“I used to feed my children and grandchildren exactly like that,” squawked Ken’s CCVS, “you are so very kind, mommy.” That brought a smile to Emily, almost bringing her to tears.
Karen did not want to push her mommy over the crying threshold because crying was contagious, especially at their biological ages, so she held her electronic tongue before she made a nostalgic comment of her own. She wanted so bad to tell her mommy this morning that she herself rocked her first daughter Rebekah exactly the same way her surrogate mommy did and saw no one else do it that same way until last night. She wished she could tell her last night but her CCVS was taken off for the night.
After breakfast, more burping, and cleaning up the spit-ups, Emily put her children back in their carriers and sat them next to each other in the rightmost seat of the plush, tan, 3-seat sofa and sat herself down in the middle seat, propping her feet on a matching ottoman, which automatically extended from the front. Reflexively and oblivious to the routine technology of the 2040s, she picked up her feet and rested them on the item while she got her tablet out and began to read Homer’s Iliad. Karen stared, not only amazed how such a middle-21st-century girl likes ancient classics but how her mommy consistently had always come into her room first thing in the morning, fully dressed and made up, and stayed that way until they were put to bed for the night. Other than when occasional midnight needs had gone reflexively to her or her husband’s vocal cords and tear ducts, they had never seen mommy in her night gown. Karen was a mommy herself at one time and could not even fathom being able to do that, even with no-smudge instant-dry make-up of the 2040’s.
After the two of them turned on their virtual mobiles and started batting at the items, Emily could not help looking over the top of her book with extreme adoration and joy. She enjoyed the moment watching these two darling ones as they followed the patterns, learning to control course motor skills and the ability to focus. Hoping she did not get caught staring, she returned to her Iliad.
Ken and Karen’s bodies were at the exact age when fruits and vegetables could be introduced to them, which was one of many reasons why the regeneration consultant was coming today at about 8:30. The main purpose of the consultant, however was much broader: it was to introduce Emily into the first step of engaging her babies in custom tailored development plans. It was going to be a long week of trying different foods, playtime, learning, progress testing, and fun! As tricky a process growing up was the first time around when they were in their original bodies, developing regenerates was a very precise and delicate science, and unfortunately, not every regenerate child survived their second childhood. Only certain personalities were capable of going through this process so the vast majority of people in this world had had no interest in extending their lives by this transformation, known as “Cloned Infant Bioregeneration,” or CIB. The Hendersons’ were a unique story.
Saturday, February 15, 2042. 4:43pm. Before the transformation.
As the largest pieces of the wreck were being loaded from the shoulder in front of them to the towing vehicle, Officers Chen and Gomez looked at the animated data on the squad car’s 3-D display. With what they had been seeing in front of them for the last few hours, this was a welcome break for two seasoned officers who had not seen extreme tragedies like this very often since they were just a couple of years out of the academy. The visual feed was a culmination of the dash-cams and engine stats of the victims’ and 15 witnesses’ vehicles. The recreations were purely computer-generated and showed outlined figures with color-coded data, which was much less traumatic to observe than actual machines and bodies undergoing demolition. They had had enough pictures of gore and violence in their minds just looking at the results of the accident in person. Someone 15 years younger than them lost his life instantly with a frontal head impact and spinal fracture near enough to the cortex to guarantee to be fatal: neurological equivalent of decapitation. Fortunate for the other two victims, the medivac drone choppers had taken them, unconscious and no doubt in extremely critical condition, immediately to Fairfax Inova in Fiarfax, VA, and as of that time, the officers did not know anything about their condition other than they were still alive. They weren’t sure but the few accidents that 25 years of combined experience between them afforded them suggested that the prospects of the remaining survivors were pretty grim.