The little one developed quickly. More quickly than he could have anticipated. He’d never seen anything like it before. He could barely keep up—overnight, it would advance significantly, rendering all the data from just the day before outdated. The work was feverish; Hyuntae had to be in constant motion to stay on top of it, and he still worried that there were things he was missing. After all, there were other matters that required his attention too.
It was a whirlwind. A hurricane. He started to worry that it would be ready for birth before the laboratory’s additional construction was completed. He emptied a room in his cityside apartment too, but he wanted to keep it in the controlled privacy of the woods for a good while before introducing it to the outside world—for the benefit of the experiment as well as his own peace of mind. Kahrah was the only one who knew he was working on this, and only barely. She made it quite clear she didn’t approve. Others would no doubt feel the same. He needed time.
But he was not granted much. Progress continued regardless of how ready he was. At least by the time it was born he had a place for it, freshly completed only two days prior.
A healthy female specimen. It was so tiny in his hands, so warm. It wriggled and cried like a human baby, but it had its father’s donor’s eyes. For a while, it would be easy to feed—all he had to do was prick his finger. After that, he didn’t know. He hadn’t planned everything perfectly. One can’t in situations like these. He didn’t need to worry about it quite yet anyway.
He would need to worry about it sooner rather than later, though. Its rapid progression didn’t stop outside the artificial womb. It was startling, fascinating, and made him wonder if a certain young adult author was privy to more than she let on. (He considered, briefly, giving it a name in homage, but the name was too ridiculous—and he’d already decided it should choose its own name when it came of age. In the meantime, he would call it Experiment 626, in another playful homage. She—it—was quite tickled upon seeing the film, all but solidifying it.)
From baby to toddler, from toddler to little girl, and it wasn’t even a year old. He had to remain in constant motion—doubly so now, ensuring not only that he was keeping adequate notes but also taking care of the thing. It outgrew its clothes, its beds, its toys all-too-quickly. He had to hit the ground running with its education too. It was a fast learner. Eager to learn, too. Curious, like him.
He was in awe of—and perhaps a touch unnerved by—just how like him it was. It was very distinctly its own being, but the similarities were notable. Of course that was only natural—he was the only person it saw while it was developing, and children are mimics—but it was still so strange to see his peculiarities reflected back at him through this tiny creature. It spoke with his inflections, his accent. It shared his dark eyes and blank stare.
But he wasn’t its father, and he made that clear. A firm line. A necessary line. You have no parents, he told it when the subject inevitably arose. I’m not your father. You have no father. With the faintest of smiles, he would add, You came from a headache.
One day, he would introduce it to Jun. Eventually, with great care, when the time was right.
Or so he thought, until a door was opened without his permission.
It’s been asking after him, and the questions are difficult to avoid. It’s a patient little thing, but it can only hear Never mind the boy so many times before something gives. It almost seems annoyed with him. That’s new. Interesting in its own way.
“How about this,” he reasons, helping @bludrite get dressed after its growth check-up. “You can ask me one thing that I have to answer per day. It can be anything, but you have to tell me beforehand that you’re cashing in your one thing before you ask. Alright?”
