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