Milo Skart was busy promoting the latest Keret brand of exoskeleton to a particularly jittery man when the teen girl stumbled through the hospital door. Neither of them noticed her at first, despite her swollen and pregnant stomach, her tattered and filthy appearance, and her disease. 

But to Milo's credit, he had other concerns. He had not made his sales quota for that month, and then he would not get his bonus. "Think of what your friends will say," he told the jittery man. He could sense a sale and he was already dreaming about his bonus. "This is a top-of-the-line Keret exoskeleton. You can't do any better. You'll be faster than all of them."

"Oh, I'm not sure," the jittery man said. He must have been a centenarian. His shriveled body moved stiffly, hesitantly. "I just don't know. It's such a big place."

The Atraville Hospital was indeed a big place. The two spoke in the expansive foyer where a hundred congested levels merged into one open corridor. There, cars and ambulances flew into multiple pods on various levels, dropping off and picking up patients. Interweaving helical escalators brought patients up and down from the pods and the different levels.

The girl stumbled through an unused and at first unnoticed pedestrian entrance of this foyer.

"You need this exoskeleton," Milo said with a big smile, pressing the man's small and withered hand between both of his young and smooth palms. He could feel his bonus within reach. He would need it for his college tuition. He would need it for food, room, and board. "You deserve this exoskeleton. Think of yourself. It's the right thing to do for you."

The man melted in Milo's grasp. "Yes, you're right. I think I will-."

A siren shrieked, rising and falling. In between bouts of the siren, a loudspeaker blared: "This area is extremely dangerous. Leave immediately." At the same time, the walls of the foyer, bland white up until that moment, flashed brilliant red.

This was no routine alarm. It did not come from an ambulance, a police car, or any other emergency vehicle. The siren declared a dire warning. This girl was dangerous. When people heard the siren, they didn't simply move out of the way. They fled for their lives.

Milo's attention, however, focused down on the girl, whose large pregnant stomach pushed through a torn uniform from the school of Axion. Her body was caked with dirt, barefoot, with a mark on her left cheek about the size of a small handprint. The sirens said she was high on dark energy, a dangerous and illegal form of energy.

"Help me-" the girl called out. She groaned from a contraction, doubling over, holding her large stomach. "Help me...it's coming...my baby-"

The elderly man snapped his hand back away from Milo, fear spreading across his wrinkled face. As he called for a car, masses of people rushed for the exits. Those near enough sprinted into the hospital before the bulkhead doors slammed shut. Many leaped back up the spiral escalators to the landing pods, diving into cars, then shooting into the sky. Others crammed into service elevators behind the escalators.

Milo, however, charged down the escalator to the girl.

"Help me...my baby."

Milo reached her as she cried out again. "Of course, I'll help you."

He violated a large number of hospital protocols. It was bad enough that he didn't immediately evacuate. Now, worse yet, he put his arms around the dangerous girl, hugging and reassuring her. He knew it was against the law, but he did it anyway.

"I'm going to make sure your baby's okay, you got that?"

Milo helped the girl walk across the foyer to a short hallway, one of several emergency wards on the first floor. The sirens of the hallway blared and the walls flashed in a similar manner to the foyer. "Do not enter this area under any circumstances. This area is extremely dangerous. Leave immediately."

Several nurses ran to help, like bleached insects standing upright. They were built with white-plated struts, white reciprocating pistons for their muscles, and white plastic bodies. Their only color was a red cross on their white power plant stomachs and two glowing yellow eyes showing through their white skulls.

"You are not allowed in this area," one nurse said. It towered a good head and shoulders above Milo. "You must leave immediately."

"Spin off." Milo pushed the nurse out of the way. "I told her I would help her."

The powerful robots could have easily forced Milo to comply, but their medical programming restricted them. "You are not allowed in this area," the nurse said. It buzzed around him, admonishing him, but took no action. "You must leave immediately."

With one arm around the girl, Milo helped her through the emergency ward and into an isolated quarantine room. The nurses followed behind with long black devices purifying every place Milo and the girl touched, continuing their warning. "You must leave immediately."

The walls of the quarantine room also flashed red when they entered. More alarms blared inside that room. Various instruments hung down from the ceiling such as long probes, clear spiral tubes, and short stubby needle guns. As Milo helped the girl onto a bed with white sheets, she moaned from the pain of her contractions, coming shorter and faster. The nurses circled, ready with their long black guns. Yanking a stubby needle gun down from the ceiling, Milo held it up to the back of the girl's head and pulled the trigger. The girl sighed with relief.

Then the floor shook. The doctor entered wearing a massive Higgs suit, dark and gray, heavy and clumsy, like a walking tank. A bulbous transparent aluminum helmet enveloped his head, thick gloves shielded his hands, and heavy black boots protected his feet. Inside that helmet, the doctor's face was covered with bushy hair and a thick beard. Long eyelashes nearly covered his dark eyes. The nurses each stepped back out of deference.

"Where is your protection?" The doctor barked at Milo through a speaker embedded in the faceplate, his bushy expression severely scolding him. "Why did you not evacuate? You have not followed proper protocol. You are now contaminated." He pointed a gloved hand at the door. "Leave now. Chocka demands it."

But Milo stood his ground. "I told her I would help her."

The bushy face stared at him for a long and dreadful moment before turning to the girl lying on the white bed. "I'm Dr. Chocka Zdravnik. You are very lucky I'm here. You are infected with dark energy. Axion has given me jurisdiction over this terrible disease."

"What's wrong with you?" she said, slurring her words. As the pain drugs took effect, her face relaxed. Her eyes appeared glazed and far away. "Why are you dressed like a fat proton?"

"How did you acquire the energy?" the doctor said. "Who gave it to you?"

"Yeah, I'm a junky." She slurred her words. "I did dark energy. So what?"

The doctor stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he slowly shook his heavy helmeted head. "Silly girl, you have confessed your own guilt."

The nurses took positions on each side of the bed, their glowing eyes gazing over the procedure. Dr. Chocka supervised the birth while Milo gave the girl another shot for pain, wiped the sweat from her face, and helped her to be as comfortable as possible. After the tiny newborn emerged, Dr. Chocka carefully cut and tied the umbilical cord and the nurses washed the tiny body.

"Can I hold him?" the girl said, drugged and slurring.

"Hmmm. That baby is a terrible thing. He is a danger to everyone."

"Oh no, don't say that. He's perfect. His name is Cale—Cale Vals. He's going to be so amazing, just like his father."

A rectangular object like a small coffin on wheels nudged Milo from behind, making its own way into the room. Its lid opened, like a mechanical mouth, black and cold inside.

"Isn't that a trash compactor?" Milo said.

The doctor held the baby with his heavy gloves at an arm's length from his own armored body, carrying him over to the compactor. When he placed the infant down too abruptly on the hard steel, the newborn opened and closed his tiny arms in a Moro reflex, then gurgled and screeched.

"You can't put a baby in there," Milo said.

"What are you doing to him?" the girl said, trying to sit up, slurring badly from the drugs, her head rolling on her shoulders, her eyelids drooping.

Dr. Chocka closed the lid and fastened it.

"No," Milo said. "You can't do this. I told her I would help her."

"You must be treated for exposure," Dr. Chocka said, turning a severe expression toward him through his helmet. "Then you must be disciplined. You will be disciplined most severely."

Dr. Chocka turned back to the mother, giving her more drugs through the needle gun hanging from the ceiling. Why did he give her more drugs?

"What are you doing to my baby?" The mother was barely coherent, her head rolling on her shoulders, her eyelids drooping.

"What you have done is terrible." Dr. Chocka said. "Becoming pregnant while you are diseased. It is a most dreadful thing."

One of the nurses handed Dr. Chocka a long black gun, like a miniature cannon. Dr. Chocka slung it over his left shoulder. He aimed it down at the birthing fluids and fired. White light emanated from the cannon and vaporized the afterbirth until there were no remains.

While he worked, the baby wailed from inside the chamber. Milo could hear the muffled cry through the thick walls. He edged over to the compactor, undid the clasp, and opened the chamber.

"No," Dr. Chocka said.

Milo reached in and lifted the wailing infant from the chamber.

"Chocka said no."

But when Milo's hands touched the infant, a surge of electricity flowed through his arms. He felt alive and strong. He felt euphoric—like he could do anything.

After Dr. Chocka finished cleaning the afterbirth, he pointed the cannon at the young mother.

"You have broken the law of Axion."

"Don't point that at me."

"You have not only endangered this hospital but our entire civilization. You've given birth under the influence of dark energy. By the authority of Axion, I sentence you to death."

"Don't-"

White light shot from the cannon into the chest of the screaming mother. Dr. Chocka continued to fire the cannon until he had vaporized not only the mother but the entire hospital bed.

"You can't..." Milo staggered backward clutching the infant tightly. Nothing remained of either the mother or the bed. "I told her I would help her, but you..."

Dr. Chocka turned to Milo, aiming the cannon at Milo's chest where he held the newborn. "Now for the baby."

Milo whirled around, putting his back between Dr. Chocka and the infant, moving toward the entrance of the isolated ward.

"Put the baby back."

But Milo could not put Cale Vals back in there. He would not let the doctor murder him. How could he do that? The infant was such a tiny thing. What had he done wrong? Thoughts swirled in his head. Dr. Chocka wore a heavy suit. Even with the power assist, the doctor could not move very fast. Milo, however, felt electricity shooting through his body, his legs eager to run.

"You are in rebellion against Axion."

Milo made his decision. He sprinted out of the room and down the white-tiled hall of the isolation ward. Dr. Chocka bellowed through the loudspeaker of his suit. His boots clunked loudly, echoing from behind him.

"Chocka will find you. You will die."