Babies are a minor miracle in the Wasteland, particularly full-life, healthy ones. Infant mortality is still very high here, though they do the best they can for pregnant people. There simply isn't a lot of prenatal care available, and the world is harsh. Still, the population is growing. People from all walks of life are bearing infants, and more and more of them are full-life children. Moreover, the ones that aren't--the little ones born with limb deformities, odd lumps and asymmetries or some other disability--are better able to be cared for now. For the first time since the Old World fell, human life is considered inherently valuable here.

She glances up at the sound of uncertainty in his voice, and the intuitive care he's offering makes her smile a little. "It is," she reassures him. "I have bad memories of this place. Some days I want to go in to read, and I do. Other days, I can't."

She puts her hand in his and tugs him toward the door, calm and confident now. "Always easier when I'm not alone. But it's like that, having scars in your head from what's happened to you. Sometimes they ache worse than others. You'll see. And in the end you'll be all right."