It all made sense now. That man rocking side to side was holding a virtual baby. A woman who looked like she was kneading imaginary dough was changing a diaper.
“That’s amazing,” Georgie said, her gaze bouncing from the screen to the actual humans moving awkwardly in clear boxes.
“And I see you’ve got your infant care simulation doll. Good, good!” Stu said.
“Yep, and Faby is safe and sound and in one piece,” Jordan answered, grateful Mr. Tuesday hadn’t chewed the fake kid’s arm off.
“That’s right! No baby shenanigans with Faby,” Georgie added with a toothpaste commercial smile.
Did they sound like used infant care simulation doll salespeople? Most likely, but it was better than having to explain that their dog had taken the doll on a wild romp through Denver.
“Who’s Faby?” Barry asked.
Jordan tapped the doll’s button nose. “This is Faby. It’s a fake baby, so, Faby.”
Lenny and Stu pursed their lips.
Were they not supposed to name the baby? Were they supposed to simply call it doll or plastic infant or child simulation? Those sounded clinical and drab. Faby had a nice ring to it.
“Most expectant parents name their infant care simulation doll,” Lenny supplied with a crease between his brows.
“That’s what we did,” Georgie answered.
The man’s crease deepened. “Usually, a real name like Tony or Claire.”
He and Georgie stared at Faby, who looked nothing like a Tony or a Claire.
“But Faby works,” the good-natured Stu offered, sharing a quick glance with his partner.
“And the app works,” Barry added, handing them their phones. “The app will show you your standing in the competition. You earn points for all your correct choices in the simulator. It’s like a video game.”
“The app also integrates with your infant care simulation doll. It’s slick baby tech, that’s for sure,” Lenny added.
Now it was his wife with a crease between her brows. “There’s an app for fake babies?”
He met Georgie’s gaze and shrugged. He was lost, too.
“It’s a lot to take in. Do your best. I’ll take Faby, and Lenny will get you situated in a simulation cubicle,” Stu explained.
“Where will you put Faby?” Georgie asked, eyeing the man.
“In the infant care simulation nursery,” Stu said, then opened the frosted glass door to reveal a child’s playroom filled with dolls.
Jordan leaned in and lowered his voice. “That’s a little creepy, right?”
“It’s better than putting Faby back in the bag,” she countered.
True.
“Come with me. We’re going to put you through a simulation to test your parenting abilities,” Lenny said, leading them down a hallway.
“Are all these people competing in the Battle of the Births?” Georgie asked.
“They sure are. We’ve got eleven couples taking part in the challenge.”
“What does the winner get?” Jordan asked, working to keep his nerves in check. This was not the Baby 101, sit down and listen to a lecture he was expecting.
Lenny paused. “A baby…and bragging rights, I suppose.”
Bragging rights?
That revelation brought out the competitive streak in him, and his face must have shown it because his wife immediately flashed simmer-down-asshat eyes at him.
She’d crowned him the Emperor of Asshattery, and sometimes, his royal jackass-ed-ness reared its regal head.
“If I’m hearing you right, the scores will indicate if we’re complete parenting nightmares,” he replied, half-joking, but Lenny didn’t laugh.
The baby expert opened the glass door and gestured for them to enter the room. “Do your best, and we’ll go from there.”
“No singing vagabonds today?” Georgie asked, her voice rising an octave.
“We don’t sing on simulation days,” Lenny replied, stone-cold serious.
“Sure, that makes sense,” his wife answered, her voice still lingering in anxious octave land.
Clearly, these men did not mess around when it came to baby prep.
Note to self: Lenny and Stu dressed as jaunty drifters were all bright smiles and singing in the rain.
Lenny and Stu in button-ups and khakis were no bullshit baby busters.
“Put on the VR headsets. The system will count you down before the simulation begins. Good luck,” the man directed before shutting the door.
Georgie looked from side to side at the couples talking and moving around their clear boxes.
“This must be what it’s like for lab rats.”
“Yeah, kind of weird, but also pretty cool.” He picked up the headset. “VR is becoming popular in fitness. They’ve got virtual reality workout regimens. And one of my clients in construction told me the other day that they use it for figuring out plumbing on large-scale projects.”
Georgie eyed the headset. “Let’s not flush a VR baby down a virtual toilet.”
Or allow a virtual dog to take it on a virtual jaunt about town.
His wife put on the headset and gasped. “Wow! You’ve got to see this,” she said, waving her hands.
He followed suit and blinked as a virtual Georgie stood in front of him.
He looked around. “Are we in a grocery store?”
“It sure seems like it,” virtual Georgie answered when a woman’s robotic voice piped in.
“Five, four, three, two, one. Commence simulation.”
Ping.
He damn near fell over when Faby appeared out of nowhere and floated between them.
“Holy—” he began, about to drop a string of expletives when the VR version of his wife pressed her hand to his virtual mouth, and strangely, it silenced him.
“It’s a video game. I think we grab the baby,” Georgie said, pointing to the levitating child.
“Here goes.” He reached out, and while his fingers grasped nothing but air, he now held a cooing Faby in the simulation.
“Hello, Faby, the best fake baby around!” he said to the VR infant, then turned to Georgie. “This isn’t so bad,” he added, but he’d spoken too soon.
Just as the words left his mouth, the Faby’s content expression disappeared, and the infant released a piercing wail, booming into his ears through the headset’s speakers.
“Grocery Store Simulation. You must purchase all the groceries on your list while also meeting your child’s needs,” came the robot lady’s voice over the howling Faby.
“We’ve got to figure out how to calm down this video game Faby,” he exclaimed.
“Bounce or sway. Move around. See if that helps,” VR Georgie suggested.
He danced around, springing from foot to foot, but the baby wasn’t having it.
“It’s not working, Georgie!”
VR Georgie grabbed a shopping cart, and a virtual list popped up.
Okay! This had to be a good sign. They were making progress.
“We’re supposed to shop. Try putting Faby in the cart,” she suggested.
He attempted to place the infant in the kiddie seat of the shopping cart, but the program kept resetting and dangling the crying infant in the air.
“Why won’t they let us put the baby in the cart?” he asked, frustration mounting.