A discharge from the hospital the next afternoon meant the baby was healthy. Caesar had to be there for supervision in case no doctor was able to touch the child. It appeared that after he had picked up the child, doctors were finally able to perform health checks; though they were reluctant to do so. They had worried eyes and emanated their hesitance to taint the child with even the lightest touch.

Walking out of the hospital with his son resting in a carriage, the same joy remained in Caesar. The energy of the room from last evening remained steady despite the cessation of laughter resulting from an aching belly. He had planned for Priscilla’s cremation later in the evening and reminisced on their meander of memories. The remembrance of her was enough to shift his attention from who she was to where she is now—dead. But he knew being in grievous rumination would not benefit the child, so he set an example in his newborn’s vicinity.

After arriving home from a cab, Caesar noticed many unusual things. People were looking his way as he left the hospital, pedestrians on the streets turned their heads in similar fashion, and even the cab driver was quite happy and did not charge a fare. Maybe it was his newborn son; but besides the driver being wonderfully playful with his son, the turned heads were left unexplained.

Caesar unlocked the door to his home that was once shared with Priscilla and settled his sleeping, worm-shaped son cuddled in cotton blankets in his personal cradle. After returning his clothes to their rightful places, Caesar took a glance at the several hospital papers he held under a dim light and remembered his obligation to call his supervisor to extend his absence.

After a few rings from his smartphone, his supervisor answered. “Hello Caesar, need anything?”

“Hi Will, I need more days off to take care of my newborn son.”

A discharge from the hospital the next afternoon meant the baby was healthy. Caesar had to be there for supervision in case no doctor was able to touch the child. It appeared that after he had picked up the child, doctors were finally able to perform health checks, although they were reluctant to do so. They had worried eyes and emanated their hesitance to taint the child with even the lightest touch.

Walking out of the hospital with his son resting in a carriage, the same joy remained in Caesar. The energy of the room from last evening remained steady despite the cessation of laughter resulting from an aching belly. He had planned for Priscilla’s cremation later in the evening and reminisced on their meander of memories. The remembrance of her was enough to shift his attention to compare who she was and where she is now, but he knew being in grievous rumination would not benefit the child, so he set an example in his newborn’s vicinity.

After arriving home from a cab, Caesar noticed many unusual things. People were looking his way as he left the hospital, pedestrians on the streets turned their heads in similar fashion, and even the cab driver was quite happy and did not charge a fare. Maybe it was his newborn son; but besides the driver being wonderfully playful with his son, the turned heads were left unexplained.

Caesar unlocked the door to his home that was once shared with Priscilla and settled his sleeping, worm-shaped son cuddled in cotton blankets in his personal cradle. After returning his clothes to their rightful places, Caesar took a glance at the several hospital papers he held under a dim light and remembered his obligation to call his supervisor to extend his absence.

After a few rings from his smartphone, his supervisor answered. “Hello Caesar, need anything?”

“Hi Will, I need more days off to take care of my newborn son.”

“Are you sure you don’t need weeks or months? I know child-rearing is expensive with time and attention, speaking from experience.”

Caesar paused, forgetting he had no wife. “Oh right, I will need that, but there will be no one working as my wife’s passed from the delivery.”

A bang and boom followed by an unexpected guffaw surprised Caesar before Will responded. “What in the—I’m sorry man, that is some rough luck. That doesn’t usually happen given the tech we have developed as humans.”

Unswayed by Will’s consolation, Caesar responded. “No need for an apology. Do you have an idea of what a couple months off work would look like? Can you make it possible?”

“Hmm…” Will pondered for what felt like a minute. “Ah! I don’t know if you heard, but many people have been resigning across the nation, or rather, globally. It’s all over the news. You may want to check that out. By the time you come back there may not be a job or an economy!”

More bad news, but Caesar did not care. He decided to do whatever was needed to support his son no matter the conditions. He curiously reached for the remote resting next to his television and powered on the flat, electronic screen and switched to the news channel.

[… miracles such as coma patients waking up from their slumber around the globe, criminals asking their victims for forgiveness, prison guards hugging and laughing with inmates, many depressed people in hospital wards cured, and butchers releasing their cows and pigs from the butchery station.]

“Are you hearing the news, Will?”

“You bet I am! Miraculous, right?” Caesar could hear Will grinning over the phone. With a slightly gaped mouth, he watched as the recordings of various scenes displayed before him matched the pace of the reporter’s words.

[… We also have a soldier calling in to tell us about their war experience overseas. Your name is Bob, correct?]

[“Yes I’m Bob, and right here next to me is a new, foreign friend.”]

Caesar sees Bob in a light camouflage attire with a bulletproof vest, a helmet, and yellow-tinted sunglasses, while his friend with unkempt black hair wore a loose and tattered, unbuttoned blue shirt with a plaid pattern.

[Can you tell us your story—like what happened?]

[“We were shooting at each other from afar from the safety of our ditches and my friend here had propped up his clean, white underwear as a flag for surrender as he walked out towards the center of no man’s land. Me and my buddies were laughing at the sight but I felt the need to reciprocate, so I walked up with my fellow comrade’s pink underwear. My friend and I both smiled at each other and hugged, laughing like some buffoons enjoying a movie. The rest of the soldiers from both sides walked up the same and we all laughed in peace. The rest was history.”]

Caesar heard his supervisor curse and laugh over the phone, clearly enjoying the movie himself.

[So did the war just… stop? Just like that?]

[“Yes ma’am, we did not want to kill each other then and there; in fact, we were repulsed from doing so because we understand that we are one big family. That’s about it, really. Simple and clean.”]

Caesar watched the screen as tears of joy flowed down Bob’s face, who turned and hugged his sandy-faced friend. It was a miracle alright. A war that spanned decades suddenly stopping because everyone finally realized they were family? It reminded him of meeting Priscilla and the strange happening with the doctor and nurse helping to deliver his son.

Three loud knocks deviated Caesar from his train of thought to his front door. Still in his pedestrian clothing and holding his smartphone to his ear with a hand, he switched off the television and walked with socks along the boarded floor to the door. Opening slowly, he sees three men—one holding a large rod with a microphone hanging, another holding a large camera with two hands, and the last holding a clipboard. News reporters.

“Will, I’ll be going now, we can talk again in the future.”

“Alright Caesar, I’ll put you down for a few months of absence.” Caesar hangs up the phone and glares at the three men in front of his door, each wearing a complete set of dark-themed winter attire.

“Hello, is this Caesar and Priscilla’s home? We would like to conduct a live interview,” said the man holding a clipboard.

“Goodbye.” Seeing that they must be there to bother him, Caesar swings the door shut.

With a quick and urgent reflex, the clipboard man leans his weight on the door; a foot preventing its closure. “Wait! I received a message to come to your apartment from your son. Since you may not believe me, I also brought some guests over.” The clipboard man gestured to the side as Doctor Amy and Nurse Julie revealed themselves in front of Caesar’s door, dressed in more casual, light-colored winter clothing.