"Not this baby. A fine, normal, healthy one."
He's idiot lying stupid fool need incubator tenth oxygen tenth tenth hurry before it's
The pressure abruptly ceased.
Leo was born.
The doctor was holding him up by the heels, red, wrinkled, puny. But the voice was still there, very small, very far away: Too late same as death
Then a hint of the old cold arrogance: Now you'll never know who killed Cyrus.
The doctor slapped him smartly on the minuscule behind. The wizened, malevolent face writhed open, but it was only the angry squall of an ordinary infant that came out.
Leo was gone, like a light turned off beneath the measureless ocean.
Moira raised her head weakly.
"Give him one for me," she said.