Cordelia runs her fingertips over the etched letters in the wooden sign—‘Cretchall Factory’. The dilapidated building grumbles and sputters, then stills.
Arthur adjusts his top hat as steam rolls out of the chimney. “Darling, we’re next!”
The factory’s spring-loaded door pops open and an infant clad in white crawls out. Cordelia picks up the boy she ordered and inspects him from head to toe. Buttery soft skin. Rosy cheeks. She whispers, “He looks so real.”
Arthur chuckles. “Only the best synthetics are used in the production of imitation babies.”
A second couple approaches. The factory shakes and groans again. Another baby emerges. The one in Cordelia’s arms begins to cry.
Arthur inhales sharply. “Well, poppycock. I’ll take it back and tell them it’s defective.”
“Defective?” Cordelia repeats. “How?”
“Excess steam. It shouldn’t actually cry.” He scowls as tears slide down the baby’s cheeks. “Give it here.”
She refuses to relinquish her hold. “I wouldn’t need a steam baby if you’d give me a real one.”
“A real one?” Arthur’s eyebrows rise in unison. “You must be joking. You know I’m not interested in…”
“Me?” Cordelia glares. She cuddles the baby tighter. “Thank you for purchasing him, but I’m no longer keen on continuing this charade.”
Arthur stomps his foot. “We’re in quite the pickle now. How do we fix it?”
She pats the babies back. It belches, steam exiting its mouth. The weeping ceases. “There,” Cordelia says. “He’s fixed. Now the only thing broken is us.”
