Dante nodded. He wasn’t going to try to escape. Yet. He needed more information first, and some time to formulate a plan. Lysa gave him an odd look. Goddamn it, he needed to get a poker face.
“Also,” she went on, building up steam, “you’re going to be forced into doing things that you won’t be proud of. Get over it. Dignity has no place here.” Dante could almost imagine a general’s helmet on her head, and riding crop in her hand. He imagined the American flag in the background of the playpen. “You will pee and poop yourself. You will drink from bottles and eat in a highchair. We will probably see each other naked by the end of the day. Just let whatever humiliating thing happen, accept that it happened, that it’ll definitely happen again, and move on with your day.
“If there’s a way a small way to keep your dignity-like expecting jackasses who are still smart enough to understand you face the other way when you’re pooping,” Dante felt his face grow a little red from embarrassment. “Do it, but otherwise give up on embarrassment, dignity, shame, yada yada yada.”
“Those whiners who scream to the ceiling ‘I’m a big girl! I’m a big boy! Waaaaah!’” Lysa threw her hands up in mock distress. “Are the ones closest to cracking. And the angry kids who curse, and hit, and play rebel, get spanked every five minutes?….they’re next in line. Cynicism is your friend”.
Dante had to admit, this made some sense. It would be harder to break someone who didn’t feel hope. Harder to change an aspect of someone who didn’t emotionally invest a lot in that aspect. Don’t give your tormentors much to torment. Speaking of which:
“What’s the deal with the- um- Judy’s?” Dante inquired.
“They’re angels…sort of.”, Lysa answered. “Created to be the perfect mommies, nannies, babysitters, caretakers…whatever.” Lysa started listing off on her fingers, “They don’t eat, drink, sleep, use the potty, (heh…weird vocabulary choice there), or do anything that doesn’t immediately relate to treating us like we’re rugrats. I mean, they don’t even get dirty.”
The image of the first Judy and her immaculate outfit despite being pushed into a puddle of vomit came to mind, as did the blood refusing to stain the Judy’s hand after she kissed Dante’s boo-boo….injury….injury…his mutilated hand.
Lysa shrugged, “I don’t know if they literally think we’re babies, or just treat us that way, but the result’s the same. All but the most basic stuff that we say, they treat like baby talk anyways. Watch…”
Lysa turned and called out , “Hey Judy! Judy! I bet I could really improve your face by running my dad’s lawn mower over it!” The Judy in the nursery scrubs walked over, Midori resting on her hip.
“Well someone sure sounds excited!” she cooed to them. “What is it, Lysa? What is it?”
Lysa turned her head back to Dante, “Now watch this.” She started waving frantically and calling out in an excited and high pitched voice. “Dori! Dori! It’s me! Lysa! Look at you, whoah! You’re so high up there on that nice lady’s hip! Hi Dori! Hi!” Midori waved back enthusiastically, enjoying all the attention from her playmate.
“Well it sure looks like someone missed their little friend.”, mused the Judy. The angel turned her head to the baby-teen on her hip. “Are you ready to go back and play? Are you? Are you?” she didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “Well, okaaaay. But no more biting.” Midori gave a solemn wide-eyed nod.
The playpen gate opened again, and Midori was plopped down among them. She immediately crawled over and gave Lysa a sloppy hug, the two girls almost falling over themselves. Lysa, gently nudged Midori away, “Thank you, Dori,” she said, “now Dante and I need to keep talking, otay?” Midori nodded and babbled something before crawling off.
Lysa turned back to Dante, “See? They only hear what they want to hear.” Interesting. So in theory, Dante could talk to some of the others, maybe make a few allies, and form an escape plan or rebellion right under his captors noses. He got that look from Lysa again. Was she psychic or something? Damn!
“What happens if they’re not needed?” Dante asked, trying to take the feeling of suspicion off of him. “Like what do they do when we’re sleeping or just playing….(don’t say playing nice don’t say playing nice)…nice?”
“Depends,” Lysa said. “They seem to keep a certain ratio of Judy to baby. If we’re with more babies, and there’s nothing for them to do, they usually talk to each other. Sometimes, they tell stories about us- like the things we did that they thought were cute or funny. Other times it’s water-cooler talk and gossip.” she shrugged. “Y’know, the kind of stuff that grown-ups talk about when they’re sure the kids are distracted or are too young to understand. They don’t even care if you listen in. It’s how I found out about a lot of this stuff.” Her eyes darted to the side…an afterthought. “That and I was lucky enough to find someone to show me the ropes of this place.”
“Oh yeah? Who was it?”, Dante asked, genuinely interested. If Lysa knew more people who were like them around here, maybe he could make friends with them and use it to his advantage later.
