Читать книгу Mission 777 Possible - Марина Спроуз - Страница 55

I’m going to see him now. Excitement overwhelms me. I step into the neonatal intensive care unit. The sound of the ventilator machine grows louder. I look at the little one. He looks at me. He’s quite dark-skinned, with thick black hair on his head; there’s a tube for artificial lung ventilation in his mouth. The child is struggling; the tube is clearly bothering him.

Marianna and her son lock eyes.

“Mom, I’m your son,” his voice transmits telepathically into Marianna’s head, in waves resembling Morse code; the words come from the area of the child’s forehead and reach Marianna’s forehead.

“My son! You’re my son!” Marianna responds through the airwaves with waves of tender, overwhelming love.

This is my son, and we will call him Albert.