"You don't know me, but | know you. Don't ask You see things other 
people don't see, but you're still here. They haven't caught you yet. 
They may be | think you can deal with this situation better than | can 
right now. | trust in you to look after her, over everyone and 
everything else | know. Her name is Matilda. She likes being sung to 
and cuddly toy rabbits. 


Merry Christmas.’ 


Carefully, Kit juggled the box into his hands and shut the door 
behind them. Someone had meant this baby to come to him, for 
some reason he couldn't imagine beyond what the piece of paper 
told him. He couldn't just leave it — her, he corrected — out in the 
hallway, no matter what else happened. He took the box, holding its 
precious cargo close to his chest, and carried her into the kitchen, 
aware of the paint fumes in the living room, because he had been 
breathing them in all day. Still, he didn't think this was an inhalation- 
based hallucination. Probably. 


He set the box, with the baby, on the counter, and looked at it 
blankly. The baby stared back with big eyes, somewhere between 
blue and green in their colouring. "Um...I'm Kit." He was one step 
away from sticking out his hand to shake, like he had learnt to do at 
the parties Gabriel used to force him to go to. The baby kept staring, 
and then squealed, moving her arms just for the sheer delight of, 
well, moving her arms. 


".,.And you're Matilda." He concluded, awkwardly. His experience 
with babies was minimal, at best. He thought he remembered 
maybe holding someone's baby a few years ago, but he couldn't 
remember whose baby it was or why he was considered safe 
enough to hold it. Then again, years ago, he had been a Normal 
Person. 


Some lucid part of his mind instantly thought the sentence he was 
always terrified of - ‘Phone the police.’ But the police, Kit had always 
found, were more a hindrance than a help, and it scared him what 
they may do with her. Someone had entrusted this baby to him 
because he was no longer a Normal Person, and there had to be a 


reason behind that. Did Matilda see things too? How could you even 
tell with such a small human that seemed to have no significant 
vocal capacities as of yet? What about the anonymous note-writer? 
Did they see things too, and were those things putting Matilda in 
danger? He had certainly seen a stall at the Meat Market called 
‘Pied Piper's Preemie Pies' that more than hinted that at least one 
person would want a baby for more nefarious purposes. 


It was then that Kit decided he would take care of this child - a split 
second, impulsive decision, but the best ones always happened that 
way, in his experience. He would bring her up right. He would be 
there for her. He would make sure she wanted for nothing. He would 


His thoughts were interrupted by the loudest screaming that he had 
ever heard. And probably the loudest his neighbours had ever 
heard, too. 


"Shit! Shit, why are you making that noise?!" His first reaction was to 
put his hands over his ears in a pathetic attempt to protect them 
against a noise that most humans recognised as a sound of intense 
need from a creature that had no other way of communicating. He 
stared down at the baby, then realised the cardboard box she lay in 
was very gently rocking back and forth. After a short time, the crying 
turned to hiccupping sobs and Kit was able to hear himself think to 
puzzle out what the thing wanted. The rocking? He would deal with 
that later — if it needed to be dealt with. 


Kit came close and very cautiously picked up the baby. He was 
pleasantly surprised to realise the handling came back to him, and 
that this baby was much more firm than the child he held so long 
ago. She could support some of her own weight, it seemed, 
including her head, which she turned to nuzzle at Kit's chest, 
seeking something, seeking - as Kit figured it out, he found himself, 
unusually but furiously, blushing. 


"| don't have... | mean, | can't..." 


Well, that was one puzzle figured out. Matilda was hungry. But Kit 
wasn't exactly built to provide food on the go, and he doubted that 
she would want — or should have, really — the stock of Halloween 


sweets and Christmas chocolate in his cabinets. Feeling hopeless 
because he already knew what was in his cupboards, but feeling just 
as anxious and desperate, Kit carried the child over to the cabinet 
and freed one hand to open it. 


To his surprise, next to a tub of candy floss, there was a well-known 
brand of banana porridge for babies around the age he had guessed 
Matilda to be. Balanced on top was a small plastic bowl (green) and 
a tiny plastic spoon (blue) with a plastic, teated bottle (purple) next 
to that. Digging around, behind his spare advent calendar, Kit found 
a tin of branded formulae. 


"Now, | Know | didn't go that crazy that | got baby food and | don't 
remember," Kit mumbled to himself. Or, more accurately, he 
mumbled at Matilda, which went a long way towards him already 
feeling less crazy, just like when he spoke to Peaches in that 
absent-minded way that really only hid he would otherwise be 
talking to himself. 


"Did you...?" He looked down at the baby, who looked up at him 
quietly, chewing on her fingers with a chin covered in drool. She was 
the face of innocence, and she offered no answers. Regardless, all 
that mattered was there was food he could give the baby. 


He settled her back in the box, grabbing a cushion to sit her up 
more, so he could keep an eye on her whilst following the hard-to- 
read instructions on the back of each tin. The milk proved the most 
complicated to make, with a series of steps, including how to avoid 
the baby getting burnt by the resulting mixture of boiling water and 
powder. Well, no-one said this was going to be easy, right? 


Distracted momentarily from the baby, he was surprised when he 
turned back that she was holding what he remembered to be some 
odd contraption called a teething ring. He was sure nothing else had 
been in the box — a note, and a baby, in her purple jumpsuit. Nothing 
more than that. "...Okay." He just mumbled to himself. At least she 
was quiet and seemed content. He did what the instructions said 
and tried the temperature of the milk on his wrist, finding it didn’t 
burn him, so it probably wouldn't burn her. Hopefully. 


He presented the baby with a bottle and she blinked at him. "Here. 


Take it." Kit instructed. The baby scrunched up her face, tears 
suddenly threatening. "Shit, don't make that godawful noise again. 
Okay, so you can't... uh, hold this. Okay. | guess I..." It was a 
struggle, but he managed to hold both the baby — Matilda, he was 
going to have to get used to that name business — and the bottle, 
which she latched on to happily as Kit's mind raced. 


It was cold in here. Kit had grown used to that, not being able to 
afford the heating in any past winters, and this was no different. But 
he was pretty sure babies shouldn't get cold. And what about 
nappies? He didn’t have any of them just around, that would be 
super weird. What went in had to come out somehow, and 
somewhere. Shit. ...Literally. 


Once the baby had finished, Kit gently put her in the box before 
hefting it up again and headed towards his bedroom, brushing past 
the radiator, which was... on? Wait. 


Still carrying the box, he went over to the thermostat, finding that it 
was off. Something was making sure this baby was okay with him. 
Something he couldn’t possibly understand. Something hinted to in 
the note. But not understanding was okay. Matilda wouldn't get cold, 
and that was all that mattered. 


Laying in the box, the baby's face went red, and she grunted, and a 
godawful smell flooded the air. Kit reflexively put his free hand over 
his nose, other arm cradling the box. "...Shit." He muttered. "... 
Literally." 


He took the baby through into the bedroom, placing her on the bed, 
before heading over to the locker he used to store his clothes. He 
must have some sort of old t-shirt that he could use as a makeshift 
nappy until he could get out and buy some. To his surprise, 
however, there was a packet of nappies towards the back of the 
locker. "Thanks," he found himself speaking to whatever entity was 
providing all this. "Mind changing her, too?" He thought maybe he 
heard a distant laugh. 


He found an old t-shirt to lay out under the baby, and a roll of bin 
liners to dispose of the terrible smelling used nappy. He lifted the 
baby out of the box, less surprised this time to find her holding a 


bright pink rabbit against her chest, and lay her down on the t-shirt. 
"Now, how do we..." 


Stripping the baby was hard — she wiggled. Removing the old nappy 
with as little mess as possible was hard — she wiggled more. Putting 
the new nappy on, even following the instructions on the back of the 
packaging was hard — she really seemed to be presenting him a 
challenging in the wiggling stakes. The little sticky tabs got stuck to 
his fingers, her skin (which he gently peeled free) and, finally, each 
other. The nappy eventually got put on, if a little loosely, and Kit 
sighed. This shit, in every sense of the word, was damn hard. 


He redressed the baby, reminding himself to be extra gentle with her 
limbs, even if she fought him every step of the way and whimpered 
when he had to temporarily remove the bunny toy. When that was 
done, he had lost nearly half an hour of his life and was, frankly, 
exhausted. Evening was coming now, with the sky outside dark, and 
he was relatively aware that babies were meant to be put to sleep 
early on in the night. 


He already had an idea where to put Matilda in lieu of a crib — she 
couldn't stay in the box forever, after all. But he remembered his 
own childhood, his parents in desperate poverty, and, if it was good 
enough for him, it was good enough for her. He opened a drawer 
and took out an armful of socks and pants, but left some as a sort of 
mattress. Grabbing a spare fleece blanket from the bed, he very 
gently wrapped the baby like she was a burrito, so she wouldn't 
injure herself somehow and so she couldn't get cold. He carefully 
placed her in the drawer, fluffing up one end of the 'mattress' to 
make a cushion for her head. 


"Now, get some sleep." He said, very softly, gently kissing her 
forehead and pausing as there was this amazing, overwhelming 
scent that could only be described as ‘baby’. Something soft, like 
talcum powder, and something new, like fresh leaves. It was 
amazing. He stood, and turned on a soft lamp, preparing to leave 
the room when there was a sad whimper from the makeshift crib. He 
turned back to the baby, finding her holding a cream rabbit toy 
almost as big as her, but her eyes were upset for reasons that he, 
as an adult, couldn't understand. 


"What's wrong? Don't worry, I'm not going far. Oh, | know what will 
make you feel better! You like being sung to, right?" 


Kit did pause, waiting for an answer, which he no longer considered 
impossible with all that had happened in that day. 


"| remember one song my mum used to sing to me and my 
brother..." 


He felt oddly self-conscious, with the baby staring at him, tears 
already pooling at the corner of her eyes and threatening to become 
a very loud thing if he didn't provide entertainment quickly. 


"...A, you're adorable, B, you're so beautiful, C, you're a cutie full of 
charms..." 


The baby instantly perked up at the song and her covered feet 
wiggled happily. As the song continued on, she yawned, and her 
eyes fluttered closed. 


"...U, made my life completed, V, means you're very sweet, W, X, Y, 
Z — It's fun to wander through the alphabet with you, to tell you what 
you mean to me..." 


Kit sung through the song twice before Matilda drifted off into sleep. 
He had never normally remembered what came after 'C’, but 
something that evening pushed all the lyrics to the forefront of his 
mind. Gently, he tucked the folded blanket tighter around the baby, 
making sure she couldn't roll around too much in her sleep. 


And that was how they ended their first day. Kit, exhausted, fell onto 
his bed, stared at the ceiling for a nanosecond, then was out like a 
light. But it turned out he had a lot more to learn about babies 
(anomalous or not) than just their daytime needs... 


Onwards, to Part 2 » 


Hub 


Loskon in the Making 


Kit's hand trembled, and he curled it into a fist. 

He was scared. Honest to God scared, and Kit never got scared. 
It all started with an innocuous text message. 

'We have to talk.' 


The four worst words, in the worst order, known to the English 
language. 


Kit was under no illusion that their relationship was perfect. Pushed 
together, their emotions bounced off each other and caused war 
wounds, then intense make up sessions with bites of love and 
ownership. The highs were only a prelude to the lows — Kit should 
have realised what a fragile thing the relationship was. If he was 
aware, maybe he could have seen how he was setting himself up for 
a fall. 


Kit curled his legs under him on the window seat he sat at. He put 
his palm against the cold glass to ground him. His therapist said, 
that in times of panic, changing his body temperature could make a 
huge difference. And with winter night gathering outside, touching 
the cold panel was just as effective as running his wrists under 
freezing water. He felt his heart beat in his wrist, felt it slow. All he 
had to do now, all he had left in him, was to wait. 


"Love," he thought, eyes fixated on a robin that settled in the holly 
bush, "is easy. ...Commitment? A little harder. But... it's the 
vulnerability that takes some getting used to." Being vulnerable 
wasn't something he was comfortable with, and he had just started 
getting used to the concept when the distracting, distressing text 
message came through. 


He jumped when the front door suddenly clicked open, and then 


Experiment-889-A-2 

Date: / /2009 

Male Parent: American Cockroach (Periplaneta americana) 

Female Parent: Albino Laboratory Rat (Rattus norvegicus) 
Gestation Time: 21 days 

Number of Offspring: 14 

Notes: Adult offspring 15cm in length, brownish, chitinous, 
segmented, hexapedal, tailless. More skittish than standard lab rats. 
Mouthparts are irregular and in some cases useless. Dissection 
reveals standard mammalian homeothermic system. 


Experiment 889-A-3 

Date: / /2009 

Male Parent: Bull (Bos taurus) 

Female Parent: Cat (Felis silvestris catus) 

Gestation Time: 98 days 

Number of Offspring: 1 

Notes: Adult offspring 50cm in length. Exhibits bovine skull/facial 
structure, feline body type/size. Notably less agile than an average 
cat. Prefers to feed upon grass. Dissection reveals a typical bovine 
pre-gastric rumen. File photo attached. 


Experiment-889-A-4 

Date: / /2009 

Male Parent: Budgerigar (Melopsittacus undulatus) 

Female Parent: Atlantic Salmon (Sa/mo salar) 

Gestation Time: 19 days 

Number of Offspring: 12 

Notes: Adult offspring average 40cm in length. Greenish blue. 
Scales are striated and elongated, causing considerable drag in 
water. Pectoral fins are extended and wing-like. Use pectoral fins for 
awkward “flight” movement rather than standard flexion driven 
swimming. Specimens have small, curved beaks, and preferentially 
feed by scraping algae from rocks. 


Experiment-889-A-5 

Date: / /2009 

Male Parent: Sweet corn (Zea mays) 

Female Parent: Western redcedar (Thuja plicata) 
Germination Time: Varied