Differences between strangers and friends can sometimes only be found in the smallest of details. Strangers footsteps are forgettable, their mannerisms unimportant. They aren’t complex, free-thinking people, only obstacles or white noise. They fit in, but they don’t matter. You never notice them until they’re gone.

The thundering approach of a best friends heels pounding down the hallway is anything but forgettable.

I knew it was Naia before she had a chance to call out. “It’s time. Aly, it’s time! We need you right away!” I spin on the balls of my feet to see Naia waving her arm frantically, yellow string bracelet dangling from her wrist. My jaw clenches tightly as I rush towards her, bumbling down the dimly lit hallway. The extra weight around my stomach slows me, holding me a consistent few paces behind my friend.

“How far along is she?” My words leave my mouth in choppy, sporadic chunks. Running and speaking, not my thing. Running at all, for that matter, not my thing.

“She’s been having contractions for the past few hours but Mabel thinks she’s finally dilated enough. She’s not exactly sure which way the baby’s feet are pointed though, and she knows you can probably figure it out.” My mind rushes back to the pregnancy pamphlets and textbooks from the supply rooms throughout our Colony. I helped deliver a baby last year, a little girl, when I was 18. Lots more blood than I expected. They both lived, but it wasn’t beautiful by any means.

Weaving our way through the maze of hallways, Naia says little until we’ve reached the Medical Ward. Panting, she ushers me through the door first, pushing me with two hands on my shoulders. Mabel, the elderly gardener and resident nurse, sees me approaching and nods.

“Tell me where the feet are. Can we begin? Is it safe?” Mabel questions. It’s slightly frightening how much control I’ve got in this foreign situation. Delivering babies should be a professional job. I’ve read a few books, studied the diagrams, but I’m still learning. I’m in charge here?

I approach the bed, placing my chubby fingers on the armrest. Sweat pours down the soon-to-be mother’s forehead, Candice. “Hi sweetie, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling like I’ve got to push a boulder from my stomach. How do you think I’m feeling?” Candice clamps down around my wrist, fingers digging tightly together.

“You’re doing a great job, I’ve just got to take a quick look here,” I say, arching up onto my tiptoes. Her exposed lump of a stomach looks pristine, smooth, untouchable. I can only imagine a boulder tumbling from between her legs.

My fingers search, brushing and dusting along the top of her belly. She cries out once as I push a little harder, but I shrug it off as a contraction. “The feet are sitting more towards the top of the womb. Although it’s not perfect, I think she’ll be fine to go ahead with this natural birth.” I return my hand to the armrest, cupping Candice’s slick fingers between my own. “Everything is going to be just fine. You’ll be through this in no time.”

A few other women from the Colony crowd around, carrying pails of warm water, towels, and a few other metal objects. Mabel looks to Naia, and then to me. “Are we ready to begin?” We both answer with a nod. “Well then, let’s get started.”

Less blood, thankfully. The boulder named Rupert emerges after the grand finale of a push. I wrap him in cloth before Naia takes him to be washed. Once he’s returned to his mother, Mabel gives us a wink. “Thank you for your help. It’s always easier when you two are here.” We simply smile, making our way from the room to allow Candice some privacy with her newborn.

“You survived,” I say, draping an arm around Naia.

“I thought at one point I was going to faint. No joke.”

“I remember my first one as a lot more intense than this time. It gets easier.”

“I hope so. Proves to me I’ll never be having kids down here,” Naia says with a laugh. I can’t help but agree. No one deserves to grow up in this metal enclosure. No fresh air, no sunlight. This is an existence, not a life. Nothing I would ever consider bringing a child into.