It was a few days later that I gave birth. A few annoying days. If that’s what it feels like to carry a child for even a few days, I don’t know how they manage to do it for nine whole months. The other girls all stared at me, and I didn’t blame them. I couldn’t explain how I’d been gone for just a couple of days and came back eight months pregnant, so I just didn’t try.

In the meanwhile, I examined the pump. It was more than just a straight bicycle pump. There was a knob on it with three settings: “air,” “size,” and “age.” It had been set to “air.” I wondered what “age” did. I considered trying it on some of the other girls, but couldn’t figure out how to ask them to stick the nozzle in their mouth so I didn’t bother.

When I gave birth, a set of twins slid right out: a boy and a girl, healthy and apparently normal in every way. But there was intelligence behind their infant eyes. I knew they were more than just the babies they appeared.

“I wonder…” I picked up the pump and set it to “age.”