Shards - Book 1 Part 2

He stared at me, as though seeing me for the first time. He shrugged and spoke slowly. "All right. Leave. But before you go, let me give you a quick medical history. Your medical history."

It was too tempting. My legs were getting weak, the gun was putting on weight, and I had miles to go. But I couldn't resist hearing him out. This might be the only man who knew anything about me. I choked back a sob of frustration and weakness.

I glanced at Lt. Sanchez. "Lieutenant, I'll take you up on your offer of a chauffeur. Please make it the smallest female soldier you have. I only want to use her as a driver, and promise to you there will be no improper behavior." He gave me an odd look, but motioned to someone to fetch her.

I turned back to the doctor. "Two minutes, Doc." He was also looking at me strangely, nodding as though his suspicions had become convictions.

"Well, that explains the late wake up. Look ... what is your name?"

"John. John Wyeth."

"Very well ... John. Your story in two minutes.

"What I told you yesterday and earlier today is true, if edited. But you already knew that. What you don't know is exactly what the corporate world did with its little riping toy. Now I'll tell you.

"Riping had been initially started to treat man, or in a broader sense, man's society. In every case I gave you, except one, riping was viewed as a way to serve man's needs. In each of those cases, even the tragic ones, the mind stayed with the body. Or so everyone thought, until that raid against a corporate ent.i.ty.

"Remember, John," he almost choked on my name, "when I mentioned the security set up that was run by one riped homeless man?" I nodded. "Didn't you wonder how one single case should cause such an uproar?" He didn't wait for a response, but I had wondered. "That's because that homeless man's mind ran the security. His body had long since been destroyed, including his brain. All that was left of him was a series of circuit boards and holographic storage nodules into which his mind had been moved."

Do you understand? Industry had reached the point where ripes were serving them. I didn't want to tell you then, and I don't now, but I have to. Industry used the riping process for centuries. Using the convicted killer and catatonic patient loopholes, they still ripe today. But the vast majority of ripes after the three hundred years were on the same minds. You've been out for at least six hundred years! Worse, you haven't been one other persona, John. You've been many. Different people, different personas, different bodies, different brains, different machines . For six hundred years."

The words. .h.i.t like a series of blows. Six hundred years? It wasn't possible! I had left open the possibility of an error of a full century, but even my first calculations had discounted 500. My heart was racing, and I could feel the hot tears streaming down my cheeks. Tears. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried. My head was swirling as the truth hit me. I knew I was slipping into shock. Yet one thing held it off. I took my right hand away from the gun and showed it to him.

"If that's so, Doctor, how is it that after 600 hundred years, I still have the same body?" The woman soldier had arrived and was preparing the hover for departure.

He looked sad, very sad. He shook his head and spoke slowly as though every word hurt. He said very softly. "You're looking at your body with your eyes, John. Look at yourself with your mind, and you'll see the truth. Unless it was the custom in your time to give boys names to girls?"

I staggered at the words. Still holding the gun up with my left hand, I looked at my right. It was my hand, but it was a girl's hand. Thin, delicate fingers with neatly trimmed nails. I brought it to my cheek. To my cheek. Soft skin, stained with tears. A razor had never touched my face, and never would. My throat was smooth and elegant, with no protruding Adam's apple. The cavern was reeling as the gun slid from my numb hand and I sank to my knees, gasping and crying. I reached under my garment and my trembling fingers played over narrow shoulders and a smallish chest, which supported my young, developing b.r.e.a.s.t.s, now heaving in near hysteria. I heard a young girl's wail of despair and knew it to be mine. As blackness closed over me, I sensed people rushing forward, and I felt warm, concerned arms holding me close, protecting me as I fainted.

Chapter Three.

I was struggling to waken out of Healer's Sleep, but couldn't. I tried to relax, but couldn't. Still in my Sleep, I got out of bed. Captain Taft from the Second Armored wanted to enlist strong men to help fight the war. We were the best company in the corps. My men were ready, trained killers all. He stepped up to me, his eyes sharp. I saluted, feeling confident and strong.

"Roll up that sleeve, soldier! Let's see those muscles!" he barked. I rolled up my sleeve, but was shocked to see I had only a thin, smooth arm. A little girl's arm. "You call that an arm? Pretty pathetic, soldier. Come on! Show us some real muscle! Take off that shirt, soldier, and show me some real meat!!" I eagerly reached for my T-shirt to show him my strength, but suddenly couldn't pull it up. "What're you waiting for? A bra.s.s band? Strip, soldier!" But I couldn't. I was terrified and extremely embarra.s.sed. Besides, couldn't he see I had muscles under the shirt? I could see two muscles right now. Wait, those weren't muscles. They were ... "Strip, soldier! Aren't you a man, soldier?" But I couldn't. I was tearing at my shirt, but it wouldn't come off. I pulled harder ... harder...

"Hey! Settle down! C'mon! Wake up! Wake up! It's okay..." I felt myself being cradled in soft arms and opened my eyes. A young woman's face, close to mine, gazed back. I had my arms around her neck and must have been choking her, I was squeezing so tight. I stared up into her eyes, very confused. She smiled.

"There now, you're fine. Just a bad dream. No wonder! You've been through a lot. Just relax." I eased my grip on her neck, but still held on. She felt very warm and safe. I was lying on my bed, and had kicked the sheets off in my thrashing. I had pulled loose the ties to my hospital gown, and the top hung loose from my shoulders. As I shifted to draw it tighter, the top slid away from my neck and I was looking inside the garment at my small, smooth chest and soft, maturing physique. Even as I stared, my long, brown hair slipped over my shoulder.

Realization hit me, and I pushed the woman away with all my strength and retreated to the side of the bed against the wall. She didn't seem too upset about my rudeness. Instead she just pulled the stool close to the bed, sat on it and smiled at me.

"Doctor Barrett felt that it would be best if we spent some time together. He may stop by in a few hours, if you wish to see him. He's very sorry for the way he treated you, and hopes you'll forgive him. You were a little crazy in the hanger, you know. Are you okay now?" She sounded as though she really wanted to know.

My head was whirling. Part of me wanted to scream, another part wanted to be back in her arms, but for reasons I had never felt before. My nod was very slight and I'm sure totally unconvincing. She kept smiling and rested a hand on the bed railing.

"Well, let's be proper, shall we? My name is Susan Lendler, but please call me Susie. I'm a corporal in the Third Regiment of the Resistance. I was the one who was going to pilot your hov. Until you changed your mind, that is." She smiled again, robbing her words of any sting.

"I ... I ... what's happened to me?" My voice sounded exactly like my voice. But it also sounded like a young girl's.

"Pretty much everything that Doctor Barrett told you. I don't know what detail he went into, but I can guess it was the regular history. But I'm sure you mean, why are you a little girl? Not so little, maybe. But a girl. Right?" I nodded. "Well, since I was the lead researcher and am now your counselor, I can tell you quite a bit. I'll start with the most obvious and normal question asked by every 'Cue: What's the date? Today is November 13th, 2676. And yes, we're using the same calendar. Now how about you get dressed while I keep talking?"

She reached out a gentle hand. I thought about it, then took it. As she helped me out of the bed, I could feel a confusion of emotions churning in me. As the old me, I felt a little silly being helped in this way, so delicately. Yet as I was now, it also felt rea.s.suring and more than a little wanted. The comfort I had felt before I was aware that I was ... I was ... that comfort was gone.

She helped me down without making me feel too self-conscious, careful to touch only my hands and arms. Once I was on my feet, she kept one hand on my elbow and leaned over and picked up a shiny duffel bag at her feet. She plopped it up on the bed and opened it somehow. It was without seam or opening, but it did her bidding better that any zipper. She chatted cheerfully as she pulled out the clothing.

"I thought you might want to borrow some of my clothes. I'm a little bigger than you, and I'm afraid they're dark to match my color, but these are the best we can do right now. Your clothing was lost in a skirmish yester..." She broke off, looking at me. My face had gone white, and now was turning very warm "I ... I ... can't wear those!" She held in her hand a black bra and a pair of black panties that had a pretty design and even a little lace. Pretty design? Why had I thought that?

"Yes, you can. And yes, you will. Do you want to keep wearing that gown?" I shook my head. "Then this is what I have. Believe me, there's nothing wrong with you wearing these. This is what girls wear," she said with a smile. I had to admit it was an infectious smile. "Unless you want me to scrounge up one of the men's underwear. Maybe Lieutenant Sanchez?" she giggled. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind. But you'd have your hands full, holding your pants up."

Despite myself and the situation, I had to smile slightly. "No, I suppose you're right. But this is very difficult."

She nodded. "I'd like to tell you I understand. Of course I can't. To go from being a man one moment-for you-and then wake up like this. It has got to be hard. I wish I could make it different. It won't be so bad, though. Please believe that. Now, try these on."

I took the panties she offered me and tried them on under my gown. I had not expected something so small to fit, and they didn't quite. They weren't too small-they were too big. I had to admit though that while my burning ears gave away my embarra.s.sment at having something so feminine on, they felt nice.

She handed me the bra, and I'm sure my face took on the shade of my crimson ears. To put this on, I'd have to disrobe. I hesitated, looking the thing over. I didn't really want to put it on, and certainly not in front of someone, even Susie. Yet I also knew I should. This was quickly becoming overwhelming again. I started to breathe faster.

"What's wrong?" Susie asked, concern in her voice.

"Uhhh ... well ... it's just that the underpants are one thing. I've worn them, of course. Though not quite the same cut. But this..." I held up the bra.

"Well, honestly! Just ask, silly!" she spoke firmly, but her tone was friendly. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the bra from my hands, and before I could so much as choke from embarra.s.sment, she pulled off my gown and dropped it to the floor. She stepped behind me and reached her arms around my front. "Here, it goes on like this. It holds in the front just like so, and the strap adjustments work like this. Settle down! If you squirm around, we won't get it fitted right!" I felt a firm tugging and a kind of snug, comfortable support where I'd never needed it before. "There! Now turn around." I did and she inspected me closely. "It's still a little big, and I've adjusted it as small as it will go. But don't worry, you'll fill out soon enough. You'll probably even be bigger than-" she broke off and brought a hand to her mouth, realizing her mistake.

I felt tears welling up. I started to sob, and she pulled me to her again, apologizing over and over. It was as though I had no control over myself. I had never felt emotions this vibrant, this powerful before. I was helpless to them. Even while I cried, I realized that embarra.s.sing as this was, it was Susan who made it tolerable. While I sobbed like a baby, she somehow used one arm to hold me and the other to dress me. After a few minutes, I became aware of her voice.

"Here. Let's sit down on the bed. I'll boost you. There!" Sitting on the edge of the bed, my shoulders still heaving a bit, I watched through misty eyes as she put on my socks and shoes. I felt so helpless. She smiled. "Now just let me sit beside you." She hopped up next to me, our feet dangling over the side. I wiped the tears and tried to smile back. I nearly made it.

"Is this what it's going to be like from now on? Bawling my eyes out every time something happens?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about that. You'll definitely get over it. You showed a lot of backbone and a lot of smarts back there in the hanger. I would have been terrified stupid, and I'm a soldier."

I partially succeeded in smiling this time. "If I'd have known I wasn't myself, I would have been scared stupid, too. I have no idea how I missed something so obvious. I guess it was the after effects of that Healer's Sleep."

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. Healer's Sleep does have some residual calming effects. If it didn't you might be a basket case now. But it doesn't warp your perception once you are up and about." She shot me a sly look. "Even when you weren't supposed to be up and about. How did you manage that?"

"It sounds kind of easy, but the simple fact is that I wanted to be out of here more than the Healer's Sleep wanted me on my back. Willpower. Or fear. Maybe both." I didn't want to give away too much; it might come in handy again.

"I suppose." She didn't sound at all convinced. "Still, we've never had anyone wake themselves up from Healer's Sleep quite like that."

"There's a first time for everything. You were talking about why I didn't spot that I'm no longer my father's spitting image..." The talking seemed to be helping; I had calmed down considerably. It also didn't hurt that the fatigues Susan gave me were a couple sizes too large and did wonders to hide my new b.u.mps and curves. I couldn't put off dealing with them forever, but maybe a little longer.

"I'm sorry, you're right. Well, your body was a physical sh.e.l.l, grown in the physiomanufacturing complex about 2,000 kilometers from here, straight line. We..."

"You mean I'm a clone?"

"No! Definitely not! You are not a copy of anyone. You are as original as a newborn baby. Physically. But your body was only living. It had no mental facilities, no cognizance, no persona. And it lacked that spark that made it alive."

"My soul, you mean."

"Yes, exactly." She seemed pleased I had chosen that word. "It was a soulless thing. Into it we put you."

"But why a girl? And why so young?"

"A couple of reasons. One, although cognitive specialists like Doctor Barrett can reintegrate the original personas of detached ripes into a human form, there's no way to tell what that persona is like. We must rely on other means to determine the background, experiences, even the gender of that persona. In every case we've had, there were records available. Even the ones that went back 600 years to the first riping could be tracked down. I know, because that's what I do. But you were the special case. We couldn't find a single record on who you were or where you came from. So we had to guess." She looked down. "We're terribly sorry. We had to guess, and one, maybe two of your alternate personas were female, so that's what we went with."

I stared. "You mean I've been a woman before this?!"

"Not you. Your false personas. But you'd have absolutely no memory of them any more than you would have memories of your other ripings."

"And the age?"

"That we do for both you and us. We do it for you because it's known that during p.u.b.erty, more than just the reproductive systems mature. Everything is in a state of change and growth, including the intangibles, such as the personality and soul. When a person is rescued from their false life, their mind and, we believe, their soul need a place that is flexible, open to change. Anytime during the teen years will work. We choose your age for our benefit because ... well, to be honest, we don't exactly acquire the sh.e.l.ls by normal means." She left the rest of it unspoken. "And some of our 'Cues, that's what we call a rescued persona, don't adapt well at all to the sudden awakening. Some never adapt. We've found it useful-"

"Useful to have a body you can control easily, if not a mind," I interrupted. "So how old am I? I mean biologically. Physically, I suppose they probably just whipped me up in a couple days." It was very hard, dealing with this.

"NO! That's not so! Never think you're less than human! You are as human as me." At my look, she continued, "I'm just a regular woman. My mom and dad live on Greater New Germany. And you're just as real. It takes a fourteen-year-old body fourteen years to grow. Which is about your age, by the way."

"About?" She nodded. "I guess you probably can't stop at the ol' computer terminal with a heisted body slung over your shoulder to get the details." She carefully didn't look at me. I switched back to the subject. "So that means that next year I'll be fifteen, then sixteen, etc. And I'll keep growing, maturing and..." It hit me. "Wait. You mean I'm going to become a woman! Does that mean I can have, you know, bear..."

She nodded. "Yes. But don't think about that too much, now."

"Believe me, I won't!"

"But don't shut it out entirely, either. Going through p.u.b.erty the second time is going to be a lot different. And pretty soon your body will be ready to-"

"Uhhh ... look," I interrupted. "I've got the idea. I may not look it, I know I don't look it, but I'm thirty-one years old. I'm a little squeamish now, this is all so new. But I am an adult."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, er ... John, you're not !" she spoke sharply. "Look, this isn't just a 'plug me into a body and I'll pick up where I left off' kind of experience. Cognitive reintegration is far more complicated and comprehensive than that. You really are fourteen years old."

I felt just a little insulted. "Susie, let's not mess up a great start. I can remember my memories. It's as though they all happened yesterday. I have my life's experiences. I understand I have to catch up, but you must admit that I'm far more mentally capable than any fourteen-year-old, girl or boy. They couldn't have nearly escaped."

"I'll grant you that. You do have your life experiences. And you are counting on those mental achievements to help you control your body. And you're right, they will help. But what makes you think that since your mind can affect your body, that your body won't affect your mind?"

I started to say something, then shut up. I didn't know. The thought of not knowing gave me a chill. I felt the goose b.u.mps rise along my arm, and my heart gave a jump. I wasn't in complete control. I felt a little sick in my stomach. She saw the look of realization on my face.

"That's right, you don't know. We do. It does work both ways. Your memories, persona and soul are moved-not copied or imprinted-into the body and brain of a maturing teen. And both your body and brain are going through all the natural emotional, hormonal and physical changes of a young woman.

"Remember your first time through p.u.b.erty? I do. Once was enough. One moment I was full of myself and immortal. The next, I was ready to crawl into a hole and pull it in after me. Well, you're going through the same changes. The hormones and chemicals that once turned you into a bag of exploding emotions, black and white opinions, and energetic borderline desperation are all bubbling away again in that thirty-one year old mind of yours. Because your brain is fourteen. Oh, it'll be easier this time around, you know you'll survive. But it'll also be new for you. And different. Very, very different. In a way, I suppose you're lucky."

"Lucky?" Her opinion of luck varied substantially from mine.

"Well, yes. We transfer every Cue into a twelve to fifteen year old body. We've done forty-seven in the last three years. And the girls have the worst time because the teen years are more intense for girls than boys. The boys don't have it much easier, but the changes are less extreme, externally and internally. You're lucky in that while you're female now, you weren't before, so it's one time through for you."

"But it would have been even easier if you'd just transferred me into a boy's body," I pointed out.

"I know. I'm sorry. You're the first Cue that anyone has mis-s.e.xed. Ever. There just wasn't any information about you. There still isn't. So here you are. But count on it, it's much better than from where we rescued you." She smiled. "And you have my word that being a woman isn't bad at all. Personal experience talking there."

"I suppose I should start listening to those 'feminine protection' commercials now," I muttered.

She looked at me questioningly. "What's a 'feminine protection' commercial? You mean like commerce in martial arts? Or weapons?"

"Never mind." It seemed holovision had gone the way of the mastodon. I'd let someone else mourn its pa.s.sing.

We were quiet for a few moments, just staring at our swinging feet. I couldn't get over how completely they looked like my feet, even shoe clad. And yet, when I looked at Susie's feet, hers were at least my size and maybe one or two sizes larger. But she couldn't have stood over five foot three inches, which made me about four foot ten inches. I continued looking at her dangling feet and let my eyes wander up her legs, comparing them to mine. We both wore semi-baggy pants, but I could tell her legs were lithe and lean. Yet mine looked skinnier. I followed up her legs, over her modest, healthy figure and to her pretty, always smiling face. She had a glow in her brown eyes that complemented the deep, rich glow of her face. Her dark skin was the smoothest, most perfect I had ever seen, bordered by short, thick, black hair. She had a girl next door kind of face. Not stunningly beautiful, nor even modestly so. Just pretty, in all the positive ways. I smiled back at her. I could get very used to her very quickly. I owed her. Having thought the thought, I spoke it.

"I want to thank you Susie. You've really made me feel better. I don't know how long it'll be before I go crazy, but at least the ride will be easier because of you."

"That's what I've been a.s.signed to do. Make the road, whatever one you travel, a little easier for you. You're very important to all of us."

"Will you be a.s.signed to me for very long?" Less than fifteen minutes ago, I'd shoved her away. Now the thought of her not being there made my chest tighten. It would really help having her near, especially the next time I was with Dr. Barrett.

"Believe it, kiddo. We're roommates now."

"Room..."

"Yep. Private quarters are only for officers, awakening Cues, and Dusty. You're none of the above, so until we figure out how to best get you back into society, you're rooming with us dogs. Pulling duty, too, in a couple, three days."

"Uh, yeah." This was going to be very difficult. I was finally waking up to the fact that my whole life, not just the way I went to the bathroom, was hanging. Had changed.

"C'mon. It's almost breakfast. Let's grab some grub and I'll give you a tour." She hopped off the bed and lifted me down. I wasn't that much shorter than her, less than six inches. But I was very unsteady. I lurched about two steps on my own before Susie grabbed my upper arm. I looked at her, just a little confused.

"Why is it so tough to walk? I'd figured it was because of weakness, but I feel plenty strong enough. And I walked better than this last night."

She shook her head. "No, you're pretty much full strength, though your muscles could use some toning. We'll hit the exercise area later. The problem is that your body never learned to walk. That you can walk at all is because your mind is doing a pretty fast translation of walking, and teaching your body. Pretty fast, but not fast enough. How tall were you? You know ... before?"

"Uh-six foot one."

"Foot? That's an old style measurement isn't it? What's the one stand for?"

"Sorry. How about metric? I heard Doctor Barrett use it yesterday. Six foot, one inch would be about one point nine meters."

"So you were pretty tall. And your build was different. Remember how awkward you were at fourteen? Double that. Don't worry, though, it'll grow on you. Maybe we should practice a while. Breakfast can wait a little longer."

So we spent the next half hour teaching me how to walk. It took about twenty minutes to get the fundamentals down. It was strange, seeing as I'd walked only last night, albeit roughly. That was before I realized I had a new body, though. Now that I knew, my mind kept getting in my brain's way, as odd as that sounded. I picked it up eventually, so we used another ten minutes practicing my sitting and standing, starting and stopping. I spent the whole half hour amazed at the difference in locomotion.

"Do my hips always move like this?"

Susan giggled. I think she was enjoying herself. "Of course they do. Comes with the territory." She laughed again at the unintended joke. "The problem is that you're exaggerating the movement. Don't try to walk like a girl. Just try walking."