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properties of the fort will, for the first time, become a horrible unknown. His relationship with the surrounding environment is already changing. When time dictates the baby’s arrival into their physical world, the dread will become much greater. Change is scheduled to arrive and there is no security measure Rollo can perform to deny it access.
    Ingrid is at the bureau, notebook open. Her eyes smile at the impending existence of what she sees. Circle within circle within circle within circle…

 
  6.
 
 
    When Rollo considers the introduction of a baby to their dynamic, the fear it invokes is new and uncomfortable. Life within the fort entails a necessary fear, which functions as an added security measure. All fear, until now, has been used to keep their world safe from whatever exists outside. It is fear Rollo uses to keep himself moving forward. Now he begins to comprehend the existence of an anxiety quite different to what he has always known. A hive within is awakened. In this simple request, Ingrid cannot be denied. There will be a baby. There has to be a baby. Rollo senses the death of the absence he shares with Ingrid, a death that threatens to reignite blame between the two. The alteration of any dynamic is the death of that dynamic. Rollo and Ingrid were fueled by a dynamic based on distance, but the baby is pulling the two closer together, unconcerned by what may result.
    In this development, Ingrid resides in the pit of Rollo’s stomach, churning his anxiety into thick butter. His role in the baby’s creation feels perfunctory. Just enough to satisfy the basic criteria in which the baby can be considered theirs rather than hers . The residual bewitchment of her hands has evaporated, yet he feels no more control over his agency. He moves against himself to satisfy her. In the task he has been given, he feels as though he is participating in his own end.
    He must select the wool. The child must be the result of their combined efforts. Rollo will set aside the best materials, materials intended for maintenance, and he will give them to Ingrid. With these materials Ingrid will build their child. It takes significant effort for Rollo to approach the task with integrity. He fools himself into believing inferior materials are the best so as not to dishonor the fort. The process is slow, exacting. Each selection is a potential trap diverting Rollo’s attention. All he can trust is pain. When a selection results in pain, he knows he has the best. He resents the child and resents his role in the creation of the child. He resents Ingrid for introducing the concept of the child. He resents Ingrid for her control over the process. The strength of his resentment resonates with shocking clarity. Immediate waves of guilt surround the wicked thoughts he is producing. The guilt pushes him further in a direction contrary to his desire. As resentment for the baby elevates, so does his commitment to the task of producing the baby. Thoughts of sabotage stoke guilt, which pulls him further away from agency. He becomes exactly what Ingrid needs him to be in response to not wanting to be what she wants.
     
    …
     
    The material stockpiles never seem enough. Each sits neatly according to type. Rollo will not allow for cross-contamination and should two different materials come into contact prior to their use, he has determined they must be destroyed. Each individual component is accorded this respect and subjected to a process that, to Rollo, is akin to sanctification. He grows troubled when he considers a baby constructed from such finery and wonders if perhaps a certain amount of imperfection is necessary. The qualities of any individual surely rest within the core of their imperfections. How can one be determined from the other without the impurity of idiosyncrasy? Could it be that perfection, in and of itself, is the ultimate failure? A place one should strive for, but never reach? Something beginning at the end can never