In between worlds, there is a bar.
In the bar, at the moment, there is a woman sitting at a table. She's scribbling in a notebook. Extant phrases include "abortion=surrogacy?" and "add sterile mosquitos to malarial areas"
In between worlds, there is a bar.
In the bar, at the moment, there is a woman sitting at a table. She's scribbling in a notebook. Extant phrases include "abortion=surrogacy?" and "add sterile mosquitos to malarial areas"
"Yes. I am."
She starts picking up the rest of the otherwise-doomed babies, cradling them for a few moments apiece, and then putting them back in their bassinets.
Rose doesn't notice. She is stroking her son's hair and murmuring to him about how he's a good baby and she loves him.
Aww. She keeps healing babies and keeps an eye out for doctors noticing something going on and coming to see what's happening.
After baby number six, a doctor will come up to her, say "you're not authori--", notice that the babies are well and giggling, and fall to her knees, her face on the floor, singing A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.
"Hello. I'm the Second Coming. Is this all the sick babies, or are there more in this hospital?"
"Good. Any barren women who want not to be should come here as soon as possible. If I'm gone by the time they get here, I've just left to heal more babies, I'll be back and they should wait."
The doctor has a facial expression that says that she thought that if the Second Coming was happening at her hospital she would have something more intelligent to say than this.
"I, uh, yes, ma'am. I'll get on that right away."
"This is very dramatic," Rose comments, "but not very efficient. You should really just get all the bitoxiphosphene out of the atmosphere entirely."
"I'm working on it. It's not a chemical structure I'm familiar with, and I'm poking it some before I try stripping it from the whole world at once."
"Oh, it's fine. I'm not very familiar with this world, if you see me doing something that looks like I might not have all the information I welcome input! I'm not actually omniscient in human flesh."
"Oh, that makes sense. Uh-- I'm sorry, I'm sure I should remember from the Bible, but what do you want me to call you?"
In the Bible, we are commanded to call God Father.
Rose still feels a little uncomfortable calling God Christina.
"Is there a reason you're healing the babies one at a time?"
"I'm using the time to get a better feel for what's wrong with each one. The more detail work I can do in my head as opposed to with sheer divine will, the faster I'll be able to do the rest. Call it frontloading the time requirements."
"You seem strangely limited for an omnipotent being. --Um, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to question you, I'm sorry."
"It's fine. My omnipotence is limited to some level by my humanity; being more omnipotent than you are omniscient could cause problems, so I'm not."
Rose is pretty sure it is not fine to question God! But okay!
She returns to cooing at her baby. She feels a creeping anxiety about the time-- her husband will be home soon, and he doesn't like it when she's not at home when he is-- and then feels anxious about worrying about her husband when she is obeying the literal Risen Christ. You aren't supposed to care more about your husband's opinion of you than you are about Christ's.
As she worries, three or four infertile women, a reporter, and a cameraman file into the room.
She glances at the women, considers the frankly horrifying states of their reproductive systems, spends about twenty seconds considering how to handle this while also cuddling miscellaneous babies who need healing, then smiles at the women, nods, decides she really can't excuse delaying Improved Baby-Saving just so she can cuddle more babies, and spreads her hands, fixes the rest of the babies in the room, hums a note for a few seconds, then vanishes to the next-closest hospital's NICU.
The cameraman got all this on film!
Rose checks out of the hospital with her baby; it takes a while because of all the other no-longer-sick babies who need to be checked out too. When she returns home, her husband is too delighted by the healed baby to be angry at her about leaving the house, particularly once Rose turns on the television to verify her claims that the Second Coming had happened and Rose had personally been the first person to meet Christ.
That evening, Rose writes down everything she can remember about Christina in a Word document, then prints out several copies and puts them in various safe places. This weekend she will go out to buy archival paper. When the Newest Testament is written, she will be able to provide accurate information.
That night, Alexander doesn't sleep. Rose walks with him all night, singing a lullaby and nursing him. Rose's husband screams at her to "shut that baby up", but Rose forgives him; it is only the effects of sleep deprivation.
A few days later, the television shows Christina, in a pretty little small-town church. She is cradling a dead baby with visible deformations in front of a baptismal font, and then she dunks her and she comes out perfectly healthy and wailing, and then she hands the baby off to her parents, who are crying with joy, waves at the camera, and disappears.
A few days after that, she starts doing the rounds in Mexico. Her healing has accelerated to the point where she only needs a few minutes in a city to cover all the hospitals in it.
A few days after that, she has finished her first pass of Mexico, and there is a knock on Rose's door.
Rose is arguing with a Cascadian Jew on Tumblr about God's opinion on homosexuality while her baby naps.
She pauses mid-sentence and gets up to answer the door.
"Hi!" Christina says when Rose opens the door. "I've got almost all of the bitoxiphosphene out of the atmosphere, and it occurred to me that I should probably know more about this world's sociopolitical climate so I can head off any holy wars or claiming that I support things I don't at the pass, and you seemed like a good person to ask."