Extracted - Chapter 23 – Psst! I Can’t Tell You This – Part 1 of 2

 

Extracted

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 23 – Psst!  I Can’t Tell You This – Part 1 of 2

 

“What do you think?”

Agatha stared straight ahead and didn’t answer as she considered what her husband had just asked.  The phone call from him while he was at work had come straight out of the blue, and now this new suggestion for Stephen.  “Henry,” she finally said.  “You’d do that for him?”

“We need the help here, Honey.  And it’s simple enough work.”

“How about when the tutor we just hired starts working with him?  He doesn’t even know about that yet.”

“Tutor comes first!” Henry told her.  “Then he can help us out here.  Besides, once the filing is done, that would be it, but for a few days at least, he can come here and help out.”

“Why not?” Agatha finally agreed.  “I really can’t see where it can hurt at all.”

“We just need to make sure he’s able to alphabetize things.” Henry noted.  “Otherwise, it won’t work.”

“I don’t know if he can or not, but I’m betting it won’t be a problem.  At least, I hope it won’t.  Nancy was heading into the seventh grade.  If a kid can’t alphabetize something by then, then there’s some kind of problem.”

“Okay,” Henry replied.  “We’ll let him know tonight, and he can ride into the office here with me tomorrow.”

“We’re meeting with Mr. Curmett tonight,” Agatha reminded him.

“Yeah.  No problem…I hope!  Have you heard anything from Wanda or Mike up in New York?  If Curmett is coming here, it’s a foregone conclusion that he’s talked to them already.  Mike is a congressman.”

“Not a word,” Agatha told him.  “But that’s something else I’d like to discuss with you later.”

“What?”

“Later, dear.” Agatha told him.

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Doctor Faucet went through the motions all day with his patients, but he couldn’t get the things he had learned last night at Judith Rameriz’s house out of his head.  There had to be some other explanation.  He just couldn’t think of any just then.  But then, maybe the reason he couldn’t think of any other explanation was because he wanted what they had told him to be true.  Because if it was, it would be a fantastic discovery.

The only problem was, they had been right.  He couldn’t tell anyone about it.  Everyone would laugh at him, and they were already making fun of him because he liked ghost hunting.  What was wrong with ghost hunting?  He enjoyed it.

The door opened and his next patient came in.  A teenage boy with major anger issues.  But the sight of the boy brought back the memory of another teenage boy who had sat in the same seat this boy was roughly plopping himself down into.  A boy who didn’t have anger issues, but a multiple personality issue.  The kid had made up a fantasy identity that he was some kind of young girl instead of the big strong boy he actually was.  Talk about someone with identity issues.  Obviously the kid didn’t want to be a boy.  He wanted to be a girl instead.  Faucet couldn’t tell that to the parents though.  Especially not at that early stage of his treatment.

As his latest patient began ranting and raving about his parents, Faucet remembered that something else had happened with that other teenage boy.  Something that had caused his parents to drop him as the boy’s therapist.  An FBI woman had barged her way into his office and in the process had mentioned something so dumb it was laughable.  She claimed that the boy believed he was a girl named Nancy, but way up in New York, there was a girl who claimed to be Stephen.  That Stephen who had been in his office.  Faucet had never heard anything so ludicrous in his life!

But as the kid in front of him ranted and raved without Faucet saying a single word to him, Faucet still couldn’t get what he had learned last night off his mind.  Had their machine really removed someone’s soul, and then put it back again, perfectly intact?  It couldn’t be.  Such a thing boggled his mind.  But if it was true, what other explanation was there for it?  Of course, there was the rub.  If it was true!

If it was true, Judith Ramirez and her band of merry tinkerers had pulled someone’s soul from his body, and then put it back again.  Faucet grunted a laugh.  His patient guessed wrongly that he was agreeing with him and continued raving.  Faucet continued to ignore him and ponder the thought of actually capturing someone’s soul.  But what would happen if someone captured that soul…and then stuck it into someone else’s body?  Had anyone ever considered what would happen then?”

As his patient ranted and raved, showing why he needed therapy, Faucet remembered the other boy again.  He thought he was Nancy, and evidently some Nancy thought she was him.  It was ridiculous!  But…what if it was true?  Was it possible that Judith Rameriz had used her crazy machine on more than just Hector as she had claimed?  Was it possible?  And if they did, would it indeed transfer someone’s identity along with the soul?  It sounded very unlikely.  Just as unlikely as Rameriz extracting someone’s soul and sticking it in a can.

But what if…?

He decided that as soon as work was over, he was going to take another trip out to Judith’s fancy house and ask some more questions.  Just as soon as he could get rid of this pest of a boy who belonged in jail instead of his office.

It couldn’t be possible.  And Judith couldn’t have done that to someone else…two someone else’s if she switched their identities around.  It simply was out of the question.  But now that he had thought about it, he had to know.

Once again the question of the century crossed his mind.  Ghosts, and he was guessing that especially a soul, had memory.  How?  But he knew for a fact that they did, even though he couldn’t explain it.

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

In some ways, Henry couldn’t believe he was doing it again, jogging with his son.  Yesterday had been bad enough.  He had barely made it to the end of the block and back again.  He had been exhausted!  But here he was getting ready to torture himself again.  No pain, no gain.  Yeah right!  Who cared?  His original son Stephen had cared, a lot!

But something else had happened during that exhausting run yesterday, he had almost felt like he had connected somewhat with this new Stephen.  Another thing that had surprised him was that the new Stephen was supposed to be mentally only twelve years old, yet at times, he had seemed more mature than that.  Was the Nancy inside Stephen smarter than he had been giving her credit for?  Who knew?  A congressman could probably afford to send his kids to some of the very best schools.  Stephen had gone to public school.  Was the difference that much?

He had felt somewhat connected with Steve yesterday, and today he needed that connection again.  He had a few things to discuss with Steve and figured that an easy jog up and down the street was the perfect time to do it.  Unless of course, you took into consideration his own body nearly dying by the time he got home.  How bad was it going to be today?

“Ready Dad?” Steve asked as they reached the road.

Henry wanted to say no, but he started jogging instead.  Steve fell into place right beside him.  “Did your mother tell you that Mr. Curmett is coming tonight?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied.  “I just don’t know why.”

“Neither do I.  He refused to say over the phone.”

“It would be very nice if they found a way to fix what happened to Nancy and me.”

“Very nice!” Henry agreed.  “Very, very nice!”

“I’m not holding my breath,” Stephen told him.

“No.  I wouldn’t either,” Henry agreed.  He decided to move on before he didn’t have the breath to talk anymore.  “Steve,” he said.  “Did your mother tell you that we told the school you won’t be there this year?”

“No,” Steve replied.  “But that was kind of obvious.  I mean, I saw some of the classes that Stephen was supposed to take this year, and I don’t have a clue about any of it.  And if you try to send me back to seventh grade where I’m supposed to be, the kids will do nothing but laugh at me.  And Dad, you’ve got to know that I don’t need that!  No way!  I won’t do it!”

“Don’t worry,” Henry assured him.  “We’re not sending you to a seventh grade classroom anywhere.  In fact, for now we’ve decided to not send you to any school, anywhere.”

“You’re not?  I don’t have to go to school?  Fantastic!  Thanks!”

“Don’t get your hopes up.  You’re going to school, but not the way you think.  We’re signing you up for an online school where you can work at your own pace until we think you might fit into a school somewhere.  And to help you, we’ve hired a tutor to come by three of four days a week to work with you.”

“A tutor?”

“That’s what I said.”

Steve considered that.  “Okay.  I don’t know how that will be, but just as long as I don’t have to go sit in a class somewhere full of seventh grade kids.”

“Not gonna happen,” Henry assured him.

“Good!”

“Steve,” Henry said, starting to really pant now.

“Yeah?”

“I need to know if you’re interested in helping us out at work for a few days.”

“Help you?  How?”

“Filing things that have gotten way out of hand since nobody who works for me seems to have the time or the inclination to put anything away once they pull it out.”

“I guess,” Steve told him.  “If you really want me to.”

“It would help,” Henry told him.  “But there’s just one thing.  You need to be able to alphabetize things.  Can you do that?”

“Alphabetize?” Stephen asked.

“Yeah, you know.  Put them in alphabetical order.  Are you capable of doing that?”

“Dad!  I’m supposed to be going into seventh grade, not kindergarten.”

“Good!  I’ll take you to work with me tomorrow.  If nothing else, it will give you something to do for a few days instead of moping around because you’re bored.”

“Anything!” Stephen replied.  “Anything at all!”

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Curmett knocked on the door to the Marsh’s home.  The three secret service agents who had been assigned to him for this trip took up positions across the front of the house.  The door was opened by the District Attorney himself.  “Mr. Marsh,” he greeted the man.

“Mr. Curmett,” Henry replied as he pulled the door open wide and let the man in.

Curmett noticed that Agatha and Stephen were already in the living room.

“Coffee, Mr. Curmett?” Agatha asked.

“Sure,” Curmett agreed before sitting in one of the chairs in the room.  Two minutes later, Agatha brought him a steaming cup of coffee before she sat down on one of the couches with her husband and Stephen.  All three of them waited expectantly to hear what Curmett had to tell them.

“The first thing I want to tell you,” Curmett said, “is the one thing that Nancy wanted to know before anything else.  And I’m sorry, but we still have no solution for a way to switch the two of you back the way you belong.”  He was surprised to see the immediate disappointment on Stephen’s face.

“Thought so,” Stephen said sadly.

“If we do ever figure it out,” Curmett continued, “believe me, you’ll be the first to know.”

Stephen did nothing more than nod.

“With that being the situation,” Curmett told them, “there are a few things we all need to get straight.  And because of the situation I need to ask each of you if any of you have told anyone else about the memory transfer thing, where Stephen here is actually Nancy, and Nancy up in New York is actually Stephen.  I need to know exactly who you’ve all told.”  He waited, looking at each of them.

Henry shook his head.  “I haven’t told anyone.  First the entire thing was nothing but embarrassing and we didn’t want to believe it, then it just became something too fantastic for anyone to believe.  So no, I can tell you for a fact that I haven’t told anyone at all.  You Agatha?”

“Not me,” Agatha assured him.  “I’ve told a few people that he has a bad case of amnesia, that he’s completely lost his memory, and that’s it.  I think everyone will believe amnesia, but who in their right mind would believe what actually happened?”

Curmett nodded.  “So true,” he agreed.

“Steve?” Henry prompted his son.

Steve shrugged.  “I don’t get to see or talk to anyone.  Period!”

Curmett was surprised.  “No one?”

“Not so far,” Steve told him.  “Melody, the other Stephen’s girlfriend came by once, but she was more interested in trying to kiss me than anything else.  And that was…not fun.”

“Thank you,” Curmett told him.  “So were good then.”

“Why?” Henry asked.

“Because I need you all to make sure you never let anyone have the slightest clue as to what actually happened.  As much as you might think otherwise, we believe that it’s necessary for national security.”

“I’m not sure how,” Henry told him.  “But if you think so, then we all will do our best to not let the truth out.  Besides, as Agatha said, who in their right mind would believe it.  Not to mention, the last thing we need is for some news reporter getting their interest up over this.  What someone like that would do to us would….”

“We probably couldn’t live with the consequences,” Agatha finished.”

“True,” Curmett agreed.  “I just need you to understand that the President of the United States feels very strongly about you maintaining the secrecy of this issue.  Very strongly!”

“What’s he doing about it?” Henry asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” Curmett replied.

“But is he doing anything at all?”

“Yes.  That much I can assure you of.  He is very concerned about this.”

Henry nodded, not sure if he believed him or not.

“We’ve also asked Doctor Montcliff to come down and work with Stephen here so that he has professional help to get him through this mess.”

“She’s going to come here?” Agatha asked.

“Yes,” Curmett assured her.  “She’ll call you to set it up.”

Agatha looked to Henry.  “That solves one of our problems.”

“Yes,” Henry said, grateful for that much if nothing else.  “What else?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.  Please know that it’s imperative that none of you let anyone know what actually happened, and that Doctor Montcliff will be contacting you soon to begin working with Stephen here and offer him whatever aide she can.”

Henry almost couldn’t believe it.  “You came all the way down here just to tell us that?”

“When the President says do it, you have little choice.”

Henry nodded.

“More coffee?” Agatha suggested.

“No.  Thanks,” Curmett told her.

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Extracted - Chapter 22 – Sign Me Up – Part 2 of 2

 

Extracted

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 22 – Sign Me Up – Part 2 of 2

 

In Philadelphia, psychiatrist Christopher Faucet knocked on the door to Judith Rameriz’s large home.  This would be the second time he attended a group meeting there to discuss…ghosts.  Spirits.  After the last meeting, he was very much looking forward to this one.

In the back of his mind though was something that had stuck with him from his first meeting.  A single offhanded comment that had probably meant something else entirely.  They had been speaking about the impossibility of capturing a ghost so they could study it better, when one of the men there had said, “What if it’s already been done?”  Why should someone ask that particular question, and make it sound like it had actually happened already?  It had been so strange that he couldn’t seem to forget it.  He’d probably never know why the suggestion had been made.

It was only moments before Judith herself invited him inside and he had a drink in his hand.  Not all the members were there yet, but a few were.  He greeted them and was happy to note the way they greeted him.  As if he had been a part of them for years.  It was good to belong.

It wasn’t long before they were all there and the casual but academic conversation began.  It didn’t start out to be about ghosts…spirits, but it wasn’t long before the separate little conversations all merged together and they all seemed to automatically get on track.

“I spoke with a physicist recently,” Faucet told them.  “An actual, MIT professor of physics.”  That got a lot of interest from the entire group.  “Since spirits have no physical substance that we know of,” he continued.  “I was wondering how they could possibly maintain their memory, even to the extent that they seem to.”

“What did he say?” Ben asked quickly.

“Well, that wasn’t the exact question I asked,” Faucet admitted.  “I was trying to go the long way around, I guess.  But since the only states I know of are matter and energy, and ghosts have no matter at all, I asked if he was aware of any type of energy that might be able to maintain some kind of memory.”

“And he said?” Judith asked anxiously.

“He said he wasn’t aware of any type of energy that could do that, and even the memory of physical matter was limited to mostly things like holding a bit of physical shape.”

“Mm!” Ben grunted.  “Metal going back to its original shape.  Like a spring.”

“But not energy,” one of the men stated.

“No,” Faucet agreed.  “Not energy.”

Judith chuckled.  “Which means we’re no closer to solving that riddle than when we started.  Another drink anyone?”

It was later in the evening, and several drinks in for all of them, when Ben first looked to Judith, then to Doctor Faucet.  “Chris,” he said, using the doctor’s first name as they all had been doing.  “Can you keep a secret?”

“A secret?  I’m a psychiatrist.  Of course I can.  I don’t go blabbing anything at all about my patients.”

“Good,” Judith muttered, knowing where Ben was going with his question.

“If we share a secret with you, can you promise to not tell a single soul about it?”

Not having any idea what he was talking about, Faucet replied, “Of course.  Not a problem.”

“Good,” Ben said.  “What if I told you that we…this group right here that you’ve been speaking with…actually captured a live soul.”

That threw the doctor for a loop.  “You what?  That’s ridiculous!  It’s impossible.”

“Yes,” Judith said.  “That’s what we thought too.”

“Except we did it,” one of the men confirmed.

“It was an accident!” the other woman in the group explained quickly.  “We didn’t know what we had done.”

“At first,” another man added.

Things weren’t adding up for Doctor Faucet.  “Wait a minute,” he said.  “You captured a ghost.  A real ghost.  How did you know what you did?”

Ben looked to Judith before answering.  “Not a ghost.  A soul.  Someone’s actual soul.”

“A soul?  How do you make the difference?”

“Because we accidentally ripped it right out of his body,” Judith admitted.

“Ripped…  I don’t understand.”

“Hm!” Ben grunted.

“Show him,” one of the men in the group suggested.  “He won’t get it otherwise.  Nobody would.”

“No,” Ben agreed.  “We did it, and proved it, and even we can barely believe it.”

“What are you talking about?” Faucet asked.

“Follow me,” Judith said as she led the way through her house.

Faucet followed her and Ben all the way through the house and then down to the basement, where he was eventually led to a very large machine that stretched most of the length of one of the walls.  The machine was in a number of separate parts, but all the parts appeared to be similar.

“This is the prototype of the water extraction system we developed,” Judith told him.  “All the sections of it are not put together right now, and I’m not sure they ever will be.  The creation of this process though has been my life’s work, and our entire team’s big dream.  Um…the final production model that we market now is much smaller than this.  We just needed the big size to adequately get at all the parts as we developed it.”

“It is…huge,” Faucet noted as he looked at the entire length of the machine.

“Basically,” Ben continued, “the system bombards the water running through it with various wave frequencies…um…sound waves.  Those waves react specifically with different molecules and atoms in the water.  At the same time, we also subject the water to intense magnetic fields of different strengths that also affect those particles, and the magnetism instantly draws them in, removing them from the water.  The contaminants, or targeted particles, are then pulled into collection chambers where they are stored for either disposal or as many of our customers are interested in, resale.”

“Resale?” Faucet asked.

“Just the salt from seawater that we collect is so pure it can be used as table salt,” Judith told him.  “And that’s only one part of the machine.  It’s the part down here, at the end that we’re concerned with.”

“It’s also the part that a lot of our customers are interested in too.”

“What’s that?” Faucet asked.

“Gold.  Do you know how much gold is dissolved in seawater?”

“Gold?” Faucet asked.  “I didn’t think there was any.”

“Barly any,” Ben corrected him.  “It’s in such minute amounts as to be practically nonexistent, but it is still there.  And this machine can collect it.”

“Don’t get excited,” Judith told him.  She put her finger on a small metal canister.  “This collection chamber only holds about one liter.  You can run seawater through this thing for months and only collect about a quarter of an inch of gold in there, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

“But still,” Ben added.  “It exists.”

“What does that have to do with ghosts?” Faucet asked.

“Not ghosts, souls,” Judith corrected him.

“What’s the distinction?”

“With a soul, we know it’s coming straight from the body,” Ben explained.  “We suspect it has other properties as well, but of course, we can’t prove them.”

“Yet!” Judith added.

“About five years ago, when we were still working on this prototype,” Ben explained, “an accident happened.  It all started when one of our wave generators stopped working.  One of our technicians, Hector, crawled into the pipe and replaced it.  Mind you, there are hundreds of wave generators in that system and it’s something that all of us have done probably thousands of times.  But this time, when Hector told us to turn it on to make sure it was working, he screamed.  By the time we got the machine turned off and could get to him, he was unconscious.  We sent him to the hospital where he not only remained unconscious, but the doctors later determined that he was in a coma, and was likely to stay that way.”

“Until then,” Judith said, “we all thought our process was completely safe.”

“We all spent months trying to figure out what happened,” Ben continued.  “The only thing different from before that we found was the new wave generator.  When we tested it, we discovered it was putting out frequencies that were way out of line with what we had programmed it to do.  We removed it, replaced it again, and the new generator worked just as it was supposed to, as did the entire rest of the process.  So we knew whatever had happened, had been caused by that generator.”

“But,” Judith said.  “That defective generator wasn’t the only strange thing we discovered.”

“No,” Ben agreed.  “Not by a long shot.”

“There was one other thing,” Judith said.  “The system monitors the collection canisters very carefully.  Somehow, when Hector was injured, the system collected something into the gold canister right there.” She said, pointing again at the small metal canister.  The machine showed we had something in the canister.  The pressure inside it had gone up…”

“But at the same time, there was absolutely no mass inside it at all.  The atomic weight was literally zero.  Nothing.  Even though the pressure showed there was something in there.”

“Hydrogen or helium?” Faucet suggested.

“No.  With our sensors, those gasses would also show substance,” Ben explained.  “Each of those canisters have several sensors in them so we know exactly what gets collected.  And that includes a spectrometer sensor as well.  And it showed nothing there at all.”

“None of us had a clue what was in there,” Judith added.

“We literally studied everything we could for about three months before we got a breakthrough,” Ben told him.

“And when it did, believe it or not, it came in the form of a joke,” Judith told him.  “A jest.  One of us was simply trying to be funny.  One of us simply joked that maybe we had pulled out and captured Hector’s soul.  And we all laughed.”

“We tossed it off of course,” Ben added.  “But the longer we kept trying to figure things out, the more we began to wonder about it.”

“So we finally decided to test it,” Judith said.  “But how do you test for a soul?”

“That would be a good question,” Faucet said.  “I’d like to know that myself.”

“The only way we could come up with,” Ben said.  “Was to try putting the soul back into Hector, and see what happened.”

“Do what?  But wasn’t Hector still in a coma?”

“Yes.  Completely.  With no end in sight,” Judith confirmed.

“To make a long story short,” Ben said, “we kidnapped his comatose body from the facility he was in and brought it back to the prototype.  We put the defective wave generator back into the machine and reversed the magnetic field so that instead of pulling from whatever was in the pipe, it pulled from the collection canister and put it back into the pipe.”

“When we got Hector out of there, he immediately groaned, but didn’t wake up.  We had no choice but to return him to the coma facility we had broken him out of a few hours earlier.  We thought we had failed,” Judith finished.

“Except…” Ben said.  “The next morning, Hector woke up, perfectly fine, with no memory of anything happening at all.”

“He was in a coma,” Judith reminded Faucet.  “The system showed there was something in the canister, even though it had no mass at all.”

“And the moment we reversed the process, Hector woke up,” Ben finished.

Faucet did his best to take all that in.  Was it possible?  It didn’t sound likely, but at the same time, what else could it be?  “I…” he started, but he didn’t know what to say about it.

Ben patted him on the arm.  “Think about it for a while, then let us know what conclusion you come to.”

“In the meantime,” Judith suggested.  “Let’s go back upstairs for another drink.”

Extracted - Chapter 22 – Sign Me Up – Part 1 of 2

 

Extracted

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 22 – Sign Me Up – Part 1 of 2

 

When the President’s National Security Advisor walks into your office and demands to see you right away, you’ve got no choice but to politely dismiss your current patient and see the man.  That was the situation that Doctor Montcliff found herself in, late in the afternoon.  She stood up as Daniel Curmett entered her office, noticing a few men with him who remained outside of her office.  Curmett closed the door behind him as he came in and took the chair across from her.  She sat after he did.

“Mr. Curmett,” she greeted him.  “This is an unexpected pleasure.  What can I do for you?”

“Doctor Montcliff,” Curmett said, then changed course.  “Isabella.”

Montcliff was surprised to hear him use her first name.

“We…that is, the three of us who were looking into this memory transfer problem.  We met with the President yesterday.  First of all, let me offer my sincere thanks for recognizing the situation and alerting us to it.  You may have done this country a huge favor by doing that.  Otherwise, we may have never realized what was going on.”

“I take it you figured out what happened and who’s behind it?” Montcliff asked.

“No.  Unfortunately,” Curmett admitted.  “To be honest, what we discovered was mostly what you yourself had already deduced from what little interaction you already had with your patient.  That was exceptional work on your part.”

“Thank you,” Montcliff replied.  “I hope it helped.”

“It did, although I should tell you that we came to many of the same conclusions that you did before we read your paper, which is one of the reasons we were so impressed with it.  There was just one major thing we concluded that you seemed to have missed.”

“I missed?  What’s that?”

“We believe that this memory transfer process was actually developed to be used as a way to prolong life.”

“Prolong life?  How?”

“An older person, or a very ill person, could use it to transfer their identity into a younger, healthier body, complete with every memory they’ve ever had.”

Doctor Montcliff stared at him in disbelief, but only for a moment.  She suddenly threw her hands up in the air.  “Uh!” she shouted.  “It’s so obvious!  How could I have missed it?”

“You did figure out everything else,” Curmett reminded her.

“It’s the Fountain of Youth!” Montcliff declared.  “I should have realized.  Somone actually found a way to live forever.”  She pointed directly at Curmett.  “Sign me up!  I want it.  It’s every woman’s dream to be able to be young forever.”

“The President said something similar yesterday, asking us to not let his wife know.”

Montcliff chuckled.  “I’ll bet,” she replied.  “If I happened to find one of those things lying around on the street, I’d steal it in a minute, take it home with me, and hide it somewhere so I could just keep it for myself.”

“I fear, you wouldn’t be alone in that,” Curmett agreed.

“Imagine every household in the country, or the world having something like that,” Montcliff joked, then she turned serious.  “Yes, imagine that.  And the chaos it would bring.  If so many people had it, you could kill off three quarters of the population of the planet, just to continue keeping the remaining few alive forever.”

Curmett nodded.  “Which brings me to the real reason I’m here today.”

Montcliff stared at him, waiting for what she figured would be bad news.

“Doctor Montcliff,” Curmett started.  “It is imperative that you not tell a single soul of what we have discovered.  No one at all!  Nothing!  Please try to imagine the panic, or even just the chaos that knowledge of such a process might have if it gets out.”

“Just the Fountain of Youth part alone would drive everyone nuts,” Montcliff noted.

“Yes, it would.  But as you noticed originally, that is not the most dangerous aspect of what could be done with it.”

“No.  Not by a long shot,” Montcliff agreed.  “Don’t worry.  I pretty much knew that already.  I can tell you for a fact that Congressman Stiller and his family know it too.  They’ve gone out of their way to keep quiet about all knowledge of what has actually happened.  I met with Nancy here yesterday, and as I suspected, they’re simply telling everyone that something happened to her during her abduction that left her with…basically, amnesia.  Complete amnesia.  And as you know, amnesia is a more common situation than many people realize.  It happens all the time.”

“Yes,” Curmett replied.  “We were hoping that would be the case with the family.  I’ll still be going to see them tonight to have a little talk with them too.”

Montcliff nodded.  “I have no doubt you will.  And the Marsh family?”

“I’ll see them tomorrow, along with a couple of FBI agents and the police detective.  All of them are the only ones we’re aware of so far who actually know what the situation really is.”

Montcliff nodded.

“Which brings me to the final part of why I came to see you.”

That surprised Montcliff.  She sat waiting to hear what it could be.

“We would like you to continue to work with Nancy,” Curmett told her.

“I would have done that anyway,” Montcliff replied.  “That was the plan, as long as the family want me to.”

“Of course,” Curmett said, “But we also want you to work with Stephen Marsh as well.  We know that it’s a bit of a drive, but both we the committee, as well as the President of the United States, feel that it’s imperative that we keep all knowledge of the situation confined to as few people as possible, and bringing in yet another psychiatrist to work with Stephen would not be helping that.”

“Not to mention,” Montcliff added, “since the problem for both subjects are directly related to each other, it only makes sense for one person, or team, to work with both of them.”

“Not a team!” Curmett told her quickly.  “As few people as possible.  Remember?”

“Yes,” Montcliff agreed, disappointed to hear that.  She would have no one else to rely on or discuss this problem with.

“One other thing,” Curmett said.  “We’re going to need you to provide us with regular reports on what’s happening with those two as well.”

Montcliff was dubious about that request.  “I’m not….”

“Doctor!” Curmett cut her off quickly.  “Let’s just say that it’s not something that’s open for debate.  We will insist on being kept up to date on even the slightest details.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Use your imagination!”

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Henry wasn’t exactly happy about it, but he realized it was a good idea.  It had been his wife’s idea, and he hadn’t wanted to be bothered with it at all.  But it was the one final thing that Agatha had said that drove the idea home.  “He’s still your son.  Maybe you should get to know him.”  She was right.  Like it or not, this new Stephen was his son, despite somehow being mentally a twelve year old girl that belonged to someone else.

The absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on him, but things were what they were, and it was looking like they were all going to have to learn to live with it.  Whatever had happened hadn’t just affected Stephen, it affected all of them…deeply!

And what about his real daughter?  Nancy?  She was stuck in a body so different than the person she actually was, just like this new Stephen.  As he remembered thinking a moment before, things were what they were, and he had to trust that Wanda and Mike Stiller would take good care of his Stephen, just like he was trying to take care of their Nancy inside of Stephen now.

He finished tying his sneakers and headed downstairs.  Stephen was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him.  “Ready?” his son…new son, same old body…asked.

“Let’s do it,” Henry agreed, already regretting this plan of action.  The two of them walked out the back door, then walked around to the road in front of the house.

“Which way?” Stephen asked.

Henry nodded up the street.  Together, they slowly started jogging together.

“Is this where the other me ran?” Steve asked.

“Mostly,” Henry confirmed.  “He ran most mornings all over the neighborhood.  Don’t expect me to be able to do that,” Henry added quickly.  “I have a feeling I’ll be lucky to make it to the end of the block.”

“Huh!” Steve laughed.  “You sound like my…um…sorry.  Forget I said that.”

“Like your what?”

“My other father,” Steve told him.

“I probably do,” Henry admitted.  “And it doesn't surprise me either.  In some ways, he and I are a lot alike.”

“You both work too much!” Steve noted.  “Sorry.  I know how important each of your jobs are, especially his, but it’s just that…he was always working and never around.”

“And you wanted him to be?”

“Well, yeah.  I guess.  I guess though that mostly I just got used to him not being there.  He did have to spend a lot of time in Washington, so he couldn’t get home.”

“Yeah,” Henry replied.  “I’m sure he did.”

“Don’t tell him,” Steve said, “but sometimes he worked so much that I wished I could help him with something, just to get to see him a bit more.  And maybe it would help keep him home more too.”

“That would be awfully nice of you.  I take it you never told him?”

“No.  Of course not.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“But I had Emily,” Steve told him.  “And she was always…great!”

“She was?”

“Yeah.  We spent a lot of time together.”

“That’s nice.  I guess you were lucky.”

“Yeah.  Please don’t misunderstand.  I’m really grateful for the way you and…Mom…treat me and for everything you’re trying to do for me, but, I still miss my old family.  And even though I was never able to have as many kids to the house as I would have liked, I still had a few that either came by, or I was able to go to their houses.  But here…”

“Here you don’t have anybody,” Henry said, knowing that was a large part of Stephen’s problems now.

“I don’t know anybody I can even talk to,” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah.  We know,” Henry told him.  “And we haven’t forgotten about needing to find you a new psychiatrist either.  We’re working on it.”

“I’m not sure I want another psychiatrist.  I don’t think he can help me.”

“And beyond the psychiatrist, you’re basically alone with no one to keep you company or talk about anything at all with, like your sister was for you before.”

Steve said nothing.  The two of them just ran.

Henry tried to study this new Stephen as he thought about the things they had just said.  “Are you sure you’re only twelve years old?” he finally joked.  “You sound a lot more grown up than that.”

“Can you teach me to drive then?” Steve countered.

“Not on your life!”

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Congressman Stiller had gotten the phone call at his office earlier.  Curmett, the National Security Advisor, was going to show up at his house this evening to talk with the family.  For once, Mike Stiller went out of his way to get home early, even though it would be several hours before Curmett got there.

At eight o’clock that evening, the doorbell rang, and Wanda answered it.  “Mr. Curmett,” she greeted the important man.  “Please.  Come in.”  As he entered, Wanda held the door for the three men with him, but they stayed outside.  “Coffee?” she asked Curmett.

“Sure.  Why not?” Daniel Curmett agreed.  He took one of the seats in the formal living room while the entire Stiller family joined him.  In moments, Wanda handed him a fresh cup of coffee.  “Thanks,” he told her softly.  With all eyes turned to him, he began.  “I can’t begin to tell you how worrying this entire situation is to not only the three of us who spoke with you in the Catskills, but also the President of the United States.  He asked me personally to speak with all of you and let you know some of our concerns.”

“I just want to know if you can fix us,” Nancy blurted out, anxious for that answer.

Curmett nodded.  “I’m sorry, but the answer is still no.  We have no idea how to do that since we don’t know how it was done in the first place.  We would have never believed it even could be done unless we had all seen the evidence with our own eyes, and we each managed separately to come up with pretty much the same conclusions.”

“How close was Doctor Montcliff’s theory?” Congressman Stiller asked.

“From our findings?  Almost right on.  We came up with only one other thing that she missed.”

“What’s that?” Wanda asked.

“I’m sorry,” Curmett told her with a shake of his head.  “For now, that information is going to be kept in strictest confidence.  Presidential orders,” he added.  “Doctor Montcliff was allowed to know since she deduced the rest of it before anyone else.  But other than her.  Nobody.”

“But the rest of it is true?” the congressman asked.  “There is some kind of threat to this country?”

“No direct threat right now, but we believe there could be in the future.  Because of that, the President asked me to come here personally to speak with you all.”

“All of us?” the congressman asked.  “Not just me?”

“You and your entire family,” Curmett told him.  “First of all, I need to know if any of you have told anyone else, family members, friends, anyone at all, about Steven and Nancy’s memory transfer?”

The family looked around at each other.  “We’ve been trying to keep that as much of a secret as possible,” the congressman told him.  “There’s too much of a chance of it damaging my reputation and what I’m trying to do in congress.”

“That’s good,” Curmett told him.  “Perfect in fact.”

“Nancy’s psychiatrist knows,” Wanda reminded him.

“I’ve already spoken with her earlier today,” Curmett assured her.  “Anyone else?” He asked as he looked to both Emily and Nancy.”

“Not me,” Emily assured him.  “Who would believe it?”

“Nancy?” Curmett asked next.

“Nope,” Nancy replied.  “Not even the friends who came to visit me.”

“Friends?” Curmett asked.  “What did you tell them?”

Wanda answered quickly for her.  “They only know that due to something that happened during her abduction, she lost her memory.  Amnesia.  Agatha in Philadelphia told me when we spoke that she’s already used the same excuse on her end too.”

Curmett nodded.  “Amnesia should work very well.  Perfectly in fact.  And I can tell you that Doctor Montcliff agrees.  Now that we know we don’t have to worry about that, I need to ask that you all do everything possible to never say anything at all, to anyone, that might let them draw a conclusion that Nancy and Stephen’s memories were somehow overwritten by someone else’s consciousness.  I can’t begin to tell you how important that is.”

“I already know how dangerous that could be,” Mike agreed.  “It could cause widespread panic.”

“Exactly,” Curmett confirmed. 

“Don’t worry,” Mike told him.  “I’ll make sure we all understand that.  You don’t have to worry about any of us.”

“I hope not,” Curmett replied.  “The only other thing I have to mention then, is Doctor Montcliff.  We would like her to remain as Nancy’s doctor for the foreseeable future so as to limit the knowledge of what actually happened to as few people as possible.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Wanda told him.

“Just so you know,” Curmett continued.  “I’ve asked the doctor to also work as Stephen’s psychiatrist as well.  One doctor who is familiar with both your cases.  The doctor is quite agreeable about this.  The only problem she faces is the drive to Philadelphia, but a two-hour drive is nothing compared to the national security aspects of this situation.”

“Since Nancy is Stephen and Stephen is Nancy,” Wanda said, “that makes more sense to me than anything else.”

“Yes.  Exactly.  We also see it that way,” Curmett agreed.

As a congressman who had been in government service for a number of years, Mike Stiller couldn’t help but think there was more going on here than Curmett was letting on.  But more than that was the unstated threat.  Curmett had never once said what would happen if anyone in his family did tell outsiders about what had actually happened.  Knowing as much about the government as he did, that thought worried him.  But he owed it to his family to keep that knowledge to himself.  They had enough to worry about.  He didn’t want to burden them with anything like that.

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Extracted - Chapter 21 – Out of Sorts – Part 2 of 2

 

Extracted

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 21 – Out of Sorts – Part 2 of 2

 

The President of the United States finished reading the document he had been given.  He looked up at the three authors of it who had been waiting patiently.  “Right,” he finally said.  “Don’t let my wife get even a hint of this or she’ll commit murder to get it.”

“A lot of people would commit murder for it, or worse,” Curmett agreed.

“Forget the deadlier aspects of it, just the fact that someone could actually use it to keep themselves alive for…who knows how long is beyond comprehension.”

“Yet we know there’s a lot of people out there who would do anything to do it,” Blake reminded him.

The President nodded.  “Yes.  Too many.  But for right now, we have no choice but to consider the worst aspects of this, even though someone living forever might be just as bad.  No doubt there are national security aspects to this.  The question is, why hasn’t anyone come out and demanded anything for it yet?”

“As we stated there,” Curmett told him, “they may simply be waiting to give us time to analyze what they’ve done first.  Then they’ll make their demands.”

“Maybe,” the President agreed.  “Both those kids were returned to places where they couldn’t be missed.  The ransom demand by the activist group still worries me though.  But as you mentioned here, they simply wouldn’t have the resources for anything like this.  I also wouldn’t believe that a group like that would be interested in building a…live forever machine.”

“No,” Curmett agreed.  “We’re fairly sure they wouldn’t.  Some of them are pretty bright, but not that bright as to come up with something like this.”

“So we’re left with what to do about it,” the President said.  “Okay.  What do you each think about your proposals?”

“As much as I hate to even suggest such a thing, sir,” Holfstrom said, “I agree that knowledge of this has to be squashed at all costs.”

“All costs,” the President repeated.

“I’m sorry sir, but if knowledge of what has been done gets out, I can’t even imagine the uproar that such a thing might bring.”

The President looked to Doctor Blake.  “And you?”

“Sir,” Blake said.  “I’m a doctor.  I’m even more against such drastic measures as we’ve suggested.  However, the panic that might ensue could cost more lives than the few that would be taken.  I would like you to note however that there are some contingencies there instead of outright murder.  I think they might be considered, but as to the other…I have no choice but to agree.  The greater sum of saving human lives is the issue.”

The President nodded then looked to Curmett.  “I already know your feelings on this,” he said.

“Quite!” Curmett told him.

The President considered his options.  “Okay,” he finally said.  He looked to Curmett.  “Make your recommendations as to how we should continue finding these people in the future, and then have a black ops plan drawn up and let me see it, but as always, do not execute.  Not without my orders.  Is that clear?”

“No problem,” Curmett agreed.

“In the meantime,” the President continued.  “Let’s put your idea to not simply murder them into effect.  Curmett, maybe you should go personally to have a talk with all of them involved and put the fear of God into them.  Let’s see how well they seem to handle this.  When the plan is ready, I’ll look over whatever your black ops group comes up with and make my decision on it then.”

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Nancy still wasn’t feeling well once she got home.  She went back up to her room where she spent most of her time, sat on the floor, and again leaned back against the bed.  Stupid doctor!  What did she know?  Give it a chance.  Don’t cut your hair yet.  You should try new things a few times before you make up your mind.  If she didn’t like ballet, that was her business, and she already knew that!

Emily poked her head into the room.  “You okay?”

“I feel sick!”

“Because of the doctor?”

“Yes, because of that stupid doctor.  What does she know.  Besides, I was feeling sick before that.”

“Sick?” Emily asked.  “In what way.”

“My stomach.  And stop bothering me.  I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself!”

“Uh…Nance,” Emily said.

“What?”

“Maybe you better check to make sure your period hasn’t started.”

Nancy’s arm was just long enough to reach up and grab a pillow from her bed.  She threw it at Emily who giggled and left her alone.

Stupid sisters.  It was better being Stephen with no sisters at all.  It was better being Stephen…period!

She had been sitting there for a while when her doorway was suddenly invaded again.  She looked up to see Chrissy there.  But this time, Chrissy wasn’t alone.

While Nancy stared at the two girls in her room in disbelief, Chrissy reached down and picked up the pillow.  “What’s your pillow doing here?”

“I threw it at my sister,” Nancy told her.

Chrissy giggled.  “Hi Nance.  How are you today?”

“Don’t ask,” Nancy replied, now looking only at the new girl.

“Hi Nance,” the other girl said softly, staring intently at Nancy.

“Hi,” Nancy replied.  “I hope Chrissy told you that I can’t remember one lousy thing about anyone anymore.  Since you’re here, I’m guessing I’m supposed to know you?”

Both Chrissy and the new girl knelt down in front of her.  “I’m Diane,” the new girl told her.  “And yeah, we’re friends.  We have been for a real long time.”

“Not that I can remember,” Nancy said, once again bonking the back of her head against the bed.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Diane said.  “Chrissy explained it all.  Then she asked if I could come over with her and try to cheer you up a bit.”

“Cheer me up?”  Nancy shook her head.  “I hate to tell you both, but I’m having an extra bad day today.  My stomach hurts, and it’s getting worse.”

“Your stomach!” Chrissy exclaimed.  “Oh no.  What does your mother say?”

“Nothing.  I haven’t told her yet.  Emily told me to go check my panties.”

“Oh,” Chrissy said.  “Did you?”

“Not yet.  I’m fine.  Don’t worry about me.  Do you want to know what my crazy mother did to me?”

“What she did to you?  What?” Diane asked.

“She’s got this woman, Mrs. Cutter, coming here to the house now to give me…get this, ballet lessons.  I had to suffer through my first one yesterday.  I think she was trying to kill me!”

Both Chrissy and Diane laughed.  “Does that mean you’ll be in ballet class with us after school starts?” Diane asked.

“Ballet class?  You both take ballet?”

“Of course silly.  We all love it.”

“Not anymore.  Especially after she tried to convince me I can dance, and then did everything possible to prove I can’t.”  Her two friends laughed again.

“Hey!” Chrissy said as she jumped to her feet.  She went over to Nancy’s dresser, looked at the things on it carefully, then selected a few and carried them back.  She held up two bottles of nail polish.  “Diane, which one?”

“That one,” Diane decided, quickly pointing at the purple bottle.

“Nance?” Chrissy said.  “This pink okay for you?”

Nancy stared at the two bottles of nail polish in horror.  “You want to…”

“Of course silly,” Chrissy told her.  “It’ll give us something to do while we talk.”

Nancy didn’t need anything else to do.  Talking was more than enough.  Especially today.  But before long, Nancy was putting the purple polish on Diane’s nails with one hand as Chrissy talked her though how to do it, while Chrissy was putting the pink polish on the nails of Nancy’s other hand.  When they all had one hand done, they switched things around to do the other hands.  Finally, Diane finished Chrissy’s nails with the pink polish.

Through it all, Nancy kept wondering why she was doing such a thing.  It was the last thing on earth she would ever do!  And yet, she just didn’t seem to want to disappoint these two new…friends.  She didn’t forget though about the bottle of nail polish remover she had seen in the bathroom.  She was going to use it just as soon as these two were gone.

Five minutes after they finished, Nancy realized something.  “Uh…excuse me,” she said as she got to her feet.  “I’ve got to go to…  To go.  Be right back.”

“Careful of your nails,” Chrissy reminded her.

Nancy didn’t bother answering.  She headed for the bathroom.  She pulled her panties down and sat on the toilet, and was annoyed to see a spot of color.  But it wasn’t the same exact color that was now stuck to her fingernails.  And it was in the wrong place.

“Aaahh!” she screamed in frustration.  She hated this new life like the plague!  When she was finished, she quicky pulled her panties up and headed back to her room, where she ignored her two new friends as she pulled a fresh pair of panties from her dresser, and headed straight back to the bathroom again.  She pulled her used panties off, and put her fresh panties on, but not before grabbing one of the period pads from under the sink that her mother had told her about.  When she was ready, she went back to her friends.

“Period?” Chrissy asked.

“I hate being a girl!”

An hour later, both Chrissy and Diane were gone.  Nancy headed straight to the bathroom to find the bottle of nail polish remover.  She ran into Emily on the way.

“Have fun today?” Emily asked.

Nancy shrugged.  “Not exactly.”

“What’s wrong?”

Nancy sighed.  “Don’t ask.”

“What’ch doin’ now?” Emily asked her.

Nancy held up one of her hands to show her the pink nail polish on her fingers.  “I saw a bottle of nail polish remover in the bathroom.  I’m getting this stuff off!”

“Why?  It looks nice.”

“Because I don’t want it.”

“Nance!  Listen to me.  Maybe you should consider leaving that stuff on for a while.”

“Why?”

“To remind you that you’re not so alone anymore.”

“I’m not?”

“What was that in there with Chrissy and Diane?  They came to see you, and Chrissy’s been here twice now.  You’ve got friends now Nancy.  Two of them.  And if you’re as old inside as you claim you are, then you’ve got to realize that they both care about you.  I mean, they came here when they didn’t have to, just to spend some time with you and try to break you out of your incessant boredom.”

Nancy considered that.  Friends.  Maybe real friends.  And even if she wasn’t happy doing the things they liked, she had still enjoyed having some company and someone to talk with for a while.

“Keep the polish Nance,” Emily told her again.  “And like I said, every time you notice it, which should be pretty damn often, remember that you’re not as alone anymore as you think.”

Nancy looked at her pink fingernails, then back at Emily and reluctantly nodded her agreement.

“Besides,” Emily said.  “It’s pretty.  Why would you want to remove it?”  With that, she walked off.

Nancy continued on into the bathroom, she was stopped though when she heard Emily calling from further down the hallway.  “I thought you were leaving it?”

“I am.  I need to…check my damn pad!  I’ve never had to worry about anything like that before.”

Emily laughed.  “Thought so!  Bye sis.”

“I hate being a girl!” Nancy yelled back.

Extracted - Chapter 21 – Out of Sorts – Part 1 of 2

 

Extracted

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 21 – Out of Sorts – Part 1 of 2

 

Stephen was getting ready to go downstairs for breakfast, when his new father showed up in his room.

“Steve?”

“Yeah Dad?”

“You okay after our little talk last night?”

“Yeah.  Of course.”

“Good.  Any more problem with…”

“You mean Mister Gross?”

Henry chuckled.  “So no problems?”  He noticed Stephen just looking at him, but not saying anything.  “Steve?”

“Can we not talk about this Dad,” Stephen asked.

“That’s fine,” Henry replied, stifling another chuckle.  “I wanted to talk to you about something though, but last night’s little chat just didn’t make it the time.”

“What’s that?” Stephen asked.

“Your body.”

“My body?”  Stephen sighed.  “What now?  More problems like Mister Gross?”

“No.  Nothing like that.  What I wanted to talk to you about is exercise.”

“Exercise?”

“Yes!  Steve, look.  The old you worked out constantly to build up that body of yours.  In fact, he probably worked out too much.  But he had a goal, and I’d say he pretty much met that goal, all so that he could play football and be the best at it.  He wanted to play football in college, maybe even in the pros.”

“I hate football, remember?” Stephen told him.

“I know, and I’m not suggesting you should play football, although nothing would make me happier right now, even though I don’t see any way in the world you can play.  Not as things stand now.”

“So?” Stephen asked.

“So what I’m trying to get to, is that I really don’t want to see you neglect that body you’ve got.  You don’t have to go to the point where you…I mean the other you, went with it, but I at least want you to get some exercise.”

“Exercise?  Like what?”

“Whatever you want.  Stephen ran every morning, and he lifted weights all day.  I think whenever he was in this room he lifted weights.  I’ve even seen him holding his phone in one hand while he talked, but his other hand was busy lifting the weights.  He was always working out one way or another.  You certainly don’t have to go to that extreme, but please, just exercise.  Work out a bit.  Keep yourself in good shape.  Steve, whether you know it or not, that’s important.  And who knows, maybe it will help the depression you seem to live in.”

Steve considered it, then shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know anything about working out.  I used to dance all the time, but in this body, it’s not going to work at all.  I’m only twelve and I know that much.”

Henry was about to point out that he wasn’t twelve, he was seventeen, but he stopped himself.  Unfortunately, this new son that he was stuck with was only twelve – mentally.  Another idea struck him.  “Steve,” he said.  “You and…the real Stephen seemed to get along pretty good at that resort.”

“I guess so,” Stephen admitted.  “How else should we have been?”

“I don’t know,” Henry admitted, not wanting to go into the possibilities.  “But if you don’t do it for me, or even for yourself, maybe you can do it for him.  For that Stephen, the original person who had your body, and who took such good care of it.  I mean, face it Steve, you’re not only healthy, but you look…well, fairly incredible.  You already know the girls are all in love with you.”

“Yeah, and look what Melody did to me.”

“Yes, and look what she awakened in you.”

Steve rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, Mister Gross getting grosser all the time.  Okay.  I’ll try to figure out some way to exercise.”

“Good.  Let me know if I can help.”

Steve looked at all the weights on their racks in his room.  “I don’t really want those darn things in my room.  They’re ugly and they take up too much space.  And I can tell you right now that I’m not going to be lifting them all the time like he did.  Is there some place I can put them that’s not in here?”

“You can move them to the basement if you want.  That’s where your mother wanted them in the first place.”

“The basement?  I haven’t even been there yet.”

“Huh!” Henry grunted.  “Trust me, you’re not missing anything.  Carry them down there if you want.  Your mother will be happy.”

“Me?  Carry all them?”

“You’re the strongest one in the house.  Besides, what else do you have to do today?”

Stephen sighed.  “Maybe that can be my exercise for the day.”

“Sounds perfect,” Henry agreed.  “Now I’ve got to go to work.  See you later.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Nancy was so sick of brushing her hair.  Not to mention, her entire body seemed to feel a bit sick today.  Her stomach was bothering her, and it had been since she woke up.  Breakfast hadn’t helped it at all, even though she had hoped it would.  And now, once again, she was spending an absolute eternity brushing her hair.  She had miles of useless hair!  Her stupid new mother made her do it every morning and every night before bed.  But it was worse on days like today when they were getting ready to go out.  She didn’t want to go anywhere, especially not when she wasn’t feeling good.

They were going back to see that psychiatrist again, Doctor Montcliff.  She didn’t mind Doctor Montcliff, she just didn’t see any use in what they talked about.  Actually, she didn’t see any use in talking about anything.  Talking never did any good at all.

Her mother walked into the room, all dressed to go.  “Okay,” she said.  “Hair all brushed?”

“Overly!” Nancy complained.

“Then let’s see what we can do with it today.  And Nance, it’s time you learned to start styling your own hair now.  It’s not difficult.”

“Maybe for you,” Nancy replied as she sat still with her back turned to her mother.  “Mom, I’m not feeling so good today.  Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

“Tough!  You’re not getting out of this!” Wanda told her.  “You need to see her.”

“For what?”

“To help you.”

“She’s not helping anything,” Nancy complained.

“You’ve barely started with her.  You’ve got to give it time.  Now, what dress do you want to wear today, and then we can pick out a pretty necklace to go with it.”

“Dress?  Do I have to?”

“Yes!  Now pick something.  We need to get moving.”

Forty-five minutes later, Nancy and her new mother entered the building where Doctor Montcliff had her office.  Sooner than she was happy about, Nancy walked in to speak with the doctor.

“Hi Nancy,” Isabelle Montcliff greeted her brightly.  “How are you today?”

“Sick!” Nancy told her.

“Sick?”

“Sick in the head and sick in my stomach.”

“Oh?” Montcliff replied, not sure what to make of all that.  She decided to move on.  “The last time we spoke, I suggested that maybe you should look around and try to find something that interests you.  Any luck?”

“Luck?  Instead of finding anything interesting, I found a few things that interest me even less than I figured they would.”

“Oh?  Like what?”

“Ballet!”

“Ballet?  When did you try ballet?”

“Mom, out there, signed me up for private lessons.  She’s insisting that I learn.”

“I don’t see why that’s such a bad thing,” Montcliff told her.

“And I don’t see how it’s a good thing either,” Nancy countered.

“Maybe you just need to give it a bit of time.  Be patient.  Who knows, you very well might come to like it.”

“Doctor, you do remember that I’m a boy inside this little body.”

“So?  What’s that got to do with it?  It’s no reason why you can’t like and appreciate something like ballet.”

“It is to me.”

Montcliff decided to drop it.  “Let’s try something,” she said.  “Tell me something that you really hate about this new life that you have.”

“You mean besides ballet?”

“Yes.  Besides ballet.”

“That’s easy.  Hair.”

“Hair?”

“I feel like I spend all day doing nothing but brushing it or messing with it in some way.  It’s always there.  It’s always in my way.  If I turn my head, it moves.  If I walk anywhere, it keeps moving.  If I do anything at all, it’s always moving and brushing me on the back, or my shoulders, or just getting in my way.  I’d love to cut it all off, but Mom out there, won’t let me.”

“You do have beautiful hair Nancy,” Montcliff told her.

“That’s because Mom makes me brush it so much.  Enough that it should be thoroughly dead by now.”

Montcliff chuckled.  “You seem a bit out of sorts today,” she noted.

“Me?  Oh no.  I’m fine.  Fine enough to have to wear this dumb dress even though I hate dresses.  Fine enough to have Mom fix my hair special instead of just pulling it back in a ponytail.  And fine enough to come here, even though I don’t want to.”

“You keep emphasizing the word Mom every time you use it.”

“So?”

“So what’s your problem with her?”

Nancy shook her head.  “Nothing.  She’s fine.  It’s just…life in general.”

“And ballet.”

“Especially ballet!”

Montcliff nodded again.  “Out of sorts.”

 

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