Chapter 4
The Night of Delivery
Rebecca stands in the doorway of the nursery, the futuristic object looking incongruous, centered there on its base within the baby blue walls. A rectangular prism with rounded corners, recessed lights, and a clamshell lid, it resembles a closed tanning bed.
The power cable is connected to the charging point.
An inset touch screen on the side has allowed for interface with their wireless network, granting access to their computers, search histories, calendars, online shopping patterns, cell phones, vehicular GPSs, smart appliances, wearable devices, and the far-field microphones embedded in all their technologies that allow for hands-free and voice recognition.
Soon it will know them better than they know themselves.
And that is the point.
Because then it can see to their wishes.
It is a relief to know that relief is coming.
And yet something has prompted Rebecca to rise now, at the edge of midnight, to lean against the doorjamb and observe this contraption they have invited into their home. Her arms are crossed against the cold, but still she shudders.
The rectangular prism vibrates and hums gently.
Something growing within.
What precisely it is, they have no idea. That is part of the fun, part of the adventure, part of the torment.
“Beccs?”
She starts, gives a yelp.
Mark puts his arms around her, pulls her in. “It’s me,” he says. “It’s just me.”
“You scared the bejesus out of me.”
“What is a bejesus precisely?” Mark asks.
“And why do we only take note when it’s scared out of us?” she mumbles into his chest.
He runs his fingers soothingly through her hair. “Valid,” he says. “Folks rarely note that they’re walking around contently filled with bejesus.”
“Either way,” she says, “it’s out of me, the bejesus, and you are to blame.”
They rock a bit in each other’s arms. She senses that, like her, he is equal parts excited and apprehensive. They know some of what to expect. But something like this cannot be fully anticipated any more than a child. Or a miscarriage.
It just has to get here, and then they will try to make sense of what they paid so much for.
“This’ll be good, right?” she says.
Mark is quiet for a moment, and then she feels him nodding.
Past his shoulder she sees the rectangular prism glowing, right in the spot where the crib used to be.