Later that night as we lay in bed I said, “You know what, Mack? I wish there were baby factories.”
“What? You mean like in Russia where they house a bunch of orphans?”
“No, I mean a real factory. Where you can go and choose the gender, skin color, eye color, hair texture… everything. Like an auto dealership. Then you’d find out what the backlog is and get a precise delivery date. It would make things so much easier.”
“Well they are making tremendous advances in cloning and the genetic sciences. I heard on NPR recently that they’re getting close to cloning a sheep in England.”
“A sheep? Who in the hell wants cloned sheep? What, K-mart can’t afford real wool any more so they’re going to offer the cheaper, cloned variety? Not as thick but half the price.”
“I’m just saying that if they start with sheep who knows where they’ll end up. I’m sure picking your baby’s physical traits off a menu will be possible in our lifetime, but I don’t get how that would help you now.”
“If we could have special ordered a baby from a factory, we could have avoided all the uncertainty and pain and suffering that trying to have a baby has caused us. We wouldn’t have to put our life on hold because we would know that in fifteen months our healthy factory baby would be ready for pick up. I think it’s a great idea.”
“I really think you need to start getting out more. You’re beginning to lose it.” He rolled over and left me to my pondering.