[Year 1 | 2253-54]
Artur Simril was born on 15 September at the West Hippocrates Hospital, one of the City’s premiere medical institutions. His birth was rather unremarkable: a healthy baby descended from healthy parents, the cesarean section—which is the only way children are born these days—went perfectly according to plan. A week later, when the tests confirmed that it was safe to do so, Artur’s parents returned him to the hospital, where the medics registered his birth and implanted a Nanny chip into his head. This also went perfectly according to plan, but oh, how little Artur cried.
With his floppy head and limbs, the first months of Artur’s life were carefree. His life consisted of drinking the City-approved NutriMilk for Babies, shitting it out again (aside from those occasions where spitting it up offered a touch of variety), crying, either because he wants more NutriMilk or just because he shat himself, and sleeping off his drinking-and-shitting coma.
At eight months old, Artur’s parents were convinced they created their very own baby genius, instead of your average, run of the mill, everyday little human. After threatening to do so with his attempted push-ups for the last six weeks, Artur put one hand in front of the other, moved a knee forward and then another. He crawled. Finally, this little person was able to move.
By the end of the year, young Artur was sleeping through the night, much to his parents’ relief. He has also mastered the English language, or at least one word from it. Not “Mum,” not “Dad,” but “now.” Artur’s use of “now” was generally associated with his desire for NutriMilk.
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