Archive for baby

Beautiful Baby

Posted in Lucerne Village, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 4, 2012 by javedbabar

Sami was closing up for the day. There had been a trickle of customers coming to the 3D Unit, mainly single mums working as designers and who needed prototypes fabricated, builders and plumbers wanting small components printed, and people who wished to create unusual gifts. There weren’t that many of them though. People were still confused and a little scared of 3D printing. Every new technology takes time to catch on.

However things were shifting in the right direction. The rest of the Transfer Station was busier than ever. There was less trash and more recycling. The next step was material recovery, where the stuff people bought that they had no further use for could be transformed into something else immediately.

A small black car was speeding through the Industrial Park. He watched it take quick sharp turns as it came towards the Transfer Station. He had unbolted one gate already, and could race to pull both gates closed, but he decided to wait and see who it was.

A young woman lowered her window and said, “Hello, are you still open?”

“Well, it’s six o’ clock and I was just closing.”

“Dr Bungawalla sent me. He said I should see you.”

Sami favourite recent project had been modelling the doctor’s brain. He pulled open the gates and said, “Come on in, let’s see what we can do.”

The woman was distracted and kept looking away from Sami. She bumped her head on the door frame and almost fell out of her car. She had an awkward shape. Was she pregnant beneath her big coat? Sami dare not ask for fear of getting it wrong, which he knew was the ultimate faux pas.

She said “I’m not sure. I’m not sure if I should do this.” She looked weak, about to fall down. Sami felt he should do something.

He said “Would you like to come into the office and sit down? I’ll make you some tea.”

He checked his phone while the kettle boiled. No word from his pal, Shama, who was driving him to Strattus tonight. Cell reception at the Transfer Station was terrible.

After taking a few sips of tea, she said, “I’ve seen my baby in a scan. She’s beautiful, so beautiful, but I really want to hold her now. I want to see her in the nursery, to see if she will like what I have done for her. To see if she likes all the toys and colours.”

Sami’s previous job as Guru Baba’s assistant had brought him into contact with troubled people. This woman was really hurting about something. Sami was an expert listener, and where possible, a helper.

He said, “I am sure you have made a beautiful nursery. What colour is it?”

“It’s mainly pink and yellow. Pink because it’s such a soft colour, it reminds me of buds and petals, and yellow is like sunshine, so happy, so happy always.”

“It sounds really lovely. I’m sure your baby will adore it. When is she due to grace our world?”

The woman handed Sami her ultrasound scans, both as pictures and on disk. “Can you please make a model of her for me?”

“It would be better to wait till she is born. We can scan her then. Right now the spatial resolution and image depth of the embryo scans are…”

“She’s not an embryo! She’s a baby! Scale her up! I don’t care about spatial resolution or imaging depth. I don’t care about anything.” She began crying and said, “I do care. I do care. I do care. Please make her for me.”

Five messages came through on Sami’s cell phone. Dr Bungawalla had been trying to call him all day, to tell him about his patient whose baby had just died inside her.

Sami realized that this model was the only baby she would ever hold. He decided to work all night to deliver her baby the next morning.

Baby Split

Posted in Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 18, 2012 by javedbabar

Baby was very active. He kicked his legs like a little martial artist, threw punches in the air, and cried continuously. Despite this pointless show of ferocity, no one minded and rather than shout, kick or punch him back, they looked on adoringly.

Mother cuddled him more closely, and said, “There, darling. You’re back with mummy now. There, there. Welcome to our crazy world. You’re the best thing that’s appeared in it ever. My angel. My love…”

Father’s smile grew bigger as he pointed to his newborn son and said, “That’s my boy! He’s going to be a fighter, this one. Look how he’s throwing out hooks already, and he can sure scream. Scare his enemies to death. The warrior…”

Naomi was allowed into the room right after the birth. She was crazy about her baby brother from the moment she saw him. She wondered if his arrival would stop her parents from arguing now. Many of her friends’ parents had split.

Uncle Bobby was there, proud to have a nephew. He’d known the birth process may go on for a while, like it had when Naomi was born, so he’d bought biscuits to share. He was down to his last one, snapped it in two, and offered half each to his sister and brother-in-law.

Baby’s mind was filled with energy rebounding. There were crazy bright patterns, wilding and assembling. He was suddenly cut off from his source of sustenance but still growing at a phenomenal rate. He would grow infinitely.

Where had these patterns come from? How had the growth originated?

He sensed two forces, far apart, but destined to come together. Black and white; yin and yang; masculine and feminine. A faceless horde of long-tailed warriors pouring into a dark valley, fearless, thoughtless, with only the urge to enter the round citadel. The palace of wonders. The hidden treasure. The Grail.

Very few survived the journey. A few brave lucky ones charged ahead and reached their destination, and threw themselves at the final barrier but only the first one made it in. His magical charms gained him entry and the gates closed after him immediately.

The warrior was welcomed. The princess had awaited him forever, for she knew that he had treasures of his own to give. They shared their riches, and realized that together they could grow. But growth also meant change.

The doctor came into the delivery room. He was mainly concerned with practicalities – the execution of his tasks – but he remained aware of the wonder of the matter. That two beings had merged and created a being that was the same as them yet different. Through mitosis, cells had separated their shared chromosomes into two identical sets, which became sibling cells that multiplied, and continued the growth process further. The point of conception was the vortex around which life spun.

Baby’s body wasn’t the only thing splitting and growing. His mind was also breaking off from his mother. There was a time within her when her mind was his mind, and his thoughts were variations of hers. But now he had a second mind, his own. This was his nature, beyond her nurture.

Every act of creation is cosmic, as if a nuclear reaction at the heart of a star; binary fission creates charged fragments; exothermic reactions release electromagnetic energy and kinetic energy, causing both charge and motion. The total binding energy of the elements resulting is greater than that of the element starting. A nuclear transmutation creates fragments that are no longer the same; free energy released is millions times greater than before.

As Baby kicked and punched and cried, he released this energy into the world. He could change this world. He could start or end it.

Ajar

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Organic Farming with tags , , on January 22, 2012 by javedbabar

Iy hid among the produce; it was the nicest spot. Iy loved the beautiful colours, textures, and smells. Some of the round red objects were a little squashy, and Iy managed to squeeze out some salty juice. However the long orange things were hard; Iy scraped his gums along one of them, but the surface was bitter and impenetrable. The long yellow objects were also hard, but he found one whose tip was a little soft. When he sat on it, brown mush squeezed out. It was the sweetest, most delicious thing he had ever eaten. He squeezed out as much as he could.

Iy reached up for an orange ball, but as soon as he grasped it, countless others fell and scattered. Some of them hit him on the head, but they weren’t too hard. They bounced away, leaving a fresh, tangy smell in the air. Iy squashed one between his hands, and more smell emanated from within. He felt intoxicated, almost like… when? He rested a while among green bushes.

Iy wandered into a cooler area. The closer he got, the colder it became. He saw round tubs of something, and also cartons. Most of them were white, with colourful letters and signs, and pictures of a thing with black and white patches. This thing was somehow familiar. Iy found himself saying “Oom!” He reached for a carton but it was too cold to hold for long.

Iy ended up in a horrible area. It smelled of death. He left it and returned to his most reliable source of nutrition – the long tubes that you pushed and out came food. He was still amazed by the variety of things within them. How did you remember? How did you choose? There were hard, oily things the size of his toes. And salty, crisp things like his fingers. Plump things that for some reason reminded him of “Oom!” And sweet, bright mixes that made his head spin.

Iy had been here for a week now. Where he came from, he didn’t know. Why he was here, he didn’t know either. But he knew that he must keep himself hidden, and keep moving around. This all seemed wrong somehow. He felt this wasn’t the right place for him at all. Iy wondered if one day he would find that place, and maybe there would find others Iy’s.

There were alternating seasons. The first one was when beings with trolleys came with boxes and put things on shelves. Then many beings came and took those things off the shelves. Then beings with loud machines went up and down the rows. Then the quiet time, when lights were dimmed, and everyone left, and Iy could emerge for adventures.

Sometimes Iy wondered whether to show himself, but a voice inside said that he should never do that; these beings were not his friends; they were nasty beings. And this was confirmed when he saw the situation of other beings resembling himself. These tiny creatures were imprisoned by the giant beings. They were strapped to the giant’s bodies, or pushed around in mobile prisons. He knew about those somehow… Some of the tiny beings were allowed to move independently but only on a leash. They were made to repeat whatever the giants said, and often made to cry.

Some of the tiny creatures sensed his presence. They communicated enthusiasm and goodwill, and tried to alert the giant beings. Were they traitors, he wondered? Or maybe jealous of his liberty? Luckily their communication skills were undeveloped, and they were unable to give him away.

The scariest moment was when a new kind of being caught his scent. It came right up to his hiding place behind the long tubes, and sniffed and woofed. This being was familiar. He said to himself, “God”. This being was kind, and realized that Iy should be left alone. The god retreated, pulling one of the giant beings behind him, who had big black eyes, and a long white finger that tapped the ground. Despite his being guided by the god, the giant was clumsy and collided with a trolley, causing a box to fall off.

Iy felt a surge of awareness. Something inside that box made him feel angry and happy and sad. These were the strangest feelings that he had ever experienced. He needed to know what was in that box. Iy considered crawling over immediately, but a giant being appeared, so he hid himself away.

When the being was gone, Iy couldn’t restrain himself. He crawled over to the box. He lifted himself high and peered over its edge. But the box was empty. The being had already put its contents up on the shelves.

When the quiet time came, and lights dimmed, Iy attempted an audacious adventure. He found a stack of blue cans on a row end, and climbed upon them, one at a time. He made it to a shelf near the top. But there was no easy way from there. Iy hauled himself up as best as he could, grasping plum sauce jars, and catching footholds on pickles. He peered over the edge of the next shelf up.

There were jars filled with tiny beings like himself, all sleeping, with smiling faces. Their labels said, “Happy Baby Brand – Genetically Modified Meat – Too Cute To Eat!” He had a brief moment of elation, when “Iy” became “Iy’s”, followed by horrific despair. Iy grasped two jars – he wasn’t really sure if for support, or to pull them off – and fell with them to the ground.

Next morning, workers cursed the mess. “Oh shit!” said one. “I was rushing yesterday. I had to play hockey. Maybe I didn’t stack them well. What’s the worst they’ll do? Take some jars off my wages? I’ve never been able to eat them myself. It almost seems like they’re alive.”