Mini-Grand 5802 [Round 1: The Heat Death Lounge]

A little baby lay on the doorstep of the building. The poor thing was wrapped up in a nice little blanket and seemed to have been dumped unceremoniously on the doorstep as though abandoned.

A man exiting the building nearly stood on him on the way out. Despite his rugged exterior – the man had lost one of his limbs and half his face in a mining accident on some distant planet, and had replaced his lost limbs with a prosthetic arm and eye – he felt something stir in his heart as he saw this little bundle of innocence in amongst the depravity that was seen on this meteor on a daily basis.

He picked the little child up. Little did he know that this child’s first physical contact with another living being would be that one cold, metallic arm and one warm, fleshy one. Once he had picked the child up, however, he was at a loss for what he was meant to do next. Deciding that he might as well give the kid something to drink – babies liked milk didn’t they? – he took the child inside with him and into a communal kitchen. Luckily, no one was there just yet.

He pulled the milk from the fridge and put it into a cup. He turned back to the kid and realised that there was no way that the kid would be able to drink the milk from the cup. The kid had woken up and was staring at him intently in wonder. It gurgled a little and began to giggle. It? He thought. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl! And...doesn’t it look a little bigger then before? I swear he was a newborn, now he looks like he could be a few weeks old.

He began to construct a makeshift bottle from some random things in the bedroom as the kid gurgled and giggled behind him.

“Eppon.” Came a solemn voice from behind him. Turning in a hurry – fully expecting there to have been someone else in the room – he realised that it was only the kid who was there. Except, now he – for he was a he – was now standing up tall. He looked as though he was at least a year old already. The kid was looking at him with very serious look on his face – too serious for a child surely not more than a few hours old – and said it again. “Eppon.”

“Eppon? What’s tha’ then?” But the child remained silent. “Well, if you can talk, what’s yer name?”

“Eppon.” The child replied. It seemed to be the only thing he could say. With a mental shrug, the man picked up the cup and gave it to the kid. After all, he could probably handle it now that he was...well, grown.

“I’m Simon.” Said the man as Eppon – for that was what he had mentally named the kid. “This ain’t the righ’ place for a kid to be growin’ up...although at the rate you’re growin’ you won’t be a kid fer much longer. Anyways, there’s a lot of fightin’ and whatnot here, you might wanna stay away from it all. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, you probably can’t even understand me. Why the hell did I even pick you up in the first place?” The man stared at Eppon, realising this kid was, for now – like it or not – his responsibility.

“Eppon.”

He wasn’t ready to be a father!