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"How is a baby made?" God asked the room.
The room did not respond. God was undeterred.
"A baby is made when two gametes—that is to say, cells that each contain half the amount of needed genetic material, one from each parent—meet, and join to form a zygote. Now, there are only two parts, if we ignore the rabbit-hole of genetic splicing. Don't even get me started, that wasn't my idea. Anyway: for this simplified model, even if the process involves more people, only two of them will have actually contributed, genetically speaking."
God paused, considering his words. "Not to say that the others aren't important. They can make great and important contributions, they're just not biologically related to the baby."
For a moment, God looked terribly sad. He stared mournfully out the portal window with the expression of a person who's heart felt exactly like the empty blackness of the space outside. His hands shook a little as he furtively wiped a tear from his eye, before scrubbing at his whole face with both hands. He hunched over, spine almost folded in half, and hugged his knees.
It was a long moment—silent save for the heavy, ragged breaths of God—before he sat up again, moving stiffly, as if his body didn't quite remember how to coordinate all his limbs.
His apocalyptic, black-hole eyes looked watery; like a star eclipsed twice over by grief.
Kiriona Gaia, Her Divine Highness and First of the Tower Princes, shifted in her seat. God's expression was too familiar: it was the expression that Kiriona saw every day in the mirror since the morning of her second resurrection, a thing that was uncomfortable enough to see in her own reflection and utterly horrible to witness on anyone else. He smiled with a tight, painted expression that stretched the edges of his mouth and showed too much teeth.
She looked away, suddenly finding herself very interested in the nonsensical spread of anatomical diagrams littering the table between them.
"Sorry about that," God continued. His tone was bracing. "I've been having a rough time, as I'm sure you've picked up on—I haven't been a very present Dad. But this isn't about me. Let's move along:
"To make a baby, besides the genetic donors—parents—you need to have the people who actually put the genes together. There is often some kind of overlap between these groups, but not always. Your birth is an example of this in action, as your mother and I never procreated in the traditional sense. Vat wombs are perhaps an even better example, as the DNA is provided by the parents—either direct or from long term storage—but the vat techs are the ones who make the magic happen."
Kiriona did not want to know about how the magic happened. She did not want to be faced with a weeping, apologetic God. She especially did not want to think about her own conception, a messy affair involving, to her knowledge, six different people participating in at least two separate sexual scenarios. Only two of those people had contributed genetic material to her, a process that she did not want to imagine any more than she wanted to imagine the "important contributions" of the other four.
And it’s not like she was totally in the dark about these things. The Ninth’s sexual education classes—tense affairs, and never well lit—weren't really big on the whole baby thing, but they had taught her the basics. Regardless, God did not seem to care.
She had been summoned to the Emperor's chambers thirty minutes ago, on the pretext of having tea and catching up on her day. Her tea was untouched. She made a face.
God seemed to understand, and moved along. He looked almost back to normal now, if one could ignore the heavy weight that had settled into the room when God had laid his head in his hands and wept. Kiriona was trying her best.
"What you call gravid carry—pregnancy—is the old fashioned way. It's what we did before vat womb technology, but it's also how you were made. In vivo, the zygote implants into the uterine wall here" God pointed at the diagram he had helpfully placed between them.
"Traditionally, the main ways to, ah, get it in there were through artificial insemination—that's you—or penetrative sex. Wake probably put it in using a turkey baster, Edenites are such traditionalists that way." God paused, thoughtful, as if his words did not just conjure up the worst mental image he could have possibly created. Kiriona didn't even know what a turkey baster was, but her comic fueled imagination was not doing her any favors. God liked to elide specific descriptions of Blood of Eden cultural practices, but the result was that she was left to picture something large and perhaps mechanical doing acts she could only describe as deeply unholy. She crossed her legs.
"The baby then grows—typically for nine months if everything goes correctly—before being born through here," he pointed again.
"This is the birth canal, which leads to the vagina, which—well. You know where that is. Anyway, occasionally the birth requires surgical intervention, and the baby is removed through the abdomen. The Saint of Awe was born this way, if I remember correctly. But you were a uterine birth, if Wake is to be believed." He seemed almost proud.
Kiriona did not want to imagine emerging from her mother's vagina, a woman whom she had only met once, and in very stressful circumstances. She hadn't seen a baby in a very long time, and the idea of something that size emerging from the inside of anyone seemed like an extremely uncomfortable experience.
Also, she could only picture Cytherea's body, who's vagina she had once wanted to see in a very different context.
God reached behind himself to grab yet another diagram that he placed on top of the ones already scattered about the table.
"Here you can see the phases of development. It's really quite fascinating. Much easier to appreciate in a vat womb than in the uterus." God stared at the diagram almost wistfully, as if he was imagining watching baby Kiriona develop. Kiriona herself was wishing she could sink through the floor and be jettisoned out into the vacuum of space.
He looked at her carefully. "Now, I don't want to assume, and I won't ask for details. But are you and Ianthe being safe?"
Kiriona sputtered. "We aren't—"
"Alright, alright," God raised his hands. "I'll drop it. I don't want to pry, I'm not going to be that kind of Dad. But if you ever need to discuss anything, I'm here." He reached out to take her hands in his and squeezed. Kiriona let herself hope, for a fleeting moment, that the conversation could end here.
Unfortunately, the God of the Nine Houses was merciless.
"That brings me to our next point: safe sex. Safe sex is important because it protects you and your partner from both accidental pregnancy and communicable pathogens."
"I'm dead," blurted Kiriona, who was very much wishing for a way she could be more dead. "Does this matter?"
"Of course it matters!" God gasped. His brow furrowed. "Your body is homeostatically fixed, so you're unlikely to contract any kind of disease, but you can certainly spread them, and I'm not quite ready to be a grandfather in any capacity."
He motioned for her to stay put. Kiriona sagged. The fact that she was biologically incapable of contributing genetic material to anything, much less a baby, did not seem to occur to God despite the fact that he was the one who had made it so that nothing could leave her body without first disintegrating into inert powder.
He stood, shuffling his diagrams into a neat pile before retrieving a dark, metal box. It was of average size, maybe the size of two books stacked together, and God held it reverently. Kiriona felt another wave of dread wash over her.
"I'm going to start with showing you how to put on a condom. Now, there are several types available, both internal and external, not to mention other sorts of barrier protective measures, but we are going to start with the basics. I don't want to overwhelm you."
“I—the nuns covered this,” Kiriona pleaded. She did not want to think about Sister Lacrimorta’s old, bony hand rolling a bright yellow condom over a liver spotted forearm, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “It’s fine. I got it. I know how to use one.”
God signed. “Kiriona. Like I told you before, I understand that you think you know everything; Lord knows I did at your age. But you’re my kid, and this is my responsibility. It would be remiss of me to let you go out and about on this space station without being sure you’ve been given a proper education.”
Kiriona leaned back in her chair and put her head in her hands.
"I'll be using an external condom, which means it goes on the outside. And this model here," God gestured to the table, where the model had been carefully placed. It was ancient—made of real wood—and carved, not inexpertly, into the shape of a penis.
Kiriona did not want to look at it. She was trying very hard to look at the space directly to the right of the model, in the vain hope that if she just appeared extremely bored, God would tire of this exercise as quickly as possible. She really had been well and truly educated on this topic: first by a rotation of ever exasperated nuns, and then by a series of increasingly lascivious comic books and magazines. The nuns were awful teachers at the best of times, but the condom demonstration had been just horrifying enough to be seared into her mind, right next to a similar memory involving Sister Aisamorta’s cracked lips forming the word “phallus”. She shivered.
The second experience had been her longest romantic relationship—that being a three way division of labor between herself, her hand, and a magazine—and she considered it quite special. Magazines had been impossible to procure on Antioch, what with all their resources being funneled to the front, and she did not want to sully its memory with the horror show that was undoubtedly to follow.
God was arranging a multitude of items next to the model. They were in a range of shapes and colors—she recognized the condom wrapper, because every order of her favorite magazine came with one. Also, when she was twelve, she had found a big dusty box of the things when she was trying to hide from the nuns in the back closet of Reconstruction. The nuns had found her, but afterwards she made a habit of blowing air into them and kicking them down the hallway. God picked one up.
"External condoms are used during penetrative sex, and are worn by the person, ah, penetrating." For the first time, God had the decency to look somewhat awkward. Kiriona silently willed him not to elaborate.
He continued: "You can also cut one to make a dental if you need one of those instead and only have a condom on hand. We'll cover non-penetrative barriers next—for now, just know that condoms are important for penetrative sex regardless of what orifice is involved." He gave her a very meaningful look.
Kiriona's chest hurt. She wondered if maybe she prayed hard enough, she would wake up and this would have all been a very bad dream. Considering that the only God she had ever prayed to was sitting right in front of her, her chances were low.
"If you're in an established closed relationship—that is, no one in the relationship is having sex with anyone outside of it—and there isn't any risk of accidental pregnancy, then it might be alright to relax these guidelines once you've been exclusive for a few months. But it's also completely acceptable to continue using barrier methods if it makes you feel more comfortable. This includes if you're using a construct rather than a natal appendage—I know they're advertising antimicrobial properties on those things now, but deep space can be hell on autonomous theorems so I wouldn't trust one that hasn't been reworked at least within the past month."
Kiriona did not want to think about God—the Emperor of the Nine Houses, His Celestial Kindness, the Resurrecting King—her Father—considering the pros and cons of an such an item. She did however mentally file this information away for later, as the characters in her comic books never seemed to have to worry about the effects of deep space on autonomous sexual constructs. She knew they existed—there had been colorful advertisements for them included in every issue of her magazines, available in a range of shapes, sizes, and wearable potential—but Kiriona had never managed to get far enough into the ordering process to think about anything beyond than the basic fantasy.
God cleared his throat, and took a careful sip of tea. He was onto his fifth biscuit.
"When it comes to sex, the most important thing is consent. You want to make sure you have assent on both sides—that means a solid 'yes' from all parties, not the absence of a no." He grimaced a bit, but continued. "Consent is something that can be revoked at any time. Even if you previously said 'yes', at any point you are allowed to change your mind and say 'no'. We'll be reinforcing that throughout this presentation. But after making sure everyone has consented, the first step is to make sure you check the expiration date. They're made of plastiplex, so it's probably okay to use one even if you're a little outside the window. A few days at most. But you don't want to be too far outside, because they do start to degrade after a while. If you ever find yourself in a position where you only have an expired condom, and someone you're with wants to have penetrative sex anyway, you are allowed to say no. Let's practice."
God paused. When no such practice was forthcoming from his trapped audience, he used one hand to scrub at his face.
"It's okay if you don't know how to say it yet. It takes practice, which is why we are having this discussion. Please repeat after me: the condom is expired, and we should wait for intercourse until we can acquire one that is within its usable time window."
He waited. Kiriona kept her mouth shut.
"You can also propose doing stuff over the clothes. Just remember that it doesn't have to be a complete no, but it's important to be able to assert yourself in these situations and stay safe. We can circle back to this.
"The next step is to be erect. I mean—the penis must be erect in order for the condom to be properly placed. However you and your partner, or partners, achieve this is up to you, and anything is alright so long as everyone involved is safe and having a good time." God once again looked somber, and took a minute to compose himself. He fanned out his fingers on the table and breathed deeply: in through the nose, hold, out through the mouth, hold. He did this four times in sequence.
Kiriona was distantly aware of a dangerous sort of crackle in the air, like the sharp snap of citrus invading her sinuses, but she did not particularly care. She was thinking only of the traumatic brain injury she would have to give herself in order to forget the way that God's mouth had said the word 'erect'. He coughed, and straightened back up.
"If you're using a construct without a neural link, you'll need to manually enable the rigid setting. I think most manufacturers have taken to calling it 'rigor' these days, but it's the same theorem regardless of what name they're selling it under. They will try to upcharge you, and as much as I enjoy supporting our home economy it never feels good to know you paid three times what something is worth just because of some fancy name.
"We can now unwrap the condom. You can see the package here," he held it up, showing off the corners. "You want to tear at the sides, not the middle, and never use any kind of bladed object, because you might damage the condom, rendering it ineffective." Again God grimaced, a dark shadow passing over his face, but he continued. "This is why it's always important to have multiple condoms on hand if you know you are going to engage in penetrative sex. Accidents happen, and you want to be prepared."
God opened the condom. He used the tips of his fingers, tearing off the side before sliding the condom out. He placed the condom on the table, next to the wooden model. He then moved the model a little to the right, directly into Kiriona's sight line.
"If a condom rips, and you don't have a spare, it is important to be able to assert yourself. I said we would circle back on that point, so let's do that now."
God waited.
Kiriona shifted uncomfortably. Her lips were pressed together in a tight line, and her arms were crossed tightly over her chest.
"The condom has ripped, we can't have penetrative sex until we replace it," prompted God. "Your turn."
"This is ridiculous," Kiriona muttered, crossing her arms even tighter. God lifted his eyebrows. It was clear that this time, participation was mandatory. She signed. "The—the condom's broken, we can't fuck until we get a new one."
"Close enough," God signed. "Your language is terrible—no idea what kind of child rearing was happening on the Ninth—although in this case, curse words might help you appear more assertive." He suddenly stopped, looking into her eyes with a serious expression. "Never let anyone tell you that decorum or manners comes before consent."
Kiriona grimaced. God seemed satisfied she had understood him, and continued.
"Now I'm going to put the condom onto the penis. To make sure you are holding it the correct way, squeeze the tip like this," he squeezed the tip of the condom. "Then, place the condom on the tip of the penis and roll it down."
God placed the condom on the tip of the model penis and rolled it down. It was a little awkward. The wooden penis was not well affixed to the table, and it wobbled. Kiriona winced.
Finally, it was done. God held it up. "Now that the condom is on, penetrative sex can begin."