I don’t have a head for statistics, so I Googled it: four. Give or take, every second, four babies are born. Four miracles. Four worlds created. So, the very second the ball dropped, the very moment that that strange year commenced, there were about four babies born. I know two of them.
Everyone knows the one. It was in all the papers. The New Man. Came from a test tube. He would be stronger, faster, smarter, longer living, than anyone before. Like every other aspect of his life, it was planned. He was born, that is, they pulled him from the artificial womb, on the very turn of the year. Symbolic, poetic, an omen.
The other, well, it’s hard to say with the same exactitude. He hadn’t been scrutinized from inception or been the one out of hundreds that was chosen to live. He was born like any other child, and the attending doctor wrote down January 1st at 12:00 AM. So, we have it down at least to the minute of his birth. It may only be my fancy to think that these two great forces would have been born on the same second.
Tale Told 