"I'll check out 12-A for delivery."
"Good boy! I'll go on up and check the staff...." The Geno-Sar rubbed his hands together, and walked off, repeating nervously, "Two psi characteristics must be the answer—two psi—"
"Maybe they are," the young doctor murmured softly. "Maybe they are...."
Delivery, Miryam thought. The life within her throbbed and prodded. There was an ebbing of pain for a moment, and in that moment she saw with the blinding clarity she had sought that this child of hers might bring new hope to the world. That psi ability might be the answer to many things for the race of mankind. What did it matter that it was conceived without love and emotion. What did it matter that she was being used as an experiment ... if this child within her could fulfill the promise.
Miryam spat the soft capsule between her quivering lips. She watched it roll and bounce across the polished tile floor, toward the door.
Pain returned, and its fire was warm. There were no shadows on the wall. Pain returned, and it had purpose and promise. Wonderingly, she beheld the concept that science, too, lived with fear, each science in its own Ghetto. And if the young doctor was right, if psi....
As the doctor stepped into the room, he bent over and picked up the red capsule. His thumb and forefinger felt the warmth, the moisture, and he looked long and thoughtfully into Miryam's dark, glowing eyes.
His fingers shook as he wrapped the capsule in a piece of tissue and dropped it into the pocket of his white jacket. He picked up the chart from the foot of the bed.
"Miryam—" His voice was not under complete control, and he began again, with an effort at lightness. "Miryam—that's a strange name. What does it mean?"