“Did I make the child that way?” asked Polly.
make“You most certainly did not!”
not“The child isn’t a monster, genetically?” asked Polly.
“The child was thrust into another continuum. Otherwise, it is perfectly normal.”
Polly’s tight, lined mouth relaxed. She said, simply, “Then, bring me my baby. I want to see him. Please. Now.”
They brought the “child.”
The Horns left the hospital the next day. Polly walked out on her own two good legs, with Peter Horn following her, looking at her in quiet amaze.
They did not have the baby with them. That would come later. Horn helped his wife into their helicopter and sat beside her. He lifted the ship, whirring, into the warm air.
“You’re a wonder,” he said.
“Am I?” she said, lighting a cigarette.
“You are. You didn’t cry. You didn’t do anyt
