by Clive Barker
“Just looking, really.”
“Some very nice ones. And feel free to read their biographies. Some of them are pretty amazing.”
“I don’t have much time today. I think I’ll just look at the holos.”
“Fine.” A smile that would have seduced a eunuch. “I’ll just let you look. If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”
He spent equal time with male and female holos. They were all so perfect they began to lose individuality after a time. As Stortz said, people did, of course, design duds. The looks didn’t turn out quite right; the intelligence wasn’t impressive or even, sometimes, adequate; and then there were personality flaws, sometimes profound. Most of these problems resulted from parents who wouldn’t listen to the advice of the scientists and programmers. But their arrogance could be tragic.
Given what had happened, he settled on looking at the girls. These were finished products, used to guide the buyer in creating their own girls. He was particularly taken with a dark-haired girl of sixteen whose fetching face was as imposing as the amused intelligence that played in her blue-eyed gaze. Yes, good looks—and intelligence. Requisites for a leadership role later on.
He doted on the girl, imagining the kind of boasting you could do in a session like the one he’d just left. Even up against the likes of Stortz and the others, this girl would undoubtedly triumph. Whoever had designed her obviously had known exactly what they were doing.
But then it was time to catch the bullet train home. Soft summer suburban night awaited. He just hoped Jen was free of her depression, at least for a few hours.
* * *
He was never sure how to characterize the sounds she made—“crying” was too little but then “sobbing” was probably too much. He usually settled for “weeping.”
She was weeping when he got home that night. He went upstairs immediately to knock softly on the door of the master bedroom. “Is there anything I can do, honey?” he asked as he’d asked every night since the death of their five-year-old son three months ago.
“Just please leave me alone, Kevin,” she said between choked tears. “Just please leave me alone.” Even given the loss they’d suffered, could this tragedy alone fuel so many endless days of bitter sobbing sorrow?
Dinner alone. By now he was used to it. An hour or so in front of the vidd with a few drinks. And then bringing her a tray of food. Otherwise she wouldn’t eat. He’d come to think of all this reasonably enough as The Ritual.
After eating—she’d lost fifteen pounds from an already thin lovely body—Jen usually went into the bathroom and showered for bed. Afterward was when they talked.
“Somebody at the office told me about a very good doctor. Very good with depression.”
“Please, Kevin. No more shrinks. I couldn’t take another one.”
“I wish you’d take the meds.”
“The headaches they give me are worse than the depression.”
Sometimes he wondered if she wasn’t purposely punishing herself. Maybe her depression was her way of dealing with what she’d saw as her negligence in the death of Kevin, Jr.
“You know the doctor said he’d never heard of anybody getting headaches from this particular med.”
“That’s what I mean about doctors. They say things like that all the time? They don’t take the drugs. We do. We’re their guinea pigs. And when we complain about something, they tell us we’re just imagining it.”
And so on.
The best part of the night was when she lay in his arms in the darkness, responding finally to his patience and kindness, trusting him once more as she had always trusted him in their young marriage. Sometimes they made love; sometimes the day-long siege of depression and tears had left her too shattered to do much more than lie next to him.
Tonight he was afraid. He didn’t know if he should tell her what he’d done or not. He certainly didn’t want to set her off. But maybe the idea would appeal to her. Maybe she was ready now to talk about the rest of their lives. Maybe a talk like this was exactly what she needed to hear to make her forget—
He’d tell her about his impulsive visit to the Baby Store and—
But then he smiled to himself for there, her regal blonde head on his shoulder, came the soft sweet sounds of her child-like snoring.
* * *
In the next few weeks he visited the Baby Store three times after work. On the second visit he asked if he could visit with one of the consultants. He kept assuring the doctor that he was only asking questions while he waited for his train. The doctor kept assuring him in turn that he understood that quite well.
On the third visit, his words seeming to come unbidden, Kevin explained how our-five-year-old Kevin, Jr. had drowned in the small lake that ran very near the front porch of their summer cottage and how Jen blamed herself for it. She’d been on the phone when he walked into the water. Kevin had been in the backyard dealing with some particularly aggravating gopher holes.
The doctor, a middle-aged man with kind blue eyes, said, “It’s especially traumatic when you lose a child you designed yourself. It’s a double loss.”
“I guess I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right. And we spent so much time making sure he’d be just right.”
The doctor, whose name was Carmody, spoke gently. “I know why you’re coming here, Kevin. And I think you’ve got the right idea. But what you’re worried about is convincing your wife.”
Kevin smiled. “You’re a mind reader, too.”
“Oh, no. It’s just that I’ve been through this process with a number of people over the years. Something unfortunate happens to the child they’ve designed and they’re not sure if they can deal with designing another one.”
“That’s right. That’s exactly right.”
“Usually the man is the one who suggests it. The woman is too lost in her grief. And he knows that she won’t like the idea at all. Not at first. And her feeling is perfectly natural. You’ll both feel guilty about designing another child. Kevin, Jr. is dead and here you are going on with your lives—and replacing him.”
“I’m already feeling guilty. But I think that’s what we both need. A new child. While we’re still in our early thirties. With our lives still ahead of us.”
Dr. Carmody nodded. “But it won’t be easy. She’ll resist. She’ll probably even get very angry. And she’ll feel even more isolated than she does now. She’ll think you don’t understand her mourning at all.”
“So maybe I shouldn’t suggest it?”
“Not at all, Kevin. All I’m saying is that you should prepare yourself for some very heated discussions. Very heated.”
* * *
“I don’t know how you could even think about another child now,” Jen said at dinner that night. “We loved him so much. It’s not like buying a new pair of shoes or something.”
“Honey, all I said was that it’s something to think about. You’re so sad all the time—”
“And you aren’t?”
“I guess I don’t have time to be sad most of the time. I’m always rushing around with work and—” He knew he’d said the wrong insensitive thing. He eased his hand across the candlelit dinner that the caterers had prepared so nicely. He’d wanted the right mood to even raise the subject. He knew that convincing her was somewhere in the future. “Why do you think I don’t sleep well? I’m thinking about Kevin, Jr.”
By the look in her blue eyes he could see that he’d rescued himself. And what he’d said hadn’t been untrue. He couldn’t sleep well these nights. And a good deal of the time during those uneasy hours, he thought of his son, his dead son.
“I don’t even want to talk about it now,” she said. “Or think about it.” Her smile surprised him. One of the old Jen smiles, so girlishly erotic. “Tonight I want us to drink all three bottles of wine and just be silly. It’s been a while since we’ve been silly.”
He slid his hand over hers, touching it with great reverence. His one and only love. He misse
d her. The old her. “Well, if you want silly, Madame, you’ve come to the right guy. Nobody’s sillier than I am.”
And they toasted his silliness. In fact, before they managed to stagger into bed and have some of that old-time sex of theirs, they’d toasted a good many things. And every one of them had been silly. Very, very silly.
* * *
Then came the day when he got home from work and found Jen’s personal holo filled with images of children from the Baby Store. Jen often forgot to turn the holo to FADE when she was done with it. His first inclination was to rush up the stairs to the exercise room and congratulate her for beginning to show interest in designing another child. But then he realized it would be better to let her interest grow at its own pace.
He was disappointed that she didn’t mention the holo that night at dinner. But the fact that she’d come down to dinner at all told him that old Jen hadn’t been lost to him after all. The old Jen was slowly returning to the shining presence he loved so much.
She didn’t mention anything about the holo—or subsequent viewings of the Baby Store holos—for the next eight evening meals. And when she brought it up the reference was oblique: “Sometimes it’s so quiet here during the day. Bad quiet, I mean, not good quiet.”
It had rarely been quiet when Kevin, Jr. had been alive.
* * *
Dr. Carmody said, “I think a little nudge might be appropriate here, Mr. McKay.”
“What kind of nudge, Dr. Carmody?”
“Oh, nothing confrontational. Nothing like that. In fact, something pleasant. I had a patient who was having a difficult time getting her husband to come in. They’d only recently come into some money and her husband still had some of his old attitudes about designer babies from the days when he’d been so well off. But she surprised him. Invited him to his favorite restaurant, which just happened to be near her, and after the meal she just happened to steer him in our direction—and four days later, he came in and signed the papers and started creating not one but two children. Twins.”
“Well, one of Jen’s favorite restaurants is near here, too. We go there for our anniversary every year.”
“When’s your next anniversary?”
“Two weeks from tomorrow.”
Dr. Carmody smiled his Dr. Carmody smile. “That’s not very far off, is it?”
* * *
She was late getting into the city and for a frantic half hour Kevin was afraid that Jen had known that this would be more than an anniversary dinner. He couldn’t contact her on her comm, either. Maybe she’d decided not to meet him. Maybe she was in the bedroom, weeping as she once had. He stood on their street corner lost in the chill April dusk and the shadow crowds racing to the trains and the freeways.
And then, golden and beaming, tossing off an explanation for her tardiness that was both reasonable and reassuring—then she was in his arms and they were walking like new lovers to the restaurant where their reserved table waited for them.
After her second glass of wine, she said, “After dinner, let’s go for a walk. I don’t get down here very often. And I still love to window shop.”
The center of the city gleamed in the midst of darkness, an entity constantly reinventing itself, taller, faster, more seductive in every respect, the streets patrolled by android security officers. The androids were without mercy.
The store windows Jen stopped at were alive with quickly changing holos of haute couture. He was happy to see her interested in her appearance again. She even talked about making one of her shopping trips.
He made sure that they kept moving in the direction of the Baby Store. As they turned a corner, entering the block the store was on, she said, “I think I’ve got a surprise coming up.”
“A surprise?”
She leaned into him affectionately, tightening her grip on his arm. She laughed. “You’ve been steering us in a certain direction since we left the restaurant.”
“I have?”
“We’re going to the Baby Store as you’ve always called it.”
“We are?”
But of course they were.
A small staff kept the three-story building open during the nighttime hours. As Kevin had arranged, Dr. Carmody had stayed late. He greeted them in the lobby and led them back to his office.
“Happy Anniversary to both of you,” he said.
“Thank you, Dr. Carmody. I guess I knew in the back of my mind we’d end up here tonight. Sometimes I can sort of read my husband’s mind.”
“I hope you’re not disappointed, Mrs. McKay.”
She shrugged in that sweet young-girl way she had. “No, maybe Kevin’s right. Maybe this is what I need.”
“We’ll certainly do our best,” Carmody said.
And so they began.
Coffee cleared their minds and numerous holos of designed girls—that was the only thing Jen knew for sure; a girl this time—sharpened their imaginations. They began to form a picture of the infant Jen would carry. And what this infant would look like at various stages of her life. And what kind of intellectual acumen the child would have. In a world as competitive as this one, superior beauty without superior intelligence was nothing.
Dr. Carmody had left them alone in front of the enormous holo console. They were so infatuated with the prospect of a new child that they became infatuated with each other, friendly kisses giving way to passionate ones; a breast touched, long lovely fingers caught behind Kevin’s neck pulling him closer, “Maybe the wine hasn’t worn off after all,” Kevin said.
After forty-five minutes they stopped looking at holos and began talking seriously about the child they’d come to create. Hair color, eye color, body type, features—classic or more contemporary? What sort of interests it would have. The level of intelligence—some parents went too far. The children had serious emotional problems later on.
Kevin asked Dr. Carmody to join them.
“Did you like any of the holos you saw?”
“They were all very impressive, Dr.,” Kevin said. “In fact they were all so good it got kind of confusing after a while. But I think we’ve started to have a pretty good idea of what we’re looking for.”
“Well, we’re certainly ready to proceed with the process any time you are,” Dr. Carmody said, his perfectly-modulated vidd-caster voice never more persuasive. “We just need to look over our standard agreement and get to work.”
“I’m sure that won’t be any problem,” Kevin said. But as he spoke he noticed that Jen no longer seemed happy. The tension of the past four months had tightened her face and given her eyes a somewhat frantic look.
Dr. Carmody had become aware of her sudden change, too. He glanced at Kevin, inclined his head vaguely toward Jen. He obviously expected Kevin to deal with this situation. It wasn’t the doctor’s place to do so.
But as Kevin started to put his hand on her arm, she stood up with enough force to make herself unsteady. Kevin tried to slide his arm around her waist to support her but she pulled away from him. She was suddenly, violently crying. “I can’t do this. It’s not fair to our boy. It’s not fair!”
And then before either man could quite respond effectively, Jen rushed to the door, opened it and disappeared.
Kevin started to run after her. Dr. Carmody stopped him. “Just remember. She’s been through a lot, Kevin. Don’t force her into this until she’s really ready. Obviously she’s having some difficulty with the process. There’s no rush with this.”
Kevin, scarcely listening, rushed out the door after his wife. She was much faster than he’d imagined. She wasn’t in the hall nor, when he reached the lobby, was she there. He hurried outside.
The sidewalk was crowded with people his own age, of his own status. Drink and drugs lent them the kind of happiness you usually saw only on vidd commercials.
He didn’t see Jen at first. Luckily he glimpsed her turning the far corner. He ran. People made wary room for him. Somebody running in a crowd like this instinctively made them nervo
us. A running man meant danger.
There was no time for apologies, no time for gently moving people aside. When he reached the corner, his clothes were disheveled and his face damp with sweat. He couldn’t find her. He felt sick, scared. She was in such a damned vulnerable state. He didn’t like to think of what going to the Baby Store might have triggered in her.
He quit running, falling against a street lamp to gather his breath. He got the sort of cold, disapproving glances that derelicts invited. While he was getting his breath back, he smelled the nearby river. The cold early spring smell of it. He wasn’t sure why but he felt summoned by the stark aroma of it.
In a half-dazed state, he began moving toward the water, the bridge that ran north-south coming in view as soon as he neared the end of the block.
She stood alone, staring down at the black, choppy water that was freezing. Though he knew it was probably best to leave her alone for a while, his need to hold her was so overpowering that he found himself walking toward her without quite realizing it until he was close enough to touch the sleeve of her coat.
She didn’t acknowledge him in any way, simply continued staring into the water. Down river the lights from two tug-boats could be seen, like the eyes of enormous water creatures moving through the night. In the further distance a foghorn sounded.
He leaned against the railing just the way she did. He remained silent. He smelled her perfume, her hair. God he loved her.
When she spoke, her voice was faint. “I killed our son.”
“Honey, we’ve been over this and over this. You were on the phone and he didn’t stay on the porch like you told him. He went into the lake despite everything we’d warned him about.”
She still didn’t look at him. “I lied. I ran out the door in time to save him. I could have dived in and brought him back to shore. But I didn’t. I wanted him to drown, Kevin, because I was ashamed of him. All the women I know—they were always bragging about their sons and daughters. But Kevin Jr.—we did something wrong when we created him. He just wasn’t very smart. He would never have amounted to much. And so I let him drown. I stood there and let him drown while you were in the backyard.”
