As Doris ran, her clothes became baggier, her height became shorter, and baby fat returned. But she was so caught up in her run that she didn’t notice any of these changes. She had slipped into the zone, and was only broken from her reverie when the treadmill stopped and began to beep loudly.
“Age incompatible with machine,” a mechanical voice said in a grating tone. Immediately, Doris felt herself being lifted into the air.
“Ooh, someone had fun!” the employee cooed at Doris. Doris stared at her silently. “But the treadmill isn’t safe once you reach two! Time to take an exercise break!” The employee began to walk, still carrying Doris.
“What you mean?” Doris asked. Her eyes widened at the infantile way she spoke.
“Sweetie, it’s not safe for someone your age to be on the treadmill! Luckily, we get a warning when someone accidentally stays on too long.”
“No, what-” Doris started. They arrived at a door with a sign on it reading “Daycare”. The employee opened the door.
“Chloe?” the employee called. A daycare worker, perky with blonde hair in a ponytail, came over. “Here’s a new attendee for you.”
“Normal or regressed?” Chloe asked, taking Doris.
“Regressed.”
“Got it,” Chloe said with a nod. The first employee left. “Well, time to put you in something that suits your new age.”
“No, wait, what are you-” Doris protested, squirming in Chloe’s arms. Chloe merely took something out of her pocket and popped it into Doris’ mouth. Doris suckled on it instinctively. She could feel herself calming down for some reason.
So relaxed by whatever had been put into her mouth, Doris didn’t put up any fight when Chloe laid her on a changing table. Chloe quickly and efficiently taped a diaper on, then dressed Doris in a white T-shirt and bright red overalls.
“There!” Chloe chirped. She picked Doris up and carried her to a full-length mirror. She held Doris up. “Don’t you look adorable!” Doris stared at the toddler being held up by Chloe. She gaped, the pacifier in her mouth falling out. “Oh, your dummy! Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty.” Doris could only stare at her reflection, that of a toddler in red overalls with a very obvious diaper bulge around her waist. Chloe popped another pacifier into her mouth.
“Hey, Chloe,” a voice said. Chloe turned. It was a teenage boy wearing a shirt the same color as Doris’ overalls. “Is she ready?”
“Yep.” Chloe handed Doris over. “Ricky is one of the workers who watches the regressed kiddos. He’ll be taking care of you now.” Ricky carried Doris, who was quickly getting sick of being carried everywhere, through a door and into a room with a few other toddlers in red outfits.
“I’ll set you down to play in a second,” Ricky informed Doris. He grabbed a barcode scanner and held it up to Doris’ necklace. It beeped. “All right, I’ve got you in the system.” He walked over to a nearby desk. A freshly printed laminated nametag sat by the computer. Ricky pinned the nametag to the front of Doris’ overalls. “All checked in!” He set her down on the ground. “Go ahead and play, Doris!”