✅ My Sister's Problem

96. Day Trip

I had told Dad that I didn't want to look at the things that were kids. I was too big to look at the fun stuff, and I wanted to be super serious and learn something. I might not have worded it like that, but I knew now that it must have sounded just as silly to the adults in the room. If they'd ignored the silliness of a small child I would probably have had a whale of a time; they should have told me that learning was good for me, or something. But they had gone along with my demands, probably thinking that we would come back next year and I would either have grown out of my interest in the outer space strings, or I would have gotten bored with insisting that I was too old for fun. Somehow it hadn't happened, and I really wanted to see now what I had missed out on.

"Mommy, Mommy!" I muttered, giving myself over to the childish role properly now. I bounced in my seat, and even the way all the straps held me in place somehow made it feel more real; like I was an actual baby, and I needed these restraints to stop me falling out. I waved my finger in the direction of the doorway with the rainbows on the sign. But before I could beg to see the space exhibit beyond, I found a pacifier in my mouth.

"Aww, she's so excited," Lindy cooed, and as long as we were both laughing I saw nothing to complain about. Maybe I was supposed to pretend that I hated this, so that she would feel bad about putting me here. But I was just realising how much fun I'd missed out on in the past out of some misplaced desire to grow up sooner, and I was enjoying myself too much to be sad. "Do you want something, baby? It's a shame you don't know real words yet, so we don't know what you want. We'll just have to make all the choices for you."

I blushed at that, and wondered if the ropewalker would see how much I was glowing as he passed. But I didn't have the choice, that much was clear, and I couldn't mess things up for myself again. And having someone else choose where we were going seemed almost as fun as walking down a tightrope into outer space like the boy on a vaguely-remembered poster. However it went I was going to be a happy baby today.

Lindy wanted to see the factory first; how the factory made string now. The signs for the modern factory pointed outside again, across a huge courtyard where vehicles could carry pallets of baled cotton, twine, or whatever else they needed. We had to stay between two lines of cones to make sure we weren't in the way of any of the trucks, and I thought my teeth might be shaken out as Mum pushed the stroller briskly across the cobbled path. I couldn't talk through the shaking, but when I thought about it a bit more I realised that to a baby it would just be another new experience; and I let myself giggle.

The factory building looked pretty imposing. The nearest wall was just a brick slab twenty feet high, with a single door. But it was old brick, not concrete, and as I looked closer I realised that there were two different colours of brick there. This was the original building, which had once been a traditional ropeworks like the one we had just seen. It had been extended and enlarged over the years, but it was the heart of the business, before the museum that had grown up around it.

We'd been able to hear a dull rumble as we crossed the courtyard, but once we stepped through the door the sound was all around us. It was the kind of noise that might force you to lean closer and repeat yourself as you leaned closer; a roar that rhythmically went up and down in volume. It gave me the impression of a monster howling, or the scream of engines pushed to their limit, combined with the ticking inside a giant clock. And we still weren't face to face with the machine itself. Instead we saw a boxy room that might have been some kind of entranceway in the past, or a staff cafeteria. I didn't know if I had subconsciously remembered from our last visit, or it was just an obvious guess, but the first of eight coloured boards along the walls said that the workers would have been served lunch here – pies from a local shop were always on the menu – in the days before the plant was fully automated.

I laughed a little as I saw that, and then stretched out my arms, hoping Mum could see that I was ready for the next sign. They had big numbers in the corner, each one about a different part of the factory, beneath which there were exploded diagrams or other illustrations surrounded by text. The diagram for the old cafeteria, not surprisingly, had a picture of a dozen jolly workers eating pies, as well as a diagram of an old clock in one corner, and explanations of how it would punch time cards, as well as an explanation of the shift system. I looked back and forth between the diagram and the clock on the wall beside it, trying to take in all the details. The next panel seemed to be about the new, computerised system, and had a picture of two men in front of a control panel, looking down over the top of the giant machines.

The remainder of the boards were dotted every few metres along a set of metal steps, like the fire escapes we would see at the back of civic buildings. There was a line of people slowly proceeding up the steps; some stopping on the landings to read the boards, while others filed past with little interest in the text. There were children here as well, running around while their parents attempted to keep them under control. A part of me wished that I could be so wild; not caring about the museum so much as being in a new place. But right now I was wondering more if there was a way up to the factory that could be navigated by a stroller, or if they would have to release me to get up there.

"Oh, it looks like there's a lot of steps," Mum said, clearly thinking the same thing. "Do you think you're big enough to walk up the steps, Sally? But you have to hold onto both our hands and not run away. Can you promise that you'll be good if I unbuckle you? You can walk with us and look at all the pictures of the machines before we go and look at the real things. Would you like that?" I nodded energetically, and I was genuinely excited as I felt her start to unfasten all the stroller's straps.

"She wants to read the posters," Lindy said. "She doesn't know she's too little to read. Somebody needs a baby brain top up."

"Oh, that is true," Mum said thoughtfully. "You'll enjoy this more if you're feeling like a real little baby for a few minutes, won't you dear? Pee for Mommy, dear."

I wanted to say that it wasn't fair, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. All my big girl thoughts went away as I felt my diapie getting warm, and for just a couple of minutes I could feel like a baby again; so excited to see the machines, but knowing that I had to be good for my Mommy.