Editor’s Note: The following story takes place in the Peg Universe. The interested reader may find the first installment here. Anna Bonanno wrote what follows. Her husband appreciated it, and you will, too. —JNB
Peg was awake. Wendi, the most advanced AI midwife known to post-GPT5 man, told her to get some sleep, to call when contractions were five minutes apart for a whole hour. But sleep is hard when you know you are in labor. So, Peg was awake.
She stared at the ceiling, stared at the wall, stared at her husband, who was also awake, because he knew Peg was in labor. Peg’s husband had just finished reading Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. He told Peg to stop trying to go to sleep; he told her to try to stay awake as long as possible instead. He also told her that if she had a why, she could survive any how.
So, Peg tried very hard to stay awake. Instantly, her body began hovering several feet above the bed. Her husband didn’t seem to notice, or if he did notice, he was not in the least bit concerned. Peg had, of course, done this before.
While Peg was hovering, she had a sort of waking dream. She dreamt she was floating out the window of her second-story room to her neighbor’s house. The neighbor, Pam, had had her baby a few short months ago. Through the window, Peg could see the baby asleep in a small bassinet next to Pam’s bed. Pam, too, was sleeping.
Peg hovered into Pam’s room. She decided to shake Pam awake and ask her a question.
“Psst. Pssst. Pam. PAM!!” Peg whisper-shouted. Pam’s eyes opened very large and stared silently back at the specter of her neighbor, Peg.
“I need to ask you something,” Peg said.
“You best be quick Peg, or I’ll smack you with this here frying pan and you won’t see the sunball come up again this side o’ the grave,” Pam said, very seriously.
“When did you call your midwife when you were in labor with baby Inga?” Peg asked.
“I well-nigh didn’t,” Pam replied. “Benjamin here” (now she gestured to her sleeping husband) “insisted I call e’en though I’d been contracting eight minutes apart goin’ on 36 hours. That baby weren’t budging a smidge, so seemed to me.”
“So, you called at eight minutes? Did the midwife tell you to call back when you got down to five minutes?” Peg asked.
“Said to call her back in one hour. And bless her heart if she didn’t get in her car and start drivin’ straight away.” Then Pam added, in a low whisper, “She’da had a intuition.”
Peg drew in her breath. “Then what happened?”
“Pulled up to this very house not thirty minutes later. Inga popped her head out this side o’ the watery world a few minutes after that.” Peg was still hovering over Pam’s bed. She hesitated before she asked one final question.
“Pam, was Wendi your midwife?” Wendi was almost everybody’s midwife.
“Oh, no! I call on ole Bess for aid in my time o’ need. A real, flesh and blood human bein’. Don’t confidence them artificials none.”
A brief silence.
“Damn,” said Peg.
—
Peg gasped and found herself back in bed next to her husband. She wasn’t sure if she had actually hovered away or if Frankl’s wisdom had proven true. “Did I…?” She started to ask. Instead of finishing the question, she rolled over again. She plucked her phone off the nightstand and dialed Wendi.
“Hello?” Wendi said.
“Wendi. This is Peg. My contractions are still eight minutes apart. What should I do?” Peg was sweating.
“Try to sleep. Call me again when contractions are five minutes apart for about an hour. You’re doing great! Would you like me to play you some reassuring music to help you relax?”
Peg heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes, yes please do. Thank you, Wendi.”
Bette Midler’s “From a Distance” began playing over the line.
From a distance we are instruments
Marching in a common band
Playing songs of hope, playing songs of peace
They are the songs of every man
God is watching us, God is watching us
God is watching us from a distance
Anna Bonanno is a writer, editor, devoted mother, and loving spouse. She don’t confidence them artificials none.
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