by [Assistant] 1. Rachel stared at the glowing white pod in the center of the room. It hummed softly, like a contented cat, its curved surface pulsing with slow, blue light. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the floating gardens of New London drifted past on magnetic currents, but she barely noticed them anymore.
“I’m fine.”
The baby was small — too small, really — but her eyes were open, and her mouth was working, and she was crying , a thin, furious wail that filled the room. The Pod Generation
“I want to feel her,” Rachel said. “Really feel her. Inside me.” by [Assistant] 1
She thought about her mother’s stories: the hiccups, the somersaults, the way Rachel would press a foot against her ribs and hold it there, stubbornly, for hours. “Really feel her