In which hope is needed more than ever.

Dedicated to the firstborn Ingalls, as usual.

No such miracle occurred.

Instead, the machine slowly powered down, and the screaming followed its example. The dark silhouette of the woman’s head dropped to her heaving chest. All around the laboratory, scientists dashed about, and technicians pattered away furiously at megalithic computers. Dr. van Hallst shouted “Phase Two, Birth, commencing in T-3, 2, 1. Phase Two commencing.”

With a push of a button, Dr. van Hallst resumed not only the experiment, but the pain of “the subject.” The writhing and crying disturbed all but Mr. Luitpold, who couldn’t have been more raptured in the ordeal. It seemed the torture only made him more determined to do more. The writhing of the woman and the humming of machines continued for what seemed an eternity, but eventually a voice called out, “Powering down,” and all was still.

All except for the crying of the woman – and of a baby.

Mr. Luitpold was practically hopping with excitement. “It’s worked!” He thought.”All of my work leads to this moment!” A cheer broke out from the mouths of the many malefactors. Even fidgety Dr. Carmichael threw in a few shy cheers. Only the gasping woman was quiet now.

Dr. Carmichael started to announce Phase Three, but someone interrupted him, a young man with long hair. “Wait!” he said, knocking over his chair, “The clone, she’s, you know, she – she doesn’t have clothes on.” A woman slapped her hand to her forehead and rushed inside the cylinder with a bundle of clothes. Mr. Luitpold was getting impatient.

“Get on vit de operation!” he screamed. “Ve don not ‘ave all day!” At that, Dr. Carmichael pulled a switch. That switch may have very well changed the course of history as we know it.