Bruce Melvyn checked that the two small psionic receptors on his temples were securely held in place by his headband, then put on his signature straw hat. He took a look at himself in the mirror and smirked at what he saw: an aging man in overalls and a faded flannel shirt, and of course the straw hat. They'd laughed and said he was a crazy farmboy during his university years, and then even more so at the Institute. But what did they know of physics? What did they know of the subtle interactions between the human psyche and quantum probabilities? He had known there was a connection, and more, that there'd be a way to master it. It may have taken him decades of work, but he'd finally deciphered the science and developed the technology to master it. More, he'd built a weapon by which he could harness this power: a quantum transmogrification ray gun, a device that could temporarily alter probability fields to forcibly change things to match his imagination! All he had to do was think it, and the psionic receptors would relay his will through the gun, altering reality. They had laughed at his family background, but now he'd be the one laughing. The world would finally respect the genius of Barnyard!
* * * * *
Two weeks later...
The zone comm frequency crackled to life. "All units, bank robbery in progress in Galaxy City. Witnesses report seeing the villain Barnyard on the scene."
"Barnyard?" The hero known as Staccato laughed. "What kind of name is that?"
"If you actually read the newspaper once in a while, you'd know the answer to that." His sister, the heroine Legato, sighed. "He has some sort of gun that turns people into animals for a few minutes. He robbed a bank last week, over in Steel Canyon. He turned all the money into glitter, so he really made away with a lot. Nobody's figured out how to get around that ray gun of his yet."
"Well that's simple enough. We just won't give him a chance to fire it! Let's get over there, it's only a few blocks away."
* * * * *
"Stop, villain! You're under arrest!"
Barnyard let out a crazed evil laugh, then fired his ray gun. The Special Operations detachment from the Paragon Police Department instantly became a large clutch of bewildered chickens, very appropriate for all the clucking they like to do, he thought. Barnyard ran through the feathery crowd and made his way out of the bank, leaving a slightly glittered trail behind him.
"Stop, villain! You're under arrest!"
Barnyard looked around and spotted him, a cape. Two capes, actually. Standing there all arrogant and proud.
"Can't you young people ever say anything original?" He scoffed and lifted his gun to fire, but found himself knocked backwards against the building by a sonic blast coming from the female cape. The nerve!
"Just put the gun down and put your hands on your head, Barnyard." The male cape was the one talking, but the banshee-voiced girl was circling around to help hedge him in.
"Like hell I will." He whipped his arm up and blasted the girl, turning her into a pig. Much more appropriate for someone who likes to squeal so loudly. When he turned back to the male, he noticed the energy gathering at his hands just in time to dodge out of the way of a rather potent energy blast.
"Resisting arrest is only going to get you put away longer, Barny!" The man roared in anger and prepared to blast again. "Now change Legato back!"
"Barny?!" Another blast of his ray gun turned the pompous guy into a more appropriate form: a puffed up peacock. "It's Barnyard, and you'd do well to remember it!"
Laughing manically he started running down the street, putting as much distance as he could between him and them. Overconfident kids or not, the quantum probability change didn't seem to last as long on superpowered individuals, he'd noticed. And worse, its battery was running low. He turned down an alley, tripping over a discarded pipe on the ground. He landed with a thud, and his gun landed a few feet away accompanied by a disconcerting popping sound. He scurried back to his feet and grabbed the gun. There wasn't time to take a look at it. The money would only remain as glitter for a few more minutes, and those heroes were probably on his trail again by now.
"A pig? How dare you!"
A concussive blast of sound hit the ground nearby. Oh they certainly were on his trail, he thought sourly as he left the other end of the ally and started racing down the street. He needed a plan and he needed one fast. He noticed a teenager walking down the street with an enthusiastic bounce in his step, spaced out while listening to an iPod. A hostage! They would have to let him go if he had a hostage! Heroes never endangered the lives of the innocent!
"You!" He grabbed the kid roughly and held him close, putting the gun to his head. "Just stay quiet and do what I say, or I'll blast you!"
The kid's iPod fell to the ground. "O-okay... I..."
"Unhand him, villain!" The woman emerged from the alley and took a defensive stance, facing him down. "You're going to the Zig."
"No, you're going to go home and let me go on my way." Barnyard thought fast. Threatening to turn the kid into an animal wouldn't really be much of a threat, since he'd revert safely after a few minutes. He had to do something more lethal. Aha! "If you don't, this kid's head becomes sawdust!"
The kid let out a frightened squeak. Barnyard pushed the ray gun firmly against his head.
"And then what?" Barnyard spun around, dragging the kid with him, to face the male cape who had somehow managed to surround him. "You don't want murder on your record, too. Especially murder of a kid. Just let him go, okay?"
Barnyard looked back to the female. She was on edge, primed, ready to fight. They weren't going to let him go easily. He started to turn back to face the male cape when it happened: both of them attacked! As the concussive force of the sound and the smashing impact of raw energy sandwiched him into unconsciousness, he felt his finger pull the trigger. His last thought was that with the way the kid had been bouncing down the street, he would have made a good rabbit.
* * * * *
"Mom, dad, he's waking up!"
Matthew blinked his eyes open, then looked around. He was in a hospital room? His sister was sitting beside the bed, looking about ready to bust out in laughter. His mom was wiping her eyes while walking quickly towards the bed, with dad a few steps behind her.
"You'll be okay, honey. I promise, we'll fix this." His mother took his hand. His hand. He looked at it, realizing that the touch felt strange. He was... fuzzy?
"Uh. Why do I... What happened?"
His sister started laughing riotously.
"Sarah, go wait in the hall." Dad frowned at her. "This isn't funny."
"I don't get it. What's going on?"
Sarah managed to stop laughing again, which seemed to placate Dad well enough that he didn't tell her to leave again. Mom looked at a complete loss for words, and Dad didn't seem to have much to say either. So he turned to his sister. "Well?"
Sarah pulled a compact mirror out of her purse and handed it to him, smirking. "See for yourself, Mattie."
"No! Sarah!" His mother tried to grab it out of her hand, but Matthew got it first, giving his mother a funny look. She stopped, looking defeated and utterly hopeless.
He flipped open the mirror. He took a look. And then, when he made a startled sound of surprise, he felt the room around him shake and saw his mother and father knocked off their feet to the floor.
"Oh yeah, in addition to being a half rabbit, the doctors said you seemed to have acquired some super powers. Watch your voice, Matt. They already had to replace the windows when you started snoring." Having said this with a straight face, his sister once again started laughing.
"Sarah." Mom and Dad were back on their feet, and Dad was giving Sarah a stern look.
"Okay, okay, I'll just wait in the hall." Still laughing, she headed out of the room.
"My snoring broke the windows?" Matthew gaped.
"Don't listen to your sister." His mother took his hand again, looking like she might start crying again at any time. "You didn't break anything, baby."
"The doctors said that you changed to have similar powers as the two superheroes who blasted you," Dad calmly explained. "Their initial test results indicate that you'll have sonic and energy powers of some sort. Looks like you discovered the sonic powers," he added wryly. "They said the blast from the ray gun altered reality around you, but they don't understand how or why."
Matthew looked at the mirror again. Bunny ears and a furry face. He was a rabbit. No wonder Sarah was laughing so hard. He looked ridiculous!
"How long am I going to be in the hospital?"
"The doctors said you can come home as soon as you wake up," Dad answered. "They claim you're healthy. You're just... well. Different."
Mom let go of his hand and turned to face his father. "Different? I'll say he's different!" Her voice raised shrilly as she closed in on him. "This is your fault, Richard! You're the one who insisted we move here!"
As his mother spiraled into a hysterical tirade, it became very clear why his father had been keeping a wary distance from her. He looked at the mirror again. What a day.
Mattamorphosis
Moderator: Student Council
Re: Mattamorphosis
((This post picks up where Down the Rabbit Hole leaves off.))
He didn't know how long he'd stood staring the mirror this morning. Eventually, though, another student came into the bathroom and gave Matt a quizzical look, then asked him if he was okay. Matt couldn't even remember who it had been, he had been so distracted, but he'd ended up in Doc Syl's care shortly after.
Of course, there wasn't much she'd been able to do for him. She'd checked him out as well as she could, but wasn't able to come to any conclusions as to what was going on. It startled them both when, twenty minutes into her examination, he suddenly became his fully human old self in the blink of an eye. After giving Matt a mild sedative to tone down his panic, she had one of the Sisters drive him over to SERAPH for more involved testing.
SERAPH had been more helpful, but they still didn't have good answers. Apparently something weird was going on in terms of quantum probabilities that they didn't understand. Thus it was that Matt found himself detained for overnight observation. The only way to find answers is to procure information, and the only way to procure information is to record it.
It truly had been a week from hell.
He didn't know how long he'd stood staring the mirror this morning. Eventually, though, another student came into the bathroom and gave Matt a quizzical look, then asked him if he was okay. Matt couldn't even remember who it had been, he had been so distracted, but he'd ended up in Doc Syl's care shortly after.
Of course, there wasn't much she'd been able to do for him. She'd checked him out as well as she could, but wasn't able to come to any conclusions as to what was going on. It startled them both when, twenty minutes into her examination, he suddenly became his fully human old self in the blink of an eye. After giving Matt a mild sedative to tone down his panic, she had one of the Sisters drive him over to SERAPH for more involved testing.
SERAPH had been more helpful, but they still didn't have good answers. Apparently something weird was going on in terms of quantum probabilities that they didn't understand. Thus it was that Matt found himself detained for overnight observation. The only way to find answers is to procure information, and the only way to procure information is to record it.
It truly had been a week from hell.
Re: Mattamorphosis
Matt sat quietly in his chair. Seated to his left, his mother grasped her purse tightly, exerting pressure on it since there wasn't really much of anything else she could do. Seated to his right, his father was speaking across the desk to the SERAPH scientist who had been overseeing Matt's case.
"What can you tell us, Dr. Erasmas?"
"Not as much as we'd like, I'm afraid." The graying, balding man sighed. "The good news is that it appears as though there's no immediate danger to Matthew's health or safety. None of the transitions have caused any biological distress. We're inclined to release him from our supervised care. He can wear a small monitoring device that will continue to collect data on his state, and that can alert us if anything out of expected parameters begins to occur. We're also recommending that he wear his medicom badge at all times, just as a safety precaution. I don't expect him to need it, but better safe than sorry."
"You want to put him out there with only his medicom badge to protect him?" Mrs. Lamport's voice began to raise, tremulously.
"Patricia." Mr. Lamport looked over to his wife, his voice gentle but faintly reproaching. His wife merely clutched her purse more tightly.
"It's a matter of balancing his physical well-being with his mental health." Dr. Erasmas glanced at a report on his desk, then back up at the three Lamports seated before him. "The transitions appear to be fairly consistent in their nature, and we've already recorded as much data as we can regarding them. If anything happens to him physically, he can be in medical care within a minute's time thanks to the medicom badge and our monitoring device. We have staff on site in each of the hospitals in the city, so we'd be there to help immediately. The alternative to letting him out would be to keep him here, for his own safety. That kind of isolation is difficult on people, especially social people like your son. I also understand that he's had a rather rough week to begin with, and keeping him isolated won't help that improve. If he's back on campus, he'll be able to receive counseling from his normal counselor, which should help him move through all this."
Matt continued to sit quietly. He hated being talked about like this, being talked about like he wasn't even in the room. The adults making all his decisions for him. But what was there to say, really?
Mr. Lamport nodded. "That sounds very reasonable. What's the next step, doctor?"
"Our staff will continue to analyze the data we've collected. We'll bring Matt in a few times a week to collect data from the monitoring device. We'll build models on what might be happening, and we will attempt to find a solution to this problem. We'd also like to involve Mr. Bruce Melvyn in this case."
Matt looked up sharply, and he heard both of his parents stir with surprise as well. His mother was the first to speak, her voice still tremulous but now also full of outrage. "You want to bring Barnyard into this mess? He's the bastard who put us in this mess to begin with!"
"He's also the only person who really understands what he did that resulted in this mess." Dr. Erasmas leaned back in his chair, speaking patiently. "He's gone through a lot of counseling himself. As it happens, he has some psychiatric issues, and--"
"Psychiatric issues? Psychiatric issues?!" Mrs. Lamport's voice exploded in near-hysteric anger. "He turned my son into a rabbit! Of COURSE he has psychiatric issues!"
"Patricia!" Mr. Lamport's voice was curt. "Let the doctor finish."
After a short, awkward silence where Mrs. Lamport lowered her head and began clutching her purse again, the doctor continued. "He's made some progress in addressing his issues. He's on psychiatric medicine to help stabilize him as well. We've actually been working with him, with the state's sanction, for some time now. He's very interested in the science of what he'd done. He does not have access to a laboratory or to any sort of equipment, but we have several scientists detailed to work with him to gather experimental data to better understand the processes involved in his theories, and in what he'd previously been able to do."
Matt glanced at his mother, then at his father. They were both hesitating. Matt knew how they felt about Barnyard, and it wasn't good.
"Fine." Mr. Lamport finally spoke, a touch of resignation in his voice. "If that's what it takes, then that's what must be done."
Dr. Erasmas nodded, looking a bit relieved. "I have some paperwork for you to sign, granting permission to share information with Mr. Melvyn. As well as paperwork granting your permission to release Matthew from our care." The doctor shuffled some papers around on his desk, then put forward the appropriate forms with a pen.
Matt watched silently as his father made the necessary signatures.
"What can you tell us, Dr. Erasmas?"
"Not as much as we'd like, I'm afraid." The graying, balding man sighed. "The good news is that it appears as though there's no immediate danger to Matthew's health or safety. None of the transitions have caused any biological distress. We're inclined to release him from our supervised care. He can wear a small monitoring device that will continue to collect data on his state, and that can alert us if anything out of expected parameters begins to occur. We're also recommending that he wear his medicom badge at all times, just as a safety precaution. I don't expect him to need it, but better safe than sorry."
"You want to put him out there with only his medicom badge to protect him?" Mrs. Lamport's voice began to raise, tremulously.
"Patricia." Mr. Lamport looked over to his wife, his voice gentle but faintly reproaching. His wife merely clutched her purse more tightly.
"It's a matter of balancing his physical well-being with his mental health." Dr. Erasmas glanced at a report on his desk, then back up at the three Lamports seated before him. "The transitions appear to be fairly consistent in their nature, and we've already recorded as much data as we can regarding them. If anything happens to him physically, he can be in medical care within a minute's time thanks to the medicom badge and our monitoring device. We have staff on site in each of the hospitals in the city, so we'd be there to help immediately. The alternative to letting him out would be to keep him here, for his own safety. That kind of isolation is difficult on people, especially social people like your son. I also understand that he's had a rather rough week to begin with, and keeping him isolated won't help that improve. If he's back on campus, he'll be able to receive counseling from his normal counselor, which should help him move through all this."
Matt continued to sit quietly. He hated being talked about like this, being talked about like he wasn't even in the room. The adults making all his decisions for him. But what was there to say, really?
Mr. Lamport nodded. "That sounds very reasonable. What's the next step, doctor?"
"Our staff will continue to analyze the data we've collected. We'll bring Matt in a few times a week to collect data from the monitoring device. We'll build models on what might be happening, and we will attempt to find a solution to this problem. We'd also like to involve Mr. Bruce Melvyn in this case."
Matt looked up sharply, and he heard both of his parents stir with surprise as well. His mother was the first to speak, her voice still tremulous but now also full of outrage. "You want to bring Barnyard into this mess? He's the bastard who put us in this mess to begin with!"
"He's also the only person who really understands what he did that resulted in this mess." Dr. Erasmas leaned back in his chair, speaking patiently. "He's gone through a lot of counseling himself. As it happens, he has some psychiatric issues, and--"
"Psychiatric issues? Psychiatric issues?!" Mrs. Lamport's voice exploded in near-hysteric anger. "He turned my son into a rabbit! Of COURSE he has psychiatric issues!"
"Patricia!" Mr. Lamport's voice was curt. "Let the doctor finish."
After a short, awkward silence where Mrs. Lamport lowered her head and began clutching her purse again, the doctor continued. "He's made some progress in addressing his issues. He's on psychiatric medicine to help stabilize him as well. We've actually been working with him, with the state's sanction, for some time now. He's very interested in the science of what he'd done. He does not have access to a laboratory or to any sort of equipment, but we have several scientists detailed to work with him to gather experimental data to better understand the processes involved in his theories, and in what he'd previously been able to do."
Matt glanced at his mother, then at his father. They were both hesitating. Matt knew how they felt about Barnyard, and it wasn't good.
"Fine." Mr. Lamport finally spoke, a touch of resignation in his voice. "If that's what it takes, then that's what must be done."
Dr. Erasmas nodded, looking a bit relieved. "I have some paperwork for you to sign, granting permission to share information with Mr. Melvyn. As well as paperwork granting your permission to release Matthew from our care." The doctor shuffled some papers around on his desk, then put forward the appropriate forms with a pen.
Matt watched silently as his father made the necessary signatures.
Re: Mattamorphosis
"How have you been feeling so far, Matthew?" Dr. Erasmas looked up from some computer printouts to the young man seated in front of him. For the moment, the youth was in his "normal" rabbit form.
"So far, so good, ya?" Matt shrugged. "Did you find a fix yet? Or figure out what's going on?"
"Unfortunately, no." The scientist set the printouts aside. "We've developed various hypotheses, but so far testing hasn't borne any of them out."
"Oh." Matt fidgeted briefly in his seat. "So what now?"
"Well, we'll continue collecting data. Maybe we'll find some trends in it if we collect enough. So make sure you keep the monitoring device on you at all times."
Matt shifted in his seat a bit. He'd already been scolded for not keeping it with him last Sunday night. "Yes, sir. I will."
"Good. There's also something else. Mr. Melvyn has some questions he wanted me to ask you, in a different direction than what we'd been pursuing." Dr. Erasmas got a pad of paper ready, and a pen. "I am uncertain that any of the answers will help, but they certainly won't hurt."
"Um. Okay?"
"We've looked for physical causes that might have led to these developments. Mr. Melvyn wanted to know if there were any non-physical events in the prior weeks that might have contributed. Did you encounter any unusual magic events recently?"
Matt thought hard. What's unusual in Paragon City? "Well I mean, I shouted at some Circle of Thorns and they did their normal mojo, but nothing out to the ordinary."
"Hmm." Dr. Erasmas jotted a few things down. "How about any unusual psychic events?"
"No, I mean, some of the Lost were making my head hurt but that's nothing new." Matt shrugged, then remembered something else. "Oh! And a bit less than a week before it started happening, a friend of mine with psychic powers was showing me how he could talk in my head and hear what I thought, if I spoke it mentally and he was listening. But like, he didn't really do anything, ya?"
"Okay." More notes were taken. "And what about your life in general? Any life changes, any stressful events?"
"Oh, um." Matt hesitated. When he answered, he spoke a bit more quietly. "Well the week before it happened was really really sucky. I mean, I got in trouble at school a few times, and someone I had a crush on kinda made it clear for me that we weren't going to happen. Those were all kinda stressful, ya?"
"That does sound stressful." Dr. Erasmas nodded slightly. "And those are helpful answers. I'm going to have some colleagues from MAGI do some tests to see if there might be a magic or psychic affliction on you of some sort. It seems unlikely, but I'd like to rule them out just the same."
"Alright, I guess that's a good idea, ya."
"Hopefully, Mr. Melvyn will be able to pull some answers out of all this." Dr. Erasmas stood up and started for the door. "For now, though, let's go meet with MAGI and get your testing started."
As they left, Matt mulled over the fact that his fate appeared to be increasingly in Barnyard's hands once again.
"So far, so good, ya?" Matt shrugged. "Did you find a fix yet? Or figure out what's going on?"
"Unfortunately, no." The scientist set the printouts aside. "We've developed various hypotheses, but so far testing hasn't borne any of them out."
"Oh." Matt fidgeted briefly in his seat. "So what now?"
"Well, we'll continue collecting data. Maybe we'll find some trends in it if we collect enough. So make sure you keep the monitoring device on you at all times."
Matt shifted in his seat a bit. He'd already been scolded for not keeping it with him last Sunday night. "Yes, sir. I will."
"Good. There's also something else. Mr. Melvyn has some questions he wanted me to ask you, in a different direction than what we'd been pursuing." Dr. Erasmas got a pad of paper ready, and a pen. "I am uncertain that any of the answers will help, but they certainly won't hurt."
"Um. Okay?"
"We've looked for physical causes that might have led to these developments. Mr. Melvyn wanted to know if there were any non-physical events in the prior weeks that might have contributed. Did you encounter any unusual magic events recently?"
Matt thought hard. What's unusual in Paragon City? "Well I mean, I shouted at some Circle of Thorns and they did their normal mojo, but nothing out to the ordinary."
"Hmm." Dr. Erasmas jotted a few things down. "How about any unusual psychic events?"
"No, I mean, some of the Lost were making my head hurt but that's nothing new." Matt shrugged, then remembered something else. "Oh! And a bit less than a week before it started happening, a friend of mine with psychic powers was showing me how he could talk in my head and hear what I thought, if I spoke it mentally and he was listening. But like, he didn't really do anything, ya?"
"Okay." More notes were taken. "And what about your life in general? Any life changes, any stressful events?"
"Oh, um." Matt hesitated. When he answered, he spoke a bit more quietly. "Well the week before it happened was really really sucky. I mean, I got in trouble at school a few times, and someone I had a crush on kinda made it clear for me that we weren't going to happen. Those were all kinda stressful, ya?"
"That does sound stressful." Dr. Erasmas nodded slightly. "And those are helpful answers. I'm going to have some colleagues from MAGI do some tests to see if there might be a magic or psychic affliction on you of some sort. It seems unlikely, but I'd like to rule them out just the same."
"Alright, I guess that's a good idea, ya."
"Hopefully, Mr. Melvyn will be able to pull some answers out of all this." Dr. Erasmas stood up and started for the door. "For now, though, let's go meet with MAGI and get your testing started."
As they left, Matt mulled over the fact that his fate appeared to be increasingly in Barnyard's hands once again.
-
Cliffhanger
- Posts: 7
- Joined: Fri May 30, 2008 11:08 pm
Re: Mattamorphosis
Matt winced at the knock on the door. He was exhausted and didn't really feel like dealing with anyone right now, especially with him looking like a normal kid at the moment. It was hard being cheerful when you were busy trying to pretend everything in life was perfectly fine when you knew darned well it was quite the opposite. It was even harder when everybody kept reminding you of it. He drug himself off the bed and walked slowly across the room. As he reached the door, there was another knock.
“I'm coming!” Matt snapped irritably. He heard a mumbled response from beyond the heavy wooden door but he didn’t make it out.
Matt opened the door and blinked out into the hallway. There, with a pencil behind his ear and a notebook in his hand, was Martin Cliff. “Hi, Matt,” the younger boy said, smiling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you or anything.”
“Nah, I wasn’t sleeping,” Matt replied. “I was just… uh, nevermind,” he continued. “Did you need something, Martin?”
“It’s not what I need,” said Martin, walking into the quad, though Matt had not invited him in. “It’s what my editor needs.”
Matt groaned a little and rolled his eyes. “Your editor thinks I’m a story,” Matt said, half a question and half a statement of fact.
“Apparently so,” Martin said, shrugging lightly and grinning. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have sent me.”
Matt thought for a moment. On the one hand, he didn’t really want any more attention than he was already getting. At the same time, though, explaining to the Flier now might mean fewer people would be asking about it later. “Fine,” said Matt, still struggling to appear less miserable than he felt. “Might as well, ya? Where do you want to start?”
Martin slipped the pencil out from behind his ear and flipped open his notebook. “Well, I suppose I ought to start with the obvious.”
“You mean what’s wrong with me?” Matt asked.
Martin frowned a little and cocked his head. “I was going to ask ‘why does my editor think you’re a story?’ Why? Something’s wrong with you?”
“Martin, look at me,” Matt sighed. “No fur, no ears, probably no powers even, ya? Of course there's something wrong!”
Martin just stared at Matt for a moment. The young reporter’s expression was hard to read.
Matt sighed heavily. “Whaaat?” Martin lifted the pencil from the notebook and gestured with it, pointing over Matt’s shoulder. Matt turned, following Martin’s gaze.
Behind him was his dresser, with a mirror mounted on top. In the mirror, Matt caught his own reflection, and what he saw surprised him. He looked back at Martin, confusion spreading across his face.
Martin met Matt’s confused stare with one of his own, though the younger boy was smiling as though he was being made fun of. “Matt, what are you talking about?” Martin asked, reaching out with his pencil to tap it against one of Matt’s long, lapine ears. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Matt rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit uncertain. That was the first time he'd gone from normal kid to full rabbit without first stopping somewhere in the middle for a while. How the heck was he supposed to explain this to Martin when everything kept changing on him? He was about to say as much when Martin interrupted his train of thought.
“Whoa,” Martin's eyes were wide with surprise as he took an involuntary step back. “Matt? What the—?”
Matt brought his hands up and glanced at them. They were smooth again. Turning, he looked back at the mirror to see his fully human reflection had returned. That made two full changes within a few minutes’ time, both without any interim shifts. He felt stomach clench in panic at the possible ramifications. What if he started doing this constantly now?
He didn't have much of a chance to reflect on that, though, because he changed again, but this time... He had one rabbit ear. Just one. The other ear was human, and his face was a strange patchwork of fur and skin.
Over his shoulder, he saw the flash of Martin’s camera. He spun to face the younger boy, putting up his hands. One was furry, one not. Martin hopped to one side and took another photo. “Martin, no!” Matt cried, both bewildered and embarrassed.
Martin frowned and lowered the camera. “Sorry, Matt,” he said. “It’s just that—whoa!” And his eyes widened again, and before Matt could even ask why, he was raising the camera again.
Turning away from the camera reflexively, Matt saw his reflection: both ears were lupine and his skin was smooth but suddenly he had whiskers sprouting from his face. He'd never had whiskers before! Over his shoulder, Martin took another picture.
“Martin, I’m serious,” Matt said, his strange sense of embarrassment rising. “Something’s really wrong, please stop!”
Martin reluctantly lowered the camera. “Okay, okay,” he said. “But you’re costing me the front page,” he continued, half frowning.
Matt rolled his eyes with a sigh of exasperation. “Thank you,” he said, still staring at the slideshow of morphology in the mirror.
And then the whiskers were thankfully gone, but so were his ears. Both sets of them, gone. And his teeth felt weird. He opened his mouth to see large, buck teeth.
Martin started to raise the camera again, but a look from Matt stayed his hands. The younger boy shrugged apologetically.
And then the ears were back, the human variety, and his teeth went back to normal, but his hair was both blonde and brown mixed together while his face was furry.
And then it was over. In the mirror he saw a perfectly human boy.
“Wow,” Martin said, sounding very much like a young boy at the end of a fireworks display. “That sure was something. I can’t believe you didn’t want pictures of that.”
Matt grumbled something, and gingerly rubbed a finger against his thankfully human teeth.
“Seriously,” Martin was still talking. “I wasn’t even going to bring my camera at first,” he continued, “lucky thing I did.”
Matt turned around. “Yeah, real lucky,” he said irritably. “Lucky you were here. Lucky you had a camera. Lucky you took pictures, so you can put them all over the school, and make me look like—”
His voice cut short for a moment as a realization abruptly clicked into place in his head.
Matt leaned a little closer to the young reporter. "Martin?” he said curiously, “What exactly are your powers again?”
“I'm coming!” Matt snapped irritably. He heard a mumbled response from beyond the heavy wooden door but he didn’t make it out.
Matt opened the door and blinked out into the hallway. There, with a pencil behind his ear and a notebook in his hand, was Martin Cliff. “Hi, Matt,” the younger boy said, smiling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you or anything.”
“Nah, I wasn’t sleeping,” Matt replied. “I was just… uh, nevermind,” he continued. “Did you need something, Martin?”
“It’s not what I need,” said Martin, walking into the quad, though Matt had not invited him in. “It’s what my editor needs.”
Matt groaned a little and rolled his eyes. “Your editor thinks I’m a story,” Matt said, half a question and half a statement of fact.
“Apparently so,” Martin said, shrugging lightly and grinning. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have sent me.”
Matt thought for a moment. On the one hand, he didn’t really want any more attention than he was already getting. At the same time, though, explaining to the Flier now might mean fewer people would be asking about it later. “Fine,” said Matt, still struggling to appear less miserable than he felt. “Might as well, ya? Where do you want to start?”
Martin slipped the pencil out from behind his ear and flipped open his notebook. “Well, I suppose I ought to start with the obvious.”
“You mean what’s wrong with me?” Matt asked.
Martin frowned a little and cocked his head. “I was going to ask ‘why does my editor think you’re a story?’ Why? Something’s wrong with you?”
“Martin, look at me,” Matt sighed. “No fur, no ears, probably no powers even, ya? Of course there's something wrong!”
Martin just stared at Matt for a moment. The young reporter’s expression was hard to read.
Matt sighed heavily. “Whaaat?” Martin lifted the pencil from the notebook and gestured with it, pointing over Matt’s shoulder. Matt turned, following Martin’s gaze.
Behind him was his dresser, with a mirror mounted on top. In the mirror, Matt caught his own reflection, and what he saw surprised him. He looked back at Martin, confusion spreading across his face.
Martin met Matt’s confused stare with one of his own, though the younger boy was smiling as though he was being made fun of. “Matt, what are you talking about?” Martin asked, reaching out with his pencil to tap it against one of Matt’s long, lapine ears. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Matt rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit uncertain. That was the first time he'd gone from normal kid to full rabbit without first stopping somewhere in the middle for a while. How the heck was he supposed to explain this to Martin when everything kept changing on him? He was about to say as much when Martin interrupted his train of thought.
“Whoa,” Martin's eyes were wide with surprise as he took an involuntary step back. “Matt? What the—?”
Matt brought his hands up and glanced at them. They were smooth again. Turning, he looked back at the mirror to see his fully human reflection had returned. That made two full changes within a few minutes’ time, both without any interim shifts. He felt stomach clench in panic at the possible ramifications. What if he started doing this constantly now?
He didn't have much of a chance to reflect on that, though, because he changed again, but this time... He had one rabbit ear. Just one. The other ear was human, and his face was a strange patchwork of fur and skin.
Over his shoulder, he saw the flash of Martin’s camera. He spun to face the younger boy, putting up his hands. One was furry, one not. Martin hopped to one side and took another photo. “Martin, no!” Matt cried, both bewildered and embarrassed.
Martin frowned and lowered the camera. “Sorry, Matt,” he said. “It’s just that—whoa!” And his eyes widened again, and before Matt could even ask why, he was raising the camera again.
Turning away from the camera reflexively, Matt saw his reflection: both ears were lupine and his skin was smooth but suddenly he had whiskers sprouting from his face. He'd never had whiskers before! Over his shoulder, Martin took another picture.
“Martin, I’m serious,” Matt said, his strange sense of embarrassment rising. “Something’s really wrong, please stop!”
Martin reluctantly lowered the camera. “Okay, okay,” he said. “But you’re costing me the front page,” he continued, half frowning.
Matt rolled his eyes with a sigh of exasperation. “Thank you,” he said, still staring at the slideshow of morphology in the mirror.
And then the whiskers were thankfully gone, but so were his ears. Both sets of them, gone. And his teeth felt weird. He opened his mouth to see large, buck teeth.
Martin started to raise the camera again, but a look from Matt stayed his hands. The younger boy shrugged apologetically.
And then the ears were back, the human variety, and his teeth went back to normal, but his hair was both blonde and brown mixed together while his face was furry.
And then it was over. In the mirror he saw a perfectly human boy.
“Wow,” Martin said, sounding very much like a young boy at the end of a fireworks display. “That sure was something. I can’t believe you didn’t want pictures of that.”
Matt grumbled something, and gingerly rubbed a finger against his thankfully human teeth.
“Seriously,” Martin was still talking. “I wasn’t even going to bring my camera at first,” he continued, “lucky thing I did.”
Matt turned around. “Yeah, real lucky,” he said irritably. “Lucky you were here. Lucky you had a camera. Lucky you took pictures, so you can put them all over the school, and make me look like—”
His voice cut short for a moment as a realization abruptly clicked into place in his head.
Matt leaned a little closer to the young reporter. "Martin?” he said curiously, “What exactly are your powers again?”
Want to write for the Flier? Submit your article ideas or completed articles by PM! We accept write-ups of in-game events, interviews with prominent students, teachers or groups, or editorials and opinion! All articles are subject to editing by the Flier staff.
-
Cliffhanger
- Posts: 7
- Joined: Fri May 30, 2008 11:08 pm
Re: Mattamorphosis
“All right, let’s try something,” Martin said excitedly, brushing past Matt when he opened the door. “No one’s here, right?”
Matt rolled his eyes and smiled. “Oh, hi Matt, how are you doing?” he said, mimicking Martin’s voice. “Oh, hi Martin, I’m okay, come on in,” he replied to himself.
Martin sighed dramatically. “Yeah, okay, fine, I’m sorry,” he said, turning. “How are you, Matt?”
Matt smiled, seemingly satisfied. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Martin cocked his head and frowned a little. “Can we try this, now?”
Chuckling, Matt walked past Martin and sat on the edge of his bed. “Sure,” he said. “This is going to be different from the other day, right?”
Martin’s frown deepened. “No, it’s a new idea,” he said ruefully. “Besides, I had to at least try.”
Matt laughed quietly. A few days after the two had discovered that Martin was somehow able to affect Matt’s appearance, they had spent the afternoon in one of the music rooms in the basement of the school. Matt had stood quietly while Martin walked around him, gesturing meaningfully and grimacing wildly with concentration, trying to produce the desired effect. It had been very amusing to watch Martin gesticulate, but it had not been productive. Matt’s form had still shifted erratically and Martin wound up feeling foolish.
Matt leaned back onto his hands, passively noticing that one hand had become a paw. He was getting used to bizarre changes with Martin around. “Okay, okay,” he said. “So what’s the new idea?”
Martin brightened, and stuck his hand into his pocket, then pulled out a single die, white with black pips. “This,” he said meaningfully.
Matt stood from the bed and walked to the center of the room where Martin stood. He looked at the die, doubtful. “And..? It’s a magic dice?”
“No, no,” Martin said, lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor. “It’s a tool. Now grab the mirror and sit, right here,” he continued, patting the floor in front of him.
Matt shrugged and complied, taking the standing mirror from the top of his dresser and settling down, facing Martin. “So how is this going to work?” he asked.
“Well,” Martin said, smiling, “it occurred to me that what we needed was some sort of like, Geiger counter—something to show how probability is working,” he went on, obviously excited. “So instead of focusing on your field, which is always in flux, we’re going to focus on the die, and let it affect you as a side effect.”
Matt frowned and shook his head a little. “I’m not sure I follow you.”
“What I’m saying is, I have no idea how my powers really work,” Martin said with a chuckle. “And so I have no idea how to turn you into a rabbit or a person or anything else. But I do know how to roll a six. Or, I mean, I kinda know how to roll a six. Better than how to turn you into a rabbit, anyway. So we’ll see what it does.”
“And if it doesn’t do anything?”
Martin shrugged. “I’ll get a bigger die, I guess. Maybe a dee-twelve or a dee-twenty.”
Matt nodded a little. “So what do I do?”
“Ah, that’s the gravy. You just sit there and keep an eye on your reflection.”
“Sounds like I have nothing to lose,” Matt said. “Sure. Go for it.”
And they began. Martin started rolling the die, over and over: 4, 2, 4, 6, 3, 1. Martin frowned and kept rolling, and over the next few minutes, a pattern began to emerge: 3, 5, 1, 4, 1, 6, 5, 1, 1, 4, 1, 1, 1. Martin smiled as the ones started to come more and more easily.
“There we go,” he said happily. “I’m getting the hang of it now.”
Matt nodded, looking back and forth from the die to the mirror. It was eerie, watching a constant stream of ones tumble out of Martin’s hand, but Matt’s form wasn’t stabilizing into anything he’d call a success. “Nothing yet,” Matt said.
Martin nodded, scooping up the die again. “Okay. I’ll move on to two.”
The process took the better part of an hour: every time Martin took on a new number, it took several minutes for the pattern to present itself and stabilize. The ones hadn’t produced any consistent change in Matt’s appearance. The twos made for an unsavory mix of features, with smooth, hairless rabbitty ears and features. The threes weren’t any better, and Matt’s mouth felt crowded with huge, square teeth.
But as Martin started in on the fours, Matt watched the mirror carefully as he saw his familiar, fur-covered face start to appear and disappear. It was extremely unnerving, like almost like a stop-motion special effect, fur and ears suddenly there, then gone just as quickly. Gradually, however, Matt’s expression brightened: there he was in the mirror. Not changing, not even flickering. He was fixed, and even better than fixed, back to normal. Well, as normal as he ever was.
“Martin!” he exclaimed. “That’s it!”
Martin kept rolling the die, and each time it came up a four. “Glad we didn’t have to get a bigger die,” he said. His voice betrayed his weariness.
Matt was almost beside himself. “Okay, okay—so what do we do now?”
Martin kept rolling fours. “I have no idea.”
“What?” Matt asked anxiously. “This is your plan! You found it, you fixed me—so just, I don’t know, do whatever you’re going to do and make it permanent!”
Martin picked up the die and held it in his hand, but did not roll it. “I don’t think I can,” he said.
Matt held his breath, watching his face in the mirror, and after a few moments, he began to change again. Matt made a stifled sound of frustration and despair.
Martin ran a hand through his hair, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Matt, all I can tell you right now is that your normal form feels exactly the same as when I want to roll a four. Well, a four on a six-sided die, I should say,” he corrected himself, smiling. “But that doesn’t mean I can fix it permanently. It just means that if I want to follow you around all day, rolling fours? I can keep you looking how you want to look.”
Matt stood angrily, leaving the mirror on the floor. “Then what was the point of all this? Damn it, Martin!”
“Matt, we know a million times more than we did an hour ago,” the younger boy said irritably. “One, we know it’s a probability problem. Two, we know it can be affected. Heck, we even know the—the—“ he searched for words for a moment—“the ‘frequency’ we need to ‘tune’ you to for you to get back to normal.”
Matt stood quietly for a moment, thinking. Martin was right: he’d proven beyond a doubt that it wasn’t some sort of freak accident that when he was around, Matt shifted more quickly and more randomly. He’d proven that Matt’s problem had a cause: probability. He'd also shown that a specific kind of probablity would set him right again. Slowly, a smile returned to Matt's face.
“Well, SERAPH does keep saying they need to collect more data.” Matt pulled a small techy device out of his pocket. With its small LCD screen it could almost be mistaken for a cell phone, except that it lacked any means for making or receiving phone calls and tended to display cryptic numerical data instead of caller ID. He waved it in the air, starting to grin. “Maybe if they know a million times more too, they might be able to figure out something permanent from it!”
“What are you waving around, Matt?”
“The monitoring doohickey that they make me carry so they can have more data. They have me come in once a week to download its data, and usually poke around at me with different things they think will help.” He wrinkled his nose in frustration. “So far, none of them have helped at all.”
“But maybe this time they will. You are giving them a bunch of answers now, thanks to this.” Martin idly tossed the die, letting it fall as another four. “When do you go in to see them next?”
Matt smiled again. “Tomorrow.”
Matt rolled his eyes and smiled. “Oh, hi Matt, how are you doing?” he said, mimicking Martin’s voice. “Oh, hi Martin, I’m okay, come on in,” he replied to himself.
Martin sighed dramatically. “Yeah, okay, fine, I’m sorry,” he said, turning. “How are you, Matt?”
Matt smiled, seemingly satisfied. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Martin cocked his head and frowned a little. “Can we try this, now?”
Chuckling, Matt walked past Martin and sat on the edge of his bed. “Sure,” he said. “This is going to be different from the other day, right?”
Martin’s frown deepened. “No, it’s a new idea,” he said ruefully. “Besides, I had to at least try.”
Matt laughed quietly. A few days after the two had discovered that Martin was somehow able to affect Matt’s appearance, they had spent the afternoon in one of the music rooms in the basement of the school. Matt had stood quietly while Martin walked around him, gesturing meaningfully and grimacing wildly with concentration, trying to produce the desired effect. It had been very amusing to watch Martin gesticulate, but it had not been productive. Matt’s form had still shifted erratically and Martin wound up feeling foolish.
Matt leaned back onto his hands, passively noticing that one hand had become a paw. He was getting used to bizarre changes with Martin around. “Okay, okay,” he said. “So what’s the new idea?”
Martin brightened, and stuck his hand into his pocket, then pulled out a single die, white with black pips. “This,” he said meaningfully.
Matt stood from the bed and walked to the center of the room where Martin stood. He looked at the die, doubtful. “And..? It’s a magic dice?”
“No, no,” Martin said, lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor. “It’s a tool. Now grab the mirror and sit, right here,” he continued, patting the floor in front of him.
Matt shrugged and complied, taking the standing mirror from the top of his dresser and settling down, facing Martin. “So how is this going to work?” he asked.
“Well,” Martin said, smiling, “it occurred to me that what we needed was some sort of like, Geiger counter—something to show how probability is working,” he went on, obviously excited. “So instead of focusing on your field, which is always in flux, we’re going to focus on the die, and let it affect you as a side effect.”
Matt frowned and shook his head a little. “I’m not sure I follow you.”
“What I’m saying is, I have no idea how my powers really work,” Martin said with a chuckle. “And so I have no idea how to turn you into a rabbit or a person or anything else. But I do know how to roll a six. Or, I mean, I kinda know how to roll a six. Better than how to turn you into a rabbit, anyway. So we’ll see what it does.”
“And if it doesn’t do anything?”
Martin shrugged. “I’ll get a bigger die, I guess. Maybe a dee-twelve or a dee-twenty.”
Matt nodded a little. “So what do I do?”
“Ah, that’s the gravy. You just sit there and keep an eye on your reflection.”
“Sounds like I have nothing to lose,” Matt said. “Sure. Go for it.”
And they began. Martin started rolling the die, over and over: 4, 2, 4, 6, 3, 1. Martin frowned and kept rolling, and over the next few minutes, a pattern began to emerge: 3, 5, 1, 4, 1, 6, 5, 1, 1, 4, 1, 1, 1. Martin smiled as the ones started to come more and more easily.
“There we go,” he said happily. “I’m getting the hang of it now.”
Matt nodded, looking back and forth from the die to the mirror. It was eerie, watching a constant stream of ones tumble out of Martin’s hand, but Matt’s form wasn’t stabilizing into anything he’d call a success. “Nothing yet,” Matt said.
Martin nodded, scooping up the die again. “Okay. I’ll move on to two.”
The process took the better part of an hour: every time Martin took on a new number, it took several minutes for the pattern to present itself and stabilize. The ones hadn’t produced any consistent change in Matt’s appearance. The twos made for an unsavory mix of features, with smooth, hairless rabbitty ears and features. The threes weren’t any better, and Matt’s mouth felt crowded with huge, square teeth.
But as Martin started in on the fours, Matt watched the mirror carefully as he saw his familiar, fur-covered face start to appear and disappear. It was extremely unnerving, like almost like a stop-motion special effect, fur and ears suddenly there, then gone just as quickly. Gradually, however, Matt’s expression brightened: there he was in the mirror. Not changing, not even flickering. He was fixed, and even better than fixed, back to normal. Well, as normal as he ever was.
“Martin!” he exclaimed. “That’s it!”
Martin kept rolling the die, and each time it came up a four. “Glad we didn’t have to get a bigger die,” he said. His voice betrayed his weariness.
Matt was almost beside himself. “Okay, okay—so what do we do now?”
Martin kept rolling fours. “I have no idea.”
“What?” Matt asked anxiously. “This is your plan! You found it, you fixed me—so just, I don’t know, do whatever you’re going to do and make it permanent!”
Martin picked up the die and held it in his hand, but did not roll it. “I don’t think I can,” he said.
Matt held his breath, watching his face in the mirror, and after a few moments, he began to change again. Matt made a stifled sound of frustration and despair.
Martin ran a hand through his hair, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Matt, all I can tell you right now is that your normal form feels exactly the same as when I want to roll a four. Well, a four on a six-sided die, I should say,” he corrected himself, smiling. “But that doesn’t mean I can fix it permanently. It just means that if I want to follow you around all day, rolling fours? I can keep you looking how you want to look.”
Matt stood angrily, leaving the mirror on the floor. “Then what was the point of all this? Damn it, Martin!”
“Matt, we know a million times more than we did an hour ago,” the younger boy said irritably. “One, we know it’s a probability problem. Two, we know it can be affected. Heck, we even know the—the—“ he searched for words for a moment—“the ‘frequency’ we need to ‘tune’ you to for you to get back to normal.”
Matt stood quietly for a moment, thinking. Martin was right: he’d proven beyond a doubt that it wasn’t some sort of freak accident that when he was around, Matt shifted more quickly and more randomly. He’d proven that Matt’s problem had a cause: probability. He'd also shown that a specific kind of probablity would set him right again. Slowly, a smile returned to Matt's face.
“Well, SERAPH does keep saying they need to collect more data.” Matt pulled a small techy device out of his pocket. With its small LCD screen it could almost be mistaken for a cell phone, except that it lacked any means for making or receiving phone calls and tended to display cryptic numerical data instead of caller ID. He waved it in the air, starting to grin. “Maybe if they know a million times more too, they might be able to figure out something permanent from it!”
“What are you waving around, Matt?”
“The monitoring doohickey that they make me carry so they can have more data. They have me come in once a week to download its data, and usually poke around at me with different things they think will help.” He wrinkled his nose in frustration. “So far, none of them have helped at all.”
“But maybe this time they will. You are giving them a bunch of answers now, thanks to this.” Martin idly tossed the die, letting it fall as another four. “When do you go in to see them next?”
Matt smiled again. “Tomorrow.”
Want to write for the Flier? Submit your article ideas or completed articles by PM! We accept write-ups of in-game events, interviews with prominent students, teachers or groups, or editorials and opinion! All articles are subject to editing by the Flier staff.
Re: Mattamorphosis
"Unfortunately, we've been unable to replicate what your friend was doing. However," Dr. Erasmas paused, picking up a small object. "One of our scientists had some insights from the phenomena that inspired him to tackle the problem in a different way, and we believe he's found something that may help."
"A..." Matt looked at the object with a frown of confusion. It was shaped like a disc, perhaps four inches across and maybe a quarter inch thick. The surface was mostly smooth, with a few small LED dots near one side. "What is that?"
"We're calling it an adaptive persistent probability resonator, for lack of better terminology. It's tuned to monitor the probability field around you. If the field is stable, it will begin resonate with it, which will reinforce the field. If the field destabilizes, it will continue to put forth the same probability field for a while, which should hopefully help restabilize your field as long as it hasn't destabilized too badly."
"So... it is kind of doing like Martin after all." Matt tilted his head thoughtfully. "It listens to see what dice it needs to roll, then starts rolling it to help keep things fixed, ya?"
"In effect, I guess it does." Dr. Erasmas smiled. "Though it's going about it completely differently."
"As long as it works, it can go about it however it wants! How do I use it?"
"Simple." The doctor held up an elastic armband. "You put this around your bicep, then slip the resonator into this holder here. We think it will work better if it's near your upper torso. Here, why don't you try it on."
The doctor handed the object and armband over to Matt, who very quickly slipped the band onto his left arm and up to his bicep, then maneuvered the resonator into place.
"Do I have to turn it on or something?" Matt peered at it, looking for buttons.
"No, it's always on and will automatically monitor and adapt." The doctor leaned back in his chair. "Just remember, this isn't going to fix the problem completely. It'll just help keep you from changing quite as often. Hopefully, though, we'll be able to figure something more permanent out soon."
"Changing less often is still an improvement, ya?" Matt beamed.
"Indeed it is." Dr. Erasmas smiled back.
"A..." Matt looked at the object with a frown of confusion. It was shaped like a disc, perhaps four inches across and maybe a quarter inch thick. The surface was mostly smooth, with a few small LED dots near one side. "What is that?"
"We're calling it an adaptive persistent probability resonator, for lack of better terminology. It's tuned to monitor the probability field around you. If the field is stable, it will begin resonate with it, which will reinforce the field. If the field destabilizes, it will continue to put forth the same probability field for a while, which should hopefully help restabilize your field as long as it hasn't destabilized too badly."
"So... it is kind of doing like Martin after all." Matt tilted his head thoughtfully. "It listens to see what dice it needs to roll, then starts rolling it to help keep things fixed, ya?"
"In effect, I guess it does." Dr. Erasmas smiled. "Though it's going about it completely differently."
"As long as it works, it can go about it however it wants! How do I use it?"
"Simple." The doctor held up an elastic armband. "You put this around your bicep, then slip the resonator into this holder here. We think it will work better if it's near your upper torso. Here, why don't you try it on."
The doctor handed the object and armband over to Matt, who very quickly slipped the band onto his left arm and up to his bicep, then maneuvered the resonator into place.
"Do I have to turn it on or something?" Matt peered at it, looking for buttons.
"No, it's always on and will automatically monitor and adapt." The doctor leaned back in his chair. "Just remember, this isn't going to fix the problem completely. It'll just help keep you from changing quite as often. Hopefully, though, we'll be able to figure something more permanent out soon."
"Changing less often is still an improvement, ya?" Matt beamed.
"Indeed it is." Dr. Erasmas smiled back.
-
Katabatik
- Student Council
- Posts: 547
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2007 9:24 am
- Location: Hanging out with the monkeys.
- Contact:
Re: Mattamorphosis
“That about does it for this group, y’all.” Ves says, tightening the zig-zapper cuffs around the last remaining, not-quite-conscious Warrior’s wrists. His bruised, sooty self disappears in a burst of white and orange light as he gets instantly transported to the Ziggurat for processing. His sword, bent in the middle from where it had ricocheted harmlessly off of Sam’s forearm, falls crashingly to the ground.
“None of those guys were Titan though, ya?” Matt asks. Titan was the roidhead Warrior boss we’d been sent here to bring in.
Sam shakes her head. “Nope. He’s still got to be somewhere in here, though.”
I nod, surveying the dimly-lit warehouse. As squatters, the Warriors weren’t overly concerned with its regular upkeep: soggy cardboard boxes, prepackaged food wrappers, discarded weapons, and spent cigarette butts littered the ground, working as cover for the the blood spatters left behind by the gang’s intense, heavily armed calisthenics. Nearby, a spiked mace was embedded six inches deep into the corrugated aluminum wall.
“Holy Moses,” I think to myself. “That could’ve ruined my day."
We move deeper into the complex, passing under a sparking fluorescent lamp that had been neatly impaled by a rogue crossbow bolt. It’s the danger that keeps me coming back here, I think. Adventure is the reason I claw a few hours away from school and clubs and baseball and Chloe, to put on this ridiculous outfit and play hero. It’s the risk I can’t quite get enough of.
We move deeper in, indestructible Sam taking the lead. Vesper walks next to her, nearly silent. Matt and I walk side-by-side behind them, the girls protecting the boys. Today’s word is “egalitarian.” Sometimes Matt tells me I’m too smart for my own good.
Sam and Ves pause in front of us as they hear the sound of metal shrieking against metal. My head elsewhere, I stumble numbly into Ves. She gives me a look.
“You okay there, Bobby?” She’s one quarter annoyed, three quarters amused.
“Yes!” I say, trying to reign my focus back in. “Completely! Sorry, sorry.”
“You’re sorry, alright.” Matt teases, grinning wide.
“Your mom’s sorry,” I mutter back.
“Hey, maybe you guys could be quiet? On account of we can still surprise them if they don’t hear you talking?”
“Oh, gah. Right.” I say, shutting up and focusing once and finally on the matter at hand. Steel crashes again, the warehouse an echo chamber. The sound is thunderous.
Down the hall through the sputtering darkness two Warriors were sparring, surrounded by a circle of their heavily-tattoed and scarred peers. One was brandishing a deeply pitted battleaxe. He was trading blows with a sword-wielder. The circle seemed to spread outward from a man who could only be described as enormous. Muscle piled on muscle from bootheels to shaven, gleaming pate, the top of which was at least six and a half feet away from the ground. He was directing the fights, indicating when and where strategic improvement could be made and who would fight who next. He indicated this with the invisible line drawn by the business end of an alarmingly huge, steely hammer. He wielded it with all the ease a smaller might man have had with a laser pointer.
"I think that's Titan," I helpfully add. Ves groans her thanks.
The obvious problem is that we are grotesquely outnumbered, outmuscled, and outsworded. We aren't without our own advantages: Sam could get into a fight with a speeding bus and come out on top; Ves is a whirlwind of destruction, faster and more agile than any of these muscleheads. Matt's harmless-looking, fuzzy exterior belied the fact that he was actually a living artillery platform. I could heat the air to boiling temperatures, fling smoke, or even manifest small-scale weather changes with sheer concentration. Swinging swords in the middle of a localized thunderstorm just doesn't make sense.
We exchange looks, riding on the same tactical wavelength.
"Three?" Matt asks.
"Three." Ves nods her affirmation.
"Three?" I need to be sure. Three meant dazzling success or a quick trip to the triage unit.
"I hate Three." Sam pops her knuckles, shifts her weight, and prepares to charge into the thick of the fray.
I concentrate, feeling that strange, electric twinge that means my powers are working. The effect dramatically raises the temperature around the gathered combatants, whipping the stale air into a vortex of whirling, blistering heat. It singes their eyes and lungs, giving Sam, Ves, and Matt the initial advantage as they dive into melee. Weapons crash to the ground, generally followed shortly after by the moaning, battered gang members. Just before Sam had kicked down the door to the warehouse Matt had lost his ears--those freaky power changes of his--and his ability to shout ferociously concussive waves of sound went with them. His fists still flared, though, with dazzlingly bright ribbons of kinetic energy. Though easily outweighed by the smallest Warrior in the group, one punch or shove was enough to send them flying as long as his fists stayed charged.
The fight is going well. With concentrated effort, I am able to set a few Warriors' shirts ablaze. The smoke and flame distracts some of the more menacing targets, and my friends use the opportunity to navigate the melee with confidence. Ves flickers in and out of sight, a will o' wisp who hits and is gone before any of the thick-headed Warriors know why they were suddenly seeing stars. I see Sam take a hit by a frightening-looking axe, cringe, briefly wonder how we would ever explain Sam's sudden amputation to her parents, then the axe snaps in two at the handle. I can barely contain my laughter. The axe head crashes to the floor with a resonating pwang, even over the din of combat. The disarmed Warrior stares stupidly at the splintered axe handle, but only until Sam clocks him, sending him to the ground in a groaning heap.
Before long, we have subdued the Warriors, more or less. Titan is the exception. Sam, Matt, and Ves move into a fierce melee with him, but things seem to be at a standstill. Ves and Matt dodge his blows, and they don't seem to bother Sam in the least. I fling smoke in his eyes, but he shrugs it off like it's nothing.
Matt throws a wild right hook at Titan's stomach. I hear a dry crunching sound, and then Matt starts yelling. I see him clutching his right hand, hobbling away from the fight. Normally the ribbons of energy he projects would shield his fists from the impact of his punches. Evidently, they hadn't flared. A quick, panicked look showed why: Matt's fur, tail, and ears were gone. He'd switched back to a full human, depowered. Vulnerable.
Titan sneers, recognizing our confusion as an opportunity. He backhands Matt, sending him crashing hard against a railing.
"Sam! Get him out of here!" Ves yells, landing a spinning kick to the back of Titan's watermelon-sized head and then disappearing. She manages to draw a little rivulet of blood, but Titan is only confused for a moment. Sam scoops Matt up in a heap and lugs him out like an oversized football toward a nearby emergency exit. She'll be back as soon as she is able, and then we'll bring Titan in.
In the meantime, Ves and I can hold him back, I'm sure. We can restrain him. We've faced way, way worse. Then Ves is flying through the air, not under her own power this time. She slams into a wall and, unconscious, automatically teleports to a nearby reclamator.
But I can hold him! I totally can. I whip up the air into a frenzy of sleet, rain, hail. It slows him down, gives me the time I need to call up my fire monkeys, which he promptly swats away like gnats. I make a semisolid wall of boiling air, one of my best yet. It will surely hold him back. But he strides through it like I expect Moses might have after parting the Red Sea, and he draws back his immense hammer, and I know this is going to sting like crazy when I wake up.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When I awake, it takes me a few moments to orient myself. I hear the quiet beeping and blooping of various machines. I smell the sterility in the air. My eyes finally find focus, and what I see confirms what I was dreading: I've ended up in the hospital. Still, it's better than the alternative, I suppose. An orderly comes over and gives me a quick look-over, but of course I'm fine. The reclamators are very effective, after all. He has me sign out, and then I head down to the lobby so that I can use my comm again.
Ves is already there. She spots me, and for a moment, she looks relieved. Even with the medcom system, you still become anxious when a teammate goes silent on the comm. What if, this time, something fails? I walk over to join her, turning on my comm.
"Looks like Bobby decided to follow me," I hear her say into the comm.
"Bobby! Are you okay, too?!" Matt's voice blasts through the comm, loud enough to make me briefly wonder if his powers came back again.
"Yeah, takes more than a little hammer to get me down. Ow." I stretch my arms out as I respond. The reclamator left my muscles feeling a bit tight. "What about you, buddy? That was quite a spill you took."
"I'm okay... Just kinda got disoriented for a few moments, ya?" He pauses for a moment, then begins babbling at full speed "I'm sorry guys, I didn't think that would happen. The SERAPH people had me using this device and it's supposed to help keep me from changing as much and I had just changed before we went on patrol so I thought, well, it'd have to be a while before I changed again, ya? Except that it wasn't a while, and I changed right when I was hitting him, and I'm sorry. I'm glad you're both okay. You really are both okay, right?"
"Yes, really, Matt," Ves says, then smirks for a moment. "Other than them putting Bobby's legs on backwards, we're both fine."
"They put them on backwards?!"
"I thought they were like that before?" Sam adds, then continues on a more serious note. "We should probably get back down there though, on account of Titan's probably going to try to run off when he realizes we're gone."
We all agreed with her and headed back to the warehouse. But of course, by the time we got there, Titan was long gone.
“None of those guys were Titan though, ya?” Matt asks. Titan was the roidhead Warrior boss we’d been sent here to bring in.
Sam shakes her head. “Nope. He’s still got to be somewhere in here, though.”
I nod, surveying the dimly-lit warehouse. As squatters, the Warriors weren’t overly concerned with its regular upkeep: soggy cardboard boxes, prepackaged food wrappers, discarded weapons, and spent cigarette butts littered the ground, working as cover for the the blood spatters left behind by the gang’s intense, heavily armed calisthenics. Nearby, a spiked mace was embedded six inches deep into the corrugated aluminum wall.
“Holy Moses,” I think to myself. “That could’ve ruined my day."
We move deeper into the complex, passing under a sparking fluorescent lamp that had been neatly impaled by a rogue crossbow bolt. It’s the danger that keeps me coming back here, I think. Adventure is the reason I claw a few hours away from school and clubs and baseball and Chloe, to put on this ridiculous outfit and play hero. It’s the risk I can’t quite get enough of.
We move deeper in, indestructible Sam taking the lead. Vesper walks next to her, nearly silent. Matt and I walk side-by-side behind them, the girls protecting the boys. Today’s word is “egalitarian.” Sometimes Matt tells me I’m too smart for my own good.
Sam and Ves pause in front of us as they hear the sound of metal shrieking against metal. My head elsewhere, I stumble numbly into Ves. She gives me a look.
“You okay there, Bobby?” She’s one quarter annoyed, three quarters amused.
“Yes!” I say, trying to reign my focus back in. “Completely! Sorry, sorry.”
“You’re sorry, alright.” Matt teases, grinning wide.
“Your mom’s sorry,” I mutter back.
“Hey, maybe you guys could be quiet? On account of we can still surprise them if they don’t hear you talking?”
“Oh, gah. Right.” I say, shutting up and focusing once and finally on the matter at hand. Steel crashes again, the warehouse an echo chamber. The sound is thunderous.
Down the hall through the sputtering darkness two Warriors were sparring, surrounded by a circle of their heavily-tattoed and scarred peers. One was brandishing a deeply pitted battleaxe. He was trading blows with a sword-wielder. The circle seemed to spread outward from a man who could only be described as enormous. Muscle piled on muscle from bootheels to shaven, gleaming pate, the top of which was at least six and a half feet away from the ground. He was directing the fights, indicating when and where strategic improvement could be made and who would fight who next. He indicated this with the invisible line drawn by the business end of an alarmingly huge, steely hammer. He wielded it with all the ease a smaller might man have had with a laser pointer.
"I think that's Titan," I helpfully add. Ves groans her thanks.
The obvious problem is that we are grotesquely outnumbered, outmuscled, and outsworded. We aren't without our own advantages: Sam could get into a fight with a speeding bus and come out on top; Ves is a whirlwind of destruction, faster and more agile than any of these muscleheads. Matt's harmless-looking, fuzzy exterior belied the fact that he was actually a living artillery platform. I could heat the air to boiling temperatures, fling smoke, or even manifest small-scale weather changes with sheer concentration. Swinging swords in the middle of a localized thunderstorm just doesn't make sense.
We exchange looks, riding on the same tactical wavelength.
"Three?" Matt asks.
"Three." Ves nods her affirmation.
"Three?" I need to be sure. Three meant dazzling success or a quick trip to the triage unit.
"I hate Three." Sam pops her knuckles, shifts her weight, and prepares to charge into the thick of the fray.
I concentrate, feeling that strange, electric twinge that means my powers are working. The effect dramatically raises the temperature around the gathered combatants, whipping the stale air into a vortex of whirling, blistering heat. It singes their eyes and lungs, giving Sam, Ves, and Matt the initial advantage as they dive into melee. Weapons crash to the ground, generally followed shortly after by the moaning, battered gang members. Just before Sam had kicked down the door to the warehouse Matt had lost his ears--those freaky power changes of his--and his ability to shout ferociously concussive waves of sound went with them. His fists still flared, though, with dazzlingly bright ribbons of kinetic energy. Though easily outweighed by the smallest Warrior in the group, one punch or shove was enough to send them flying as long as his fists stayed charged.
The fight is going well. With concentrated effort, I am able to set a few Warriors' shirts ablaze. The smoke and flame distracts some of the more menacing targets, and my friends use the opportunity to navigate the melee with confidence. Ves flickers in and out of sight, a will o' wisp who hits and is gone before any of the thick-headed Warriors know why they were suddenly seeing stars. I see Sam take a hit by a frightening-looking axe, cringe, briefly wonder how we would ever explain Sam's sudden amputation to her parents, then the axe snaps in two at the handle. I can barely contain my laughter. The axe head crashes to the floor with a resonating pwang, even over the din of combat. The disarmed Warrior stares stupidly at the splintered axe handle, but only until Sam clocks him, sending him to the ground in a groaning heap.
Before long, we have subdued the Warriors, more or less. Titan is the exception. Sam, Matt, and Ves move into a fierce melee with him, but things seem to be at a standstill. Ves and Matt dodge his blows, and they don't seem to bother Sam in the least. I fling smoke in his eyes, but he shrugs it off like it's nothing.
Matt throws a wild right hook at Titan's stomach. I hear a dry crunching sound, and then Matt starts yelling. I see him clutching his right hand, hobbling away from the fight. Normally the ribbons of energy he projects would shield his fists from the impact of his punches. Evidently, they hadn't flared. A quick, panicked look showed why: Matt's fur, tail, and ears were gone. He'd switched back to a full human, depowered. Vulnerable.
Titan sneers, recognizing our confusion as an opportunity. He backhands Matt, sending him crashing hard against a railing.
"Sam! Get him out of here!" Ves yells, landing a spinning kick to the back of Titan's watermelon-sized head and then disappearing. She manages to draw a little rivulet of blood, but Titan is only confused for a moment. Sam scoops Matt up in a heap and lugs him out like an oversized football toward a nearby emergency exit. She'll be back as soon as she is able, and then we'll bring Titan in.
In the meantime, Ves and I can hold him back, I'm sure. We can restrain him. We've faced way, way worse. Then Ves is flying through the air, not under her own power this time. She slams into a wall and, unconscious, automatically teleports to a nearby reclamator.
But I can hold him! I totally can. I whip up the air into a frenzy of sleet, rain, hail. It slows him down, gives me the time I need to call up my fire monkeys, which he promptly swats away like gnats. I make a semisolid wall of boiling air, one of my best yet. It will surely hold him back. But he strides through it like I expect Moses might have after parting the Red Sea, and he draws back his immense hammer, and I know this is going to sting like crazy when I wake up.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When I awake, it takes me a few moments to orient myself. I hear the quiet beeping and blooping of various machines. I smell the sterility in the air. My eyes finally find focus, and what I see confirms what I was dreading: I've ended up in the hospital. Still, it's better than the alternative, I suppose. An orderly comes over and gives me a quick look-over, but of course I'm fine. The reclamators are very effective, after all. He has me sign out, and then I head down to the lobby so that I can use my comm again.
Ves is already there. She spots me, and for a moment, she looks relieved. Even with the medcom system, you still become anxious when a teammate goes silent on the comm. What if, this time, something fails? I walk over to join her, turning on my comm.
"Looks like Bobby decided to follow me," I hear her say into the comm.
"Bobby! Are you okay, too?!" Matt's voice blasts through the comm, loud enough to make me briefly wonder if his powers came back again.
"Yeah, takes more than a little hammer to get me down. Ow." I stretch my arms out as I respond. The reclamator left my muscles feeling a bit tight. "What about you, buddy? That was quite a spill you took."
"I'm okay... Just kinda got disoriented for a few moments, ya?" He pauses for a moment, then begins babbling at full speed "I'm sorry guys, I didn't think that would happen. The SERAPH people had me using this device and it's supposed to help keep me from changing as much and I had just changed before we went on patrol so I thought, well, it'd have to be a while before I changed again, ya? Except that it wasn't a while, and I changed right when I was hitting him, and I'm sorry. I'm glad you're both okay. You really are both okay, right?"
"Yes, really, Matt," Ves says, then smirks for a moment. "Other than them putting Bobby's legs on backwards, we're both fine."
"They put them on backwards?!"
"I thought they were like that before?" Sam adds, then continues on a more serious note. "We should probably get back down there though, on account of Titan's probably going to try to run off when he realizes we're gone."
We all agreed with her and headed back to the warehouse. But of course, by the time we got there, Titan was long gone.
Re: Mattamorphosis
"But it's not working well enough!" Matt exclaimed, growing more animated. "It hadn't even been half an hour when I changed again! My friends got sent to the hospital because I depowered in the middle of a Warrior hideout! Can't you like up the power or do something? Please?"
"Matt, you know you're supposed to be cautious with patrols and this is why." Dr. Erasmas frowned, picking up the resonator that Matt had tossed at his desk in frustration upon arrival. "Even when wearing this, I told you that you'd still change."
"But it wasn't supposed to happen that fast! You said it'd take longer!"
"I'm sorry, Matt. The resonator did have an overall positive impact--the length of time between transitions increased by 12% on average--but it wasn't as reliable as we expected." The doctor sighed, feeling at a loss for how to make things better. "We're working with a phenomenon that we just don't really understand. Mr. Melvyn seems to understand it, better than we do anyway, but our scientists are having the hardest time translating his theories into anything practical. Especially since a lot of his theories aren't exactly scientific in nature."
"Then let me see him!" Matt practically leaped out of his seat. "Maybe he can tell me something that would help!"
"That... I'm not sure that's advisable," the doctor began, "as he is a convicted criminal who--"
"He's a convicted criminal under police custody who might be able to give me some idea of how to fix this! I have to see him!"
Dr. Erasmas decided to take a different approach. "Your parents won't allow it."
"Pfft! I'm sure I can get my dad's permission!"
"Matt--"
"Look, what's it going to hurt?" Matt pleaded. "It isn't like he can do anything bad to me and you were the one who said that his crimes were only because he needed psych meds!"
"That isn't exactly what I said." Dr. Erasmas frowned. "I said he has psychological issues and is on psychiatric medicine, but we don't know--"
"Dammit! Fine." Matt leaped out of his chair in anger. "I'll do it myself, then! But SERAPH's going to look really stupid when I get thrown in jail for trying to break into the Zig to see someone that they should have just let me see in the first place!"
Dr. Erasmas could feel a headache coming on. "Wait, wait," he said as Matt was halfway through stomping out of his office. "If it's that important to you... maybe we can arrange something."
"Matt, you know you're supposed to be cautious with patrols and this is why." Dr. Erasmas frowned, picking up the resonator that Matt had tossed at his desk in frustration upon arrival. "Even when wearing this, I told you that you'd still change."
"But it wasn't supposed to happen that fast! You said it'd take longer!"
"I'm sorry, Matt. The resonator did have an overall positive impact--the length of time between transitions increased by 12% on average--but it wasn't as reliable as we expected." The doctor sighed, feeling at a loss for how to make things better. "We're working with a phenomenon that we just don't really understand. Mr. Melvyn seems to understand it, better than we do anyway, but our scientists are having the hardest time translating his theories into anything practical. Especially since a lot of his theories aren't exactly scientific in nature."
"Then let me see him!" Matt practically leaped out of his seat. "Maybe he can tell me something that would help!"
"That... I'm not sure that's advisable," the doctor began, "as he is a convicted criminal who--"
"He's a convicted criminal under police custody who might be able to give me some idea of how to fix this! I have to see him!"
Dr. Erasmas decided to take a different approach. "Your parents won't allow it."
"Pfft! I'm sure I can get my dad's permission!"
"Matt--"
"Look, what's it going to hurt?" Matt pleaded. "It isn't like he can do anything bad to me and you were the one who said that his crimes were only because he needed psych meds!"
"That isn't exactly what I said." Dr. Erasmas frowned. "I said he has psychological issues and is on psychiatric medicine, but we don't know--"
"Dammit! Fine." Matt leaped out of his chair in anger. "I'll do it myself, then! But SERAPH's going to look really stupid when I get thrown in jail for trying to break into the Zig to see someone that they should have just let me see in the first place!"
Dr. Erasmas could feel a headache coming on. "Wait, wait," he said as Matt was halfway through stomping out of his office. "If it's that important to you... maybe we can arrange something."
Re: Mattamorphosis
Matt sat somewhat uneasily in his wooden seat. It was his first visit inside the Zig, his purpose being to meet the man who'd turned his life upside down in hopes of finding a solution to his shifting form. He fidgeted slightly in his seat, looking blankly through the glass barrier that divided the room in two, waiting for Barnyard to arrive.
Soon enough, the door creaked open and a man in the standard-issue orange Zig jumpsuit entered the room, accompanied by two prison guards. He was an older man, with graying hair and a bit of pudge around the middle. He carried himself with a sort of moderated confidence, an impression of intelligence tempered perhaps by an acknowledgment of his confined state. As the two guards positioned themselves unobtrusively in the back of the room, the man casually took his seat.
"Uh..." Matt tried to figure out what to say, stumbling a bit over his tongue in the process. "Er, ah, hi? I'm Matt--"
"You're Matthew Lamport." The man interrupted the boy, speaking easily. "I, of course, am Bruce Melvyn. You're here to seek my help."
"Erm, yeah," Matt shifted a bit in his seat. "I thought--"
"Which do you wish to be," Bruce once again cut him short, blatantly taking control of the conversation. "The human or the rabbit?"
"Um..." Matt stared blankly for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the query. "Er, the human?"
"Yes, of course, the human." Bruce leaned back in his seat, exuding the faintest touch of sarcasm at Matt's answer. He then continued, his voice settling into an instructive cadence, tinged faintly with weariness. "When I used the quantum transmogrification ray gun under normal circumstances, it completely transformed a person from their normal self into the animal of my choosing. The transformation was only temporary. I was forcibly altering the fabric of probability so that I could project my will onto reality. In other words, I changed reality so that the person really was that animal. In due time, however, the fabric of probability smoothed back out and normal probability vectors reasserted themselves. The person in question did not accept themselves to be that animal; they still saw themselves as the person they were. Reality, too, tended to more easily accept them as the person. And so they would revert to their human selves and continue on their merry way.
"You, however, were a special case. The ray gun had been damaged, so it operated in an unpredictable fashion. Instead of receiving a full transformation, you were only half transformed. When you looked in the mirror, what you saw wasn't completely alien as it would have been for the others. You were you, but you weren't. You were a hybrid of yourself and something else. And so, it was easier for your to accept.
"Initially, you were held in that form by the forces of probability. I have my theories on how that happened, but you need not concern yourself with those. As those forces receded, though, you did not revert as the others did. By that time, you had begun to see yourself as the hybrid creature you had become. Your acceptance of it gave it the inertia it needed to persist.
"Then, as I understand it, you encountered a series of events that gave you a higher than normal level of stress." Bruce paused for the briefest moment, watching as Matt stirred uneasily in his seat. "My conjecture is that you began questioning yourself, at some level, questioning who and what you are. You undercut the inertia of your hybrid form. Had you really wanted to become the human again, had you really believed yourself to be the human, it's very likely that you would have resumed your human form and all would have been settled.
"But you weren't just a half-human, half-rabbit hybrid. You were a half-human, half-rabbit hybrid with superhuman powers. You had grown accustomed to those powers, moreover, you had grown to enjoy them, to take them for granted even. When you began losing them, you missed them.
"So the cause behind your situation is pretty straightforward: you want to be human, but you also want to be the superpowered hybrid. You accept both forms. Reality accepts both forms. They each have enough inertia that they could stabilize. The solution to your problem is to exert your will to force reality to form you as you wish. Since both forms are valid, you are in the unique position of being able to choose whichever you want."
Matt's jaw had gone a touch slack listening to the monologue. It took him a few moments to process everything that had been said, but finally, he cleared his throat slightly then spoke. "So I can just exert my will to go back and forth? How do I do that?"
"I would expect that you could go back and forth, but not easily. You have to condition your mind to see yourself completely and totally as the form you wish to be. Over time, you will stabilize gradually. The longer you stay in that form, the more inertia it will have and the easier it will be for that form to persist. If you wish to change, you will have to recondition your mind to see yourself completely and totally as the other form. You will have to work against any inertia you've formed. If you are successful, your former form will gradually destabilize, then restabilize into the other form."
"Oh, uh, I see." Matt frowned slightly in thought, contemplating what he'd just been told.
"As long as you remain undecided, nothing SERAPH does will help. They will be fighting against you. Even though I have told them as much, they seem unable to acc--"
"Your ten minutes is up." One of the guards stepped forward, cutting Bruce off in mid-sentence.
"Yes, of course." Bruce grimaced, then stood. "Best of luck, Matthew Lamport." He began to head towards the door, which the other guard had already opened.
"Ah, thank you, Mr. Melvyn!" Matt called after him as he left, but Bruce Melvyn did not respond. The guards shut the door behind them, leaving Matt alone with his thoughts.
Soon enough, the door creaked open and a man in the standard-issue orange Zig jumpsuit entered the room, accompanied by two prison guards. He was an older man, with graying hair and a bit of pudge around the middle. He carried himself with a sort of moderated confidence, an impression of intelligence tempered perhaps by an acknowledgment of his confined state. As the two guards positioned themselves unobtrusively in the back of the room, the man casually took his seat.
"Uh..." Matt tried to figure out what to say, stumbling a bit over his tongue in the process. "Er, ah, hi? I'm Matt--"
"You're Matthew Lamport." The man interrupted the boy, speaking easily. "I, of course, am Bruce Melvyn. You're here to seek my help."
"Erm, yeah," Matt shifted a bit in his seat. "I thought--"
"Which do you wish to be," Bruce once again cut him short, blatantly taking control of the conversation. "The human or the rabbit?"
"Um..." Matt stared blankly for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the query. "Er, the human?"
"Yes, of course, the human." Bruce leaned back in his seat, exuding the faintest touch of sarcasm at Matt's answer. He then continued, his voice settling into an instructive cadence, tinged faintly with weariness. "When I used the quantum transmogrification ray gun under normal circumstances, it completely transformed a person from their normal self into the animal of my choosing. The transformation was only temporary. I was forcibly altering the fabric of probability so that I could project my will onto reality. In other words, I changed reality so that the person really was that animal. In due time, however, the fabric of probability smoothed back out and normal probability vectors reasserted themselves. The person in question did not accept themselves to be that animal; they still saw themselves as the person they were. Reality, too, tended to more easily accept them as the person. And so they would revert to their human selves and continue on their merry way.
"You, however, were a special case. The ray gun had been damaged, so it operated in an unpredictable fashion. Instead of receiving a full transformation, you were only half transformed. When you looked in the mirror, what you saw wasn't completely alien as it would have been for the others. You were you, but you weren't. You were a hybrid of yourself and something else. And so, it was easier for your to accept.
"Initially, you were held in that form by the forces of probability. I have my theories on how that happened, but you need not concern yourself with those. As those forces receded, though, you did not revert as the others did. By that time, you had begun to see yourself as the hybrid creature you had become. Your acceptance of it gave it the inertia it needed to persist.
"Then, as I understand it, you encountered a series of events that gave you a higher than normal level of stress." Bruce paused for the briefest moment, watching as Matt stirred uneasily in his seat. "My conjecture is that you began questioning yourself, at some level, questioning who and what you are. You undercut the inertia of your hybrid form. Had you really wanted to become the human again, had you really believed yourself to be the human, it's very likely that you would have resumed your human form and all would have been settled.
"But you weren't just a half-human, half-rabbit hybrid. You were a half-human, half-rabbit hybrid with superhuman powers. You had grown accustomed to those powers, moreover, you had grown to enjoy them, to take them for granted even. When you began losing them, you missed them.
"So the cause behind your situation is pretty straightforward: you want to be human, but you also want to be the superpowered hybrid. You accept both forms. Reality accepts both forms. They each have enough inertia that they could stabilize. The solution to your problem is to exert your will to force reality to form you as you wish. Since both forms are valid, you are in the unique position of being able to choose whichever you want."
Matt's jaw had gone a touch slack listening to the monologue. It took him a few moments to process everything that had been said, but finally, he cleared his throat slightly then spoke. "So I can just exert my will to go back and forth? How do I do that?"
"I would expect that you could go back and forth, but not easily. You have to condition your mind to see yourself completely and totally as the form you wish to be. Over time, you will stabilize gradually. The longer you stay in that form, the more inertia it will have and the easier it will be for that form to persist. If you wish to change, you will have to recondition your mind to see yourself completely and totally as the other form. You will have to work against any inertia you've formed. If you are successful, your former form will gradually destabilize, then restabilize into the other form."
"Oh, uh, I see." Matt frowned slightly in thought, contemplating what he'd just been told.
"As long as you remain undecided, nothing SERAPH does will help. They will be fighting against you. Even though I have told them as much, they seem unable to acc--"
"Your ten minutes is up." One of the guards stepped forward, cutting Bruce off in mid-sentence.
"Yes, of course." Bruce grimaced, then stood. "Best of luck, Matthew Lamport." He began to head towards the door, which the other guard had already opened.
"Ah, thank you, Mr. Melvyn!" Matt called after him as he left, but Bruce Melvyn did not respond. The guards shut the door behind them, leaving Matt alone with his thoughts.
Re: Mattamorphosis
Matt trudged over to the sink and started brushing his teeth. Normally, he'd still be sleeping at this time on a Saturday morning but Bobby had insisted they get a head start on studying for the big test on Monday and so, here he was, waking up. He scrubbed at his front teeth, then his back teeth, then his back teeth on the other side, then scrubbed the front teeth again for good measure before spitting into the sink and rinsing his brush out.
He started to turn to walk away, then stopped and considered his reflection. This morning he was in mixed mode. He had normal skin without fur for the most part, but still had his rabbit ears and brown hair. He rested his hands on the sink and leaned forward a bit, studying himself in the mirror. After a few moments his left ear twitched once, then the right, but otherwise he was still, seemingly lost in thought.
Some time later, the bathroom door swung open as Bobby Park stuck his head in. "There you are! I thought we were supposed to meet up ten minutes ago."
Matt startled, turning to look at Bobby. "Huh? Oh! Right, sorry Bobby, I'll be ready in like five minutes." He gathered up his toothbrush and toothpaste and turned to leave.
"Are you okay, Matt? You kinda looked like you were in your own little world there."
"Oh, uh, ya! I was just..." Matt paused for a moment, thoughtfully, then smiled really wide. "I was just thinking about how much I've grown to like carrots. I'll meet you in the cafeteria, for breakfast, ya?"
"Sure... just don't get lost on the way again this time?" Bobby looked at his friend dubiously, but seemed to let the matter slide as Matt bounced past him and down the hall towards his dorm room. He shrugged, then headed out of the dorms for the cafeteria.
He started to turn to walk away, then stopped and considered his reflection. This morning he was in mixed mode. He had normal skin without fur for the most part, but still had his rabbit ears and brown hair. He rested his hands on the sink and leaned forward a bit, studying himself in the mirror. After a few moments his left ear twitched once, then the right, but otherwise he was still, seemingly lost in thought.
Some time later, the bathroom door swung open as Bobby Park stuck his head in. "There you are! I thought we were supposed to meet up ten minutes ago."
Matt startled, turning to look at Bobby. "Huh? Oh! Right, sorry Bobby, I'll be ready in like five minutes." He gathered up his toothbrush and toothpaste and turned to leave.
"Are you okay, Matt? You kinda looked like you were in your own little world there."
"Oh, uh, ya! I was just..." Matt paused for a moment, thoughtfully, then smiled really wide. "I was just thinking about how much I've grown to like carrots. I'll meet you in the cafeteria, for breakfast, ya?"
"Sure... just don't get lost on the way again this time?" Bobby looked at his friend dubiously, but seemed to let the matter slide as Matt bounced past him and down the hall towards his dorm room. He shrugged, then headed out of the dorms for the cafeteria.