Dante’s mother had once told him that when people had multiple traumatic experiences occur in rapid succession to them, they often coped with it by putting one dilemma off to the side while coping with the other. Dante’s two traumas were that he might be dead, and that he was in a place full of crazies that insisted on treating him like a baby. If Dante was dead, then there might be nothing he could do to help that. There might be a way out of this infantilized situation if he knew more about it. Dante decided that he could accept being dead- at least temporarily. Time to find out more about here, wherever that was.

He laid back and avoided eye contact. Looking at Lysa wouldn’t help much. The contrast between her tone and her garments was too much right now. For someone dressed like a baby, this girl had no shortage of attitude.

“Are we in Hell?” he asked. This felt a little like Hell.

“Don’t be silly,” she told him. “Hell is much worse than this. Hell is the worst torture your mind can imagine. I’d hardly call playpens and pacifiers for all eternity the worst torture imaginable.”

“Then is this-?” Dante started

“Heaven?” Lysa interrupted. “You’re joking, right?” she laughed. “Welcome to Heaven! Your reward for a lifetime of piety and Godly devotion is an endless supply of milk and mush!” She sighed. “Besides, I don’t know about you, but I probably didn’t deserve to go to Heaven, the way my life was going.”

“Then where else is there?” Dante was starting to get worried.

“Limbo,” Lysa said with resignation, “where Catholics say un-baptized babies go when they die.”

“But… I’m not Catholic.” Dante said indignantly.

“Neither am I.” Lysa retorted, her hands on her hips. “Guess that doesn’t matter to the Big Guy, huh?” Dante was pretty sure he’d never been baptized. His family never went to Church. Not that they were militant atheists, or anything; religion was just something that wasn’t discussed. Something still didn’t add up, though.

“I’m not a baby, either…obviously,” Dante replied.

“A lot of the people here aren’t either…obviously.” Lysa answered. In a moment, the fire went out of her voice. “But we’re treated like babies all the same. I think the Judys figure that if they treat us like babies, then it doesn’t matter.” She motioned over to the Judy in the nursery scrubs, and Dante followed her gaze. Midori had apparently served her time on the naughty stool and was now cradled in the Judy’s arms being tickled and nuzzled while the Asian girl giggled and squirmed in pure delight.

“Sad part is, they’re not wrong,” she continued. “Eventually, everyone in here snaps and starts playing the part for real. I think it might be something about Limbo itself; something in the air that makes you want to act like a baby. Some only take a few months. Most make it a year or two before the constant treatment breaks them. A few make it longer than that, ten…maybe twenty years; but I don’t know of anyone who’s made it more than a hundred years. Eventually, you get broken down, and you become a true innocent again.” She kept staring at Midori- completely wrapped up in the strange woman’s attentions. “Midori made it about a year and half before the change became permanent. Poor thing.”

Dante looked at Midori and started to wonder. Had she been just a regular teenager at one point? Someone who died young and was sentenced here because a dude in a robe hadn’t poured water over her head? Forced to be a baby for all eternity?

Part of him envied her stupidity. This place might not be so bad if you didn’t know any better. No responsibilities, pretty women taking care of you and being nice to you. He wouldn’t have to feed himself. Heck, if even half of this was true, he wouldn’t even have to dress himself. Hell, he wouldn’t even have to wipe- NO! DON’T THINK LIKE THAT! FIGHT IT! Dante sat up, his eyes hardened.

“How do I fight it?” he asked, staring at Lysa, his eyes burning with hatred- not for her- but for what he had almost thought. There was a spark there for a moment, between the two of them. A connection made, however brief.

Lysa nodded her approval; she had felt it too, then. “For starters, you have to be honest with yourself. Denial and hope are poisons in this place. Know in your heart that there are forces bigger than you keeping you here, and that means you’re not leaving. If you try and escape, you’ll be more likely to crack when they catch you. That hope will turn into despair and that’s when you’ll give in.”