May we take this opportunity to inform you that, due to the success of our first camp, we are planning to open a new facility for girls next summer.
We hope we might be of service to you in the future.
Roger in the Womb
By Al Sarrantonio
When Mrs. J’s pregnancy came to term and nothing happened, the doctors told her not to worry. Mr. J was instructed to keep a firm eye on her, and to rush her to the hospital as soon as labor pains began. Assurances were given that this was not an uncommon thing.
When, after a further month passed and the baby, by all accounts still healthy and active in the womb, refused to be born, Mr. J truly began to believe something was not right. The doctors, however—more of them, now—still held the opinion that there was no reason to be alarmed, and after a complete examination Mrs. J was returned home to her bed and Mr. J given instructions to keep an even firmer eye on her and to call the moment any sort of labor pains, no matter how tentative, began. This time, there seemed to be a bit of worry and clinical interest mixed in with the reassurances.
At the twelfth month of pregnancy, when the possibility of Mrs. J’s body being poisoned by the continued presence of the fetus became acute, she was installed in the hospital and artificial inducement of labor was attempted, but to no avail. One doctor made the wry observation that the baby had “set up shop in there.” Another doctor, not at all wryly, remarked that the baby did indeed seem to be resisting with unnatural vigor, and that preparations for Cesarean section should be made. The fetus was still judged to be in perfect health.
Cesarean section was attempted, but the doctors attending were startled to find the abdominal area completely resistant to incision. After two scalpels were broken, radical measures were instituted; but the area surrounding the womb was impervious to violation. After five hours of continued frustrated effort the doctors retired to consultation, and a completely exhausted Mrs. J was awakened and given assurances. Mr. J was sent home, his box of cigars yet unopened.
Repeated attempts were made during the next eight days to enter the womb and remove the baby. Numerous specialists were flown in from all points on the globe, various exotic and revolutionary methods employed—all to no avail. The baby continued to thrive, however, and Mrs. J, despite the mental fatigue resulting from constant questioning by the doctors and nurses, remained in good health.
On the ninth day after forced birth had been attempted, an orderly interrupted a volatile meeting of all personnel on the case to announce that some sort of communication had been established with the fetus. The meeting immediately adjourned to Mrs. J’s room. On arriving, the staff was informed by the nurse on duty that, while making a routine medical check on Mrs. J, she had detected a series of tappings with her stethoscope that seemed to emanate from the womb. They appeared, she reported, to form some sort of pattern, although she had no idea what that pattern might be. The chief surgeon, on examining the womb area with his own stethoscope, quickly substantiated the nurse’s claims by announcing that he, too, could hear what sounded like a series of measured tappings. A discussion ensued over what this could mean; the discussion quickly grew into a heated argument. Physical violence had nearly erupted when a young intern suddenly thrust his way to Mrs. J’s bed and, after a few moments of concentrated listening with his own stethoscope, let it be known that the tappings were nothing more than a message communicated in Morse code. The message, he said, was simply, “I am staying in the womb.”
A furor broke out. Within the hour, representatives from all the media were present at the hospital. Mr. J, not having been notified in the confusion, learned of the situation on the evening news.
After this breakthrough an attempt was made to contact the fetus as the chief surgeon proceeded to ask, in Morse code translated by the young intern, a series of complicated questions, to which there was no reply. After failed attempts by other high-placed doctors and officials, the young intern was put in charge. He immediately asked the fetus whether it was comfortable, and received the answer yes. The fetus then declared it needed time for thought and would answer no more questions at the present time.
Despite constant attempts by the young intern to regain rapport, the fetus was entirely uncommunicative for the next several months. There was constant monitoring, and any potentially communicative sounds that were recorded outside the occasional sounds the fetus produced when it stretched or shifted to make itself more comfortable, were scrupulously studied for a Morse code pattern, or even for the emergence of a new code. A four day period of frantic activity, during which the monitoring team was sure they had recorded a message in new code, turned out to be nothing more than the sounds made by the fetus suffering through a particularly noisy intestinal disorder.
During these months of silence the doctoral and professorial committees, which had naturally formed, grappled furiously with new theories and ways to handle the various dilemmas that had arisen. There were uncountable social and religious implications in the event, as well as scientific and medical questions to be answered. There was continued debate on how to handle the problem medically. Papers and theses abounded.
Meanwhile, the fetus continued to develop. Remarkably, Mrs. J sustained no discomfort during this period of fetus growth; though her midsection swelled to elephantine size she retained good humor and exhibited no signs of stress. She now inhabited a spacious suite in a little-used wing of the hospital, complete with a fluid-mattressed bed that was acoustically attuned to counteract the least ache and pain. Having been accustomed to little more than housework before her sudden notoriety, she found her present quarters comfortable and even preferable to home life. Constant entertainment was provided by a large-screen television over her head. Any food or beverage she required was instantly prepared. Mr. J, now fully cognizant of the situation, offered no resistance or complaint; he found his time taken up with various endorsements, which had resulted from his family’s celebrity. He also found himself burdened with the management of an income of considerable amount.
Finally, two days before the deadline that had been imposed on the young intern by the chief surgeon, contact was re-established with the fetus. In a short message the fetus stated that it wished to be called Roger, and that there would be a statement the following Monday at 1:00 P.M... It—or rather, Roger—refused to elaborate, and repeated questioning was met with silence.
At 1:00 P.M. there was an expectant hush; the fetus’ statement began, and the young intern translated the tappings through Mrs. J’s abdominal wall. The statement ran:
“I want to thank all of you for your constant diligence and continued goodwill, and most especially for providing me with the necessary accoutrements for my continued development. My hat is tipped to you all.
“No doubt you wonder what I am doing in here, and most especially why I have refused to come out. These are valid points to raise and I intend to answer them.
“Though you may have trouble believing me, and may scoff at my reasoning, or call me coward, the simple reason why I have not left the womb—and one that should have been immediately obvious to you—is that I do not want to leave. Life is safer and more secure here.
“Now these are well-known facts about life in the womb. All of you went through the experience I continue to go through, and all of you were thrust from that security after nine months and made to stand on your own against the cruel environment—physical and psychical—of the outside world. You thought there was no choice. You didn’t know better.