Exit God Out - Book One - The Unexpected Terrestrial

Exit God Out Book One: The Unexpected Terrestrial - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

William Meyer came storming into the Boulder lab late the next day. His anger was not directed towards the employees but at the thought his precious experiment could have blown up in his face. If the FBI had questioned the baby any further than the white room, he may have had some explaining to do and consequences to pay. He summoned the group to a long, exhaustive meeting.

It was the first time any of the Boulder lab employees had met William's wife, Edith. She wanted to see the child, as she explained to William, but in her heart she felt destined to meet Maggie. Perhaps it was her way to get close to a life she never had, as they did not have a family of their own. Edith spent her life following in her husband's shadow and tending to an oversized house in a proper neighborhood of Boston. Her life wasn't miserable. It was just nothing. There was no book to write; no story to tell that anyone would change by reading it. She had few friends, few hobbies, but inside she must have been made of steel having endured thirty years of being a servant to a man with little soul.

William suggested that Edith spend time with Maggie while they had their meeting, and Anna would show up in an hour or so. He realized his priorities at the lab were beyond research. He was now embroiled in an experiment of precarious supports.

Edith walked into the white room without noticing the lack of color. The space was filled with light as a tiny baby, no larger than a small cat, was already reaching for imaginary friends above her.

"I don't think I've ever seen a newborn with such tenacity to play," said Edith. She bent down to touch her, and noticed Maggie's eye color. "Have you ever seen eyes that blue?" said Anna. "They're ethereal. I thought all babies had the same dark eyes. Wonder if they'll change later. It's amazing how she ended up with blue eyes and black hair. It's a very unusual combination."

"And such lovely skin, darker than normal but very translucent," Edith remarked, letting Maggie grab her little finger and wave it around. "She's tiny but a little powerhouse! Look at how perfect her little fingers are and how strong she is! Oh Anna, she's just beautiful. Can I hold her?"

"Of course you can, and actually, I should head to the meeting. She's been fed and will likely sleep now for an hour so the timing is perfect. See you then, and if you need me, just push this button and call me," and Anna showed Edith the button with the heart on it, amidst dozens of buttons on the panel.

Edith and Maggie stared at each other for a long time. A silent conversation between two humans destined to know each other and orchestrated so brilliantly from a potential tragedy. Edith would never have been allowed to fly with Meyer for any other reason, but Meyer needed his wife to look after affairs for him in Boulder he was incapable of handling, and anything to do with children was on the top of his list. For the first time in years, Edith felt as if she had a purpose, ever so small, but she accepted it with all the integrity of a seasoned employee.

She pulled gently at the small tufts of black hair on Maggie's head, noticing the child had an unusual light streak at the back. She was enraptured by the beauty of such a diminutive being, and how her presence lifted the cold stark room. She never cried or fussed. Instead, Maggie's interest was in her imaginary friends that seemed to float above her. She would try to focus and squint her eyes, and her skinny arms would flap around until they were tired, but she seemed obsessed with her new friends that entertained her constantly.

Edith noticed the infant was seconds away from sleeping, so she wrapped her tiny arms in the blanket and held her tight. She glanced around the room and wondered why the entire space was white. Why everything was white! What was her husband planning that she had no prior knowledge about? Fear overtook her, and she realized there was more to this child than just helping out a mother in need. Anna worked for Meyer, but not as an office cleaner. Things didn't add up: the baby had no resemblance to Anna, in any shape or form. The room wasn't unpainted. It was meant to be white. There were no toys or stuffies anywhere. Everyone's clothing was meant to conform, which is why Edith had to put on a full white gown before entering. It had nothing to do with safety or cleanliness. This was planned. This was creepy.

Edith knew she would never be able to discuss this with William. It was likely she would never be able to get clues from the employees either. She was trapped in a world of confusion, concerned that this child would be stripped of creative and social experiences at a very young age of which there would be no recourse. There was no point, no purpose for exposing a human to the anguish and torture of being raised in such a sterile, enclosed environment. But the insanity of it was hers to bear alone. And alone she felt, deeply, darkly, in the recesses of her heart and soul. She held back a torrent of tears fearing someone would walk in to find her. She had to hold her opinion around William or her life would be hell. She put Maggie's head up to hers and pressed her to her face. She felt the flutter of little eyelashes, and gently pulled her away to see if she had woken up. Those ethereal eyes stared back at Edith, gently explaining to her that everything would be fine. In fact, everything was as it should be. And Edith cried. For the first time, Edith cried as if it didn't matter.

Almost two hours later, Anna, Janet and Dr. Rosenthal entered the white room and found Edith and Maggie asleep in the big armchair. Edith looked around, dazed by the intense dream that infused her conscience, and Maggie burst into delight at knowing food was arriving and diapers would be changed. Edith gave the baby back to Anna and left the room to find William.

"We'll have to be here for a few days," demanded William to Edith, who nodded in approval, hoping to get as much time as possible with Maggie. She thought if this baby had no toys or color in her life, she would try to be there for her as much as possible to ensure her life had colorful people. It was the least she could do. William never spoke of the plan to Edith. He believed his wife was atheist like he was. What he failed to discover was the lie Edith held back all those years: she was nothing like William. She had acted a perfect performance for William in some demented play she was feeling eager to bow out from.

Edith helped out for those five days, showing Maggie around the white room and lifting her up so she could converse with her imaginary friends on the ceiling. Maggie was mesmerized, almost to the point where Dr. Rosenthal became concerned. "We'll just have to keep watch on her," the doctor ordered. "We can't let things get out of hand. It's important we recognize signs that something may be wrong with the child and change our plans if needed." Nobody could figure out what those 'change of plans' would be. Edith kept quiet during lectures on raising Maggie. No one realized Edith was not privy to the overall arrangement everyone had bought into. Meyer had not thought of that detail. Edith's acceptance and quiet demeanor allowed her to absorb the experiment without any questioning. When it was time for her and William to leave Boulder, she was well versed in the project, and trapped in a world almost alone, knowing Maggie was the victim.

April K. Reeves, Author. Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved. Visit us on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/April-K-Reeves/390530011143987?fref=ts or our website: https://aprilkreevesauthor.wordpress.com/