Chapter 4: Feeling Under the Weather

’Wow, what a fucked up dream,’ Tim thought to himself as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey, wait a sec...!” he shouted, wide awake, now.

He looked at his left hand, and sure enough found the “X” scar, right where the time traveling version of himself had cut into his hand. He searched his memories to make sure he indeed did remember the events at Salado Creek. Amazingly, he remembered everything, each and every word both he and the man from the future said, to the location of each leaf on each tree in his field of vision.

After taking the first pill that Fat Tim had given him yesterday, the nanites stored in the pill began their work by entering Tim’s blood stream and fighting their way though his body to their assigned locations in his brain, muscles and other assorted organs and bones. While he slept, their initial mission was to correct any compromised organs and processes in Tim’s body, that could cause a problem within his lifetime: such as the genetic propensities for diabetes and spinal stenosis, both of which were present in his mother’s and his father’s family histories. They were also evident in him, so the nanites began their work at once! Previously, Tim was going to need glasses. Not anymore.

The nanites assigned to Tim’s brain started their work on improving the blood flow, and increasing the speed of all synapses throughout his brain. They even jump-started certain areas of his brain, that were actually dormant. Now they were beginning to work overtime. Tim, who was somewhat of a creative thinker, was now also understanding the steps necessary to make his ideas come to fruition. The left brain and right brain now worked equally, and together. They were hitting ‘warp nine;’ whereas, before, his brain before could be described as driving in a heavily populated school zone. The difference was easily noticeable.

One side effect Tim saw immediately, was that he was both tired, and needed to use the bathroom. He sat up to get out of bed, and checked the alarm clock next to his radio.

“Why the hell am I up at six in the morning in the summertime?” he asked no one in particular.

Suddenly, words typed across the bottom of his vision, like closed captioning on TV.

“Your body needs fuel, and you must evacuate some of the excess fluid and carcinogens we found while beginning the transformation process.” There was a slight pause almost like if you were talking to someone and they needed a breath before continuing their thought, “End of message.” He rubbed his eyes again, thinking maybe there was something wrong.

“What the fuck?” he squeaked out.

“We are the nanites, set to follow corrective protocols to repair and upgrade your body and mind, to work at peak efficiency. You need to evacuate some of the excess fluid and carcinogens we found while beginning the transformation process.” The pause and “End of message.”

Tim was breathing a little deeper when he realized he felt more awake and was slowly noticing more of everything around him. He was going to question the text messages in his vision a little more but the pressure on his bladder quickly warned him of an impending catastrophe if he did not get to the bathroom quickly.

Not running but certainly walking with a little authority, Tim worked his way down the hall but noticed he felt very weak. While urinating, the omnipotent text messages returned, “We suggest you also evacuate your bowels at this time so you can then proceed to either an immediate intake of food for energy or continued rest while we continue the transformation process. The choice is up to you as we will adjust our continued work accordingly.” Pause. “End of message.”

He finished off his piss stream, lowered the seat, and sat down. The first thing he noticed was the onset of body-wracking spasms and the incredible need to evacuate his bowels. Immediately, a huge expulsion of fecal matter left his body. Tim grabbed a washcloth off the counter and bit down hard on it. A second expulsion of fecal matter evacuated his body; but, with this second movement, it was accompanied by every member of the horn section of an entire orchestra!

Tim realized he was sweating profusely, but actually felt very much better. The tiredness swept over him again and he decided to go back to sleep rather than get something to eat.

He was jarred from his euphoric feelings from his rapid weight loss by a loud knock on the bathroom door.

“Jesus, Tim, are you all right?” The voice was easily recognizable as his father’s. He must have been getting ready for work. “What are you doing in there, hunting elephants or something?”

Tim’s father Raymond had favorite topics he loved to joke about with others and human bodily functions were among his favorite.

“Good grief! At least make sure you clean the ceiling after you finish.”

Tim smiled as he replied, “No problem, Dad, I think I’m almost done.”

“Make sure you use up that can of Lysol before you open the door or we might have to evacuate the house from a gas leak. Jesus, Tim! I can smell it through the door! Start using the can, NOW!”

That last now was nearly screamed at him, from down the hall, because his father was backing away from the bathroom door. The rest of the household was now awake.

“Oh good lord! Tim are you alright in there?”

His mother was actually worried, and it showed in her tone of voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom ... be out in a minute.”

“No you won’t. Flush a few extra times and open that window before you open this door. Use that whole can of Lysol! I’ll use another one, out here!”

Her house shoes made their familiar slide/flap noise only flip flops can make, while they went down the hall toward the kitchen where the household chemical items were generally kept.

“Holy cow, Tim, what did you eat?”

The tiny voice of his younger sister giggled from behind her bedroom door. Carmen, being a daddy’s girl was also an expert in comparing notes in her father’s bodily functions discussions.

“I’m keeping my door closed in case it tries to come in here!” she said with another giggle.

Stifled laughter throughout the house was now prominent.

“I swear the paint in the hall was peeling.” he heard his father say from the kitchen. “And if the sunlight hit it in just the right way, you could see a rainbow in the mist coming out from under the door!.”

“Oh, stop it, Ray,” Mom defended her son, while stifling a laugh. “Do you think anything is wrong with him?”

“No ... maybe he finally found a way to push out all that undigested cheese from those pizzas he has loved his whole life,” he snickered. “But I’ll take a look at him before he goes back to bed. He might have torn something, or could be bleeding, after that,” his father told his mother in a serious tone. Then the following smile in his voice was evident as he added, “I know I would at the very least need a nap if I did something like that!”

Tim decided to jump in the shower, and quickly rinse off the small sheen of sweat he developed after his bowel movements.

“Am I all right?” he felt kind of stupid talking to no one but he did get an answer.

“There is no severe damage to your digestive tract, nor upon excretion through sigmoid colon stored in the rectum, and expulsion via anus.” The words appeared in the lower right hand corner of Tim’s visual line of sight. Wherever he turned his head to look, the words were there, typed in the bottom like closed captioning on TV. “End of message.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“Why am I so tired, I mean besides the obvious workout I just went through?” Tim asked the nanites.

The typing soon appeared, “With all the work we have done to repair and improve your body, we siphoned off the necessary energy directly from you. We used the remaining energy from your last meal as well as any extra energy stored within your body. This was mainly through various chemical processes, where we reconvert the fat cells into energy we could use. Basically, we turned some of your fat into the energy we needed to fuel the changes.” Tim could almost imagine a sense of humor, but quickly dismissed that thought as he read, “End of message.”

After finishing his quick shower and drying himself, he checked the underwear and shorts he normally wore to bed, to see if he had indeed made a mess of things. Luckily, he was able to hold out until he’d been seated on the toilet. However, he did need to work the toilet a few times to make sure everything went down. He stopped counting after half a dozen flushes.

Tim walked slowly back to his room and along the way he threw the empty Lysol can from the bathroom into the large kitchen trash can. “Tim do you want something to eat for breakfast since you are up anyway,” his mom asked from the kitchen table as she was drinking coffee and reading the morning paper with her husband.

“No thanks Mom, I’m good. I’m actually wanting to go back to sleep. I’m still kinda tired.”

“Hey, son, are you okay? It sounded kind of nasty, and not normal, in all seriousness. Did you notice anything wrong afterwords like blood or anything,” Tim’s father, a registered nurse, asked.

At first Tim thought he was joking, but the tone of voice he used was not jovial. Rather, he sounded very concerned.

“No everything was okay, no mess outside of where it was expected, and everything went down okay, but it was very surprising.”

During his explanation, his father got up from the table and placed his empty coffee cup in the sink. He waved Tim over towards the bedroom.

“Well, let me take a look at you before I go to work, just to make sure.”

Once in the room, Tim sat down on the bed, and his father closed the door. He turned the desk chair around and sat down, observing his son. The first thing he noticed was they were almost eye level to each other when about a week ago they sat the exact same way and there was a definite difference in eye level.

Raymond made a note of it, because he felt maybe he was looking down his nose at his son when they were discussing football ‘two a days,’ beginning at the end of the month. He knew his son was in no shape for the upcoming ‘two a days.’ It was the exact opposite attitude he wanted to convey with his son. He was actually very proud his son did something out of his normal customary everyday way of life. In his mind, he understood his son would not be a great high school football star; but, the thought of maybe seeing his son trying, made him very happy. Seeing his son in a team uniform would make him ecstatic.

“Okay, now, seriously, I know you might not want to talk in front of your mom. So, did you have any blood or anything while you were in the shower?”

“No, nothing, Dad. Just a lot of shit in the toilet. There certainly was a lot but nothing unusual except for that ... Oh, yeah and those damn farts were something else,” Tim answered his dad jokingly hoping to get out of this situation with as little more embarrassment than required.

Raymond looked over his son and could swear he looked a little taller, and maybe even skinnier than last night.

“Yeah, I thought there was an eighteen-wheeler ‘Jake-braking’ in the bathroom! ... All right, if you think you are okay, then I’ll let you get some sleep. Try to let your asshole readjust ... after all, it did sound like you just passed the Empire State Building,” and with a jostle of his son’s hair he headed toward the door.

“Hey, Dad, remind me later on tonight to apologize to Mom.”

“What for?”

“Being born! I have a whole new appreciation for what she went through!”

His dad laughed and closed the door on his way out, which was the exact reaction Tim wanted from his father. It was also a way to let him know he was really all right.

Tim adjusted himself in the bed and then needed to scoot down the bed when he realized if he put his head on the pillow from where he was, he was going to bang his head against the wall. So he inched down and thought it was just because he sat too high on the bed. He pulled the blankets up to his head and fell back to sleep quickly and returning to some extremely vivid dreams involving girls he had lusted after in middle school. Not to mention the possibility of some good looking teachers falling prey to his obvious charm and good looks.

The nanites began their work in earnest, prepping his body for the coming extreme weight loss, and rapid muscle growth. The impressive bowel movement from earlier in the morning was needed to evacuate the years of undigested food trapped in the intestines. It also helped discard unnecessary particulates excised by the surgical nanites throughout his body. The nanites encapsulated various wastes in fat cells, and stored them in the lower portions of the intestines, where they could be kept until evacuated. The nanites were programmed to not tell Tim about any precancerous cells. A lot of things the nanites were correcting in Tim’s body were under similar orders: just fix, don’t inform Tim.

Now, with the repairs made, the nanites could begin the enhancements ordered by their programming. The brain nanites eliminated fat deposits blocking nerve endings and synapses, while simultaneously expanding blood vessels into and throughout the cerebrum, cerebellum and the brain stem.

By expanding blood vessels and unclogging synapses in the cerebrum, the nanites expanded and made more efficient, the workings within the frontal lobe. That is the area that controls creative thought, problem solving, intellect, judgment, attention, and abstract thinking. When completed, Tim’s intellect and problem solving skills will improve by a hundred fold. Not only will he be able to understand problems but he will quite easily be able to “think outside the box,” finding abstract or creative solutions to any and all problems presented to him.

His coordination and control over his body will also be maximized. Soon, he will be on par with Olympic athletes and/or martial arts experts.

By tweaking the Parietal Lobe in the cerebrum, the nanites have exponentially increased Tim’s comprehension of ... well ... everything he heard, saw or read. These improvements will manifest in Tim’s ability to learn new languages in a few days, as well as an ability to memorize anything he hears, sees or reads. Basically, both a photographic and recording memory. His heightened senses of sight and sound, will not fade with old age.

With the improvements in the cerebellum, the nanites may have made it possible to look at Tim as a physical freak. Physical mimicry is now possible. Tim can see something physically performed by someone ... once ... and he will have the ability to recreate their motions perfectly. Learning anything physical in nature will be quite easy for Tim, from now on. If it is physically possible for a human being to do something, he will be able to recreate it after seeing it just once.

Tim woke up around two o’clock, later that afternoon. His mother was genuinely worried about him. A light shaking of his shoulder woke him and his mom’s concerned face hovered over him.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

The question was not easily answerable. Tim realized his brain was thinking quite clearly and he instantly knew he could recite everything he had learned in school since kindergarten. Every book he read, every class note taken and every instructional video ever shown in class were suddenly all right there in his memory. It was as though he was reading a flash card. But, his body felt weak, as he imagined competing in back to back triathlons might feel.

A scan of his alarm clock, and a quick calculation, confirmed he was about twenty-four hours into his transformation process. He still had another twenty-four to go before he could allow his parents to take him to a hospital, for fear of what hospital tests might show was happening to his body. He had never felt so tired and weak in his young life, but knew it would be worth it in the end.

He forced a smile to his face and answered his mom, “I’m just sleepy, Mom. I guess I stayed up too late last night, watching TV.”

Tim propped himself up onto his elbow, to feign getting up from bed.

“Did you need me to do something, Mom?”

It took almost all his strength to prop himself up on the bed, but he did not want to worry his mom.

“No, hon. I just know you haven’t eaten anything, today. I was getting worried, so I came to check on you. Are you sure you are all right?”

The concern was growing and wallpapering itself onto her face.

Trying to deescalate the situation, Tim decided tried and true humor was a safe bet.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m cool ... just tired from this morning ... Hey, did I tell you I was sorry?” he asked his mother who was now a bit thrown with the change in conversation.

“No,” she looked worried. “Why do you need to be sorry.”

Her tone almost accusing.

“For being born ... after this morning I know for sure I don’t ever want to get pregnant!”

Tim punctuated the comment with a Cheshire Cat grin.

The tension disappeared from his mom, and she lightly slapped him on the shoulder.

“So are you gonna sleep all day? It is a beautiful day and you don’t want to miss it do you?”

“I’m good Mom ... what’s for dinner?” He again used the change of conversational topics hoping to push her out of his room because he could feel himself getting weaker by the second.

“Meatloaf and macaroni and cheese.”

“Oooh good, make sure you burn the meat loaf properly! That’s the way I grew up eating it, and that’s the way I like it!”

The Cheshire Cat grin reappeared. The light-hearted slap on the shoulder also returned. A little harder.

“Dinner is around six, when your dad comes home. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that final bit of conversation finished, Juanita stood up from the bed and made her way to leave Tim’s room, while Tim was pulling the covers off of himself.

The door closed, and Tim quickly pulled the covers back up as he fell asleep again.

“Tim, Mom says come to dinner or else!”

Tim’s little sister Carmen did not knock on the bedroom door she just stuck her head in the door and yelled ... like she pretty much always did. “Hey, Mom, I think he’s taking a nap,” she yelled over her shoulder toward the kitchen. But her upper torso was peaking into Tim’s bedroom.

“I’m up. Yelling like that could wake the dead, little lady.”

Tim’s relationship with his little sister was fine. They were not the best of friends and she did not hang on her older brother’s every word, but they did respect and love each other. He knew some of her friends and she knew some of his. But, since she was a social butterfly and made friends easily, her numbers dwarfed his numbers, when it came to friends.

Tim realized he was not as weak as before (when his mother had visited), but it was after seven, and he had missed dinner. He was confident there would be leftovers for him. The covers were removed with ease and he was able to stand, however his sleeping shorts slid down his legs and onto the floor. They were now a couple of sizes too large for him.

A giggle from the door caught his attention and his modesty returned with a vengeance. Tim quickly tossed a pillow at the door and small yelp was closely followed by the door shutting a little too loudly.

“Sorry about the slam, Tim. Mom says get your butt up and eat some dinner,” came from behind the now closed door.

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

“Make sure you put your shorts back on, please.”

That comment was followed by another giggle. Tim bent over and pulled the shorts back up. Luckily they had a drawstring and were easily cinched up to conceal his modesty.

It didn’t even strike him until then, when he caught his reflection in the mirror in his peripheral vision. A grab of his crotch, a quick jump to the full length mirror behind the room door, and the shorts were dropped once again. The events of the last couple days were cemented as fact in his young brain, now.