One year later. The world braced itself, and then, one by one, the "Arkangel Babies" began to arrive. Hospitals across the globe, under unprecedented media scrutiny, delivered the impossible. All fifty children were born – and all were female.
The revelation sent shockwaves through every corner of society. Geneticists, who had spent the year probing Kavi's unique biology and the women's shared experience, were utterly baffled. There was no scientific precedent, no known mechanism for such a phenomenon. Conferences were convened, papers were published, but no definitive answers emerged. The scientific community could only offer theories: a unique genetic marker in Kavi, an environmental factor on the ship, a mass psychosomatic event, or something entirely unknown.
Lili Zhang, now the undisputed high priestess of "The Seed Keepers," declared it "the age of the matriarch." Her cult swelled, interpreting the all-female births as a divine sign, a cosmic correction, the dawn of a new, woman-led world. They held massive, celebratory gatherings, parading the infants as symbols of a new genesis, their chants of "She is born! She is born!" echoing across continents.
Conspiracy theories exploded. Some believed Kavi was a genetically engineered super-sperm donor, a covert government experiment gone rogue. Others whispered of alien intervention, a deliberate seeding of humanity by an extraterrestrial force. Still others saw it as a divine punishment, a biblical plague, or a miraculous blessing, depending on their faith. Kavi, the unwitting catalyst, remained at the center of every wild speculation.
The "First 50" mothers, now global icons, navigated their new reality with varying degrees of grace and exploitation. Sloan Vega's Netflix series became a cultural phenomenon, showcasing the "joys and challenges" of collective motherhood, carefully curated to maintain her brand of cosmic femininity. Pepper Knox's "WombTube" pivoted to "MommyTube," featuring chaotic, unhinged parenting advice that somehow resonated with millions. Mona Cho, having successfully secured partial genetic copyright, began quietly consulting for shadowy biotech firms, her child kept fiercely out of the public eye, a silent, chilling testament to her ambition.
Jada Valentine, her book a bestseller, continued to portray Kavi as a mere tool, a biological accident. "He was just the vessel," she stated in every interview, her voice flat. "We are the creators."
And Kavi? He was last seen walking into the sea. Or maybe that's just myth.
The hospital ward, once his prison, had become a mausoleum of his former life. The phantom moans still echoed, but now they were joined by the imagined cries of fifty infants. He had been released, deemed "stable" by doctors who had given up on understanding him. He wandered, a ghost in his own life, recognized everywhere, yet seen by no one. His parents remained estranged. His former professors avoided his calls. He was a father fifty times over, but utterly alone, adrift in a world that had consumed him and spit him out as a symbol.
The last line, whispered by Pepper Knox during a particularly unhinged "MommyTube" livestream, became another viral sensation, a chilling epitaph for a world forever changed:
"Next time, we find two men."