Halloween and Other Seasons by Al., Alan M. Clark, Clark Sarrantonio Page A

human existence since I have not left the womb in the first place.
    “That’s all for the moment, if you’ll excuse me. I’m tired.”
    There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a sudden collective cheer went up from all those present. They were so delighted by the fantastic, carnival-like spectacle that they had witnessed that it took all of the security people aided by a good number of hospital staff to keep the crowd from lifting Mrs. J up over their head, fetal burden and all, and parading her around the room and out into the street. The media representatives were especially happy about the episode, given the bountiful reportage possibilities it presented.
    The young intern was, of course, immediately promoted and given a staff of his own. Things proceeded smoothly for Roger in the womb, and every four weeks thereafter, he gave a short report and new observations. Mrs. J, who was now completely content with watching the television that was over her head, was providing more than enough materials than Roger needed to maintain his health and foster his growth; she was maintaining a huge protein and fat-rich diet that Roger had developed, and had assumed balloon-like proportions.
    Despite constant and growing pressures from religious, cultural, political, medical, scientific, and media groups, Roger’s privacy was strictly maintained by the young intern. Every two months a statement based on Roger’s periodic reports was released to the press. The first few of Roger’s statements were relatively pedestrian dealing with such matters as the format for future pronouncements and the correct procedures involved. Then there followed a number of statements dealing with the womb itself, its structure and characteristics. An occasional message dealt with a physical characteristic of Roger: at the age of one he discussed the impossibility of crawling in the womb; at the age of two-and-one-half the frustrations caused by the urge to walk counteracted the inhibiting characteristics of the placenta.
    At the age of three Roger made his first request for materials, asking that a small reading lamp along with a copy of Spinoza’s Ethics be passed in to him. Roger made room in the womb for these items that had been waterproofed to resist the effects of amniotic fluid and made provisions for them to be passed in; he did not, however, allow the young intern (now, young doctor) a view, even brief, of the womb. Other texts, among them works by Blake and a novel by Henry James (which was immediately passed out again) were soon requested; before long a constant supply of books flowed in and out of the womb. Roger went so far as to solicit a small pillow to prop his head up in order to make reading for long periods easier. It was discovered that Roger was a bit far-sighted and reading glasses were designed through a long and complicated process, though the glasses, in the end, worked perfectly.
    By the age of nine Roger found himself completely absorbed by the problems of conception, gestation, and birth; and he provided his young doctor-companion with long philosophical tracts on the nurturing, as well as the expulsion from the womb, of the human fetus. He also provided detailed drawings, rendered in a somewhat cramped style, of the interior of the womb. He began to keep a notebook of his studies (waterproofed, of course), and spoke glowingly of his progress.
    Due to the secrecy surrounding Roger, as well as to his meditative way of life, the phenomenon of Roger in the womb had the status of a cultural event of ever-expanding and ever-distorted proportions. The Cult of the Womb, a rapidly spreading movement, which had formed shortly after Roger’s first message was released, held Roger in near-deitic esteem; its members lived most of their lives in artificial, self-supportive womb structures, unhindered by thoughts of or contact with the outside world. Another cult, the Rogerists, a purely religious sect, declared Roger the unborn