Waiting is the most boring thing in the world. I sat in the car, leaning back zily, one hand fiddling with the phone screen while the other rested on the back of the seat.

  A few recent emails came in, mostly from colleagues in the working world who are always thinking big. The test research results, hypotheses waiting to be tested, tangential debates about outdated theories, and other nerdy stuff.

  ××××××××××××××××××××

  Suddenly, my mind went back to three days ago; to the day our baby was born.

  As soon as the doctor allowed me to see Aurelia, I ran as fast as I could. Seriously, I'm not joking. If anyone had seen me back then, they might have thought I was running away from something; I didn't care about my pride back then, I just wanted to see her.

  When I walked into her room, there she was. Sitting quietly on a hospital bed, wearing a patient gown, her hair a little messy, but still exuding her usual elegant aura.

  "Aurelia!" I almost lunged at her, but remembered that she had just given birth, so I stopped myself right before I did something stupid. "How are you feeling? Is something hurting? Need something? Water? Food? An extra pillow? Or maybe the warmth of your lovely husband?" I leaned in, hoping for an interesting reaction.

  Aurelia just gave me a ft look before turning her gaze back out the window. Ah, the cssic expression.

  "I'm fine," she replied simply.

  I squinted, she had a habit of not looking the other person in the eye when lying. If she was really fine, she would look at me while frowning and grumbling that I was too noisy. But now? She didn't even look me in the eye.

  "You're lying," I said casually, sitting on the edge of her bed.

  She still didn't see me.

  I grinned, "Don't tell me you're embarrassed that I saw you in this state," I pointed at her loose patient clothes.

  "Calm down, I've seen more than this-" a pillow flew into my face before I could finish my sentence.

  I chuckled as I caught it before it fell to the floor.

  "Insolent," she muttered.

  "I've always been cheeky," I grinned widely.

  I stared at her for a moment, observing her face that remained cold on the surface, but I knew better than anyone; she was holding something back.

  I reached out, touching her fingers that were resting on the bnket. "Aurelia, I just want to know how you're doing. I know you've always been strong, but you don't need to be in front of me."

  She was quiet for a few seconds, then finally replied, "I... Just a little tired, that's all."

  I knew it wasn't just exhaustion, but I also knew my limits. If I kept pushing her, she would only withdraw further.

  So, I chose something more effective, teasing her shamelessly.

  "Then, let's hurry home. I haven't slept with you in days. I feel like a widower whose wife died, you know?" I teased, waiting for her to do his usual boxing.

  She let out a long sigh, this time with real weariness, "Dante."

  "Yes?"

  "Be quiet for a while," instead of her usual cold demeanor, she replied tiredly.

  A few seconds passed in silence, the silence hanging in the air with a rush of cold air against our pale skin.

  I don't like this cold.

  It's not just the temperature of the room, nor is it the air that creeps through the hospital windows. No, it wasn't. This chill I felt came from something deeper, something that traveled slowly into my bones and bound my chest with a strange discomfort.

  I stared at Aurelia, trying to read her expression, looking for a crack between the lines of her calmness that was so solid. But there weren't any. She was silent, her face ft, her eyes piercing, as if she was considering whether to speak or not.

  I sighed, then said, "I don't like this cold, you should talk."

  Aurelia averted her eyes, staring bnkly at the pale hospital walls. It took a few seconds before she finally took a deep breath and began to speak.

  I listened.

  She told me everything... How from birth our baby didn't cry, how he didn't show the typical innocent and confused expression of a baby, how he was too aware of his surroundings, how he observed everything with a calmness that a baby shouldn't have.

  How when the nurses came, the baby's eyes searched them attentively, as if understanding the medical procedure being performed. How he was too still, too calm, too understanding.

  How her maternal instincts, and how her instincts as a scientist told her that something was wrong.

  And what worried her the most... How the baby's gaze was more like that of a thinking adult man, not a baby who had just seen the world for the first time.

  I remained silent, letting his words creep into my mind. My rationality told me this was impossible. But the more she said, the harder it was for me to dismiss it as excessive worry.

  Aurelia isn't the kind of woman who gets swept up in paranoia easily. She's a scientist, just like me. She sees the world with logic, facts and evidence. If she says something is abnormal, then it means something is really happening.

  But what? What's going on?

  I could feel my mind starting to work, forming various possibilities, calcuting the variables that might be the cause. Was this the result of an undetected genetic mutation? A side effect of something that has never been observed by the medical world? Or... is this something that has never existed in the realm of science at all?

  I bit my lip, realizing that for the first time in a long time, I had no definite basis.

  I only know one thing, that I believe it.

  Not just as my wife, but as someone who loves science, just like me.

  And if she says something is wrong, then I have to find out what it is.

  "So," I said finally, breaking the increasingly suffocating silence. "You think this all stems from a neurological mutation?"

  Aurelia was still staring straight at the bed or the cold wall in front of her, her expression ft as ever, but I knew her too well to be fooled. There was something behind her bnk gaze, a restlessness that she was trying to hide.

  "It's not just an ordinary mutation," she said softly, almost like a murmur before continuing, "You know, the development of the human brain has limits that are already understood by medical science. There are stages that must be passed before a person can reach full consciousness. But our son... He just skipped those stages."

  I remained silent, letting her to continue.

  "Newborns shouldn't be able to observe in that way Dante," her voice sounded lower, more serious, "They cry, they seek warmth, they respond instinctively to stimuli. But him?"

  I waited.

  "He didn't cry, he didn't show the typical newborn response. His eyes... they weren't supposed to look at the world that way," she continued in a voice full of emotion, somewhere between sadness and anxiety; not awe and pride.

  "If this is indeed a genetic mutation, the implications could be much wider than we imagine," I countered.

  Aurelia nodded.

  "It is possible that her prefrontal cortex developed faster than a normal human, or there could be new structures that allow for more complex information processing. If that is true, then he could have a level of understanding that goes beyond her biological age," he replied in the same emotional tone.

  I looked at her, making sure that she understood the extent of the consequences of her words, "You understand what your words mean, right?"

  Aurelia lifted her chin slightly, her cold expression even more obvious. "That's why we have to start thinking ahead."

  I let out a long breath, letting the words hang in the air, "If it's true that this child has a higher cognitive capacity, we can't let him grow without control."

  Aurelia turned to me, "What do you mean?"

  I swallowed the saliva that was barely there due to the cold temperature, "You know how the world works. A child genius is not just a blessing, but also a threat to himself. If he grows up with free access to the knowledge that exists in this world, how can we be sure he won't absorb something he shouldn't?"

  Aurelia didn't answer right away, but I could see her fingers clenching slightly. I continued, "Knowledge is a double-edged sword, even ordinary humans can get lost in the wrong ideology. Imagine a person with a thinking capacity far beyond the limits of a normal human, but without the experience or wisdom to control it. If he absorbs the wrong thoughts, or worse, if there is another party that realizes his existence and tries to take advantage of it..." I stopped my words, letting both of our imaginations fill in the bnks.

  Aurelia finally spoke, "So, we should limit what he can learn?"

  I nodded firmly, "Until we can ensure that he is mature enough to distinguish between what is right and what is dangerous."

  For the first time since this conversation began, Aurelia's expression softened slightly. "I agree," she replied with positive emotion.

  "Not only for his safety, but also for the safety of the outside world."

  Aurelia looked at me intently, "And what if we're wrong? What if this child isn't really that special, just a little different, and we're limiting his potential?"

  I smiled faintly, though it didn't feel the least bit pleasant, "If that's true, then he will find his own way.

  But if we're right, then we've just prevented the worst before it's too te."

  Silence.

  I honestly hope that our baby is not someone who is able to attract a lot of attention, not out of envy, it's just that being famous in this world is not always filled with money and power.

  I knew that, from this moment on, the two of us weren't just ordinary parents. We were the gatekeepers to a child who could possibly change the world... or destroy it.