Prologue: Memories of Birth

In a small town’s maternity hospital, the harsh lights in the nursery made the infants uncomfortable. The oldest among them was only three days old, for after three days of observation, they would be returned to their mothers. This was a common practice in all such hospitals throughout the city: after a brief introduction to their parents, newborns were kept in the nursery under professional care, ensuring their wellbeing—a routine that, though impersonal, was rarely questioned by parents, who trusted it was for the best.

The nursery’s wall facing the corridor was made of glass, allowing parents and relatives to gaze upon their children from outside. At this late hour, thick curtains were drawn across the glass; it was past two in the morning, and the corridor stood empty and silent.

In crib number seven, a baby yawned. His chubby little face still bore a slight yellowish tinge from lingering jaundice. Sensing a presence, he squinted open his tiny eyes, catching only a blurred impression of two figures in white. His vision was still poor, only able to distinguish vague shapes. One of the figures lifted him, placing him on a cold surface. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced deep into his ear, and he burst out crying.

The doctor administering the injection grew anxious and whispered, “Boss, is it alright for him to cry so loudly? Won’t his parents come?”

The one called “Boss” snorted. “Just do your work! Don’t worry, the soundproofing here is excellent. In a maternity hospital, crying babies are nothing unusual. Why panic?”

Next, the baby from crib six was brought over—swaddled in a pink blanket, evidently a girl. The Boss commanded, “This time, reduce the dose by twenty percent. Inject into the cortical motor area.”

As the doctor prepared the syringe, he hesitated, “Boss, this drug has never been tested on humans. These babies are so small… What if something goes wrong?”

The Boss, though clearly impatient, understood the need to soothe his nerves. He explained patiently, “Most people live out their lives in mediocrity. Opportunities to change one’s fate are rare. What you’re doing offers them that chance. If this agent works, each one of them will be a genius among millions! Their lives will be transformed. They’ll thank you for this one day.”

As he spoke, the injection was administered to the sixth baby, who immediately convulsed, writhing in evident pain.

“What do we do? What do we do?” the doctor stammered, shaken.

Expressionless, the Boss placed the child back into her crib, then picked up the baby from crib five. “Next,” he said coolly.

Crib five’s infant was a girl—premature, weighing barely four pounds, much smaller than the others. She felt almost weightless in his hands.

“Boss, this child is premature. Can she survive it?”

“Adjust the dosage for her weight.”

The needle went in. The baby’s eyes rolled back instantly; she lasted only twenty seconds before she went still.

“Boss, she’s… she’s dead!”

This time, the Boss, too, was unsettled. After a moment’s thought, he said, “An accident. Pack everything up. We leave immediately. Not a trace.”

The corpse of the baby in crib five lay there, as if peacefully asleep. After their initial panic, the two regained their composure, meticulously wiping away every trace, even restoring the baby’s blanket to its original state.

Half an hour later, the nurse on duty slowly awoke and made her rounds. Moments later, she hurried out, dialing the hospital director’s number in alarm…