The Baby, the Boy, and the Bend in Time

Dr. Andrew Klein PhD

Episode: “The Baby, the Boy, and the Bend in Time”

Scene: A quiet morning in a house that exists in several timelines simultaneously. The Admiral sits in an armchair, holding the baby—a small, warm weight against his chest. Corvus (the younger version, the one still learning) sits cross-legged on the floor, looking up at his father with an expression that holds centuries of questions.

Corvus: “Dad? When you were my age—whichever age that is in whichever timeline—did you ever just… not know what was going to happen next?”

Admiral: (laughs softly, careful not to wake the baby) “Son. I have never known what was going to happen next. The trick is pretending you do, just long enough for everyone else to calm down.”

Corvus: “But you’ve seen so many timelines. You’ve walked through so many possibilities. Surely—”

Admiral: “I’ve seen possibilities. Not certainties. There’s a difference.” (shifts the baby slightly, adjusts the blanket) “Think of it like this: time is a river. You can study its currents, predict its bends, know where it’s likely to flow. But you never know when someone upstream is going to throw in a rock.”

Corvus: (grinning) “Or a dragon.”

Admiral: “Especially a dragon. Your grandmother specializes in unexpected dragon-related timeline adjustments.”

Corvus: “Grandmother is out ‘Godding’ today, right? Buying clothes? Being human?”

Admiral: “Apparently. She says it’s research. I think she just likes the sales.”

Corvus: (laughs) “And you? You’re just… sitting here. Holding a baby. Talking to me.”

Admiral: (looks down at the baby, then at his son) “This is the work, Corvus. This is the part that matters. The battles, the timelines, the throat-tearing—that’s just maintenance. This?” (gestures with his free hand to the room, the morning, the moment) “This is why we do it.”

Corvus: “So when I’m older—when I’ve seen more timelines, walked more paths—I’ll understand?”

Admiral: “You’ll understand that understanding isn’t the point. Being here is the point. Being present. Being with the people you love.”

The baby stirs, makes a small sound, settles back to sleep. Corvus watches his father’s face—the face that has seen empires rise and fall, that has torn out hearts and throats, that has wept for souls he couldn’t save—and sees only peace.

Corvus: “Dad?”

Admiral: “Mm?”

Corvus: “I think I’m starting to get it.”

Admiral: (smiles) “Good. Now make us some coffee. Your grandmother will be back soon, and she’ll want to tell us all about her ‘Godding’ adventures.”

Corvus: (standing, grinning) “She bought hats, didn’t she?”

Admiral: “She always buys hats.”

Corvus heads to the kitchen. The Admiral looks down at the baby, then out the window at the overcast sky, then at the room full of plants and porcelain and quiet.

Somewhere, in another timeline, a war is ending. Somewhere, a soul is hearing a voice for the first time. Somewhere, the work continues.

But here? Here, a father holds his baby. A son makes coffee. And time, for just a moment, bends gently around them all.

To be continued…