David Warren

Ka

Cries of a newborn...those vibrations that embody within them the very essence of life, resonated throughout the cold, metallic, and plastic room heated only by warm bodies; mainly the mother’s. She was calm and serene as her premature son’s skull protruded impatiently into an inhospitable orb ruled by laws, both produced and predetermined. The birth was painless. He was wet with one part oxygen, two parts hydrogen, womb, and blood. They named him Enoch, after his grandfather.