BIRTH

I was conceived from an egg. And the kind you have in mind. You don't believe me, do you? Okay, so I'll tell you my story. Have you ever seen an ostrich egg? My life began in something like that.

And I won't deny that it began like that for many of you.

Yes. I learned about it in a very special way.

I learned it… by dying.

What does dying look like? Certainly different in each case. For me, it began with waking up and looking at the ceiling. Everything was white and sterile, and the sharp smell of disinfectant permeated my ears. And I don't know where a faint, rhythmic sound was coming from. Pi, pi… Pi pi… higher and lower tones combined with a sound like deep, rapid breathing. But I couldn't see the whole room; my head was heavy and I couldn't lift it or turn it to the side. I tried to imagine what was so special happening around me, and what were these sounds that had piqued my curiosity?

I'm still calm, though I don't know what's happening to me or what events have brought me here.

Here? Where? I was in a real hurry to get somewhere! The reminder of this fact (though I didn't know what it was) suddenly made me want to get out of here, something I hadn't done and should have done at all costs; it was incredibly important to me!

I felt hot, and I realized something was severely restricting my movements. And I didn't want to remain in this captivity any longer. I tensed my muscles to the breaking point, trying to get up and tell the people I saw what I thought of them.

Pi,, pi, Pi, Pi suddenly turned into a different sound…uuu…. I guessed what Pi, Pi meant and what Oooh now meant… But it was too late to calm down and quiet my mind. I saw black spots before my eyes, my deep breaths subsided, I heard a vulgar curse, and through the growing fog I saw an attractive young nurse.

"Doctor, is this guy not breathing!?"

The man's hair was disheveled and his lab coat was buttoned unevenly, but he remained as calm as possible and reached for the hanging defibrillator. The portable device, however, refused to spark and beeped with a malfunction signal.

"Damn! What a piece of junk! Nurse! CPR!" he shouted.

I saw the young nurse closer now, her uniform unbuttoned. As if she'd just put it on and hadn't yet buttoned it. Her large breasts were peeking out from under the white. She began to press steadily on my chest, trying to get my heart to beat again. Her breasts heaved, rising and falling with her dynamic movements. One, two, three, four, five… and a sweet breath filled my lungs. She was trying with all her energy to get my heart beating again. It was a shame I couldn't see everything clearly; my vision was becoming increasingly blurred. And something was making me drift away in an unknown direction. As if my mind had separated from my body and begun a distant journey.

Farther and farther, to some unfamiliar place.

"We're losing him!" someone's call reached me at the last moment.

Suddenly, it went completely dark, and after a short moment, light appeared, filling the space around me. I had no idea what was happening; I only felt that I was passing through a gateway between life and death. They say at such a moment, you see a tunnel with a light at the end. But there was no corridor, no winged angels, and I didn't feel like I'd embarked on a one-way journey.

In my case, the brilliant glow sharpened and evenly expanded my field of vision. I saw the unfamiliar landscape of an unfamiliar place from a low altitude. I was suspended in mid-air, nothing more than a thought. Or perhaps I wasn't there at all, merely allowed to be an invisible observer? In any case, I had no sense of my body; I felt as if I possessed only my mind, which was sufficient to experience impressions and perceive the surrounding stimuli.

I stared at the wide sandy beach, lapped by calm waves. I felt the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze off the sea. At first, it seemed like an empty, desolate place, forgotten by time and life. But this was a false impression, for suddenly everything came alive before me.

I saw something very active emerging from beneath the sun-warmed, loose sand. And there might have been nothing strange about this sight, were it not for the fact that these were human newborns. Not turtles, which come into the world this way, but human children. As if, in this way and not another, a mysterious act of birth were taking place.

I also heard a calling cry. The babies were demanding tender care, a mother's breast filled with milk, and the warm embrace of their arms. And, nimbly crawling, they began to trudge toward the seashore, as if everything they desired at that moment awaited them there. There were multitudes of them, dozens, perhaps even hundreds, stretching several hundred meters, all the way to the distant rocks. The sandy beach was still in motion, small depressions forming in the sand, where shapeless, wrinkled heads appeared.

The tiny children hurried to the water, as if it were their destiny and only there could they find safety.

But in the sky, drawn by their shrill cries, a flock of black predators appeared. Hungry for fresh meat for their nestlings, they gazed hungrily at the ground. They had long, curved beaks, sharp claws, and carefully selected their future victims.

And in the distance, on the stone beach, stood young women. For a moment, unaware of what had just happened.

Then suddenly, something disturbed their peace. They looked toward a place that was difficult to see clearly or hear. And without waiting for anyone's permission, they left their wicker baskets full of fish and ran toward the source of the beckoning. And behind them, others, from behind the trees of the forest, from the nearby village, all with cries of hope on their lips.

The young mothers of these infants, drawn by the voices of their children, now ran as fast as they could to save their babies.

The children were crying, calling, but they couldn't wait; something was pushing them towards the sea, and they had no control over whether their tiny hands and feet would turn in a different direction.

Precious seconds, minutes, passed; time refused to stop for anyone or show its mercy.

Finally, the first mothers, unmistakably recognizing their infants, embraced their swollen breasts, furtively wiping away tears of joy. They were happy.

But not all could count on a happy ending. Most mothers didn't find their children immediately. They picked up children who weren't theirs, and they bit their nipples and cried even louder. They then placed them back on the sand and listened to the cries of other children, trying to pick out that one sound they recognized.

Others were still far away. They heard the voice too late; they were busy working for the good of the village community. The chances of this day being a happy one for them are dwindling.

They run with all their might, tripping over shells and stones lying on the beach, falling, cutting their hands, but they start running again as long as they hear their infant's voice in their minds.

Few of these women will make it in time before their scraps reach the first waves of the sea, which will carry them away.

These little ones rock for some time longer on the waves, heaving their frail bodies, trying to cry the word "mama" between gulps of fresh water. Their legs and arms flail ever slower, struggling with the sea's abyss, and then disappear into the depths.

Some mothers, having reached the beach, can still hear their little ones' voices echoing from the waves. They then throw themselves into the water after their cries and swim further and further, seeing dozens of little babies fighting to stay afloat as long as possible.

But many of them already have fat bellies and no longer stretch their arms joyfully forward. They don't struggle with the waves or wait for their mothers, shouting to announce their presence.

Few will feel the warmth they recognize and find solace in the caring arms of the sea.

The waves carry away tiny creatures and their mothers, who are exhausted and unable to swim to shore. But many would rather die than suffer a lifetime of pain that will tear their hearts apart.

Amidst this drama, commotion, and happiness, I suddenly glimpse a tiny toddler, one of the last to dig himself out. A voice within whispered to me that I was seeing myself in the first moments of my life. For reasons I couldn't understand, I had come here to witness the act of my own birth.

I even wanted to stand up. But my fragile, tiny, and crooked legs couldn't yet. My little face hit the sand, and my first cry rang out. I was weak, probably weaker than the others, because like the rest, I didn't move my arms and legs quickly, rushing toward the water. But something was pushing me there, forcing me to feel the salty taste of the sea.

My ears listened perhaps more intently than others, my loud cry stronger than the others. And my voice, somewhere in the distance, reached that one woman dear to me. I already knew she was running toward me; my cry seemed more joyful because of it. "Mom, Mom... I'm here! Hurry!" I seemed to be trying to call out. And she ran towards me, afraid that she was too far away and it was too late to help her. I saw her perfectly, I recognized her among the women who were running, crying and screaming for someone already on the beach to help them. And that terrified me, because looking at it all, I sensed from nowhere that there was no chance my mother would make it in time and that anyone would help.

And the closer I got to the water, the less confident and joyful my crying seemed. I knew I was afraid, and I screamed even more out of fear that the world was showing such cruelty without reason. Small children heard dying, although they didn't yet know what it meant. They only knew silence and darkness.

The alien world I had entered was so completely different from what the little child had imagined in her still-barely-understanding head.

My mother was not It was there, and the water was getting closer. I screamed louder and louder, but I didn't know why I should be afraid of the water. After all, I liked it; it was my former home. I was experiencing certain strange sensations, or perhaps I was just now remembering them?

Fortunately, my legs weren't very fast, and other newborns were ahead of me. And I wasn't screaming as loudly anymore. The baby I was watching didn't realize there wasn't much time to be saved.

And then there were the black beasts in the sky, which began to hover over the children, seeking out the weakest among them. The rush of air froze my limbs, and my cry for help turned into a cry of defense. As if I were trying to fend off the black beasts with their long, sharp talons. I thought I couldn't escape this fate. It seemed my chances were so slim. And no one cared about them, these lonely children who hadn't yet been found. Other mothers didn't fend off the beasts, didn't try to carry the little ones further down the beach to protect them. They didn't care. They cried with joy and despair, or raked the sand on the beach, searching for their nest.

I saw another black beast swoop down and prepare its talons for attack. The baby behind me sped up, screaming louder, and it was he who was seized by the ominous claws. She chose the more active child, more significant to the black beast because it was fatter and larger. My frailty and exhaustion, at least for the moment, saved my life. The beast rose, but the little one refused to give up. He kicked his legs and arms until he broke free of the beast and tumbled several meters down. He was unlucky; a large rock lay on the wet sand.

And I had already reached the water, exhausted, with little strength left to move my frail limbs. I cried softer and softer… I grew colder and colder, and the waves tossed me back and forth. Just one more gust of wind and I would be in deeper water. I would be safe, for a brief moment, as I waved my arms and legs. But how long could I last?

Mom, where are you?!

There she was! Running with all my might, jumping over rocks, like a young lioness pushing other women away on the beach. Maybe she had even spotted me. Her eyes were further away than she was. She's graceful and agile like a leopard. She outpaces other hesitant mothers who have lost sight of their little ones.

My body has already been swept away by the waves, but my mother is already throwing herself into the depths, swimming towards me.

Only she can save my life...

My weak legs and arms, having heard her scream, gathered for one more mighty effort. I have to hold on, I have to stay afloat... just a moment longer...

My head is barely above the water, and my hands are trying to grab onto something to prolong their lives for a few more seconds. But then the roar around me grew louder, the water flooded the small eyes, and the moment my head disappeared underwater, something pulled me up.

Finally, I started crying again. Fear no longer paralyzed my hands and vocal cords. I felt warmth, closeness, and safety.

"Don't cry, my love... Mommy won't leave you anymore," I seemed to hear from the mouth of the woman, who was now calmly walking towards the shore with her baby in her arms. It was an extraordinary experience; at times, I felt as if I were down there, reliving those dramatic moments, as if I had no certainty of their happy ending. Now a sense of peace washed over me, whatever I was.

Suddenly, it grew dark; the day had passed in an instant by several hours. I could no longer see the beach, only a large village built of thick tree trunks. Fires were burning all around, and men carried their women in their arms. Most of them sang with joy, rejoicing in the gift the day had brought them.

There she was, too, a woman so incredibly important to me, someone I had never met. She held me in her arms and hummed a soft song to me as I slept.

It was an evening of thanksgiving to the deities they worshiped, an evening of mourning for loved ones who had died, and a moment of patience and understanding.

Lonely young women, longing for motherhood, intoxicated by the moment, disappeared into the dense undergrowth, seeking out the most fragrant flowers, among which they lay with spread thighs. And there, men found them and performed the act of conception.

The night fell deeper and deeper, and a different moon rose into the sky. Slowly, the noise subsided, and the music faded. Somewhere in the sky, a moving point of light appeared, invisible to anyone.

I was robbed of the opportunity to see what would happen next. Yet I was certain this was not my world, but one that held great significance for me, for I had been born into it.

The word "Birth Planet" flashed through my mind.

The surrounding landscape became obscured by fog… I was once again moving away from that place, rising higher and higher. The sound changed to a completely different one. And again…

Pi, pi, Pi, pi, Pi, pi…

"Doctor, we have him!"

The nurse reappeared before my eyes. She was sweaty and tired, and a look of relief crossed her lips. Now the fog had cleared, and her nipples peeked out from behind her white coat. This was exactly what I needed. She noticed I'd regained consciousness and was devouring her with her eyes, but as if to reward me for surviving, for having managed to summon me from the other side, she allowed me to savor the sight for a moment longer.

Only after a moment did she button her shirt and look wearily at the doctor. They smiled at each other. And me? I reflected on the experiences I'd experienced. Without a doubt, in those few moments, I'd come close to death.

There was supposed to be only a white light toward which I should strive. Instead, I saw something completely incomprehensible. I didn't know if it was real or just a figment of my imagination, my brain creating this particular image at the moment of death.

Someone opened the door, and I saw a wheelchair being pushed by a nurse in the hallway. As he passed my room, a white sheet slid to the floor. I saw an egg underneath.