Robobaby, Part I

Sometimes, when Robobaby is sleeping, Evangelina stands near the crib and gazes upon its beautiful face: the sweet, shining metallic curve of its nose and cheeks; the copper hinge of its jaw set in rigid repose; the dim blue glow of its eye sockets, which shine a brilliant green when awake. Hers. Her beautiful baby. This time, she will not fail.

She is nervous about going off the hormones. She has heard old wives’ tales, horror stories of blood and cramping every month until pregnancy occurs, and hopes it isn’t true. She has bled only once in her life, when she was twelve years old. When she told her mother, she took her down to Child Protective Services the very next day to get her shot. Since then, she’s been getting her shots every three months as required by State law. She doesn’t know what to expect if she gets her license and stops taking the hormones. When she gets her license. It’s going to happen, this time.

Last week, Jesse read a news story about a woman who’d deliberately failed to get her shots. She’d been hiding out with her husband in a friend’s basement, trying to get pregnant. State police finally found them and arrested them both. It turned out the woman had previously applied for licensure twice and failed both times, making her ineligible. In some respects, Evangelina felt sorry for this unknown woman, who wanted a baby so badly that she was willing to defy State law. But really, the woman deserved what she got. Women who can’t pass the exam shouldn’t be allowed to raise children. It’s a great danger. Children are such fragile, delicate things. They must be protected at all costs.

Last time, Evangelina failed the practical part of the exam. She passed the written exam on the first try, but when Robobaby came, she wasn’t ready. No amount of parenting classes could have prepared her for the real thing. The first day with Robobaby that time had been a nightmare- the constant crying, needing its diaper changed, batteries needing to be recharged every two hours- she just couldn’t keep up. She put the baby down to nap for a couple of hours, relieved that it seemed quiet and content. When she went back to check on the baby later, the little red battery light was flashing. She rushed to recharge it, praying to Goddess not to take her baby. Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let me lose it. But it was too late; the red light went out, and she lost the baby.

After that, she wasn’t eligible to try again for another three years. She enrolled in all the required classes for repeat applicants so she could get started again as soon as possible. This time, she would have to raise Robobaby for 90 days instead of 30 since she failed the exam last time. And if she fails this time… No. That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it. I want this baby more than anything in the world.

She heard Jesse’s key in the door, then the sound of his footsteps in the hall. A pause at the bedroom doorway, and then, “Everything all right in there?”

“Yes,” Evangelina replied, her eyes never leaving the baby’s sweet face. “Just fine.”

“All right, then.” The sound of his footsteps going back down the hall, followed by the boisterous voice of the game show host on the TV, and moments later, Jesse’s laughter wafting down the hall.

* * * * *

Last time Evangelina applied, she was only 22. She had to wait until she finished her college degree as required by the State. She and Jesse had just gotten married a few months before. He’d been her first real boyfriend and Evangelina was eager to have a baby. She’d always known she wanted to be a mother, ever since she was a little girl. On her sixteenth birthday, she went down to Child Protective Services to apply for her babysitting license. She passed with flying colors. That test was a lot easier than the parenting exam, she remembered. There wasn’t any Robobaby with that one.

She knows that Jesse blames her for not having passed the exam last time. He passed his easily. Sometimes she feels discouraged by this fact, as though it means he will be a better parent than she would. She knows he worries that she may not be competent since she failed. It’s different for men, she reminds herself again. Jesse only had to pass the written exam and spend two hours per day with Robobaby. Since women are in charge of their bodies now, childrearing is mainly their responsibility.

This time, she’s been very careful with Robobaby, never letting it out of her sight for a moment, not even to use the bathroom. She set up the crib next to her bed, and at night she sets the alarm clock to wake her every hour so she can check on the baby. It’s supposed to cry when its battery gets low, but that doesn’t always happen, as she learned last time. And I am not going to lose another baby, Goddess willing.

When Jesse gets up in the morning and does his two-hour shift before heading off to work, she is able to get some uninterrupted sleep. She’s not required to be in front of the surveillance camera while Jesse is on duty, so she goes into the living room and sleeps on the couch for two hours while Jesse plays with and sings to the baby.

Sometimes she wishes the people on the other end of the video surveillance camera would speak to her, give her some feedback on her performance, maybe a word of encouragement here and there. But they just sit and watch, taking notes for her State parenting file.

* * * * *

Jesse comes back down the hall, the soft plodding of his footsteps shaking Evangelina from her reverie. Another pause at the doorway. “Hon, is there any more beer out in the garage?”

“I don’t know, sweetie.” I’ve been in here with the baby all day. How would I know?

“Oh… OK.” Another pause. Then:

“How’s it going?”

“Just fine, honey.”

“All right, then.” Yet another pause, and then the slow shuffling of his footsteps back down the hall.

Evangelina reaches a hand into the crib and strokes Robobay’s smooth, metallic cheek.