Rendezvous in the Romanowskian Empire

3. Electric impulse

Coretta

As we completed signing the documents, the wall-length digital screen of the lab suddenly blacked out, two white lines dividing it into four parts. We looked at each other, confused.

And then each section came up with the names - Cheryl, Aarmen, Dunkin, Lorenzo and their families appeared through a video call.

They all teared up.

The four of them rushed near the screen to wave their final goodbyes, all the moms and dads bursting at how proud they were. Even their siblings were getting emotional.

I was sitting alone on the steel bench of the lab, watching them, when someone placed a hand over my head.

"Dad..." I looked up as he held my arms, eyes glazed with unshed water. Being an archaeologist since my age, he was the head of the field works department of this research lab now. Marking and mapping places to be dug out.

I engulfed him in a hug before my own eyes could well up.

"My daughter is one of those children who makes their childhood dreams come true, isn't it?" His voice wavered as he tenderly ran a hand through my hair, sitting beside me. I blinked back the tears, smiling at him.

"Don't forget to message me. Through the AI book." I snickered, wiping the corner of my eyes. I felt luckier than the rest, that at this last hour, I wasn't separated from my dad through a screen.

"I may forget to have breakfast, but not to message you, my baby," He laughed softly, retrieving a little picture from his lab coat's pocket.

"She is proud of you," he whispered, showing me the only photograph I had with my mom.

It was a Polaroid from a hospital room. I was just born, minutes old, lying on a ventilator. A tinier than usual infant, pale red coloured skin with no visible hair on the head. A premature baby.

Connected with tubes around my little wrists; eyes closed as if it would take a few more days for them to open. Beside the ventilator on the bed was my mom, her feeble hand over the glass case of the machine as she smiled at the camera. Those droopy sky-blue eyes, the same colour as mine. A faltering smile on her face, as if the next second she was going to cry out in pain. My dad held her, his smile no more heartbreaking than hers.

I nodded slowly at the picture. Accepting it. It was the only means I used to not turn into a whimpering mess.

She was an archaeologist, just like dad. And dad always told me how I was just like her. Sweet and beautiful. Studious and adventurous. Unafraid and a bit reckless.

I even specialised in the same field as her's - Ancient and medieval world history. Nothing would interest me as much as this did. It never exhausted me like it often did to the others. I was hypnotised by the ancient civilisations, how the rulers built enormous wonders, which even modern day mechanics had no clue how they were constructed.

To go into the depth of it all, experience it right in front of my eyes... The gates of my imagination were opening today.

Dunkin came to sit beside me, gazing at the Polaroid in silence. Then he just squeezed my hand in reassurance, giving a small smile to my dad. We were the only two to have our specialisation in almost the same field. It was easier to connect with him more than the rest.

"Are you alright, son?" Dad asked worriedly as Dunkin blinked his eyes that were turning red.

"Dax is making me cry," he sniffled, breaking into a laugh. "He's telling me not to go wherever I am going because I look bad," he said, waving over his beard and long hair.