A Whateley Academy story

A Brief Personal History of my Summer Mutation

by

Nagrij

 

Part 1

 

Genetics has always been as much art as science, ask anyone. From the moment those special proteins gravitate towards themselves, following a special recipe no mortal can as yet, read, any organism subject to the vagaries of such fate mutate. The truth is, not a single creature, plant, or even, yes, human...is the same as any other.

Nor are they the same as any other throughout all of history. There is always SOMETHING different from another; perhaps a peptide regarding proper growth in regard to eye rods is stunted due to a minor mutation caused by background radiation; resulting in an eye that might be a slightly different color than it would have been, and slightly less useful night vision than another person in the same family.

Or an Rna sequence could be blanked in a chromosome, causing the aspartate to be manufactured to a greater or lesser degree in the brain, and therefore providing a case for how two different people in the same environment since birth, think differently in the first place. Ack, I have a tendency to ramble now; I'll try to watch that, sorry.

My point was, genetics in particular and science in general make no distinction; we are all mutants. Great (like that champion fellow perhaps, or that guy that breathes fire in New York) or small (like you, having 'striking' eyes) the universe makes no distinction, nor value judgments; despite this, the universe is a cold and dangerous place, in which certain individuals have more of an edge in survival over those generally considered 'normal'.

In the interest of history, and with all due mental faculties bent toward impartiality, I will attempt to chronicle such general mutations as I have encountered, and my own in particular; the purpose of the tale to point out all the inconsistencies and fallacies inherent in the human condition, and to endeavor all mutants (for I reiterate, we are ALL mutants) to understand that we are all one people, with the same emotional basis and thought template as any other on this planet, and perhaps others.

* * * * *

Beginnings are tricky things… even now, I can't be sure when it began. I know when I first noticed it of course, but when it first began? What if it was percolating days or weeks before? What if, the first sign I noticed was merely the end of the cascade of changes that began innocently and painlessly days, weeks or months before? Could better detection change the outcomes of myself and so many others with the same problems? Bah! Again my attention wanders, and the focus of thought is diffused into another of many prisms, to scatter like light through many colors and variations. I REALLY have to watch that.

At any rate, the beginning I noticed was a simple stumble, hardly a big indicator of what was on the way. Just a simple stumble while running during a baseball game, after I hit an easy triple into left field. Not even enough to send me into the dirt, just enough to slow me a little and cause one of those 'what the hell?' moments, as it seemed as if I'd tripped on nothing at all. Not that I let it stop me of course. Sliding into home plate just to add a little insult to injury, I accepted all the high fives and fist bumps.

"Well done Myrc. We're in the playoffs now for sure!"

Yes, of course that's me, Myrcial; 5 ft 7 inches, 135 lbs of lanky muscular Scot/Irish American freight train, rolling over any and all competition. The name means mercy, and it's ironic, because I have absolutely none when someone tries to make fun of it. Being a 14 year old sports prodigy isn't always fun; I quickly check my phone and review my list of mental curses.

"Coach, can I miss the after game huddle? I'll be late if I don't hurry." Coach Reynolds, of course, grins, the sadist.

"Sure thing Myrc; tell Coach Howard hi from me."

With a wave I start my hike from the baseball diamond to the gym; since my freshman year started, I was enrolled in both the Paris public schools'(Go fighting weasels! Why weasels? no one knows.) baseball and basketball teams. In the matter of two short months, we'd gone from last in our division to near the top, and most of it, I'm proud to say, was due to me. However, it was a lot of work and practices. Today it meant another hour on the court before I could do all the homework I needed to get out of the way.

Now as any athlete, good or not, can tell you; that much constant practice and work gives you a wonderful idea on how your body works. How fast you can move, how high you can jump, how long you can run before shambling to a halt, gasping for air… all these are things an athlete, a true athlete, know. (For more on what is or isn't a true athlete, see bowling.) My work, my labor of love, was enough to tell me right away that I had a slight problem.

A difference in how I walked, that hadn't been there as early as a half hour prior. There was no pain, no injury that I could tell, and yet, an ever so slight limp, a slight roll starting in my right hip. Perhaps not even enough to be noticeable… and yet I noticed. With luck no one else would, I didn't need to be benched; I felt fine.

"Time for the second round already Myrc?"

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than Pamela Dale, about 5 foot 6 inches of sandy blonde blue eyed soft faced beauty with a come hither bed room voice, not that I noticed, no sir. She was also what passes for our head cheerleader. Of course she was practicing her tumbling in the grass, as always. She was as driven in her way as I was in mine.

"Yep, and how are you on this fine day Pam?" I asked as I blew past her.

"Pretty good, the fall breeze is always amazing, until of course a sweaty jock comes near."

I laughed as I went in, shaking my head. guilty as charged of course. It was still too hot to do anything but sweat outside. Oh well, it'd cool off soon. Into the empty locker room I went, taking a quick look in the mirror to see the flushed, not quite handsome, but far from horrid brown haired badass in the mirror. Sharp features, slightly hooked nose (I broke it in a fight, and it never did heal right) light brown hair covering my overlarge ears (my worst feature). Bout of vanity later, I was dressed in my basketball uniform of shorts and jersey with my baseball uniform stuffed into my book bag, dirtying my books where it belonged.

"Hey Coach H. So what'd I miss? Coach R sends his regards."

The ever portly ever grinning man turned to me and let loose one of his trademark laughs.

"Not much Myrc, just some shot practice. That will be most of our time, Shots and passes. Some people here need all the help they can get!" He winked at me.

"Yep that's me, my nickname should be slacker." I winked back.

Wasting no more time, I got to it. While I could pass and run with the best of them, I immediately noticed a drop to my shot… my arc was off by perhaps an inch. Not enough to miss a ton, but enough to throw the shot off. I just as easily traced the problem back to my hip, messing with my jump. Luckily enough my favorite coach didn't seem to notice, spending the time correcting the shooting of those less fortunate than me. A ball hurtled into my view from my left, one which I caught at the last second.

"Think fast!"

Ricky Tanner, arrogant jock cliche number one, (about my size, also brown haired, more muscular, and a bit better looking than myself) and also a good friend… when he's not winging basketballs at my face, that is.

"You OK Myrc? you're zoning out."

"Yeah I'm fine, just have some heavy thoughts… like how you can't play baseball."

"Pfft, baseball is for losers anyway; basketball is where it's at. Now shoot that rock or admit I'm better."

"That'll be the day." I laughed as I sank an easy three pointer.

As all good things, practice came to an end. After a quick shower, with the usual jokes, innuendo, and towel snapping, it was homeward bound for me. The day was late, the sky clear with a few of those white puffy clouds in it, the sun was shining, the day was almost perfect. If not for the fact that I couldn't seem to walk quite straight, I'd be enjoying myself immensely. But there it was, like a piece of broccoli in your teeth, or a pebble in your shoe. Sigh.

I crept through the door like a ninja, in a game as old as time. I made my way to the kitchen. And there she was, 5 ft 4 inches of classical aged beauty, Irish spitfire edition, eyes of jade, long hair the color of a moonless night, putting the finishing touches on a dinner of steak and potatoes, a Paige in the form of my 5 ft tall (don't tell me he wont be huge) 12 year old brother, cut from the same mold as myself (without the broken nose) and currently mashing said potatoes for easy consumption.

"Blargh!" I yelled, completing the game by making both my mother and brother jump a good foot in the air and scream in a most satisfying manner.

"Evening mom, dinner smells great."

"Myrc, I swear… wipe that stupid grin off your face before I say something we'll both regret. How was your practice and the game?"

Accepting the punch in the arm from my silent brother with another grin, I replied: "Oh, hit the game winning triple, qualifying us for the finals, and practice went well, Coach H didn't find anything to 'correct' (read yell loudly) me on."

"Good, good. How about that math test?" She half listened, spacing out. Sometimes I wish she'd care as much about my sports as my schoolwork. Maybe if I didn't suck so bad at it? Who knows?

"Well, I got a C."

I replied, hoping she wouldn't ask to see it, as I'd really gotten a C - ... not a lie, but not the whole truth either; both my parents would roast me alive if I lied to them. Thankfully, even though she looked at me cross-eyed for a minute, she didn't.

"O.K, schoolwork then mister, I'll call you for dinner. And Myrcial; no need to rush… take it slow and steady."

"O.k. mom, slow and steady." I replied, heading up to my sanctuary from the world. Once there I of course, rolled my eyes and sat my books down next to the desk.

I turned my computer on with my foot before I even sat down, waiting for the best program ever invented to load… Itunes. Many people were put off by one fact about me, not believing a jock such as myself could love music the way I did. Music, any form, as long as it was original, (none of that stupid pop or repetitive chest thumping rap crap, from classical to big band to death metal, I loved it all. Currently however, I was in the mood for some Cherry Popping Daddies, so I wasted no time bringing up that playlist. Yay, math time. Finally wondrous wondrous math time. polynomials and basic algebra for the loss.

"Myrc, dinner time!" The call knocked me out of my daze. Those stupid number letter combinations were making my head swim; I mean seriously, who gives a crap what X was? It was an X! Not a 4!… hey wait a min, was it 4? Nah couldn't be. I didn't even hear dad get home. Stupid homework.

"Coming mom!"

Dinner was excellent of course, talk was sparse (my parents did not believe in small talk at the table until after eating) and knowing looks were exchanged with disgusting regularity. Finally done and fed up with it all, I responded.

"The game went well, practice was fine, and math still sucks."

My dad, laid back as ever, raised an eyebrow and said nothing; then when mom was turned away watching Ian stick his tongue out at me, he winked. In return I gave a quick grin.

We had done this dance before, my dad and I.

"Want me to help clean up mom?"

"No, you go back to your schoolwork, Ian will help me clean up."

"Lame ass jock! Always let off the hook cause hes stupid!"

"Ian Micheal Campbell! Language!"

"It's OK mom, you can't expect too much of the geek, hes full of the dork side, twisted and nerdy." If death glares were actually lethal I'd be dead twice over. I love my family!

Taking that as my cue, I headed back upstairs for another round, this time it was black sabbath and English, both slightly kinder subjects than math. Oddly enough, the paper I had to write on Macbeth was half done, and Macbeth himself was giving up his secrets a little easier tonight when it happened. Several drops of blood fell from my nose to the textbook I was using. Cursing and grabbing a tissue from my desk, I blotted it, then moved to my nose as a small stream of blood poured from both nostrils… what the hell?

The headache and fatigue hit suddenly, like a hammer between the eyes. I looked at the clock; just after 9pm. A bit of an early bedtime, but I was definitely done for the night. I even half considered calling for mom or dad, after all, I'd had headaches before, but this was the first time I'd had both a headache and nosebleed. I wonder if my not healed right nose was acting up again, as it occasionally did. Bah, whatever, if it persists ill tell the 'rents, but no need to worry them over something minor just yet.

That thought was the last I had as my head hit the pillow.

* * * * *

"To sleep, perchance to dream" Shakespeare states, in some play or another. And boy, did I dream. Unusually vivid, vaguely terrifying dreams with subjects I've never before considered, such as planets and wormholes and diffuse temporal gravities; I didn't even know what that last bit was! Yet somehow in the dream I did, and knew it to be dangerous. In my dreams I wore glasses, and droned on about such dry subjects to those people present, none of whom I recognized, while in the background a barycentric dual star wobbled its way on an eternal trek to who knew where.

Of course the sight was breathtaking, even as my droning was causing a certain amount of glassy eyed yawnitis among those present. Even knowing it was a dream, my breath was taken away momentarily as the 2 dwarfs started inhaling each other in a cannibalistic frenzy; large streamers of gases spewing from their paths like multihued confetti as the stars themselves inverted. The sight was almost enough to make me not notice that my voice had been different; and those I was lecturing to (another discrepancy, as I don't really know enough about anything to lecture to anyone, excepting maybe baseball) towered over me like so many human giants.

But the weirdest part of the dream, was that I knew what would happen to the stars and the local galaxy… I knew it wasn't our galaxy, nor our stars, knew there was no life on any of the planets near, and knew what I was seeing; at the same time I knew nothing of the temporal or quantum mechanics involved.

I had no idea what my dream was all about, it was way over my head.

At any rate, when my alarm went of promptly at 6:45am, I awakened feeling refreshed and happy; weird dream or no. I still had a bit of homework to do, but not much, and the headache was nothing but a memory. There was no blood on my pillow, so my nose hadn't bled. The sun was shining through my window, I could smell pancakes and sausage downstairs, and all was right with the world. by 7 I was downstairs, showered dressed and with books open at the table, putting the finishing touches on my English paper. Of course the way I was stuffing myself with sausages was frowned upon, but nothing was said. Ian sat beside me, a book no one forced him to read in one hand, speared pancake in the other, silently whiling away the time till he was forced to go to school, like myself. I swear, such a geek sometimes; I loved him, but between the computers and books, he was bully fodder. At least he wasn't small or weak, while he preferred not to, he could defend himself. I shook my head, I always liked a good fight. Oh well, I had his back, like always.

This time It was my turn to do the dishes, but breakfast is always easy enough. The worst is always my dad's plate… he always wanted to use an entire bottle of syrup for his pancakes (yech!) and it always took a year to get the plate clean.

"So no practices today Myrc?"

"No dad, nothing but a little weight training, optional stuff. Can't practice too much or we'll all be sidelined."

I winced, that thought bringing up my balance issues from yesterday; Hope that crap was over with.

"Good point. So... eat enough? between you and Ian, I'm thinking I'll need a mortgage on the house to be able to pay for the food!"

I rolled my eyes, catching Ian doing the same. "Please, like we can keep up with you."

"Another good point.' mom chimed in, 'but heaven help us all, you might both be having growth spurts at the same time. Two Campbell men, hungry and growing, let loose upon the

grocer community!"

I watched amused as my father tried to act like Godzilla, stomping around the house… he could almost pull it off.

"Later family, time for the mind numbing school experience."

I ran out before my dad could start in on the Rodan impression; parents are more than a bit embarrassing at times.

I ran into Ricky dribbling a basketball down the street while walking to school; we both live somewhat close to school, and each other (a good pick up game was only a street away!).

"Hey man! Take a break, and tell me what you did for English. I was hoping, just this once, to find company in misery; he was almost as bad as I was.

"Screw that dude, tell me if you managed to score that new Avenged Sevenfold album; that first release sounds amazing."

"Heh; it's not new, it's a year old, and that's the third release from the album. But yeah I haven't burned you a copy yet; I was too busy with the stupid Macbeth paper Mrs. Holmes wanted; I'll do it later today. But… I do come bearing rumors! That rumorhasit guy stated that Avenged Sevenfold is almost done with their new album, and that it will be glorious."

The rumorhasit guy was of course, the internet, source of all rumors and craziness. I tried to stay out of the deep end of that pool; it had corrupted Ian.

"Niiiice, will you get me that one too? You know you're more up on the music scene than I am."

"Yeah yeah, soon as it comes out, I'll get it, you know me. Can't wait around or it'll get moldy. So anyway, English… Macbeth? what was your paper on?"

"You're that curious?' Ricky responded with a laugh, 'I'll have you know my paper was on how smokin’ hot Lady Macbeth had to be to get the dude to keep killing everyone he cared about."

"You can't be serious; Mrs. Holmes is going to fail you if you keep doing stuff like that you know."

"Hey I'll have you know it was well thought out. And if you're going to be a critic, what was yours on?"

"Mine was on how his psychological demons and impatience led to not only a disaster, but the worst form of wish fulfillment Macbeth could ever get. How Macbeth couldn't stop his own descent into madness because he couldn’t take a step back and recognize the form his insanity took."

"...Whoa man, deep...you win, you'll get an A for sure this time!"

I blinked. yeah I would, wouldn't I?

The first class of the day was science, otherwise known as physics 101 and a good way to set the tone for the sleep fest that was next class, or algebra 101. I shared both classes with Ricky and a few others from the team I wasn't as close to; as well as Ricky's arch nemesis and resident school villain, Gordo.

Now while I have no problem with Gordon Thompson (nicknamed 'flash' because of some obscure movie or other, from what I understand. He was actually a tight end known for being a bulldozer on the field… nearly 200 lbs of corn fed blonde haired blue eyed Aryan poster child, running over all opposition), and I’m perfectly willing to live and let live, due to Ricky's loathing of football players in general and Gordon in particular for some middle school slight that I choose not to remember, we got into the occasional fight or two. In fact, it was Gordo who broke my nose… twice. I did not hold this against him, but Ricky oddly enough, despite getting me into that fight in the first place, did. He had a long list of things to hate Gordo for… I saw it once.

"Hey fatass, move, you’re hogging up all the air." Smooth, Ricky. I will state again for the record, there is absolutely no evidence of fat on Gordo.

"Gordon, how are you today?”

Civility, to hopefully stop this from getting out of hand; almost no chance, with Ricky walking right up to Gordon (who was actually out of the way, at the lab table near the wall) and trying to pick a fight. But stranger things have happened.

"Pretty good Pansy, want to get dicky out of here before I destroy him?" Well, there went that plan. Almost guaranteed to have fireworks later in the day now.

"Just leaving, Gordo, need to inform the zoo about the escaped gorilla that made it's way to science class. Later."

Once we were out of range, I let Ricky (who was, oddly enough, my lab partner… go figure)have it:

"What the hell, man, cant you put that feud on a slow boil or something? Now hes going to make trouble for us by the end of the day, you know it."

"Bah, let him try, I'll kick his ass."

"Except last time he almost had you dead till I helped… and it took us both to put him down,"

"Then it's a good thing there are two of us, huh?"

My grin matched his: "Whatever… just don't see why you have to antagonize him so much; seriously, what did he do to you that was that bad?"

"You want to see the list again?"

"Oh heck no."

Mr. Welch walked into class and gave us both the hairy eye, probably more than used to our antics by now.

"Mr Tanner, Mr Campbell, would you two like some alone time to discuss your issues? Like say, after class in detention?"

"No thank you sir, we're good."

"So I can start class now?"

"Sure thing, Sir."

"Thank you. So today class, it's time to start a week long project… I want kites made of homemade materials, no store bought items except the string, which I will provide. If it flies, you get an A; if not you fail. Time to learn about how birds, bats, and planes defy gravity, as stated on pages 111 through 154 in our texts."

After a hearty class of Reading and passing notes filled with jokes to each other, and of course as little real work as we could get away with, it was time for that boring hell known as math. It was located in the classroom just down the hall, which made it fairly convenient to get to, and if you planned right, you didn't even need to go to your locker after physics.

Luckily, my desk for this hell was clear in the back, where our beloved Mr. Mullins of the droning voice couldn't see me sleep unless he actually wanted to, which was a rare occurrence. Unfortunately, Ricky was halfway across the classroom, and Pam was a few chairs down. I was stuck next to a guy known as Rolph.

Now Ralph was a good guy. He just happened to be a mutant. He was pretty obviously one, having orange dayglo hair and being just a bit stronger than us normal guys; but judging by the fact that he was still here and not out playing super hero or villain, or not taken by the gestapo loving mutant commission office (MCO for short), he was doubly out of luck; a mutant, but not one with powers, he got the best of mutant hatred and none of the benefits being a mutant could offer. I knew him before the change, as we both grew up here, before and after.

He was an OK guy, but a little bitter since his change, and I didn't blame him. I always made a point not to mention his hair (the reason for his new nickname) and call him by name. He had it bad enough as it was.

"hey Ralph, what'd you have down for question 6?"

"Keep it down,' he said, eyes ahead on our tormentor. 'I had 4. Why?"

Sonofa… if Ralph said it, it was likely true; he wasn't top of the class, but he wasn't far from it.

"It really was 4 then? weird. I got it right."

He glanced at me, then turned and looked, really looked. "Yeah,' he replied in a weird tone of voice, ' you got it right."

That… was plain creepy. After giving him a return 'wth?' look, I started paying attention to Mr. Mullins droning while graphing some polynomials. X = 2, X = -3, etc, etc. Boring.

"Dude, wake up. seriously."

"Huh? Oh, thanks Ralph. I owe you one." Again with that look of his.

"No problem man, just try not to fall asleep in class."

Oh well, off to the next trip into dreamland, Geography, where we learn of places that either won't exist in a week, or shouldn't exist at all. Wheeeeee. While dropping off my books, I took my usual furtive glance around the zoo/prison… nothing too dangerous in sight (like one blond gorilla). Lots of bright plumage and petting at this zoo… oh well, on to learning about France. I wonder if Mrs. Carson would just let me be 'sick'? I mean, it's France!

She didn't go for it.

Fourth class, my favorite, though one I don't share with too many of my friends...gym. Coach Howard was in charge of my hour of gym, and he usually just let me shoot hoops - which might explain why my shot percentage is as good as it is (57%) in our games. It's not practice… really! Just shooting.

"Hey Myrc, up for a game of horse? Coach already said OK."

"Sure Bernie, just let me warm up a bit."

Bernard 'monty' McGowan, my basketball teams power forward; I didn't hate him, but didn't exactly like him either, he was a bit of a general hating jerk; Muslims, Arabs, mutants, you name it, he hated. apparently not the Irish though. Too bad there were no rules about being a jerk on the team, but I'd been 'ordered' to get along with him, so I would.

Several games of horse later (what can I say? It was fun!) with my awesome self winning all but once, showers were hit. Ralph walked in to to change; being a mutant he wasn't allowed to compete in sports, so he usually just picked something solo to do; today his choice was to run around the track, searching for the elusive 4 minute mile. A decision I can agree with, if I could have gotten away with it...it was a nice day. But, as always and with a saddening regularity (I swear you could set your Ipod by it!) the words started.

"Hey rolph, quick put a bag over that hair, my breakfast is coming up!" Bernard shouted, shoving Ralph into a shower stall door. Ralph just looked at the stall, saw it was empty, and went in to shower. Even if he didn't object, that didn't sit well with me; words were one thing, physical stuff another.

"What the hell man… do that again, and we will have a nice long private discussion. Get me?"

He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "You like that creep?"

"I like tolerance, and you staying on the team. Make no mistake, I won't start any fight. But I will end one, every single time."

I really hoped sometimes, that most teens weren't like I'd been seeing since starting high school; it was beginning to test my faith in human nature. Nothing but judgmental hypercritical crap, with round pegs getting hammered into square holes till they fit… I really hope that it gets better out of high school, at least. I'd already fought several rumors regarding myself, not the least of which was that supposedly I was gay. (I wasn't of course, just a closet romantic.) The best way to fight rumors of course, is to ignore them when able, and bury fools who tried to tease you over it, hence my 'end all fights' creed.

"OK man, relax. It's chill." He turned to Ralph, uttered a completely insincere apology and walked out, shooting me a glance on his way out the door. I waited till he left, shot Ralph a victory sign as I walked by. He in return gave me that stare again. Creepy. Speaking of gay, maybe he was… meh whatever, no business of mine, after all he can look, but not touch. If anyone only Pamela or Chrissy get this sexy package! Well, maybe Monica… but first lunchtime! Feeding time at the zoo.

First time I've actually been hungry for cafeteria food. I swear, this strange stuff that I could swear was growing, or moving, or worse… never looked so good. So grabbing my share of it, I quickly settled to my usual table. I was last to join as always; Ricky, Bill, Rich… pretty much the entire basketball team was here, with the baseball team right next to our table, and cheerleaders and assorted other popular types on the other side. Yes, I was one of the 'in crowd', whatever that meant.

"So mystery meat that looks kind of like chicken nuggets, green crap that might be the so called 'vegetable medley' and mashed potatoes. 5 bucks says I don't barf it up."

"I'd take that bet, but I feel you're suckering me."

"Oh I am, Rich. Stomach of cast iron! I only fear corrosion."

"Corro-wha?"

"Corrosion! otherwise known as rust."

"You can eat that crap man? I think it moved."

"Unless you want to trade your lunch of the inevitable pbj Ricky, yes, I do intend to eat this crap. Pretty hungry today."

"So how was gym? Still pissed we aren't together for that, I have to deal with some upper class-geeks and Gordo, and the only thing they ever want to do is play dodge ball."

"Heh. It was OK, till Monty stepped out of line, where is that… oh. he's hiding over there."

"What did he do now?" Bill chimed in. He fancied himself our on court team leader (which was ironic, cause no one really listened to him on the court, or at least I didn't).

"Oh, he was just harassing Ralph, which is stupid, cause Ralph is pretty tough. Pissing him off is like asking Gordo to a dance or three." Ricky glared at me a second, then grinned.

"And I bet you just had to step in, right?"

"Yeah you know me, always looking for a reason with some people." He snickered.

Turning, I addressed the baseball team. "So, first game of the rest of our winning season is tomorrow! You guys up for it?"

Amidst assorted cheers, I caught sight of Gordon, leading the football team like so many baby ducks to their table by the window. I waved, and he scowled. Damn, still angry about this morning I guess. Catching his eye again, I shrugged. Hurray for non verbal communication! He nodded, message received. Eating, I let the conversation flow around me, not taking part. I finished just as the bell sounded (did I mention how much I hate that noise yet? If not, consider it mentioned). Almost done with the day, only two more hours in hell, then a bit after in purgatory. And this hour was the hour I do most of my homework, so I don't have to later. Study Hall, win win for me.

The zookeeper for our study hall was Mr. Mullins, of the droning voice and boring numbers. This situation did make it easier to get a hold of him for math help, but seeing as how he couldn't explain anything at all, it was a double edged sword at best. Besides, only the truly evil teachers assigned homework on Fridays anyway. So his was the text I opened, ready for more polynomial action to work it's sleeping magic.

Except something was wrong. Very wrong. Instead of seeing the numbers crawl across the page in their usual slow march… they danced. They danced, spun, skipped, cavorted, flying across the page with reckless abandon, whispering their universal constant secrets to me. There was something graceful and timeless in their movements as they interacted with each other.

I shook my head, that couldn't be right! Numbers couldn't be cool, or make perfect sense, I couldn't have… finished reading the textbook, cover to cover? I looked again in disbelief. In 40 minutes I had done my homework for algebra, then proceeded to read my textbook… all of it. Like a daydream, I had only the fuzziest memory of what it said… but I did remember it, might even remember it all. And there, between pages 64 and 71, were several drops, almost a small pool, of drying blood soaking into the pages. As if I hadn't even felt the nose bleed and simply read on in a haze. Which come to think of it, I had.

What. The. Hell.

I was losing my mind somehow.

The bell ringing broke me from some very unpleasant thoughts. Last class then out, Then I'd get some help for this, and hopefully not get committed for being crazy or something. Of course, I forgot my English text, then had to run to get it before the bell rang. As I was running, I noticed the limp I'd had the day before was more pronounced now, I almost swayed as I moved! Weird, and still no pain. Yet… another… something. I don't know, had a thought and lost it… hate when that happens. Oh well, at least I'm not late for English. And my paper might get an A! An almost unprecedented event.

It didn't take long for me to gain some notice from Mrs. Holmes; mainly due to the fact that I actually participated in class. Macbeth is actually a fascinating character once you think about it; such an honorable man led to an ignoble end from his own ambition, woven into a trap of evil of his own making. She seemed impressed. Told me I was wrong, but seemed impressed all the same. But like a dream almost, it ended, and it was time to collect Ricky and head to the weight room for some lifting.

Good jocks, regardless of the sport they play, always lift a little. It adds strength and stamina, and done right, won't decrease speed or agility. The key is to work the right muscle groups. for basketball and baseball both. I needed arm strength, which was why I was focusing on my arms and shoulders today, with Ricky as my spotter. Then we would trade off. A light workout, twice a week, once for arms and shoulders and second for legs, had done wonders for me since I started this last summer. So back into the gym clothes and away we went. Of course, the weight room at school was also the domain of the football team.

The trick to surviving in a zoo, or a prison for that matter, is simple; never smell of fear.

"So ready to help me break 120 today?"

"Sure,' Ricky replied. "You ready to help me break 140 today?" I rolled my eyes.

"If you do that, you're going to need a different spotter. Should I call for Gordon?"

That earned a punch in the arm, and rightly so. The expected thing started as soon as we walked past the gym into the weight room.

"So, you two decided to show up here, huh? Sure are brave."

"Gordon, please give it a rest; we aren't here for you."

"Yeah Gordo, just go away and play with your knee pads or something." Oh hell, tell me he did not just say that. Judging by Gordon's red face, he had. Well, here we go...

"Flash! get out here, Coach Reynolds says scrimmage in 10!"

"Ok Coach H, just leaving."

I felt cheated. I mean sure, we picked this time and day mainly to avoid Gordon, but we had a good fight brewing there!

"You two going to be OK in here? need any help?"

"No sir, we got it, thanks."

"Ok, yell if you need anything. And Ricky… you shouldn't bait the bear, son."

"Yes coach H, sorry coach H."

Coach Howard looked at us both before sighing and leaving the room. I kind of understood how he felt, but at the same time, that was a good fight we had brewing! Soon the happy thoughts of a good scrap were sidelined by something else though. As Ricky was setting up the cd player (inspirational music is a MUST) I set the weight and experimented.

"Ricky, double check this for me." He looked at me oddly.

"It's right man, 110. Having trouble?"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, I just wasn't set right I guess. And yes, I know I'm supposed to wait for you; since when has that ever stopped me, wise guy?"

"It's OK man, you can cuss, it's just us here."

"You know I don't like to do that," I set myself correctly on the bench and gave them a good shove. 'Though I might have to… did Gordo mess with the weights?"

"Move, let me try."

He lifted it easily, no strain on his face at all. What the crap was going on? I've been able to lift 110 for months with no real problem; I thought I was ready to try 120 today.

"I don't know man, if anything it feels light. Seems fine. Try again?"

"Darn right I'm trying again, showoff!"

I once again positioned myself under the bar, make absolutely sure I was set correctly and… nothing. I couldn't even budge it.

"Okay, I'm confused."

"Hold on a sec man, let me try something; just walk over there a minute; no peeking."

"Whatever." I went where directed and once I was sure he wasn’t looking, checked my arm; did my biceps seem smaller...?

"OK man, try this."

I went back to the bar, positioned, and tried. This time with effort I was able to get the weights off the bench and press them, with effort. It was pretty obvious what he'd done.

"How light did you make it?"

"70 pounds."

"70...!' I put the bar back, and began some of the best curses in Gaelic that I knew. 'what the hell is going on here? I was at 110 just last week!"

"You feel OK man?"

"Yeah that's the odd thing, I feel fine. No pain, no feeling of something torn, not feeling sick."

"Well I think it's safe to say something is wrong, and you should see a doctor pronto."

"Yeah, safe to say I can't spot you anymore; I'll see if the 'rents can get me in to see Dr. Halleck."

"Sure you'd rather not just go to Logan? I mean Dr. Halleck is just a small town G.P. when you get down to it, used as a sports doc or no."

"Who would know more about some type of sports related injury? Dr. Halleck or some fresh college grad?"

"Good point, So you're sure it's sports related?"

"No, but what else could it be? If it was a disease pretty sure I wouldn’t be suffering alone. Ah screw it, I'll just wear the gym clothes home; they need washed anyway."

"Dang you’re full of good ideas today, why waste the time, right?"

"Right."

We split up with one block to go, the friendly banter almost driving the whole weight problem from my mind. Almost.

"Hi mom!"

"Hi Myrc, how was school?"

"Good except I think I'm sick or something. I couldn't lift today for some reason."

"Pulled muscles?"

"Maybe, but I kinda doubt it, not feeling any pain."

"OK.' She turned from dinner (a rather tasty looking lasagna)to look at me. 'Dr. Halleck?"

"Yes please."

"Consider it done. Monday is likely the earliest he will be able to work you in; you OK to play tomorrow?"

"Quit with the googly eyes mom, I feel fine! this is more to figure out if my arms are going to fall off or something. And unless that happens tomorrow, I'm playing."

She looked at me a bit oddly but relented; "As long as you don't strain yourself fine… but any hints of injury and I'm pulling the plug."

"Done. need help with dinner?"

"No, you need to do your schoolwork. Go."

Thus banished, I retreated to my room, and brought out my books. Hmm, that was odd, my math homework was finished. Must have done it in study hall. Score! Meant the only thing I had to do was read a chapter in geography, all weekend. Some people double check their work; they are called wusses. Hmm, if I do it now, I won't have to look at a book all weekend!

Dinner was a slightly strained affair, I'm guessing mom told dad that I might be sick, and dad didn't want to jinx it; he didn't say anything, but spent his time staring at me. by the time dinner was over I'd had enough.

"I'm fine dad, really."

"Homework mister, and after that take it easy. Don't leave the house, and call if you need me."

"OK mom, sheesh… not a baby anymore.' She pointed. 'Yeah yeah, I'm going, I'm going. Guess Ian gets dinner dishes again."

He glared death at me; I'd no doubt interrupted his halo 2 time or whatever.

Once back in my room and relatively safe from death glares, I realized something; I'd read the entire Geography chapter already. Shrugging, I figured it was therefore time to follow mom's last order and "take it easy". Unused to having time on my hands, I decided to simply search the web, looking at stupid stuff like cat pictures or silly videos. The first thing I hit upon was some YouTube video with some weird robot…

Sidestory - Arnee's adventure.

ARNEE (Autonomic Robotic Nanotechnology Experimental Engine) powered up from sleep mode at 7:46:23 am local time on Friday, January 1st, 1999 according to it's internal chronometer. Immediately according to programming, it ran its diagnostic checklist and checked its solar cells. All systems reported green, and the solar cells were fully saturated with morning sunlight. Next order

was to scan it's surroundings. So it did, noting it was outside its primary users (I.E. masters' window, on the roof of 118 North Cedar, Paris, in Paris county. Running a short shakedown of its legs, it then proceeded to walk carefully to the edge of the roof while pirating a quick internet connection through WIFI. It downloaded a local aerial view through Mapsearch, finding that while there were no primary matches to locations it had been programmed to seek out present, there was a suitable secondary location only 3.8214 miles from its' current position.

A large hook suitable for Sword-fishing popped from its housing in ARNEE's posterior, attached to a spool of fishing line designated for similar use. Still devoting most computation cycles to planning its route, it devoted exactly 4 cycles per second to tamping the hook into the rough surface of the roof tile with a posterior slam (it sat down on it) then tested the hook's dig and the line itself with a tug. Once it was sure the line was secure it jumped, using a hidden razor next to the spool in order to cut it precisely 5.184 feet down, as calculated (so as not to leave a trail readily visible to most humans, as per directive 8.

Its' camera lens (the remains of a cheap digital camera) and infrared sensor (from a video camera) scanned the world around it for threats, absently (a mere 2 cycles per second) cataloging the material rich environment it had been made to create in. the grass did not interest it at all except as a potential obstacle or camouflage, and was dismissed. The wooden fence however, was an immediate obstacle flag. The map suggested… there! to the right, a break in the wall called a 'gate', open, leading to a 'street'. Carefully scanning for humans and threats, once again per directive 8, ARNEE made its way out to the sidewalk. Finding the even surface to it's liking, it deployed RC car wheels and set speed at a careful 14kph (courtesy of directive 6).

Visual scans did not reveal many humans out at this time, and those that were were behind metal shapes identified as 'cars' and 'trucks'. A possible source for the supplies ARNEE was directed to find, but mobile and too spread out to be of immediate use. Not having been programmed to avoid any other life form, exactly, pending threat assessment, ARNEE did not, leaving a trail of hissing cats, barking dogs, and spooked squirrels in its' wake as it spun and maneuvered with the precise grace of a racing champion… at least till it met Rex.

Rex was the first unchained dog ARNEE had met, and he stepped in ARNEE's path, a large Rottweiler concerned about the strange thing invading his turf. ARNEE, noting the size, formidable natural weapons, and musculature, decided Rex was a potential threat and at a mere 3 feet away initiated subroutine 1 of directive 8; avoidance.

Displaying more of that amazing control that would make a car proud, ARNEE promptly stopped on a dime (literally… one was there, it noted), executed a straight 90 degree turn to the right into the road, and once again started forward momentum, cycling speed up to 30 kph, or half throttle, it spun on its

axis while keeping forward momentum, to scan behind it.

Rex was of course, following, thinking ARNEE would make either a nice treat, or play partner. Thus began the first real incident in AI/dog relations. It did not take long for the sounds of panting to come into auditory sensor range. Deciding that 30 kph was not fast enough, and based on data accumulated decided it had 122.4 yards before the predator caught up; ARNEE came to the conclusion to tax its motors and nudged his speed up to 45 kph, resetting scan frequency to avoid any accidents with other moving objects and rejecting the idea of stealth entirely, but keeping to the road in order to further discourage pursuit.

Motorists that morning were treated to the sight of a small powder blue blur, whirring around, under, in some cases jumping on top of their vehicles like a demented figure skater on speed being chased by a large silent rottweiler (Rex had long since given up barking in favor of breathing). The foreign object left a vague spider like impression on the shocked populace, and then in the next second it was gone.

Poor Rex was not overjoyed; He did not have the mobility to skate around the cars, and so lost sight of his new playmate rather quickly. ARNEE on the hand, beeped victory as it skated on. Reconfirming directive 8, he angled off the road into a convenient set of hydrangea bushes. Reconfirming directive 6 brought it's dwindling power reserves to attention; luckily it was 22.438 minutes ahead of schedule in its assignment, not counting the estimated 3 hours given to locating a suitable location for itself.

This meant of course, that directive 9 could be applied, and ARNEE wasted no time scanning a suitable location to hide and deploy it's solar cells. Luckily no one saw the rose bush in front of the Jones outlandishly over manicured home magically grow a solar cell array. ARNEE estimated it needed a charge time of roughly 4.23 hours of charging to hit full capacity, but only 42.18 minutes to re-reach the point where reserves would be acceptable. It decided on the latter option, as it knew the later the time, the more likely the chance of discovery. It had been told so by its primary user, during its mission briefing.

Luckily for the canny explorer, none came to disturb its' sleep mode power gathering. Thus at exactly 42.18 minutes later ARNEE chirped awake, took stock again, and once again saw all indicators in the green. Being even more cautious this time, ARNEE peeked around every corner before sprinting from cover to cover.

A very slow 19.23 minutes later ARNEE was outside his destination with no further mishaps en route. The aptly named Paris junkyard, complete with a mini Eiffel tower made out of rusted iron girders. ARNEE might have been surprised that it shared a certain lack of appreciation for the sight; considered an eyesore by the populace at large, all ARNEE saw was a waste of resources.

Unfortunately, to properly use those resources ARNEE had to make it past the rather large and sturdy chain link fence. Motoring around and scanning the obstacle, It detected no convenient holes. Lacking the necessary tools to dig ARNEE decided that even though that was the easier option, it would have to cut its way through. Choosing an area of high molecular degradation due to age, which also happened to be rather far from the gate and therefore less visible. ARNEE deployed its tiny laser, originally from an old toy and juiced with a small argon chamber to give it the necessary cutting power. A few small cuts and the laser was expended, but the job was complete and ARNEE squeezed through the oblong hole it created, silently creeping on its legs with wheels retracted, as the terrain was unsuitable.

ARNEE used a combination of directive 8 and 11 to determine the next move. He headed for a nearby rusted hulk of a semi, hiding under it for a moment, sending furtive scans in all directions. After a long moment in which tumbleweeds could drift, had they been so inclined, ARNEE used the left front wheel rim to climb into the engine block.

Finding the near claustrophobic space filled with metal, rubber, plastics, and other wonderful materials, ARNEE settled in to begin phase 2.

* * * * *

This time, I woke to what appeared to be a darkened airplane hangar or warehouse, some large building that I couldn't see the walls of. Inhabited by many shadows, all with yellow hardhats on top of their silhouettes. Oh, I'm dreaming again. Off in the distance, the shadows were constructing something; they looked to be taking large boxes from one tarped… building? It looked tall enough… and carrying the items to another cloaked thing and plugging them in or stacking them. I watched for a moment, amused. I have been having the weirdest dreams lately....

"Hey you! Yeah, you!" A female silhouette with a dark red hard hat walked up to me; I couldn't tell anything else other than her gender, and that she was about my size, just a bit smaller once she got close enough. She spoke in an over the top 'joisey' accent that couldn't be real, and wasn't, of course.

"You the boss?' She asked loudly, and I got the distinct impression of a gimlet stare. 'Yeah that's you, you're the client. Well come on, come on, I may got to give you the tour, but I don't got to take all day at it."

Still a bit bemused, I followed her as she led the way closer to the tall shapes. She led the way to a table just in front of them, pointing to a set of architects' blueprints laying on the carpenters' table. Depicted on the blueprints were two forms, also silhouettes. One tall, one small with curves like my weird foreman...? Foreperson? Forething?

"So here we are, as you can see we've had to do some on site modifications to make our deadline and keep our budget. All OSHA certified, of course, completely safe! Absolutely. The power plant is in,' She pointed to the smaller figures' head. 'and showing almost 40% capacity already. That's good. On the other hand, the bundles here aren't fully moved yet. We're a bit behind on those." She was pointing at the larger figures' arms and legs.

That got my attention.

"You have questions? One second; hey, you! dummy!' she pointed at on of the workers. 'Not that one, the other one! you don't pull the right one, he feels all the pain in the lower right quadrant! You want him sidelined for the big game?!?"

The worker, which somehow managed to look sheepish despite having no face, went back to pulling out a box to the right of the one he was pulling out before. The forething turned back to me.

"Don't worry, they aren't all as stupid as this mook; we have you covered. So, your questions?"

"What is going on here, exactly?"

She cocked her head. "Really? You don't know? Why renovations, of course, got the plans from the chief architect itself! Got to follow them, bad things'll happen if we don't. It's OK though, don't worry, it knows what it's doing… mostly."

"Why does this fail to reassure me? OK, I'll bite, what does the finished product look like?"

"Ah, a great question; the answer is, no one knows, not even the chief architect. It won't look bad though, I've seen the plans!" She gestured to the table behind her. As soon as I was distracted looking that way she muttered something.

"What was that?"

"I said, that there might be a few minor performance glitches. You have good ears."

"What kind of performance issues?" She put her hands behind her back and whistled in a classic pose that spoke of a child getting her hand caught in a cookie jar.

"Don't worry, don't worry! Me and the boys already worked out a good fix for most of it, and OSHA certified, just like I promised! we're good like that, and after all, the power plant is nearing 40% capacity! That's really really good, it ensures our fix will work Well… mostly. One second: You!, Yeah you, sweep this trash up! These bone fragments are everywhere, and a hazard! Someone could trip! OK, you were saying?"

"I think I need to talk to this chief architect of yours; know where 'it' is?"

"It's around; you sure you want to talk to it? it's a really unreasonable sort of thing."

"Yeah I'm sure; I'd rather avoid any performance issues if I could."

"OK, well don't say I didn't warn ya; just look behind you."

Like a moron, I looked, and there it was, the largest blue and pink Watson and Crick double helix ever. But alive, as if Godzilla were a living tentacled mass of D.N.A. And on top of this squirming cyclopean mass… a huge maw with shardlike teeth. My 'foreperson' and I shared a long look before she spoke.

"What? I didn't make it that way."

Then of course it grabbed me and started to pull, hauling me towards it's stupid looking mouth. Panic only barely begins to describe what I felt that moment.

"Myrc, look at me! Focus!' All trace of her ridiculous accent was gone as I struggled, in its place was a slightly harried but soothing tone one might use on colicky children. 'you can't stop it, neither of us can… but it doesn't have to be bad; I promise you, it can all work out! so just calm down, relax, and take each day as it comes, OK? Please? Can you..."

Then the maw swallowed me whole, and I knew no more.

Till I woke up of course, an unreleased scream on my lips and the remains of panic in my heart. Glad I held it in; screaming at the top of my lungs would have been pretty embarrassing. It was… morning? The sunlight shining through my window certainly seemed to announce that with finality. Last I remember it was just after dinner, and I was messing around on my computer… but my computer was powered down and all my books were stowed. I was out of my gym clothes and in pajamas, and the only thing I remember about the intervening time was a strangely compelling dream which was even now fading. Something about New Jersey… heck, no wonder it was a nightmare!

So, almost nine, the wonderful smell of homemade waffles in the air, and only a few wispy clouds on game day. Not bad at all. Unfortunately, I ruined it by moving. My limp had settled itself, I noticed right away… by one hip deciding the other had the right idea; now both were acting the same, forcing me to swing my hips to walk at all.

Moving to the bathroom was another mistake, as one look in the mirror convinced me my nose had shrunk… but at least it no longer looked broken. Very straight, very small, with one of those little upturns at the end. Something else was wrong with my face, but I couldn't pin it down. At least I still looked mostly like myself. After a quick awkward shower where I stared anywhere but down at myself while I soaped up and rinsed off (and hoped this wouldn't become a trend) And I was out, where I noticed the third and fourth major difference.

Toweling off actually hurt. And not a little hurt either, but a nice solid chafing that throbbed. Secondly my uniform, my beloved uniform, no longer fit. I could barely pull the pants over my apparently now huge butt, and the cuffs were now too long. The shirt mostly fit, but of course it itched terribly all over my torso, and the sleeves had too much length. Just perfect… I was losing size too, somehow, yet getting fatter? I stepped on mom's scale (a leftover from her diet days, when she had us loving kids and

dieted to lose excess weight) and I weighed in at 120 pounds. Again… what the hell? That was a loss of around fifteen pounds, I was sure.

Even the faded dirt and grass stains were in the wrong places… let's see, about an inch here, and maybe 2 inches there, and the shirt seemed longer… Reviewing my cussing lessons in my head again, I decided that de nile was more than a river in Egypt, and if I didn't see it yet, no one else would. A perfect way to deal with the fact that I was becoming a large carnivorous dna worm thing, at least for today.

Thus bolstered, I walked bold as brass downstairs.

"Morning mom!" Great, another shock, though this one was more mild and less mental health threatening; my voice, never the strongest under the best of circumstances, barely responded at all, as a rather wispy whisper. Odd, out of all the things happening today, my throat felt the least treacherous. Stupid body, turning into a mutant worm. Stupid me, for thinking up the mutant worm thing… where had that even come from?!?

"How are you honey? You OK? You look… different. And awful. I think a visit to the E.R. might be in your near future."

"Honestly I feel fine. I think I know what's wrong with me, and I don't think it's anything that the E.R can help."

And just like that, she was in my face, concern etching lines on her own, making her look much older in an instant.

"What do you think it is?"

"Are dad and Ian up? I don't want to have to say this twice. I don't think there is any cause for your alarm though; I don't think its any life threatening disease or anything."

In a way, it was kind of worse.

"what's a disease?" Dad asked, walking in from the garage, Ian in tow.

"Oh,' I replied while snagging a plate and piling it full of waffles. 'I think I'm a mutant with G.S.D., and I'm busy changing at the moment."

"..."

Great, I had them speechless. then all at once, the dam broke.

"Cool! Can you do anything amazing yet?" Ian.

"Are you sure?" Mom.

"Well, you do look a mite… different.” Dad.

"Different? he looks like he shrunk!" Thank you, Ian.

I held up a hand. "It's kind of easy to explain why I think I'm a mutant, but it all boils down to what Ian said; what other kind of body problem leads to a loss of height in just a few days? If you'll all look, its pretty obvious." And it was… to prove it, I moved next to my mother; we were staring each other in the eyes, something that was impossible less than a week before.

"Yes I see it now… and you look a mite more like your mom than you used to. A lot less of my own distinctive good looks."

"Are there midget mutants?"

"Get bent Ian. Seriously."

"So why do you think you have G.S.D.?"

"What is G.S.D.?"

"Gross structural deformity; a polite way of saying you now look like a freak of nature. And it's the only thing I can think of that explains massive body change; Most mutants don't change much at all."

"Well to be fair, I don't think that structurally you have changed all that much; you could be done."

"Mom, I don't look that different to you? You think shrinking and getting fat are valid mutant powers? Are you smoking pot again?"

She sucked in a breath while Ian grinned. He only thought it was funny because he didn't suspect mom had been smoking when she had him; at least not yet.

"You promised never to bring that up again. I'll forgive you this once, but another mention gets you grounded."

Dad chimed in to derail Mom before she could get started, just in case. Mom could be scary when she wanted.

"Hmm, come to think of it, this might explain the mess in the garage. I thought Ian did it, making those derby cars of his.”

"A mess in the garage? I don't think I've been in there since last Monday when I mowed. We got time, I want to see."

I got up and carried the plate out with me, chewing all the while, almost daring mom to get mad… she gave me a look, but let it slide. At least, I thought she had. She must really be worried.

"You said something about getting fat? Do you think you should be eating like that if you are?"

Or she wanted to needle me back. She whispered at least, a fact which I was thankful for.

"I can't help it, I'm really hungry… and my waist isn't larger I think, but check out my butt. I barely squeezed into my pants… I really hope I'm not going to sprout a second set of legs or something."

She checked and poked. Dad and Ian did not notice.

"Mom! What the hell!" I hissed.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about a second set of legs." she said, giving me another good once over. Her look was weird; I couldn't place it. I was getting really sick of all these stares, but I knew they were likely just beginning. Sigh, Ralph, and me. Well, if I ended up with funny colored hair at least we'd match.

Then I caught sight of the garage.

"What hit this place?"

The entire space was filled with tools discarded haphazardly, little scraps of wood and metal (none bigger than a dime) and a workbench loaded with papers… schematics. It looked like dozens of them. I didn't want to admit it, in the face of my dads' displeasure, but at least a few of them looked slightly familiar. He looked at me and asked, though.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry sir, I think I might have… but I don't remember it."

"Well son, I'm not mad, yet, but I'd really like to know what required the motors out of half my power tools, a stack of my power tool batteries, and half the engine from my project car… and where all the missing stuff is."

"...What?" I looked again; most of his black and decker power tools were in fact stripped, the lithium ion batteries missing… and my dads project car (a 1973 barracuda, black) looked like gremlins had torn apart the engine, throwing pieces as far as five feet away carelessly.

"I'm sorry sir,' I tried again… 'but I really don't know what happened here, I can't remember. I'll try to fix or replace what I can, as soon as I can. I promise."

A Campbell kept their promises. His gaze swept past me a second, to Mom behind me, then back and softened.

"OK son, I believe you. You will, however, put everything back, and replace what you can, as you promised."

"My brother, the mutant mess maker." Ian snickered.

"Laugh it up, ass. I can still take you."

"Language Myrc; and Ian, be more considerate, please. Your brother is going through a rough time."

"Yes mom." we chorused.

"Alright, you can go to this game, but afterwards you clean this up and take an inventory of what's missing to start. I'll call Dr. Halleck and see if we can get him to make a house call."

"Thank you sir."

"Come on Myrc, I know a few tricks that will make your changes a bit less noticeable,"

I followed her out. "Is it really that noticeable?"

"To someone who doesn't know you? No… to someone like us or Ricky, or your class? I'd say absolutely. Don't worry about it, we can make you look enough like you for there to be no problems; with a little work people will know something is different, but not what."

"Best I can hope for I guess. Mom, you ever know any mutants?"

"No Myrc, I haven't; you'll be my first."

I looked into her sunny smile a minute before it hit… then I could feel myself grin back, just a little. She ruffled my hair, something she hadn't done for years; not since she had to reach up to do so. Then she stopped, almost forcing me to run into her.

"What? something else happen?"

"No, no, don't panic… nothing new is going on; just old habits coming to the fore."

"It's OK mom, felt kinda nice."

She shook her head, taking me into the master bedroom, otherwise known as 'where kids dare not tread'. I gave her a look as she plunked me down on her chair in front of her vanity.

"No arguments, sit, and watch."

And under her gentle hands, now no smaller than my own somehow, my old face was reconstructed. She put the break back in my nose, and it looked a bit larger. She also did something that added volume to my chin, and something to my cheekbones. Through all of this, I watched, fighting a wave of the most intense boredom I'd ever known. It was like sitting in class, or playing a computer game times one hundred, and came on suddenly; one minute I was enjoying my mothers' company and love, the next I was fidgeting like an ant on sun-drenched concrete.

"Myrc."

"Sorry mom, you say something?"

"You zoned out for a bit there, something wrong?"

"No! No, just really, um...."

I looked down at my hand, realizing something was in it. Mom's blush. My other hand held her lipstick. I put them back so quickly they rolled all the way to the mirror.

"What were you going to do with those, hmm?"

"I, uh, don't really know? I was thinking of extracting the talc to do something with it…."

"Myrc, do me a favor. Don't 'extract' my make up, OK? Some of it is specially made."

"OK mom, sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"It's OK honey, you didn't do anything wrong… yet. Just trying to make sure that you understand the action would be a bad one. You've already angered your father after all; you broke his third child!"

I laughed, then blinked. Honey? where had that come from? She always just called me by my name (well, nickname) before...

"Come on, time to go down and greet your public."

"Sure."

I let her take the lead, kind of nervous; I'd never worn make up of any kind before, and I felt the weight, a solid drag on my face. I was half convinced I'd look stupid. I mean, what if someone noticed? Those fears were soon proved groundless, however.

"Whoa bro, looking ugly as always… can't tell a thing!"

I looked between Ian and my father, searching their eyes for any hint of deception or planning. I saw none.

"It really looks fine? Like I'm normal?"

"You look like you, Myrciel… and no talk of not being normal. Mutants are fairly normal anymore, after all; remember that fracas over the summer?"

"Yeah I remember."

It was true, in the days of my fathers' youth, mutants or super-powered beings of any kind, really, were far less common than now. Not that they were common, but certainly more common and well known then the 'dark ages'. Perhaps even common enough for some acceptance. As for the summer, how could I forget?

Then I remembered Ralph. Here, yet not here, in a perpetual limbo. Distant, with only one person I knew that treated him with anything resembling respect or equanimity; myself. Well maybe his family too, I didn't know. Not all families were as understanding as mine was after all; even now I could read the concern in their postures though nothing but love and support shone from their faces. That very moment I determined to find out more about Ralph's life; to see if he had the kind of help he needed, the kind I was sure I already had. Then I frowned again.

My parents knew, like I did, that whether I was a mutant or had some horrid disease (or both, another possibility) that this would be my last game; I'd never be allowed to compete if I were a mutant. And if I had some weird disease we'd never heard of, well chances are I'd die from it.

There, I said it. Denial over, hopefully never to return. Focus on the positives, as my father would say. My family was also placing worry aside, in order to make this day special for me; who really could ask for more?

These thoughts circled my mind like hamsters on a wheel as we wordlessly and without further ado piled into mom's car (she had the wonderful 2001 late model sport utility vehicle we called the tank, while dad was stuck with the white ford focus) and we drove the admittedly short distance to the baseball diamond behind our school. We arrived with a mere 10 minutes to get ready; apparently the make up took longer than I thought. Looking around, it seemed that everyone was here; the entire school, most of which I recognized, as well as some of the other schools' children, checking out the competition I'd guess. Parents and kids of all ages, walking, jumping, and running around with abandon, enjoying the balmy day and the prospect of a day spent not doing anything in particular. None of them seemed to pay any special attention to me, for which I was grateful.

The true test, however, was coming up.

"Hey Myrc, was beginning to worry!"

"Ha, sick, but I wouldn't miss this for the world Joey."

"Dang right you are man, can't hear you at all, what happened to your voice? laryngitis?" I nodded, not like it's a lie, for all I know it could be true!

I made it into the team huddle, and nodded to coach Reynolds. He took one look at me and asked immediately: "You OK son?"

"Hes sick with laryngitus." Joey answered for me helpfully. I nodded again, not wanting to talk more than I had to, to keep up the possible charade.

"You're here to play? You look a bit rough; your parents know?"

I pointed to them. They waved. I waved back.

"Good enough for me. Alright we won the toss, we're up first. lets do this, Myrc you lead off."

Shrugging, ruthlessly suppressing my stomach lepidoptera, I grabbed my bat and strode up to the plate, As soon as the game start was called I set myself (I'm a lefty) and tried to look crazy, to intimidate the pitcher. I don't think it worked well, judging by the fast ball that came in inches from my face. Reasonably fast, but I caught the motion; hmm, in between, 82 and 87 miles per hour, angled to make me start. Next likely pitch is a curve or a slider, angled low and possibly away from me to make me chase. Wait, what? Never mind, focus! hes pitching!

I watched it come in, reading the curvature by the arc of his arm. A fast slider, low and away as I thought. I stepped into it with a textbook swing, and hit it an inch from my bat tip; sending it out to mid-right field. Unfortunately, it was only mid field. Even worse, While normally I could run moderately fast, today I felt much more slow. The end result of these two factors was I only barely succeeded in a single, not my usual double or triple from such a perfect shot. As I stopped, panting, from my sprint I saw coach Reynolds frowning. Hopefully he wasn't too mad.

Considering how good we were, it didn't take long till I was trotting home; I wasn't quite the best bat on our team, that honor went to Darrel White. I was simply very good. My strength was my field play; I was a pretty good shortstop. Well suffice to say, I may be looking like myself, but I definitely wasn't playing like myself. I had no problem at all in calculating angles, getting a perfect jump on the ball in batting as well as fielding. But physically I was always a step late and muscle short; my throws

barely reached anywhere, with almost no velocity at all, and I could barely hit into the outfield.

The end result was I did manage to contribute to our win, but I had play things safer than I liked; I never did strike out, but was limited to base hits and sacrifice plays as opposed to home runs. My play as a shortstop left quite a bit to be desired, but I only really screwed up once, when I couldn't throw a ball to home plate, letting the other team score. While we celebrated as a team, I mourned. I had lost my physical prowess… maybe I was just actually sick, and I'd get it back? My theory could be wrong after all, I only had anecdotal evidence.

"Myrc?"

Here it comes. "Yeah coach?"

"Don't beat yourself up, you played well. Honestly, you did great. I've never seen you read the ball so well."

"Thanks, coach."

Pretty sure he was just saying that to make me feel better… but it worked.

"Victory party at Pizza Cabin!"

I waved and pointed towards my parents, coach saw and nodded. My family closed ranks around me like a personal guard detail, dad to the left, mom to the right, Ian in the lead.

"You have an emergency appointment with Dr. Halleck at Logan."

I nodded, after all that has happened, it was obvious no simple clinic visit was going to be enough. I was mildly curious as to why Dr. Halleck was meeting us there at Logan medical center, as he was just a simple country quack, wasn't he? Oh well, I'd find out soon enough.

Almost as soon as we had all piled in the car, I started feeling very sleepy. The car ride did it's magic, lulling me none too gently to sleep. If I dreamed, I don't remember it.

I woke up from being jostled, finding myself being put one of those medical examination beds. The air around me reeking of disinfectants and the lights blinding, it took me a minute to remember what was going on. Oh yeah, I was dying. I was in a typical hospital room, single; bed and table, television in the corner that wasn't on.

"How are you Myrc?"

"Pretty crappy doc, how are you?"

"About the same, can't complain. So what symptoms are we looking at?" he and some other guy in a lab coat were setting up some weird looking machines in a corner. I squinted, only barely able to make them out, even though it was… well I couldn't tell, but 20 feet away at most. One was sized to fit a human inside though, like a magnetic resonance imager.

"Well, I've either shrunk or am shrinking, loss of strength and speed, getting fat, and I apparently made car and tool parts disappear; And the newest one is I'm apparently going blind. Who is your friend?"

"Oh that's X-ray. He's what is called a devisor, he makes medical scanners that can come in really handy, and he owed me a favor."

The guy came closer, close enough to see finally as he started pasting leads on my head, without a word. Tall, at least 6 feet 4 inches, rather well built, lantern jaw, unshaven, with green eyes and brown hair streaked with silver. He looked maybe 25. I didn't see a ring, I'm guessing he cleaned up at the bars, if he knew what a bar was. He had a sour look on his face, however.

"Not a people person, is he?"

"Not even a little bit, but that's fine because his machines here are going to tell us what is happening and why, and in less than 30 minutes!"

The sourpuss interjected; at least he could actually talk.

"Only for most of it, the DNA scan might take longer."

"Why?"

He stopped a second and looked at me as Dr Halleck escorted my family from the room. They were about to start attaching leads in some very embarrassing places.

"what do you mean?"

"I mean, why does it take longer? Is it a processor issue? A database issue in matching the right sequences?" Rather reluctantly I pulled off my wonderfully dirty sweaty uniform.

"No, it's actually a combination of both. This scanner uses most of its own processor power to run the scan and record all the information, So it sends the data to my mainframe. My mainframe analyzes the results and sends it back. The long delay is mainly due to the amount of information involved."

"So do you send the entire code there and back? That seems wasteful; why not just send the entire code there, and then send any rare differences back? seems that would save a lot of time."

He nodded, conceding my point.

"It probably would, if my database were large enough. But it isn't yet, and as a result if I do that, I may miss some evidence otherwise."

"Good point. how big is your database?"

"As good as the human genome projects is, plus my own. At the moment, a good 20,000 subjects. Not quite enough by my standards yet, though hopefully yours will help."

"As long as you don’t steal any DNA to make clones of later… I'm all for it. That was a joke by the way; no need to start frowning at me! Give me a break, I'm nervous."

"True, my apologies, though your joke was in poor taste. Into the machine please, and do not move. And no talking, that is movement."

I climbed in, then heard Dr. Hallecks' muffled voice.

"Cards?"

"Sure. Poker?"

"Sounds good, I'll deal first."

I hated them in that moment.

The machine whose clutches they had left me in had few tender mercies; I was poked, prodded, sampled (one time I'm sure my spine was tapped) and generally had every horrendously uncomfortable test I could have. The less said about it, the better. Really. What was really torturous was that I was still tired, and it kept me up!

Then a small chime rang, like an oven timer. Darn it, I'm not fries! I am so going to....

"You can get out now."

Crawling out of the claustrophobic space I fixed him with my best glare: "You have REALLY got to work on your bedside manner. No help for a terminal patient? An oven timer? What the hell?"

I looked; my family was in the room, they were playing cards with Dr Halleck while X-ray was reading a pamphlet of some kind, not even paying any attention to me at all. My family was tense, Dr Halleck looked like he had a new insect to play with, and I started to feel the pressure.

"...What?"

But I hadn't been asleep at all! When had all this happened?

"Dude, you've been asleep for hours,' Ian informed me: 'We were beginning to think we'd have to rent a room from the doc."

"It's true Myrc, you were out for just over two hours; we had time to translate the gobbledegook that X-ray's machine spit out for us." DR Halleck added.

"And they told us already, honey." Mother looked concerned, father looked very uncomfortable. And there was that 'honey' again; though I didn't mind at the moment.

"Let me guess: it's cancer… or an aneurysm."

X-ray snorted, still not looking up.

"You're not dying, though it's interesting what the multiphasic spectrometer came up with; for example, you've never had a prostate, and your appendix is multi-functional. Though what it's doing..." he trailed off to incoherent mutters.

"Your bedside manner REALLY, REALLY, sucks. Do I need to resort to violence here?"

He looked at me deadpan and stated: "Congratulations, it's a girl."

I looked at him, then down at my body.

"You high? pretty sure I have what you have there, buddy. Though maybe mine's bigger..."

Then mother was there, gently forcing me into a chair.

"Myrc, don't be rude, even if the man's an ass.' she shot him a glare and continued, 'Hes telling the truth, however, we've had a few people look at the readouts, even re-calibrated his machine. It always gives the same results. Genetically you're a girl."

I felt, on top of feeling like my world was tilting, a little weird. Possibilities and probabilities suddenly caught fire in my head, a type of haze or fever, and I had to ask. Both feelings seemed oddly incongruous, at odds with each other, yet harmonious, as if one brought the other.

"How is that even possible? Do you have anything concrete?"

X-ray handed me the pamphlet he had been studying… it was the results of the tests; my entire genetic code, summed up in a sort of cribs notes. I… understood that. I could read some of it at least, so I started to.

"You see there?' he pointed to highlighted portions, 'You entered puberty a bit late for males, nearly a year ago by best guess. The problem is your puberty was a bit different than normal. Tell me, have you heard of that old wives tale about all babies being born women?"

I nodded, still reading.

"Well it's false. Males and Females are genetically separate, assuming nothing is abnormal according to current human standards. For the record, abnormal includes rna transcription errors and some of the older stable mutations such as different peptide combinations in the brain leading to different sexual tendencies and proclivities, etcetera, as well as hermaphrodites and such. Babies are normally androgynous at birth, and develop along gender roles at puberty. That is 'normal'.”

I could hear the quotes.

Well, in your case, the old wives tale holds true. You have two X chromosomes, perfectly represented...but one of your chromosomes had its function partially turned off, leaving one line of your second X dormant. So while genetically female, you were biologically male for all intents and purposes. That all ended shortly after you hit puberty.

For some reason, when your body started producing Gonadotropin or GnRH to start producing body hair, it acted as a switch… your second X chromosome fully activated. So your puberty was obviously a bit different than that of a normal male. Instead of testosterone, your body started producing large amounts of estradiol; this was further complicated by the fact that for you at least, most of your mutations are located in the same part of your genetic code… the part previously

turned off. Once it became active, all the abnormal genes followed suit, and one of those mutations is a rather low level regeneration; I'd say according to the current scale used, a 1 or a 2. Certainly no more than a 2."

However, that regeneration was enough. I could see it now… without regeneration, my somewhat anomalous physiology would go no further than say, hormone shots and some other medication, and I would live a perfectly normal life. With it involved, however, my traitorous body looked at my genetic code and reproduced it faithfully, carrying the new orders involving what my body and puberty should look like, according to the newly active genes; there was apparently a huge difference between the two.

"I see you understand. The truly fascinating thing is the loss of mass; your regeneration, from what I can determine, turned your entire bone structure into a cartilage similar to that if a sharks'… and is currently ferrying mass away from it, in order to comply with whatever your new height is supposed to be, for example. Its amazing. Never have I gotten such readings of what actually goes on inside a body as it mutates."

"so wait, my skeleton is shrinking of course… so are my tendons and ligaments? That would explain much of the loss of strength, as not only the simple machine numbers change but also the joint tension...."

I grabbed a piece of paper from him, one of his pens from his lab coat, and started scribbling the required equations to figure out the difference. He blinked. I ignored him as he prattled on; I had to finish this. For some reason, it was important.

"And that all but clinches it. Dr. Halleck, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, I'm all but certain your child is a devisor of some kind. The changes are by no means complete, though they are proceeding exponentially now, and have been for at least a week. My best guess is Myrc will be ready for testing by the end of next week, and I'll schedule one if you're willing; I have a few contacts with the facilities."

My nose was bleeding again… irritably I wiped it away from my calculations and finished them.

"There. It doesn't completely cover the estimated strength loss though..."

"How do you feel, honey?"

"Oh, I'm fine mom, just ravenous and very fatigued.' I sighed. 'There is no way to reverse this. I can tell there isn't. I'll be a female within the week. If not for the stupid regeneration… ugh."

"It'll be OK honey, everything will work out."

"Thank you for your time doctors, We'd like to take our children home now unless there is anything else?"

Good old Dad, keeping the meeting focused.

"No, of course… let me give you my number, please call me if there is any help I can give; I have your number now, and will call you with the appointment details. One last word though; burnout. That is the name given to a condition where mutants, usually those whose powers are still emerging, strain themselves to violent and sometimes explosive results. Many cases heard in the news of mutants going on a rampage or exploding were actually burnout cases. Now I saw no evidence of this, and regenerators don't often suffer this problem, as they are buffered somewhat by the ability. But it remains a condition to be aware of."

He grabbed my shoulder, and looked at me, really looked at me for the first time.

"Don’t overdo it, please."

I was a little too shocked to be coherent.

"Yeah, uh… OK."

"See you next week." he waved.

Damn, he waited till the end of the visit to be human! What was with that? I did notice the walking on eggshell pronoun usage everyone was doing; he started it off, on purpose maybe?

I looked to my dad, who still looked decidedly uncomfortable. He was not alone in this, but he needed cheering up. I assessed the situation… and came to what I felt was the proper conclusion.

"Dad."

"Yes Myrc?"

"Food. Now. Right now, and in large amounts." I grinned.

He gave me a ghost of a grin back… but it was something.

"Sure thing Myrc...pizza, since you missed yours?"

"Perfect, Dad."

As soon as he turned away I dragged mom aside.

"You should call X-ray back and get Ian tested as soon as dad is distracted." I whispered.

She paled, but nodded. Hey I didn't like the implications either, but it had a 50/50 chance of affecting Ian too; after all, that weird X chromosome had to come from one of them, right?

Oh well, too much heavy thought. Time to enjoy pizza, off-color humor, and sleep. Too much of that heavy thought stuff would drive anyone insane.

* * * * *

Sidestory - the first conversation.

(File taken from the files of X-ray, a devisor in the employ of the CIA, obtained under the freedom of information act. Said file is to be appended to the journal mentioned above in the interest of being as thorough as possible, in the hopes that future generations will be better informed about the psychological motivations of the subjects involved.)

"Kinder to let him sleep for now." X-ray stated as the fatigue seemed to catch up to the young man he was introduced to as Myrc. Halleck was quick to nod.

"Agreed, though how he can sleep in that thing is beyond me… a better question might be how is he not a twitching screaming mass of pain."

"Simple, he can sleep due to the fatigue; His body is experiencing a rapid transformation, and heavy fatigue is common enough in normal puberty. The second answer is the same as the first; slower puberties are typically painful off and on as growth occurs. His body is protecting him from massive amounts of pain by switching off his pain receptors somehow; otherwise we'd have to sedate him. Quite a marvelous adaptation really, to have even partial functionality while undergoing a transformation of this magnitude this quickly. The pelvic bone reshaping alone...."

"Well… it's certainly better than some of the other options. Think we should have our talk now?"

"Certainly, no time to waste,' He opened the door and spoke into the hall. 'You're free to come back in, he's asleep."

Lance corporal (retired) Archibald Campbell walked in, followed by Agent (retired) Marigold Campbell and their second son, Ian Campbell.

"Well? How bad is it?" Mary asked two of her oldest friends.

"Definitely mutation, as you thought, and severe. Myrcials' EEG and leptin counts are insanely high. Judging by what you told me, it's all but certain he's a devisor of considerable power. Preliminary mental stimulus tests pin his IQ at near 300. There is no telling how high it will be by the end; her brain is actually refolding or rewrinkling itself… and making the visual cortex smaller, along with the auditory system and olfactory receptors. They are already much smaller, and the excess space made is already more brain. Or pardon me, more cerebral cortex, or thinking brain. And all of it, new and old, seems to have almost double the ganglia of a normal brain.”

Archie Campbell asked X-ray; "For the record, how does that compare to you? Or most devisors?"

"My own IQ is in the 200 range; most devisors are a bit more, or around there. Usually it's the power itself that adds the effect; What devisors really do as best as anyone can tell, is locally ignore certain laws of physics around them, in much the same manor of mages. As long as the explanation makes some kind of sense, the device can be created, such as Dr. Arclights' anti gravity platforms or the death rays you see commonly now from just about everyone. To be honest, your child scares me. Never have I seen such strong readings, from anyone; not even the icicles."

"Careful what you say X-ray, not everyone is cleared here."

"Quite right, quite right… at any rate, her ability is scary, but is coming with its own share of problems as well."

"Wait a second;' Ian interrupted, 'you keep saying 'her'."

"Yes, getting you all used to the idea; her transformation was easy to deduce; she will be fully female by the end of the week, with no complications expected on that score. The real problems are medical. Most devisors are hardly at the peak of physical health, but few have few purely physical issues. in other words, most are out of shape, if physically fit persons otherwise.

Myrc's scan revealed something unusual in that respect; the beginning of an unusual form of anemia; her iron count in her blood is low, and I suspect dropping. Untreated this could lead to random loss of consciousness, coma, possibly even death, though I believe the regeneration will save her life should the condition progress that far. Treatment is easy, iron supplements, high iron diet, and potentially medication and transfusions. Oh that reminds me… here, she will need this."

He passed a box to Agent Campbell. Agent Campbell gave X-ray a hard look.

"Anything else, or should we get to the real talk we need to have?"

"One more thing; Some devisors have a diedricks, a form of mental illness that leads to bouts of megalomania; you'll need to watch her for the signs; I believe you both know what they are. Also, most devisors tend to enter a sort of fugue state just before they build something; Don't be alarmed if you see it. You can break them sometimes, but not necessarily all the time. It's not advisable to break them that often anyway; there is some research to support a correlation between these states and the strength of the mutation; or devisor gene itself. In Myrc's case, being too gung ho about breaking them could cause her harm… I just can't say yet, but it's something to be aware of."

"Noted. Now what do I need to do to insure my child is protected?"

"Oddly enough, from past villains and organizations, you should be clear. Most of those type respect the 'no families' rule religiously. Only the most rabid are likely to try, and those even the villains will ostracize or seek to kill in retaliation for such actions. The real issue is governments and the mutant commision office, I'd say. For those, I can and will help, and if you call in a few of your other favors, 'facial'… you should be able to keep her as safe as anyone can be on this dirtball. If all else fails, you could try Whateley."

"It's far too early to think about Whateley; Myrc is likely to be a mess physically and emotionally for some time to come, and I wouldn't send an enemy into that place unprepared, let alone one of mine. Perhaps after some time to adjust. But for now, I just want her safe from any odd disappearances. That would not do at all."

"Ah, heard the rumors about the MCO and the rest of the alphabet soup? I've heard the same ones. Suffice it to say, 'I know a guy'. I'll call him, you call Terrance like I know you plan to, and we can get them both assigned to this case, watching each other, and know the situation will be handled correctly.

between that, the DOD, and the VEEP, we should be fine."

"Good, I'd hate to suddenly remember things I'd forgotten."

"It's too bad the lummox over there can't help."

"Careful Ray, I've kicked your ass before, I'll do it again." Archie took a threatening step.

"Yes, that will certainly help; perhaps you can also run away from this world yet again? You'd only have to leave a child behind this time."

"Ray. Stop it now."

"...Sorry Mary. I guess I'm still bitter. Any thought as to what you're going to tell them? One really needs to know a few things, and the other is currently hanging on our every word."

"As little as possible; neither know anything, and if Ian talks about anything hes heard in this room, he will live to regret it."

Ian wilted under the combined stares.

"I won't say anything, I swear. So um, Myrc's gonna be a girl?"

"Yes Ian, Myrc will be a girl soon."

"heh heh heh..."

"Archie… I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault Mary, it couldn't be helped."

"Helped, perhaps not, but we both know it's my fault nonetheless. And for that I'm sorry."

"No, none of that talk now.' Halleck spoke up; 'Only useful dialogue here. Are we all agreed on this course of action? For the record I am, I think Myrc can only benefit from the experiences to be learned in this town, and free of the stifling atmosphere of Whateley."

Archie spoke up: "Yes I think we are all agreed. One other thing, though; school?"

"I think it's obvious she will have to call in sick the week; it should be possible to hide her new condition by having her pose as someone else if you want."

"Calling out sick for the week is acceptable; Hiding though is out I think. Too many have already seen just enough to put two and two together, should we try to feed someone a silly story and hope for the best. If the villagers show up with pitchforks, well, we just call Frankenstein's monster."

"Surely you don't mean..."

"Myrc is my child; if I have to I'll call the devil himself."

"Are you sure Mary? He'll be a target then; a large one."

"That's what the Whateley option is for, but I refuse to let a bunch of ill-mannered hicks run me or mine out of town without a fight. Besides, Myrc is made of sterner stuff than most. Just a feeling I have; this is the right decision."

"OK, all agreed then. Time to wake the dreamer."

Going to bed as soon as I was stuffed with pizza was a must; I just couldn't shake the fatigue of my body, though my mind seemed wide awake. For some reason, numbers and computations kept running through my mind like demented zombie sheep, refusing to die. I'd never dreamed of numbers before, and I was pretty sure I didn't like it… but I was also sure I didn't hate it. I woke up with the clear impression that my mind was going, and a mild feeling of fatigue that was miles better than last night. This time of course, there was some blood on the pillow.

I just stared at that pillow for a bit when my situation hit me all at once, so I buried my face into it and screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Ahh, precious release. Just can't let anyone see me do that, bad things could happen.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I grabbed some random clothes (sweats, pretty sure they would stretch to fit if needed) and went to a long overdue shower appointment… and ran smack into Ian. At least I was still taller than he was; hopefully that'd last.

"Dude, you stink. Go, shower is free."

I mumbled an apology, not trusting my voice; after all, it wasn't working too well yesterday. Sigh, I needed some red bull or something. The daily disrobing of course, offered up its' plethora of daily alterations. My waist looked like I was a member of bulimics anonymous, my chest was beginning to get flabby, and my eyes… my once muddy eyes.

They were an arresting aqua color, and seemed to be faceted like gems. I knew right away they were dangerous. If I saw eyes like this on any girl before I would have been entranced; they seemed mesmerizing. As I started the shower I also tested my voice with a good old do-re-me… like my eyes, it was amazing, a soprano of perfect pitch and tonal quality. Well for a girl anyway. So many people would gladly murder puppies for a voice like this, I was possibly in trouble.

Meh, worry later, sing now. It felt good! It felt like I was scratching an itch I barely knew existed. And as a result, I took a bit longer in the shower than I wanted. Finally soaping up and rinsing off ever so gently, remembering yesterdays' pain. Far less so today, though my chest still hurt like hell.

Drying my hair in front of the mirror I received my third and hopefully last shock of the day; my muddy hair showed hints of once again trying to match my eyes… the roots were showing a different color, and it looked like the same aqua color to me. Looks like I would follow in Ralph's footsteps after all?

Once dressed in my old jogging sweats (I was swimming in them of course, had to roll up the sleeves and everything) I ran a brush through my hair twice and walked downstairs, on the prowl through the bush for food… or wallaby’s. Right now I'd take either one. Luckily enough, while there were no wallaby’s at the end of the trail, there were plenty of pop tarts on a plate, with juice next to them… and my name on a small note next to that.

"Hey Ian' I yelled; 'are the 'rents gone?"

"Yeah they went somewhere, wouldn't say where though; just that they would be back by dinner. So free house for us all Sunday! By the way;'he added coming into the kitchen, 'nice voice sis."

"You trying for a beat-down?" he raised his hands.

"No! No, I mean it… I heard you in the shower too, and I mean it, your voice is really nice."

I was pretty sure the kitchen heated up; was the oven left on?

"Nice blush too!" he added before laughing and running off.

"Ian you bastard!"

Ugh, there was definitely something wrong with me, why would I blush like that at all? Sigh, I couldn't run him down like this. Oh well… pop tarts! Om Nom nom… if there is a better food than the pop tart, I have yet to taste it.

"Dad wants the garage cleaned up after breakfast!" Ian hard yelled...could have been from anywhere; the squirt was definitely hiding.

Urk. My mess, I'd forgotten.

After about a dozen pop tarts (well… maybe 14, but who was counting? I was not, not at all) I went into the garage to look again at the madness I had wrought. Metal scraps and crap everywhere, and a gutted car. It didn't look any better the second time. Wasting no more time, I put the gutted tools away and started sweeping up the floor, where all the scraps had curiously ended up… nothing on the workbench itself. I started making an inventory of what I'd need to fix the car. The car had as yet, never even turned over, but that wouldn't stop my dad from demanding full replacements. Distributor cap, spark plugs (only one missing, oddly enough) the fan, a few of the belts… ugh, I'm going to need to mow so many yards...

I sort of woke up to find the garage cleaned nearly spotless, I don't mean just my mess, but CLEAN… like the floor was polished and the car shammied and everything. And I was scribbling something… something that looked like a weird car engine, with a list of parts to the side. A… schematic? One with accurate dimensions, and proper mathematical formula off to the side? From me?

No matter how many times I saw it, it still weirded me out. Maybe I'd get used to it later...

"You OK Myrc?"

I turned to see Ian had snuck up on me; he was watching me, leaning against the door.

"Yeah, sorry; I didn't do anything… crazy, did I?"

"Not at all, just cleaned like a demon possessed, then drew a bunch of crap; don't remember anything?"

"Vaguely, it started with thinking about the car repairs..."

"Meh, don't worry about that crap right now; come with me."

Curious I followed him; Ian never really wanted to hang with me before; something was up. He went to my room, there, next to my bed was his 17 inch computer monitor, his game system hooked in; snacks and drinks all around the 2 bean bag chairs thrown in front of it, and one of the few games I liked, the latest fighting game, already rolling.

"Prepare to get pwned, noob!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, what brought this on?"

"Well you're still sick, and tired all the time, yes? So this here is your new hangout spot, and I am your host… we will now play games all day, drink copious amounts of sugary colas, and eat massive amounts of things that are bad for us. And I will teach you the ways of the gamer nerd. Unless you'd rather go outside in your current condition?"

Argh, he was right… normally I'd be outside on a day like this, playing a sport or riding my bike or something.… can't really do any of that now. I didn't even have mom's make up on to make me look less stupid!

"OK, I see your point, hand me that controller, and the left bean bag chair, and I'm in." What? the left one was the softer one, I liked it.

"All yours. Team battle for the win, random if you aren't a wuss."

"Done."

A bit over an hour? maybe two? (Time moves a bit differently when you game I find.) The doorbell rang. I paused the game.

"No way am I answering the door looking like this."

"Spoken like a true chick, sis." he replied as he ran out the door.

I fumed; that son-of-a! How dare he! I bet if he shrank and looked like curdled death he wouldn't want to be seen either! Hmm..… my thoughts were sidetracked by the sound of voices; two of them, both raised. One was my brother, and the other....

Ricky. My best buddy.

No thought at all, I dived out of the chair and into the bed, covering up completely, just as the door opened.

"Myrc, you in here? Ian is saying you weren't up to company, but when has that ever kept us apart before?"

I cursed my wonderful new voice as I responded. "Yeah I'm here. I'm really not up to company, but if you promise not to comment on my obvious issues, or try to look at me, you can stay."

He looked at what to him, was a lump on my bed.

"Dude is that you? You sound like a..."

"Girl? yeah I know. I'm a mutant man, that's what has been wrong with me, and yes I'm one of the weird ones. I'm currently about half done changing. Yes, to a girl. I wouldn't normally care if you saw or not, but I'm sure I look pretty stupid right now. No I'm not dangerous. Now that was strike one. No more discussion on it. You want to stay? you play games and you keep it down… I might nod off. Got it?"

After a long awkward moment where many flies could have been trapped within his jaw, he nodded. Correction; this was well beyond merely awkward.

"Yeah I got it...so 'Bloodbath 4'?"

"For now, maybe some 'Drive Furious' later… but I'm getting kinda tired again, so who knows?"

"Works for me, though I'd love a nice shooter later. So who's ahead?"

"Jerkbag is ahead, as always… hes up 6 matches to 3. He always cleans up at this one."

"Heh. Well maybe I'll do better. I do tend to game more than you."

"Might change; the new me is less likely to be as active."

I cursed mentally as soon as I said it. Idiot! Giving hints was bad!

"Oh?"

"Not telling you, you'll know when everyone else does. I'll be missing this week of school; you can tell whoever you want to tell that I'm changing if you want."

"OK. Damn." He cursed as Ian destroyed him, then shot a quick glance at my still blanketed form.

"You want a turn?"

"Nah I'm good for now, you go ahead." I knew he was waiting for me to move so he could catch a glimpse; I wasn't that stupid.

I was so busy watching Ricky like a hawk, that sleep snuck up on me.

I was out for two hours; when I came two with a hyper intelligent 'snerk' noise, both Ian and Ricky were still in my room, playing Twisted Iron, one of my favorite games… sick psychotic car mayhem at its' finest. I was still covered by my blanket; luckily I hadn't smothered myself.

"Awake again?" Ian asked softly.

"Yes, awake again, sigh… this crap is getting old already."

I couldn't think about it. Not with Ricky here, and not with Ian to witness it. No, think positive thoughts, happy thoughts.

"Want a turn, dude? I need a break."

"Sure, but I'm not coming out. Just toss the controller."

I snapped it out of the air, reeling it back in and taking over. Ricky watched me play, Ian watched Ricky mostly… sticking up for me. Ugh, I hated being weak. Either way I didn't think I needed protecting from Ricky… and by Ian of all people. I mean, it's Ricky! I trusted the guy with my life! But could I still?

The gaming session continued, all three of us wrapped in our own thoughts, until we heard the front door close and my dad yell: "Dinner!"

"Ricky; out. Now. Sorry, and I'll call you when I'm ready, if we're still cool, OK?"

He stood up, no doubt paying respects to the sense of normalcy I'd killed.

"Yeah we're cool. I'm gone, enjoy the food." I heard his customary loud greetings to my parents as he made his way out.

"Myrc everything OK?"

When in doubt, joke.

"Yes mom, Ricky came over to see how I was, and guardsman Ian protected me from his evil ways. He did not see the fair damsel."

"What?"

That look from her was pretty priceless.

"In other words, I hid and we played games so he couldn't see or spread rumors about how stupid I look."

"Oh, honey, you look fine; there is nothing wrong with you…"

I wasn't in the mood to be coddled.

"With all due respect mom,' I interrupted. 'I look half finished; you know it, I know it, everyone who has seen me knows it… and everyone who will see me will know it. I'm not cool with this, I won't lie, but I'm really not cool with having a bunch of people see me when I'm neither one thing or another, but some screwed up in between thing. Not if I don't have to."

She was hugging me before I knew it, and I realized I was crying a bit. Tamping that down really quick, I looked at my dad, who was setting the table and had a large box of takeout pasta. When in doubt, joke. I grinned at my mom, looked at dad again, and opened my mouth.

"Cheep, cheep."

He looked at me with my mouth still open and I cheeped again, adding small hops. He caught on and stuffed a breadstick in my face while mom giggled, and Ian guffawed.

"So, sit, eat, we have announcements."

We ate quickly of course, I was as always famished, and I guess Ian was as well. The parents ate at a sedate pace that kind of irritated me...I couldn't slow down. stupid constantly empty stomach. Stupid genes. Stupid world.

"So,' I was startled out of my pity party, to find dinner over except for me… I was still half heartedly chewing on things within reach. 'we managed, on a Sunday, to get the bureaucratic wheels going on a few things."

She slid papers at me.

"what are these?"

"Social security card, state ID, birth certificate. The new you. The state ID has no picture yet obviously, but we will be handling that as soon as you settle on a look, you primadonna."

"Wow they work fast, and on a Sunday?' I looked at dad; 'Your doing?"

"Of course! We ex-military have some pull after all, this country still loves vets."

I looked over the birth certificate. It was fine and official, and had a spiffy new name.

"Minerva Myrcial Campbell? Where did that come from? And why didn't you just ask? I could have picked my own name."

"That's the name you'd have had if you'd been born our daughter, and well since you were and we just didn't know..."

"But..but Minerva?!?"

"Would you have rather had Boddicea? Minerva was your grandmothers' name. Deal with it."

Ian pointed at me.

"Heh heh heh HA HA HA HA HA."

"Keep laughing Ian, or should I say Elise?" Ian choked, with a look of horror suitable for seeing a movie villain crossing his features. Perhaps he could find a future in acting… or the circus.

"Hah! Revenge! Blackmail material!"

"Whatever, Min. Two can play that game."

"Ahem; we're not done you two, you can snipe at each other later. We come bearing gifts! I'll just start bringing them in. Ian, come help me."

"Yeah yeah, grumble grumble."

"I'll get the dishes mom."

"You sure you feel up to it? I'd hate for you to break my china." she said with a grin.

"Your concern is touching, but yes I'm fine, for now." I returned her grin. I had to do something anyway, or be alone with my thoughts.

So I did the dishes while the rest of the family plotted, washing and drying while just barely picking out the whispers in the other room. Once done, I quietly made my way back into the dining room. For the record, I did not creep in! I deny that categorically, and anyone who tells you otherwise is wrong.

At any rate, it didn't work regardless, they saw me coming.

The first thing I noticed was the box with the brand new laptop inside. State of the art, unless I missed my guess, unlike my current 5 year old machine. To the left my eyes alighted on all the books. collegiate texts for all the science basics, dozens of them piled on the table. The last thing to catch my eyes was the electric guitar. A guitar of the same Aqua color of my eyes, though quite a bit smaller; a fact I filed away for later. The case next to it had a sliver of a moon and the word Luna on it as a logo.

Now I'd wanted a guitar forever. Couldn't play one, never shown the slightest bit of talent for playing music. My father could play some, and I had always begged him to teach me. Now it looked like he finally would. I'm sure my grin would crawl off my face it was so big.

"Ah, don't go looking at me like that! I'll do what I can, but it's likely you'll have to teach yourself more than I can; with my job and all..."

"But you will teach me?"

"Yes, what I can… for as long as my ears can stand it."

I didn't know what to say, really.

"Thank you all, for all of this."

"That's not all; there are some new tools and odds and ends in the garage. They are yours, and in no way mitigate the replacements you need to get for me. But, use all of it as you feel you must. And fix my baby while you're at it, and you'll get those lessons."

Impulsively I hugged him. "You're the best!"

"Yeah well, I try." He replied, holding me back at arm's length and looking uncomfortable.

I was about to apologize for making him uncomfortable when mom stepped in.

"So let's stow all this; Min's room is already a mess, don't want my dining room to follow suit."

"OK, OK." As I grabbed the computer first, I caught a the glimmer of a look between my mother and father.

"What?"

"Nothing honey, Ian will help you with the books… won't you Ian?"

"Sure, sure, I'm on it."

I was pretty sure I had seen something there. That look had meant something. Ian distracted me by grabbing the books and starting up; I followed. Once up the stairs I grilled Ian quietly.

"So what did you get? Must have been something nice to get your full cooperation."

"You know me well; I got a couple games I wanted, for my system and my computer."

I wasn't sure I liked how my parents seemed to be throwing money at a problem, but we weren't exactly hurting for it, and the stuff for me at least, had come recommended from a professional. I wasn't sure I'd use anything more than the computer. Maybe the tools, to fix Dad's car; that was all I was planning on.

"You know what was up with the 'rents? they had a really funny look for a minute there."

"Nah, you're reading too much into things sis, this is a weird situation for everyone. That reminds me, How close are you now?"

I knew exactly what he was asking.

"Truth told, I'm not sure… I hope I don't lose anymore height, this is getting ridiculous."

"Suffering from any other… shrinkage?"

That one earned him a punch, which he shrugged off easily. Stupid half-done weak muscles. I'd have my revenge, oh yes. As soon as I got to my room, I wasted no time opening the box and pulling out the laptop. hmm, dual core, The new GK version. A Vista 7600 mobile video card, 4 gigs of the new triple data rate ram, 320 gig hard drive. A true screaming machine, if ever there was one. There were some games boxed with it that I set aside. Had to move my old computer to make room for the new.

Reaching under your desk to pull computer cords is always a pain. I just yanked them, opened the new laptop. I sensed a trend here; the computer case was aqua. That had to be my Mom, and how had she even known? All the while Ian was shuttling books, giving me sour looks. I grinned at him in response, eyebrows raised. Once I had the laptop set up and powering on, I went downstairs to get my other pretty toy. Into its' case it went, and I carried it with both hands and gently set it into my cleanest closet corner. Ugh, I did not want to clean this room, but it was a mess. Maybe when I wasn't so constantly tired.

I woke in my bed in the middle of the night, realizing I'd fallen asleep after the fact. My new laptops' password determination screen was blinking at me. It was after midnight and everyone else was asleep. Meh, I was up now, and sick of sleeping… so time to set this computer up. My password… hmmm… how to make this really secure...

I woke again, this time though something was different. I remembered the night before, in all its' glory. I remember what I did, and how. It was still a bit vague, but I had no problem recalling how I'd revamped the camera software to map and recognize my eyes in order to provide security, nor the other fun things I'd done. Monday morning, 5:13 am. I'd slept two hours, plenty. I could do plenty today, but first… coffee!

Coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee! I wanted it, craved it, never had liked it before, but was hooked now. I was in the middle of brewing a pot when Father came into the kitchen, all ready to brew it himself.

"Good morning, father."

"Morning Min… uh, what happened to the coffee maker?"

I looked back at the device in question. It had felt good to actually be able to do something, so after the computer I'd come downstairs.

"I improved it, it was ruining the coffee by only filtering it once. I decided it could do better. It takes just over two minutes longer, but it is worth the wait. Want some?"

"Uhhh, sure. It kinda looks like a small distillery."

"That is exactly what it is now father, for both the water and the grounds, and then both. Takes up 8.4% more counter space, and takes 2 minutes, 17 seconds longer to brew, but hopefully mother will like the end result enough to not overreact. oh, operating it is easy… grounds go in the funnel there, water in the tank there, the on button works as it should, and the used coffee ends up in the old coffee maker cup there."

The coffee finished brewing while I explained, and I poured us both cups. Mother came down as father took his first cautious sip.

"Wow that's really good! Really really good!"

"Oh by all that's holy, I should have remembered about the coffee thing… though that is fairly tame by their standards."

"What was that mother? You shouldn’t mutter to yourself like that. Coffee?"

"Sure, sure. Anything else you've improved?"

"No, of course not, well… the security protocols on the new laptop you got me. A password seemed to… useless, so I made a program to scan peoples' eyes when you open it up. It will only open to my retinal scan. Don't give me that look! Software upgrade is all, I didn't touch the hardware."

"You'd best be very careful about that. You break it, you won't get another."

"I know… I thought I might repair father's car though...once I drink more of this liquid ambrosia that is. Morning Ian, how are you?"

"Good, you OK? You seem pretty chipper this morning."

"I am well, I think. Going back upstairs for a bit."

As soon as I placed my coffee on the desk next to my laptop I noticed. My bed was hairy. Small hairs, on my pillow, a bit here and there on the bed. My eyebrows? I checked. I still had them, though they seemed more thin. Going into the bathroom, I saw it. My eyebrows were now just slightly darker than my eyes… not neon by any means, but a rather wonderful shade of aqua nonetheless, continuing the trend. I sighed, my head was already showing hints of the same color. My body hair was obviously KIA, right along with my muscles and size. I flopped back on the bed and did the pillow screaming thing again.

"Min, breakfast!"

"Coming, mother."

I came downstairs as Ian came back down, shower done. We both demolished the bacon and eggs set before us.

"So, honey, I'm going to be gone for a bit today, got to head up to your school and make sure they know what's going on. Your father and I got you a cell phone; the number to reach me is programmed in already as 1, the number to reach your dad is 2. Call for any reason at all, OK?"

A cell phone! Never had one before. Even if it was because they were worried about me, it was nice.

"Thanks mother; I'll keep it on me at all times. I think I'll work on the barracuda today."

My father gave me a look as he was about to walk out the door.

"How? you've no money, and are missing a few parts."

"I think I might be able to fabricate them out of what we have available. I'll have to research to make sure, but that is the current plan. Don't worry, no harm in just checking."

"Alright. Be careful though, and have a good day."

"You too. Don't let your boss tick you off."

After the breakfast dishes I went outside to inventory the materials I had available; everyone had already left by the time I was finished. My father in his infinite wisdom had gone to the local junk yard, and bought a bunch of motors and car parts from various engines, and even two full engines. Whether they worked or not was immaterial, I could use them as I pleased. Though I did wonder how my parents could afford all this crap for me; I'd never thought about it before, we were well off… but I felt a bit guilty, as well as loved. I was costing them so much this week! I had to fix this car, at least, to make all this up to them.

After the inventory, I went back upstairs to web browse the barracuda's engine schematics and performance specs, which proved to be an interesting bit of light reading. There was nothing downstairs that could be used on the Barracuda directly. So I'd need to make the parts. But how could I make the tools to fabricate the parts out of what I had? Hmmmm… inspiration struck and I began designing.

"Yo sis, you home?"

I looked up, suddenly noticing my eyes aching and the tired achy feeling I'd been ignoring… along with a sudden disconcerting jiggle from my chest. I refused to look down.

"Yes, up here Ian."

"Here, your homework for the day."

I took it, much as one would a live poisonous reptile.

"Thank you; how was your day?"

"It was alright, yours? No, let me guess, you were lost in the surfing there."

"Sort of, designing a sort of 3 dimensional printer to help me with repairing the 'cuda. I was in the middle of coding the CAD software. Sigh, out of coffee again."

He looked from me to the empty cup.

"OK, stop. You and I are going to game again. I've decided. Halo with me."

"But, I'm..."

"But nothing, this is too much like work, and you need a break. lets go, I'll get the mountain dew."

"Fine, meeting in your room. I'll start the game up. Ugh."

As I stood up I weaved some; Dizzy again for no reason at all? Sigh. I held the walls to Ian's room, and plopped into the same bean bag chair I favored. So nice… started up the television and game system, grabbed controller 1 and set it to online play.

It did not take long for me to realize something was different; I could see it all. I could see every angle, arc (mostly parabolic), and potential outcome of any shot fired or dodge path used. I could see the outcome, leading to even more outcomes, leading to more outcomes… once again, the numbers danced, and I waltzed with them. I no longer missed; I was much harder to hit. I could see the outcomes of the other players in the game as well, just as clearly as my own. It was nice.

But all things have to end, and this did too, with me dead to the world in the comfy chair.

The next 2 days were a blur of eyestrain, computer coding (it did occur to me to wonder how I could code, when I couldn't before; I'd never had the knack before.) and coffee, with the incredible shrinking man shrinking further; I measured myself, I couldn't help it. As I shrank of course, other things grew. I

tried very hard to ignore those things, but by Wednesday evening they were affecting my arm reach and balance. Walking to the bathroom to measure myself for the third time today (Yes, a bit morbid, but wouldn't you?) I ran into Ian again. This time he knocked me on my butt.

"You OK sis? Sorry, wasn't watching where I was going."

"Yes I'm fine Ian, not made of glass here." I'd never tell him that bouncing on my butt hurt a bit; any sign of pain and I'd never live this down.

As he helped me up I realized… I was staring into his eyes. A week ago, I towered above him; today I looked him right in the eye. I all but ran for the bathroom; I got on the scale first, shutting the door in Ian's face. 96 pounds. 96 freaking pounds; just this morning I'd been over 100. I did the door tape

measure thing next. 5 measly feet tall. I was smaller than some 10 year olds I knew of.

Next thing I knew mom was there, holding me as I sobbed like the stupid little girl I'd become. I don't know how long that went on, but it was some time. Then a knock on the door interrupted my meltdown. I looked and my family was around me, squeezed into the by no means small but suddenly claustrophobic bathroom. Mom squeezed me tighter.

"I know that look Min, don't you dare; you've nothing to apologize or feel embarrassed for. Let your father worry about who is at the door; you can't bottle this up, it isn't good for you and I won't let you."

I sniffled into her blouse some more; great intelligent responses like that are my forte.

"So what brought this on? Let me guess, you lost another inch?"

I shook my head and corrected her.

"Lost two actually, and a good 7 pounds. I'm now 5 feet nothing and 96 pounds, assuming your scale is calibrated correctly."

She muttered something I didn't catch, then spoke up: "Well no help for it I guess, no way you can get along without clothes now. We shop tomorrow, and just hope you're done."

"Oh, Mistress is quite done losing mass ma'am." A new voice interrupted us. It sounded cultured, polite, and young all at once.

Of course we all looked for this intruder, finding him at the entrance to the bathroom, with my loving father hanging off him; It looked like dad had tried to stop him, and just been ignored.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, Campbell family, But It was imperative that I reached mistress as soon as possible. Good evening Mistress."

With the rest of the family mildly stunned and my father being rather ineffectual at the moment, I decided to take charge a bit. He was looking right at me now, after all.

"Who are you?"

"I am designated as Jeeves mistress; might I ask which nom de guere you have been using of late? I'm sure my files are out of date."

"Jeeves? I don't know any Jeeves."

"You don't as yet, but you know my creator. I was told to inform you… ARNEE sent me."

My head swam; I remembered a night not too long ago with more clarity; talking away at a computer chip while I built some sort of small body, nattering away in a way I couldn't to a living person about my hopes and fears while tearing things apart. And lastly a design; a schematic of all that was being taken away from me, to help me when I could no longer help myself.

I still didn't remember everything, but I recalled enough; it was embarrassing.

"Father, it's OK. You can stop, and you won't need the gun. Mother, I do know this person. He's an android butler I designed."

"Is he what you built out of my power tools?"

"No, that was ARNEE… but ARNEE built him, using my design."

I took a closer look; Jeeves looked normal, he had black hair, blue eyes, had to be 6 feet tall

and appeared to be late teens/early 20's. He was dressed in an old tuxedo, black and replete with tails. He had a face sculpted as a modern Adonis; fine aristocratic features without seeming effeminate, and a slightly more than medium build. In short, he was handsome.

The shock of me finding anything built to look guy-like attractive was broken by mom's next statement.

"I don't trust you at all; you say that Min built you?"

"That is Mistress's new name? I must say I approve." The look he was giving me made me warm and uncomfortable at the same time.

"No, I did not say that mistress Min 'built me'; she provided the design and construction method however, as well as my programming and purpose for existence. I can prove that much if you allow it Mrs. Campbell."

"Go ahead, slowly."

Jeeves went to the next room, my room, and grabbed my old schematics from the garage incident. He handed one to mom, then took off his coat and shirt. You could clearly see the hatch with the small recessed hinges on his back, right where the schematic said it should be.

"You may open it if you wish, I cannot as the radial motion of my arms is like a humans'.”

I helped mom when she hesitated opening the hatch, unscrewing it with a handy nail file and swinging it wide. A good look revealed my handiwork; or what would have been my handiwork if I had been more involved. I compared schematic with his insides; it was much easier to be near him, knowing he was one of mine, built by ARNEE. He was safe.

"It matches the specs, mostly. some differences, which I assume are due to the on site resources."

She looked, obviously lost as to what she was seeing, but in the end agreed with me.

"Yes, it's the same, or close enough. So where is this ARNEE?"

"I'm sorry Mrs Campbell, I'm not at liberty to say. ARNEE's mission is not yet complete, and I cannot compromise its' location until it is.

She gave Jeeves the fish eye.

"Not even for your mistress?"

"No Mrs, Campbell, specifically not from Mistress Min."

Well that was odd. Why had I told ARNEE to stay hidden again, and why from me specifically? I put the hatch back into place, noting that his 'skin' felt like skin… and was warm.

"So this ARNEE is free to take over the world or something, and you won't tell us where it is?"

"That is not its' mission. it is merely a construction prototype; but if you prefer… yes."

"Mom, nothing I built is going to go running around taking over the world! ARNEE is fine." I hoped.

"We will discuss this later. For now, let's all get out of the bathroom."

I was too close. Looking back, I'll admit that. I had just closed the hatch on Jeeves' back, and he had put his shirt back on. When mom shoo'd everyone out, he picked me up in a bridal carry and strode though the hall to my room, ignoring my increasingly panicked protests. He deposited me gently on my bed, and held a finger up.

"I'll be right back mistress, please do not move."

Mom looked in on me with a questioning look; she had followed. I shrugged… of course I had no idea what this android was up to, I wasn't fully responsible for his programming. The fact that he'd lay hands on me at all was bad! She went downstairs, I assume after him.

About 5 minutes later Jeeves was back, mom and family in tow. He placed one of our TV trays and our good tea service down, poured me some chamomile tea and handed me some sort of peach crumpet or something. Not sure what it was, or where he got it, but with the chamomile it was especially delicious. He also served my family, mother first, father last.

"Alright Campbell family, please. Mistress Min needs her rest."

My father and surprisingly Ian, both puffed up at this; even more surprisingly Ian spoke first.

"Ha, you're getting out of here too, tin man."

"Ian... may I call you Ian? Ian one of my primary responsibilities is to ensure Mistress Min's safety. To that end it is best that I stay within visual range of her at all times."

"I won't leave if you don't leave… and I'll talk forever."

Oh for pity's sake. I was too tired for this, so I added my own two cents.

"Jeeves… out. Thank you for the snacks, but you can't share my room. Having you in here staring at me would be… creepy."

He looked from one to the other of us, with those weird somehow human looking eyes of his.

"As you wish, mistress Min. I shall be within vocal range should you require anything."

With the help of the chamomile, I drifted right off.

 

To Be Continued