Surrendering to the idea that they would not be at his front door without reason, Caesar sighs and beckons the three newsmen and two doctors inside. Before they stepped any further, he pointed to their shoes and grunted with aggression, indicating that shoes must be taken off.

Everyone was directed to a rectangular dining table as Caesar prepared six glasses of tepid water for their stay. His home was slightly insulated as he just arrived moments earlier; the cold gradually becoming more of a breeze than a sting. The news reporters gestured Amy and Julie to sit by the wall while they sat on three chairs on the opposite side. Caesar was the last to join, holding the last three glasses for the women and himself as he sat by Amy.

“So, you were talking about my son giving you a message,” Caesar sternly started. “What do you mean? And how do you know about everyone involved, especially my newborn son?”

From his upright position, the clipboard man bent forward with hands on the table, staring at Caesar with a creased forehead and wide eyes, and spoke in a calm, steady tone. “… You may not believe what I say, but I received a message from your son to conduct an interview with you. He gave me his parents’ names as well as the hospital and the staff that assisted you. From the ladies here, after much deliberation and skepticism, I received your address... and here I am, basically.”

“You know this sounds like absolute bull, right?”

“He’s right, Caesar,” Julie interjected, “Amy and I received a message from your son after you were out of our sight. I don’t hear things, and I know how I think. The thoughts that came through were clearly not mine. It told us that we would meet with a news reporting team and it would be ideal for us to follow them to your apartment for an interview. I personally do not know anything else, but their arrival confirmed my suspicions.”

“And Seamus here,” Amy points to the man with the clipboard, “will be the one interviewing you and I guess us staff as well.”

Seamus nodded in agreement and spoke in a mildly serious demeanor, sensing that the air of skepticism had lapsed. “That’s right, and I may have a little more information about your son that I have not disclosed to anyone yet, but I work as a journalist for supernatural phenomena. I would assume your son gave me some telepathic message, asking me to talk about the recent international events that have spawned and that he is the epicenter.”

For a moment, Caesar felt an urge to laugh and suppressed it. Not because he was crazy, but for the reason that if he were to accept his just born son as the coordinator of all this, all logical connections he had of the world would fracture and he would have to accept that he is crazy. Was he going to an insane asylum after this? He did pray during Priscilla’s death and hoped she was watching their newborn child in some ghostly spirit form. At that moment, time was passing quickly and prayer was his way of accepting the situation in the privacy of his mind.

Now, time was moving quickly again with the introduction of new information and his choice was to stay with logic or throw it away; this time he had to declare his madness in the presence of other judging minds—doctors, no less.

But he was not ready. Was he ready? He did not know. If he accepted the premise of Seamus, then possibilities open. Many possibilities. Infinitely many and the impossible being possible. He was scared of possibilities. He was fearful of what the world would throw at him.

The other option was to remain in comfort. Everything is placed precisely where it is, there is no deviation, and he could swim in the same pool over and over again. It sounded like where he was trying to leave—the habit, the rote, the mundane. So—comfort or crazy? Mundane or asylum? Mundane asylum? Good crazy asylum.

Caesar perused his conflicting realities for a long while, and the five guests glared with anticipation. Caesar’s mouth gaped. “Let’s say—No. I accept your premise. My son has telepathy and he gave you a message to persuade the doctors and to come interview me. The dots you connect seem to make sense in regards to how my son is related to the miraculous events on the news. Although I don’t understand why that connection was made—how do you know what telepathy is and how it affects people?”

Seamus’ eyes lit up with excitement—his sudden change in conduct startling his two crew members. “Since it doesn’t seem like your son has telepathically communicated with you, it would be difficult for me to convince you. Let’s take another approach. Do you recall any unusual events in relation to your son?”

Caesar pondered for a few seconds. “… Laughter? My son was also quiet after the whole ordeal and he tried to mimic a laugh in my arms. Then Amy and Julie here refused to pick him up saying that they couldn’t, and asked me to. People were also turning their heads in my direction when I was walking out of the hospital and back home. The cab driver gave me a free ride, although that seemed quite normal in terms of behavior.”

“Yes! Laughter—that was what everyone around the world felt when your son was born. A telepathic stream of love hit everyone across the planet regardless of their geographical location.”

“But how do you know it was my son and not someone else’s, or some other event that may have occurred? My son can’t even speak.”

“Telepathy is a completely different form of communication, Caesar,” Seamus answered. “As for how I know it is specifically your son—I do not have an answer for that. All I can trust is that I was given a message regarding you and your wife’s name and the doctors involved. You may call me simple for following my hunch, but given my field of work, I know things happen for a reason.”

Caesar continued to spear Seamus with questions about telepathy, but his response remained the same—he did not understand the nature of telepathy, except that it exists and can be experienced. Though unsatisfactory, Caesar yielded after the spirited barrage, seeing the honesty in Seamus.

With that, the camera started rolling while the mic boom positioned slightly out of its view. Seamus interviewed Caesar, Amy, and Julie with pointed questions to extract detail from their lives and the delivery of a miraculous child. Then came a section that elaborated on telepathy, love, and the current events, and how Caesar’s son was the source of all the peace since New Year’s.

“It seems you haven’t named your son yet, do you have something people can refer to him as?” Seamus asked.

“No need for a name. Call him the Integrator.”

“Any reason why?”

With the last breath of that question, Caesar’s body jolted as if he realized his seat pricked him and wanted to keep his social composure. Heat and perspiration formed around his temples while a cool, thin vertical breeze was felt centered on his forehead. “Hold on, I think I’m receiving a telepathic message.”

Attempting to recover from the sudden pain and shock, Caesar’s head involuntarily twitched and jerked side to side several times and eyes rolled back to reveal milky white. His eyelids shut and he donned an innocent smile, revealing dimples on both cheeks. Both forearms lifted from his seated lap and fists clenched with unusually fanned fingers – appearing to be glued and unused due to a lack of strength and musculature. To match the uncanny smile on a serious grown man, the forearms tensed in excitement – eager to pounce and grab.

A higher-pitched voice escaped Caesar’s throat without strain, relaying a message. “I am the Integrator. There will be no more borders, violence, crime, and segregation of any kind. From this point on, humanity will be with nature. Humanity will be one.”