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.

 

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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.”

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

Extracted - Chapter 20 – Do Guys Have Periods Too – Part 2 of 2

 

Extracted

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 20 – Do Guys Have Periods Too – Part 2 of 2

 

After dinner, with nothing better to do, Stephen went out to the back patio again to practice throwing the basketball into the net.  He was getting better, but only slightly.  His problems were still the biggest thing on his mind.  Throwing the basketball simply gave his body something to do while he worried about things.

“Throw it here.”

Steve looked up to see his new father out on the patio now with him.  Steve tossed him the ball, still marveling at how easy it was for him to throw it that far.  He watched as his new father bounced the ball a few times, then took a shot at the basket.  The ball hit the rim and bounced away.  Steve had to run to chase it and bring it back.

“I don’t get it,” he said to his father as he threw the ball back to him.  “Why does the ball have to bounce so much?  Wouldn’t it be better to have a ball that you could throw through the net, then it would just squish down on the ground and not bounce all over the place so you have to go chase it all the time?”

Henry was confounded by the question.  Once again he was reminded that this was someone who didn’t know anything about sports, but still, he couldn’t help but notice that he was out here throwing hoops.  “Bouncing the ball is a major part of the game,” he told Steve.  Haven’t you ever seen a basketball game?”

“Not really.  It’s not in my top ten of things to do.”

“But you’re out here now, shooting hoops.”  He took another shot, and again Steve had to chase the ball down.  Henry motioned to Steve that it was his turn.  Steve threw the ball at the goal, but the way he threw it showed he didn’t know the first thing about playing basketball.  Once again, Steve’s shot missed.

“This is so frustrating,” Steve complained.

“And yet, here you are,” Henry noted.  “Besides, it’s not supposed to be that easy.  That’s part of the game.  Get the ball through the hoop.”

“Dumb!” Steve muttered.

Henry declined to remind him that he was playing that dumb game.  “You wanted to talk to me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said, putting the ball down on the ground.

Henry glanced towards the patio chairs.  “Want to sit?”

Steve considered that.  “I don’t know.  I think I’m still kind of antsy.”

“Okay,” Henry agreed.  “What’s going on?”

“Dad…” Steve started then stopped, trying to find the courage to talk about his problem.  “Yesterday a girl showed up here.  Melody.  Someone told me once that she was…the other Steve’s girlfriend.”

“I heard,” Henry told him.

“Anyway, she…kissed me.  On the mouth.  Hard!  A couple of times actually.”

“Your mother said it didn’t look like you liked it,” Henry told him.

“No!  I didn’t.  I mean….  Look,” he said.  “I’m really a girl inside.  And I know I’m not really that old, even though this body I’m stuck in is that old, but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t want another girl kissing me!  Not like that!”

“Since you didn’t like it, your mother said you managed to handle the problem pretty well.”

“Yeah but…”

“But what?  What’s the problem?”

Steve shook his head.  “I don’t know.”

“Must be something.”

“Maybe,” Steve admitted.  “But it’s kind of embarrassing.  And I don’t know if it’s a normal guy thing or what.  I’m a girl and nobody ever told me about…something like this.”

Henry was a bit more concerned now.  “What happened?”

“Since then,” Steve said, “I can’t seem to stop thinking about it, and…well…  Like all last night, it was like I could feel her hugging me, and still kissing me, and…and…um…”  He looked straight at his father.  “Gross got real big.”

Henry got real confused, real quick.  “Gross?”

“Yeah, I just call it Gross.”

“What do you call gross?”

“My…penis thingy.  My…cock.  I don’t know what guys call it, so I just named it Gross!”

Henry suddenly had to keep from laughing.  “You named it?  Gross?”

“Well, why not?”

Henry shook his head.  “Okay.  Got you,” he said, once again reminded that he was talking to a mental twelve year old girl and not his seventeen year old son.

“But what the heck is going on with it?” Stepehen asked.  “And that’s not the worst part.  Last night…last night, it kept getting real hard, and then suddenly it…”

Henry could almost guess what was coming now.  “It what?”

“Um…Dad.  Do guys have to worry about periods like girls do?”

“Periods like girls?  Of course not.  No.  Absolutely not.”

“Then what happened?  Cause it made a mess in the bed.  Don’t worry!” Stephen added quickly.  “I cleaned it up.  It’s fine.”

Once again, Henry had to work to keep a straight face.  “Steve,” he said.  “I guess since the real you is still somewhat young, you never had to face any sexual experiences.”

“Any what?”

“Did your mother or father…your other mother or father, ever tell you about sex?”

“Sure,” Stephen replied.  “And…well…the girls at school talked about it a lot too.”

Henry wasn’t sure how much anyone had discussed the subject of sex with Nancy…who was now Stephen.  “Stephen,” he said.  “What happened to you last night is what happens whenever a guy gets sexually aroused.  It’s normal.  It happens all the time.  Trust me, it’s okay.”

Nancy was shocked.  “You mean, it’s going to keep getting bigger than it already is?  It’s already huge.  Gross!”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But…what if it gets stuck that way?  It’s…how do I stop it?”

“Don’t worry, it won’t get stuck.  As soon as you cum…um, ejaculate, it will go right back to the size it was.”

“Eject…what?”

“Like I’m guessing it did in bed last night,” Henry explained.

“Ew!  Yuck!”

“But didn’t it feel good?”

Stephen just looked at him and didn’t answer.

“Steve?” Henry prompted.

“I…Dad, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Welcome to the world,” Henry told him.  “That’s kind of the way it is.”

Stephen tried to take that in, then asked, “So does this happen once a month or something, like a period?”

Henry chuckled.  “Not even close.”

“Oh, good.  Then how often do I need to worry about it?”

“Stephen, it’s going to happen every single time you get aroused.  Every time anything at all hits you that turns you on.”

“Every time something…”

“How often is that?”

“A lot!  Trust me.  All the time.  Steve, you’re…well, you’ve got an adult body now.  A body that does adult things.  You’re going to have to accept those things and deal with them.  Just remember though, there are consequences to everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Steve, as someone who used to be a girl, you’ve got to know that the sperm, the semen, that came out of you last night, if you get any of that stuff too close to the wrong place on a woman, she could easily wind up pregnant.”

“You mean, like to make babies?”

“I thought you said someone told you about this stuff.”

“I thought so.  And Mom did talk about how babies are made.  But I didn’t know a guy’s gross thing got any bigger than mine is now.  I mean, it’s already big.  Too big!  I’m not used to having anything there at all.”

Once again Henry chuckled.  “Consider yourself lucky.  Trust me.  And something tells me that soon, probably very soon, you’re going to be absolutely obsessed with it.  I think the old you was.  In fact, I know the old you was.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Stephen told him.

Henry laughed.  “Oh, I will bet on it.”

 

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

 

The three committee members met in Curmett’s office.  There was a document sitting on Curmett’s desk now that hadn’t existed before.  It was printed on government letterhead, and the first thing on it were the words: Confirmed Viable Threat, in bold letters and underlined.  Below that was the title:  Initial Report On Identity Transference Situation.

All three committee members had now read it and approved it.  There was only one thing left for them to do.

Curmett turned the document to the final page and pushed it across his desk towards Doctor Blake.  He set a pen down on top of the document.  Blake picked up the pen and signed his name on the appropriate line.  He then slid the paper over to Doctor Holfstrom, who signed on his designated line.  Holfstrom pushed the paper back to Curmett.  Curmett used the pen to sign his name.  The final signature.

Tomorrow, the three of them would meet with the President of the United States and present their initial findings.  All three were troubled by what they had recommended in the paper, but not one of them could fault the necessity of their recommendations.