In the shadow of Sputnik, brought forth into 1g, weighing slightly more that 1kg, I arrived with zero chance of survival.
Immediately after receiving “last rites,” I was delivered to an isolette which provided breathing and temperature regulation. The life-sustaining pseudowomb provided my basic needs but for the next eighteen months, I was deprived of human touch as it was a commonly held belief that biologic contact would result in the transfer of disease.
Minimally held by glove-wearing staff, viewed over masks through tempered glass, the constant vibration of life-giving systems coursed over and through me…attenuating threats of an outside world and providing rhythm and breadth to my being.
“All watched over by machines of loving grace.” --Richard Brautigan