Catherine gave me a side eye. “They already think that.” One of the few fundamental disagreements my wife and I had was at the nature of Amazonian culture. I subscribed to the idea that they were crazy. She subscribed to the idea that they were purposeful, if gentle, tyrants.

“But why broadcast that with a trial?” I asked. “Even if they’re not baby bonkers-”

“They’re bonkers,” Catherine interrupted, “just not as bonkers as you think and not in the same way.”

I sighed in irritation. “Not my point. If they do the baby thing to stay in control-”

“Which they do-”

“-why would they broadcast that someone rebelled so openly? You don’t prevent rebellion by showing how harshly you punish it. That just makes for smarter or nastier rebels in the future. You prevent it by not admitting to rebellion. Rebellion isn’t an option if people don’t know it exists.”

Catherine pouted out her lip. These conspiracy rabbit holes were typically the closest we got to having an actual argument. “Fair point,” she finally said.

We kept scrolling.

“Hypnotizing DVD’s?” Catherine asked.

“Yup.”

“Illegal as Hell.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like that stops them.”

“Good point. Does Beouf use them?”

I hemmed and hawed for a second. “I don’t think so. Those are almost always cartoons, aren’t they?”

“As far as I know.”

I shook my head, feeling a little more than just relief at the thought that Beouf wasn’t a complete monster. “Then no. I’ve never heard her talk about cartoons. At least not the same exact ones that I have in my own class.”

Her hand reached up to my chin and maneuvered me so that I was staring into her eyes. Dark eyes. Sad eyes. Scared eyes. “If you ever hear them talk about cartoons, I want you to quit.”

This wasn’t a question. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“Promise me you’ll quit.”

I paused, wrestling with my own cognitive dissonance. “I promise, hon.” She gave me a peck on the lips.

“Good.”

We sat there again, in relative silence, arms draped over each other and laptop on our laps, scrolling through the rumors, the rants and the pleas for help.

Help! My plane did an unexpected layover, and Customs wants me to go to the airport nursery. Damn. Brace yourself, I guess. No replies. If you can’t say anything helpful…

Alone in Big city and seeking companionship. Looking to meet other Littles in public. Also no reply. Everybody smelled a trap there.

Do NOT go to the Cherub Arms Hotel! Wife and daughter missing for weeks! Noted. Thanks. Sorry for your loss.

Stole A’s phone! No longer continent! Safe place to hide? No clue. Not in the area.

I’m being naughty and took Mommy’s phone and ran away. Where can we play? Really? Screw you, Amazon. The screen name was even “Ima Widdle”. Ugh.

Product Warning: King Fisher Rattle generates pleasure stimulating frequency that only Littles can hear. Used for conditioning and mind dumbing. A bit far fetched, but not completely out of the realm of possibility, knowing Amazons.

We kept scrolling and other than the occasional “ugh” or “oh boy” or “oh no” it was quiet. We checked and sent out a few PM’s to far away friends to make sure they were still safe and not “adopted”. So far everyone was safe. Good.

 

It was about fifteen minutes till I’d need to go to sleep and the energy drink was fading fast when conversation catastrophe struck. “Littles from other dimensions,” Catherine read. “We are not alone.”

We read the entire rambling vine of links, messages, and conspiracy theories. There was some particularly twisted stuff. “As if.” I yawned.

“Makes sense, though.” Catherine stretched and set the laptop aside. “If you think about it.”

“You think that Amazons have interdimensional portal technology and are using it to abduct Littles from other dimensions?”

“Not literally,” Catherine said. “Just metaphorically, y’know?”

I climbed under the covers. “What metaphor?”

She joined me. “Amazons are invaders. It’s in their nature.”

“I thought I was the one that argued about Amazon nature,” I said, glibly.

Catherine gave me a light punch on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“Ow!” It didn’t really hurt. The sense of being admonished had shocked me more than the physical contact, and even then not so much. “No I don’t.” In the darkness I sensed Catherine tense up. “I’m not trying to be obtuse,” I said. “Explain what you mean.”

She breathed in. “You know how there’s Littles and Tweeners and Amazons?”

“Yeah?”