll have the means to enjoy her so-called golden years in style."
"If she agrees to your proposal, then I will, too."
"Good. I'd say within the next three or four days, we'll move you and Mrs. Leman into the facility."
"And what about my wife? I can't leave her for all those months."
"You may bring her along with you, assuming she wants to come. Tomorrow morning, you will meet Dr. Glenna Rickert; she will take over your practice in your absence."
"What do I tell my staff and patients?" Keith asked.
"I find the old 'family emergency' excuse works well. But don't give anyone too many details. If people get too nosey, just tell them you don't want to talk about it. As for Dr. Rickert, she's worked with us before, so I feel confident she will know how to handle any situations that arise."
* * *
Despite the high-end resort atmosphere of the private medical complex, there was no smile on Dawn's face when she entered it. Neither the luxurious accommodations nor the infinity pool impressed her. It was no vacation or day at the spa.
The cage may be deluxe, but I'm still nothing more than a lab rat, she thought with a frown.
"Welcome, Mrs. Leman. I'm Dr. Creighton but feel free to call me Ulric. May I call you Dawn?"
"It doesn't make much difference to me."
"Why don't you get settled in and we can talk after lunch?"
"If it's all the same with you, I'd rather talk now. I'd like to get a few things off my chest."
"Shall we go into my office then?"
After they were seated around his desk, the patient expressed her anger.
"I was sitting in my living room, surrounded by clergymen who were praying for my unborn child, when suddenly two FBI agents barged into my home and hauled me away! I was then forced to take a lie detector test like a common criminal. And if that wasn't bad enough, I was told I would be held in this medical facility until after the birth."
"I apologize for the way the agents handled their assignment. Government people are not always the most sensitive souls."
"I assume you're the man in charge."
"Yes, I am."
"Then have someone take me home."
"I can't. You must remain here until the child is born."
"I'm not having a baby. I've already decided to terminate the pregnancy."
"I'm afraid that's out of the question."
Dawn's mouth dropped open with surprise. She had not expected Dr. Creighton to refuse her request.
"You can't keep me here against my will!" she cried.
"Your unique condition is of great concern to the medical community. Until we learn what caused your pregnancy, you will have to remain in quarantine."
"I'm not Typhoid Mary! Surely, you don't believe what I have is contagious."
"I don't know what I believe yet. That's why you're here, Mrs. Leman. We need to learn more about how you became pregnant and what your baby will be like once it's born."
"People will notice I'm missing. They'll want answers."
"The sensational stories about you that appeared in the media will soon go away. Dr. Benchley held a press conference this morning and told reporters that there was a mistake at the lab. He claimed your records were mixed up with another patient's and insists you are not pregnant."
"So, he's in on it, too?"
"This isn't a conspiracy."
"And my family? I have two kids. They'll be worried about me, or did you buy them off as well?"
"Someone from the CDC contacted them. Your children know you're in good hands."
"I suppose I have no choice in the matter," Dawn muttered, experiencing firsthand the outrage many American women felt when Roe v. Wade was overturned and states began pushing to outlaw abortion. "What will happen to me after the delivery?"
"Once you're healthy enough, you can go home and resume living your life. As my colleagues already told you, you will receive substantial payment for your cooperation."
"Ah, yes! The blood money."
"As for your child ... well, we'll wait and see."
The mother-to-be suspected the poor baby would never be allowed to leave the facility.
* * *
Mindy Laurens, one of the nurses who worked for Dr. Creighton, walked into the dining hall where Dawn was finishing her breakfast. The twenty-eight-year-old redhead poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.
"I wish I could have a cup of coffee," the patient said.
"It's better for you to drink milk and limit your caffeine intake. Have you taken your vitamins yet?"
"Yes. I keep them beside the bed and take them as soon as I get up."
"You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?"
"I think you're mistaking boredom for fatigue."
"If you're bored, I can order you more books and movies. Or maybe you would like to do a puzzle. How about arts and crafts?"
"Thank you but no."
"What did you do all day before you were brought here?" Mindy asked.
"Housework. I read and did word puzzles and jigsaws. Occasionally, I went shopping. I'd go for walks."
"Except for the housework, that's pretty much what you're doing here."
"I know," Dawn conceded, "but it's different. I was at home."
The pregnant woman swallowed the last of her oatmeal and leaned back on her chair. The nurse looked at her watch.
"Are you ready for your morning constitutional?" she asked.
"I'd just as soon go back to my book."
"You need exercise for both your physical and mental well-being."
As the pregnant woman got up from the table, an image of a white mouse running through a maze came to mind. Her life was no better than the poor rodent's.
All I need are whiskers and a tail.
The facility sat on more than two hundred acres of land, all of which were surrounded by high-security fencing. A specially constructed walking path led through flower gardens and copses of ornamental trees that reminded the patient of a botanical garden.
"It's going to be near eighty today," Mindy announced as the two women passed a three-tiered water fountain. "Maybe you'd like to go swimming this afternoon."
"I'll see how I feel after my session with Dr. Creighton. I'm sure he's got more tests scheduled for me."
"This won't last forever," the nurse said in a moment of compassion. "I'll bet this time next year, you'll be drinking coffee in a café in Paris or maybe sipping an espresso in Rome."
"I can't see myself traveling alone."
"What about your children and grandchildren? You'll have more than enough money to take the entire family with you."
Tears came to the patient's eyes, and the nurse was moved to pity.
"Ever since I told my kids about the baby, they've treated me like I had some incurable fatal disease. Not that I blame them. I'm a freak of nature."
"Don't talk like that!"
"It's true. Dr. Creighton is no closer to discovering what caused this pregnancy than he was when I first got here. I feel like a goddammed pin cushion from all the blood tests. And those ultrasounds! I swear, when I get out of here, I'll never drink another bottle of water again."
* * *
Keith Benchley and Ulric Creighton spent many hours going over Dawn's tests. They scrutinized the ultrasounds and ran every possible test on her blood.
"Is it possible for a fertilized egg to remain in the fallopian tubes and years later work its way into the uterus?" asked Ulric, whose knowledge of obstetrics was limited.
"In cases where the fertilized egg, or zygote, doesn't make it to the uterus, it can attach itself to the fallopian tubes or elsewhere in the abdominal area. The result is an ectopic pregnancy," his colleague replied. "Zygotes don't wander, lost, through the body for years, looking for the womb."
"Is there no possible way for a postmenopausal woman to become pregnant?"
"It's exceedingly rare and usually occurs only in cases of recent menopause. Mrs. Leman went through it more than eight years ago. Her uterus would have atrophied, her body would not be producing the necessary hormones and her remaining eggs would no longer be viable. All that aside, there was no means of fertilization here. That's the key to this mystery. How did a fertilized egg get into her uterus without an in-vitro procedure?"
"An FBI expert administered the lie detector test, and she passed with flying colors. Maybe we should bring in a psychiatrist. It's possible the subject was raped and blocked it out of her memory, or she received an IVF without her knowledge."
"And maybe she was abducted by aliens who subjected her to body probes," Keith said facetiously.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Ulric laughed.
"It's no more ridiculous than a woman getting an IVF against her will and without her knowledge. And I'd appreciate it if you called her by her name and not referred to her as 'the subject.' It's so dehumanizing."
"That's it!" the eminent researcher cried. "You've hit the nail on the head. Mrs. Leman is pregnant because she's not human! Why didn't I think of that?"
"Very funny!"
"I thought so."
* * *
As her pregnancy advanced, Dawn found it harder to maintain a proper diet and exercise regimen. Although she experienced no nausea, she lacked an appetite. She had to force herself to eat. Mindy, seeing her patient's depleted energy, increased the dosage of prenatal vitamins.
"Iron deficiency anemia is common during pregnancy. We'll have to see that you eat more iron-rich foods."
I'm too old to go through all this, the woman thought despondently as she struggled to finish the last eighth of a mile of her walk.
Despite the additional vitamins and revised diet, by the time the expectant mother entered her third trimester, she was at the point of exhaustion. Not only did she feel worn out, but she was also beginning to visually age.
"Discontinue the daily walks," Dr. Benchley told Nurse Laurens. "I think the best thing for Mrs. Leman now is to rest and regain her strength."
The obstetrician was worried about his patient. Although he never admitted it, he agreed with her that she was too old to have to go through the rigors of pregnancy and childbirth.
I should have just terminated the pregnancy when she asked me to, he thought guiltily.
"You're in the final stretch," he announced cheerfully as he entered Dawn's room, immediately reverting to his long-perfected bedside manner.
"Thank God! I can't wait to go back home. I miss Buttons, my cat."
"I'm sure Buttons is being well taken care of."
"I hope so."
"I'd like to do another ultrasound, either today or tomorrow," the obstetrician announced.
"If you insist," she said with a sigh of resignation.
"I want to keep close tabs on the baby's size."
Dawn turned her head away. In all the months she had spent at the facility, she never once asked about the child growing inside her. Dr. Benchley wondered why.
I can't imagine what she's feeling. Perhaps we ought to have her speak with a psychiatrist. It's bad enough this pregnancy is wreaking havoc with her body. I'd hate to see it mess up her mind, too.
"I don't suppose you can have Buttons brought here."
"I'm afraid not. Although less than one percent of pregnancies are complicated by toxoplasmosis infection, Dr. Creighton and I don't want to take any risks with you and your child."
"You don't want to kill the lab rat, huh?"
"You may find this hard to believe, but I care about what happens to you and the baby. You're my patient. I delivered your other two children."
"I know, and I do appreciate that you've tried to make this whole ordeal as easy as possible for me. But I need to be honest with you. Before I learned of my bizarre condition, I was terrified that I had cancer. Now, I sometimes wish that I did."
"You mustn't feel that way. Think about your children and grandchildren."
"Why? To them, I'm a freak."
"Then think about Buttons."
For the first time in weeks, Dawn smiled.
"You're right, Doctor. I've got Buttons, and the love of a pet is unconditional."
* * *
When Ulric and Keith left the patient's room, they stopped at the dining hall for coffee.
"It looks like it will be any day now," the researcher said, adding half and half to his cup.
"I'm considering giving Mrs. Leman a C-section," the obstetrician announced, drinking his coffee black.
"Why? The baby is not in distress."
"No, but the patient is. The poor woman is worn out. I don't want to make her needlessly endure hours of labor."
"But a C-section could result in respiratory issues for the baby."
"Which are usually temporary."
"You're the obstetrician," Ulric said, yielding to his colleague's opinion.
"We'll need to assemble a surgical team. And we need a pediatrician on hand."
"I've already got one. Dr. Spiros Mataxas is due to arrive tomorrow morning."
"Good. Then we'll schedule the surgery for the day after."
* * *
Keith Benchley entered the operating theater, wearing his surgical scrubs, mask and gloves. He was surprised to see a film crew in the gallery.
"What's with all the cameras?" he asked Ulric Creighton.
"This is a historic moment. I want to be sure we preserve it for history," the researcher replied.
The anesthesiologist administered an epidural, and the surgical team stood ready to operate. As Keith asked the nurse for a scalpel, his colleague's heartbeat quickened. Although he had failed to determine the cause of the inexplicable pregnancy, the researcher was eager to put the infant through a battery of tests.
We couldn't learn anything from the mother, but perhaps the child ....
Dr. Benchley made the initial incision in the lower abdomen, below the belly button. He made several more incisions through layers of skin and fat to get to the uterus, careful not to cut the bladder and intestines. Once the uterine wall was open, the nurse used suction to remove some of the amniotic fluid. The obstetrician then slid his hands into the womb, and moments later, the baby's head appeared. After suctioning fluid from its nose and mouth, he maneuvered the infant's body to free its shoulders. At last, the baby was born.
"It's a girl!" the obstetrician announced despite having known the child's sex for months.
Dr. Creighton had no interest in seeing the cutting of the umbilical cord, the delivery of the placenta or the suturing of the incisions. His only concern was for the baby itself. He watched closely as Dr. Spiros Mataxas cleaned the infant and administered the APGAR test.
Meanwhile, the surgical team was frantically trying to revive the mother. The moment the child took its first breath, Dawn Leman's heart stopped beating. For ten minutes, they tried to resuscitate her, but to no avail.
Was it my fault? Keith wondered, guiltily. Was I wrong in doing a C-section?
"The baby appears to be in excellent health," Dr. Mataxas announced.
Hearing that improved Keith's spirits. He may have lost the mother, but the child was doing well.
"She's as cute as a button," he said.
Then, to the amazement of Spiros, Ulric, Keith, the surgical team and the film crew in the gallery, the baby opened her eyes and spoke.
"I miss Buttons," the newborn said. "I can't wait to go home and see him."
Dawn Leman had not died; she had been reborn. Miraculously, her body had created its own replacement. Like a hermit crab, her soul had left behind its old shell and moved into a new one.
"Turn those cameras off!" Dr. Creighton shouted.
"What about preserving this moment for history?" Keith asked.
"This isn't what I thought would happen. This isn't medical science; it's ... it's ...."
"What?" Spiros asked.
"I don't know what it is! But I don't want any word of it getting out. Is that clear? Destroy that video. Get rid of all the files and research materials. I'll not be the laughingstock of the medical world. I won't have my photo on the cover of the National Enquirer!"
"What about Mrs. Leman?" the obstetrician asked.
"Tell her children she died during childbirth and return the body for burial."
"And the baby?"
"Oh, God! What the hell are we to do with it?" Dr. Creighton asked with consternation.
"If there are no objections, I'll take care of her," Keith volunteered.
"Fine. Just promise me if word of this gets out, you won't mention my name."
"And what if this is the future of mankind?" the obstetrician asked. "What if someday all humans will self-replicate? If asexual reproduction becomes the norm?"
"Don't be ridiculous! This woman was just a freak of nature. That's all. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to the CDC. I prefer dealing with epidemics and pandemics to this Outer Limits nonsense!"
* * *
Six months later, on the outskirts of Christchurch, New Zealand, seventy-four-year-old Ada Lancer sat on an examination table, stunned by his doctor's diagnosis.
"A baby!" she cried. "But I'm far too old, and I've been a widow for more than six years."
"Nevertheless, you are pregnant," the physician said. "All the tests confirm it."
"But how?"
"I don't know. Quite frankly, it's impossible!"
If you think a talking newborn is strange, you should have seen Salem when he was a kitten!
