Multiverse a technothril.., p.2
Multiverse: A Technothriller, page 2
The sound of the baby’s heartbeat thudded loudly in the room.
“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” Maria asked.
The doctor glanced at her. “You said you’re having back pain?”
She nodded. “It’s much worse today. I normally don’t sleep on my back, but I fell asleep that way waiting for my husband to get back from work.” Maria gave Michael an accusatory glare, then squeezed his hand and blew him a kiss.
Sakata zoomed in on different parts of the image and clicked more buttons, causing small printouts to roll out of a slot in the machine. After about a minute of that, he lifted the transducer, wiped it off, and then wiped down Maria’s belly with a fluffy white towel.
“Well,” he said, “let’s start with the baby. She seems to be under no distress and is about where we’d hope she’d be for a gestational age of thirty-two weeks. That’s all good. But it’s also good that you came in today.” Sakata held up one of the images and pointed at something that was hard to make out. “Maria, you have a minor placental abruption. That means that the placenta has partially torn from the wall of the uterus.”
Maria gasped. “What does that mean for the baby?” Her eyes welled up with tears and she squeezed hard on Michael’s hand.
“Like I said, it’s minor. But I would like to keep you overnight for some tests. We need to check the blood chemistry of the baby and make sure she’s still getting everything she needs. It’s likely the tests will come back okay, but you two should prepare yourself for the possibility that we may have to deliver early.”
All Michael could see at that moment was the birthdate on the tombstone. His voice sounded far away as he said, “But she’s only thirty-two weeks…”
Sakata patted the air and tried to smile reassuringly, with minimal success. “A fetus that reaches thirty-two weeks’ gestation has a ninety-five percent chance of survival. The important thing is that you’re here and we know about this issue. I’m going to prescribe antenatal betamethasone, which is a corticosteroid to help with the baby’s lungs. It’ll help them mature in anticipation of a possible early delivery.”
Maria asked with a quavering voice, “You think we’ll deliver early?”
Sakata smiled, and this time it seemed genuine. “We’ll do everything we can to keep your little one inside you for as long as possible. We’re just preparing for other eventualities.” He leaned forward and patted Maria’s foot, then shifted his gaze to Michael. “I’ll have the nurse give you a list of things to get from the house. I’m going to call admitting and get your wife checked in for tonight.”
“How long do I have to stay?” Maria asked.
“At least through tomorrow morning. By then we’ll know more. If this is a developing issue that needs immediate treatment, we’ll address it then. But it may well be that we can treat this with careful monitoring and bed rest.”
“Bed rest, as in at home bed rest?” Michael asked.
Sakata nodded. “If things are stable, then yes.” He gave them both a sympathetic look. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear. But at least we know about it now, and you’re where you need to be. In the meantime, let’s try our best not to worry about things that may well not happen.”
As the doctor left, Michael could think only of the tombstone.
He leaned down and gave Maria a kiss. “It’ll be okay.”
“Th-thank you,” Maria stammered as she let out a shuddering breath.
“For what?”
Maria began practicing the breathing techniques she’d learned in one of their many pregnancy classes. “For feeling paranoid today. You probably saved the baby.”
Michael leaned down and held his wife close so she couldn’t see the worry on his face. He wanted to believe her, believe the doctor, and assume everything would be all right.
But he couldn’t. His mind’s eye couldn’t look away from the haunting image of tomorrow’s date carved in stone.
Birth… and death.
His fear wouldn’t lift until tomorrow had passed safely.
It’s only a vision, not a prophecy.
He held his wife tightly and tried to believe it.
CHAPTER TWO
Michael stood over Felicia’s incubator, staring down at the newborn delivered only eight hours earlier. The last thirty-six hours had been the most harrowing experience of his life. Maria had spent the night in the hospital, but after some observation this morning everything seemed to be perfectly fine. There was even talk of being able to go home on bed rest. And then suddenly Maria was being wheeled into the operating room for an emergency C-section. Throughout it all, the memory of that tombstone weighed heavily on his soul.
“Mr. Salomon?”
One of the neonatal intensive care unit’s nurses approached with a growing frown. He knew that he’d breached the hospital’s protocol by entering the NICU without having checked in with one of the nurses, but once Maria was out of recovery and had fallen asleep in the hospital room, he’d needed to see his little girl.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “There was nobody at the desk, and I just wanted to make sure she’s okay.”
The nurse paused at the foot of the incubator, shook her head, then checked the digital readout on the monitor. “Heart rate is one thirty-five, respiration is at fifty, and her blood oxygen is ninety-eight. All within a very healthy range.”
“She’s so small,” he said.
The woman picked up the clipboard attached to the lower frame of the incubator. “Three pounds, fifteen ounces, sixteen inches long, with a head circumference of eleven and a half inches. All good sizes for someone her gestational age.” The nurse’s voice took on a more upbeat tone. “Felicia’s had quite a birthday, maybe you should—”
“Honey, how is she?”
Michael turned and his eyes widened. His wife was walking toward him, dragging along an IV pole on wheels. He rushed over to her.
“Maria, what are you doing on your feet? You just had surgery, are you crazy?”
She smiled and patted his cheek. “I’m okay. The doctor said I’m supposed to get on my feet and walk around.” She looked to the nurse. “Is she okay?”
The nurse smiled. “She’s doing fine. I’ll leave you two alone to visit for a little bit.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “We change shifts in just a few minutes, at midnight. I’ll let the new shift nurse know you’re here, but you should check in with her as well.”
Michael gave Maria his arm to hold on to, then led her over to the incubator, where she gazed down at the sleeping baby.
“She’s beautiful,” Maria said.
Michael agreed. “Are you sure you’re okay to stand? I can bring a chair.”
“I’m fine.” She squeezed his arm and put her hand on the clear plastic of the incubator, unable to take her eyes from Felicia. “She’s a miracle.”
They both stared down at the baby, and Maria began softly reciting a prayer.
“God bless Felicia behind the plastic wall.
“She has been taken from my womb without warning and I long to hold her in my arms.
“Lord, I ask in your name that Felicia be healed.
“God give her the strength to make it through another second, minute, hour, and day, as each moment is a blessing and a triumph from heaven.
“Lord, we are at your mercy for the life of our child. Please leave her here on Earth and know that we will provide all the love and understanding that Felicia needs. We accept the challenge and will be your humble servants, dear Lord.”
They both said, “Amen,” and Michael kissed the top of Maria’s head.
“It all happened so fast.” Maria looked up at him with a serious expression. “It’s a miracle we were even in the hospital already when everything went wrong.” Her voice quavered with emotion. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“You know, about getting me to see the doctor.”
He looked up at the wall clock and watched it tick over to midnight. Somehow, seeing that big hand point to twelve lessened the fear that had been gnawing at his guts ever since he’d had that vision. That tombstone would never be real. It was now the next day.
He met Maria’s gaze and smiled. “You’d think I was nuts if I told you.”
Maria arched an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine,” he said. “I saw it in a nightmare.”
“Saw what?”
“Felicia’s tombstone.”
Maria’s eyes widened.
Michael pointed at the clock. “It’s past midnight, thank God. But that damned tombstone had yesterday’s date on it.”
“That’s awful.” She pressed her lips together and held a troubled expression. “Why didn’t you tell me about your nightmare before heading off to work?”
Michael winced as he recalled the screeching of tires that had led to his vision. “Because… I hadn’t had it yet?”
Maria looked confused.
“I guess it wasn’t exactly a nightmare,” he explained. “Is there such a thing as a daymare? On the way to work, someone almost rear-ended me on US-1, and I was so freaked out I pulled off the highway and parked. That’s when the nightmare hit me. It was the strangest thing, but it was so vivid. Just like—” He cut himself off. That morning’s memories—of not having Maria by his side and all the rest—it was still a raw emotion that he couldn’t stand to even verbalize. “It was just like watching a movie.”
“It was just a dream,” she said, taking his hand. “I’d say I’m sorry you had to see it, but I can’t. Because it gave you the warning that saved Felicia’s life.” She looked down at their daughter once more. “It truly is a miracle.”
As Michael rinsed his mouth and put the toothbrush away, he heard the dog whine. He turned from the bathroom sink and saw Percy gently reaching up with one paw to touch the top of Maria’s leg. It was almost as if the dog was finally noticing that something was missing—namely the baby.
Maria was struggling with a wide elastic band wrapped partially around her midsection. “Come here and help me with this abdominal binder,” she said. “I need you to pull it tight across my belly while I pull the other side.”
“Isn’t that going to hurt your incision?”
“They told me I have to use this thing every day,” Maria huffed. “Just help me get it on.”
As she gripped one end of the band, Michael pulled on the other.
“Harder!” she groused, more impatient than usual this morning.
Reluctantly, he pulled the elastic band taut around her midsection and pressed it flat on the Velcro portion so it would stay.
“Ah, that’s better,” she said with a sigh of relief.
He was doubtful as she walked out of the bedroom. It had been only a week since the surgery, and she was supposed to be taking it easy. Maria didn’t seem to understand what “taking it easy” meant.
Michael followed her down the stairs. “Are you sure you don’t need any help today?”
She shook her head. “Stop asking me that. I’m fine. I just need to get everything ready for the baby.” From the moment the doctors had said Felicia would likely be able to come home tomorrow, Maria had thought about nothing else. “I love you, but you drive me crazy asking me if I’m okay every five seconds of the day. Go to work. Show the world how smart I know you are.”
“What about food and—”
“Are you kidding me? Our neighbors and your colleagues have filled our refrigerator with more food than we can possibly eat in the next month.” Maria pulled him down for a kiss, aimed him at the front door, and gave him a light push. “Go, before I have to kick you out.” She pointed with authority in the direction of the door.
Michael got the message. It was time to get back to work.
Michael slowed as he approached the bridge spanning across Washington Road and turned right onto the private road. Despite Princeton’s prestigious name and reputation, it always amused him that there were utterly no signs here indicating that he was now on the campus. After a quick left, and then another, he approached Jadwin Hall, where most of the physics labs were located. As it was the beginning of summer session, there wasn’t much competition for parking spots, at least compared to other times of the year, and he actually managed to park close to the building.
As he climbed the six steps to the side entrance of the hall, a voice shouted, “Michael!”
The chair of the department was standing by the entrance, with a tall, slim, blonde woman standing next to him.
“How goes it, Herman?” Michael said, walking up to the entrance. “Why are you standing outside in the humidity?”
The man held up his ID and shrugged. “My badge isn’t working.” Something about the professor’s deadpan delivery and native Dutch accent always made it sound like he was making a dry joke.
Michael unclipped his own badge and swiped it on the badge reader. The door buzzed and he pulled it open, letting the two into the air-conditioned building.
As they walked in, Herman made introductions. “Michael, this is Doctor Carmel Harrington, a research fellow at the Children’s Hospital of Westmead out of Australia. Carmel, this is Professor Michael Salomon. His work on high-energy particle detection in empty space may lead us into places we never imagined possible. More importantly, his wife just had a baby girl.” He looked at Michael. “Congratulations, by the way. How is Maria holding up?”
Michael beamed. “She’s doing great. We think we’ll be able to bring the baby home tomorrow.”
“Excellent. You’ll have to bring the little one by so we can all coo over her. Only when mother and daughter are up to it, of course.”
“Of course. I’ll be excited to show her off.”
Herman checked his watch. “Actually, Michael, since you’re here, would you mind guiding Carmel to the lounge? I’ll be escorting her to give a talk at the Lewis-Sigler Institute in a few minutes, but I need to make a quick call first. You can ask her about her research. It’s fascinating.”
“Not a problem.”
As Herman hurried off, Michael led Carmel down the familiar route, past the first-floor laboratories and into the open-air lounge, which was equipped with several well-stocked refrigerators and even an industrial-strength cappuccino maker, which he’d never actually used before.
Michael grabbed a Diet Mountain Dew and Carmel selected a V-8, and then they took seats at a table. “So,” Michael began, “what kind of research do you do at the children’s hospital?”
Carmel, who looked to be in her mid-to-late fifties, sipped at her drink. “Professor Salomon—”
“Please, Michael is fine.”
“Michael,” she said. She had a very slight Australian accent. “Are you familiar with SIDS?”
“Sudden Infant Death Syndrome? I know what it is, but not much more.” He shuddered at the idea of having a child stop breathing for no apparent reason.
“Well, I’ve been studying the subject for thirty years. Ever since my son, Damien, died of it.”
Michael set down his drink. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
She waved dismissively. “Ever since then, many people have thought I’m mental for being so single-minded in my pursuit of answers. Or really, just one answer. Why? Why did my otherwise healthy son die? At the time it happened, I was actually a lawyer, though I had a biochemistry background. I quit my job, went back to school, got my PhD in sleep medicine, and dove into research. And it’s been worth it. My studies have identified a biochemical marker that can help detect which babies are more at risk of SIDS.”
“That’s amazing.” Michael leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What’s the marker?”
She warmed to her subject. “It’s an enzyme called butyrylcholinesterase, also known as BChE. Babies with a low amount of it are more susceptible to SIDS. We believe that the low level of the enzyme represents a dysfunction of the nervous system, and poses an inherent vulnerability to SIDS for those infants. We’re currently working on a treatment protocol.”
“Wow. You represent quite the inspirational story,” Michael said. He couldn’t help but think of Felicia. “As Herman said, I’ve just had a child. She was born last week, eight weeks premature, and she’s coming home tomorrow, the doctors think. I don’t suppose this enzyme test is already rolled out to hospitals yet?”
She smiled. “No, that’s still a long way off. We haven’t even published quite yet. But I’m hopeful that in the next eighteen months we can be rolling out recommendations to government agencies around the world. Your FDA, the UK’s NHS, and others.”
Just then Herman appeared in the doorway. He nodded at the drinks on the table. “I’m glad to see you don’t share Michael’s affection for Diet Mountain Dew. I don’t know how he can drink that stuff.”
Carmel laughed. “Most people say that about me drinking V-8.” She smiled at Michael. “To each their own.”
“Well, I’m ready when you are,” Herman said.
Michael and Carmel stood. “It was very nice meeting you,” Michael said. “I look forward to seeing your work put an end to SIDS around the world.”
“I was telling her the same thing!” Herman put in. “For physicists, the victories in our research never feel quite so tangible as that.”
As Herman and Carmel hurried off, Michael considered what Herman had said. Physics research often didn’t provide the same level of tangible results, and yet…
He thought back to the work he’d been doing the last time he was in the lab, a week ago, on that fateful night before his vision. Would he be able to reproduce those results?
Only one way to find out.
Michael frowned, as he always did, at the name on the sign above the lab’s entrance. Although he’d worked in the basement-level lab for nearly a decade now, it had been labeled the “Salomon lab” last year when he attained tenure. That was a thing at Princeton—naming labs after the professors that headed the research within—but to Michael it felt pretentious.
