The Gods' Foolish Game

"Doctor! Doctor! I think I'm going into labor!" A heart-rending scream tore through the dimly lit clinic. A woman, smeared with blood and filth, writhed and struggled against the restraints binding her to a rust-eaten birthing chair. "Hurry! Doctor, come look! He's coming out!!" "Why aren't you coming over!? Doctor! Doctor!? Are you even a doctor?? Turn around and look!!" The pregnant woman's shrieks grew more piercing, her thrashing more frenzied. Yet the doctor standing nearby never once glanced back. He merely gave a slow nod, his reply a languid, dismissive drawl. "Alright, alright, I'm coming. Don't rush. I'm just preparing the delivery tools. You wouldn't want your child to fall on the floor the moment it's born, now would you, madam?" These words seemed to have a lethally sobering effect on the woman's escalating madness. Her frenetic energy stalled. The crimson haze in her eyes slowly cleared as her gaze turned mechanical and slow, eventually drifting down to her own swollen belly. She responded with a dull, dazed tone. "My child... right, the child... The child can't fall on the floor... I have to give birth... The child can't fall on the floor..." She repeated this mantra, her emotions gradually stabilizing. Soon, the small clinic fell quiet again, save for the jarring *clang... clang...* of metal being hammered. The doctor was crafting his delivery tools. Sparks flew from before him, briefly illuminating the gloomy space. Drawn by the light, the woman hugged her belly and turned her head toward the doctor's back. Her eyes began to redden once more, her expression twisting back into a snarl. "Doctor! What are you doing!? What are you doing!?" "Me? As I said, preparing the delivery tools. The clinic has been quite busy lately, all the nurses are assisting other patients. I'm afraid I must handle these menial tasks myself." As he spoke, the doctor turned around, presenting the crude, freshly hammered-together hacksaw in his hand. A bright, cheerful smile spread across his face, tinged with a hint of pride. "See? All ready." The moment the woman saw the hacksaw, her entire body convulsed. The leather restraints strained, pulling against the rusty chair with a sound that set teeth on edge. Her legs kicked out wildly, splattering foul blood everywhere. "What are you going to do! That's not a delivery tool! What are you planning!?" "Madam, please look more carefully. This is a Cesarean-section saw." The doctor approached, hacksaw in hand. His gaze lingered on the irregular teeth of the blade as if admiring a work of art, a soft click of his tongue expressing admiration. "This represents the most cutting-edge delivery technique, published in *Science*. By using this uterine saw to open your abdomen, your child can be delivered perfectly intact onto the birthing chair. This eliminates the tragic, high-probability risk of the child falling to the floor during a natural birth, significantly reducing infection risk. Furthermore, these sharp teeth maximize the incision area, ensuring the child's head won't become lodged due to insufficient space during delivery." The doctor held the tool up, measuring against the woman's belly, and smiled with narrowed eyes. "Most importantly, this method currently boasts... zero negative reviews." "Child... safe... my child... will be safe..." "Indeed, madam. Rest assured. I am the most experienced delivery physician in this clinic. Your child's safety is my utmost priority." The promise seemed to electrify the woman. She began slapping her own mountainous belly, straining forward with desperate urgency. "Quick! Deliver my baby now! My child is coming! Hurry, Doctor!! Hurry!" "To serve you is my honor." The doctor raised the crude hacksaw. His hands were perfectly steady. Then, with a practiced motion, he lightly touched the skin and drew the blade upward in one smooth stroke. *Shhhk—* A slender red line snaked upward. A ripe watermelon, tapped, splits with a whisper. And then! *POP—* The overburdened body, like a punctured balloon, ruptured. Foul blood sprayed in all directions. She wasn't dead. Agony ripped a raw scream from her throat. All four limbs thrashed in unison. Her gaze, venomous and terrified, fixed on the doctor as she shrieked insanely. "What are you doing? What are you doing!? You're trying to kill me! You want to kill my child!!" The doctor was drenched in gore, yet his face remained curiously clean. He gently moved the hacksaw that had shielded it and offered the patient another comforting smile. "Madam, your words wound me. I am saving you and your child. Look. Your child... has been safely delivered." The woman's frantic movements froze. Overwhelming joy surged as she looked down at her belly. There, amidst the ruin of flesh, a pair of enormous, pure black eyes blinked back at her. They were remarkably clear and vivid, deeply captivating. They might have been even more endearing if they weren't attached to a writhing tentacle. Observing the horrific, squid-like newborn, the doctor smiled knowingly and offered praise. "Look how healthy your child is. Such bright, intelligent eyes. Clearly a... well... clearly a... baby with big eyes." The woman's look of ecstatic surprise faltered slightly at this nonsensical compliment, but it did nothing to dampen the overflowing love she now directed at her offspring. Black tears of joy welled and spilled from her sunken eye sockets. "My child! My child!!" "Yes. Your child." "Bring my child to me! I want to see him! Is it a boy or a girl?" The doctor's smile stiffened. A flicker of consternation crossed his face. Strictly speaking, if one had to assign a gender to a tentacle... "Congratulations, madam. It's... a boy."