Chapter 3

Paul awoke slowly, his head pounding and his mind foggy. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a small white room... it looked very old... there were no windows, and only one door. He was on a bed, a regular bed, not a hospital bed, and was wearing a loose white cotton robe. He didn't need to look under the robe to know his body hadn't changed. He was quickly becoming used to the different weight displacement, having breasts, and having nothing between his legs. He sat up cautiously, trying to maintain his balance. His head pounded even more as he propped himself up. Where the hell am I?, he thought.

The door opened, and a man in grey clothing walked in carrying a small bag. When he saw that Paul was up he smiled.

"Hello," the man man said, "You'll probably feel better if you keep your head on the pillow, at least until the drug wears off..."

Paul looked at him, confused, and laid down again. He was right, Paul thought, as the pounding subsided somewhat. The man smiled again and took a chair from the corner and unfolded it. Smiling, he sat down.

"I guess you've been through a lot," he said, "There's no need to worry... you'll be safe here..."

Paul began to mutter out a question, his words slurred, "What..."

The man smiled and hushed him, "Shhh... you're too weak to talk. In time you'll be able to ask all the questions you want..."

Paul nodded slightly. He didn't know why, but he trusted this man. He seemed sincere, and friendly.

The man gestured to his case. "I've got a needle here that contains a nutritional suppliment... nothing else. You are very weak and need it... There will be a small prick on your arm, but it won't hurt you, okay?"

Paul smiled and nodded. He'd been pricked by more than his fair share of needles lately. The man smiled and took the needle out of the case... he slowly, cautiously inserted it into Paul's arm. As he pulled it out he placed a small cotton ball over the puncture and taped it with a bandage. He smiled again, and stood.

"Now, you should get some more rest..." he said as he opened the door and turned to go.

Paul laid there for a few minutes more, before falling into a calm, restful sleep.

When Paul woke again he was feeling much better. Still a little weak, but the pounding in his head was gone. He looked around the room, and saw a pile of clothes on a chair next to the bed. There was a small note attached.

He sat up and read the note. "These should be more comfortable - D." was all it said. He looked at the pile of clothes - a pair of dark green work pants, a grey t-shirt, a pair of cotton panties, a cotton bra, and some grey socks. On the floor next to the bed were a pair of low cut black work boots. Well, Paul thought, I won't be winning any fashion contests, and chuckled to himself. He was glad to be able to wear something other than the robe, and was in no mood to play dress up. Dealing with this new body was enough to handle without being made up like a tart... the clothes would do.

He stood, cautiously at first, but feeling his sense of balance restored he began to dress. He was very conscious of the proportions of his new body... the bra would be a welcome relief to the constant tugging at his chest. He expertly put it on, not knowing where he had learned to put on a bra. He figured it was a lingering memory from the brain scan.

As he put on the rest of the clothes and pulled on the boots he began to feel much better than he had in a long while. He still had no idea where he was, but he had a sense of security. One last item that he had failed to see before was on the chair, a hair elastic. He took it and pulled his long dark hair into a ponytail. It felt good to get his hair out of his eyes...

He tried the door but found it locked. Not knowing what to do he sat at the end of the bed. A few minutes later the door opened and the man whom he had met before came in. He was smiling, and Paul couldn't help but smile back.

"Hi," the man said, "I see you found the clothes... I hope everything fits okay... it was all we had..."

Paul nodded, "It's fine, thanks. Who is we?"

The man smiled, "In a few minutes you'll be told everything."

Paul shrugged, "I guess I'm in no position to bargain... I tried the door."

The man shrugged apologetically, "Sorry, we thought it was best if we kept it locked. You were on some pretty serious meds there, you might have hurt yourself..."

"And I might have gotten away?" Paul asked dryly.

"Sorry... that too. Listen, if you come with me we can get some of your questions answered..."

There was not much else to do, Paul figured, and he was very curious to find out what had happened. He stood, and looked at the man.

"First question... do you have a name?"

The man smiled, and held out his hand, "Damon."

Paul shook his hand, "Hi Damon, this might be a bit hard for you to believe, but I'm Paul..."

Damon shook his head, "Don't worry, I know all about it..."

Paul smiled, and began to laugh. Damon started laughing too. Paul wasn't sure why he had begun to laugh, but laughing with another person made him feel much better...

Paul followed Damon down a maze of corridors, all dark and damp, lit only by the occasional uncovered lightbulb hung from the ceiling. He had no idea where he was, but it seemed very old. They passed a few people, all of whom nodded to Damon as the walked by. Eventually they came to a door. There was a Guard posted, with a rifle slung over his shoulder. He nodded to Damon and unlocked the door...

The room in which they entered was much larger, and brighter. The floors here were not cold concrete like the corridors or the room he had awoke in, they were tiled. The pattern was very old, and in disrepair, but enough of the original mosaic was left to make out the picture. It was of a sad-eyed woman holding a baby... they both had gold rings around their heads. There was a round table in the centre of the room, and Damon gestured to one of the chairs.

They both sat down, and Paul turned to Damon, "Are we waiting for someone?"

He nodded, "Yes, Eva will be here soon..."

Paul nodded and looked around the room... there was something very comforting about the architecture, the colours, the light. He somehow felt safe there. Soon the door opened and three people walked in. He recognized one instantly - the blonde assasin who had killed Dr. Phillips. Another was a tall, muscular black man. The last woman to enter was a woman who appeared to be in her late fifties or sixties...

She had long silver hair, tied into a bun. Her face was very warm, and she smiled when she saw Paul. Paul nervously smiled back. She wore the same dark work clothes as the others, but carried herself with a grace that defied her appearance. Looking at her Paul thought that she must have been incredibly beautiful whe she was younger. As it was, even though she showed the signs of her age, she was still stunning.

The trio sat down at the table with Paul and Damon. Paul shot a look at the beautiful blonde girl who had planted the bomb in the Turboway and killed Dr. Phillips in cold blood. She appeared as cold and impassive as ever. The black man seemed friendlier, though with an air of caution about him. The older woman smiled and began to speak. Her voice flowed with the same elegance as her body, "Hello Paul Matthews, I am Eva..."

Paul smiled, "Hello." Though he had dozens of questions, he didn't know where to start. She started to speak again...

"Paul," she said, "I am sure you are very curious about a number of things, but I believe a few introductions are in order first. I see you've already met Damon. This is Reginald..." she gestured to the black man. They exchanged smiles, Reginald's smile somewhat tainted with caution. Eva gestured to the girl, "... and this is Alicia." Paul smiled, but the girl merely nodded. "We four are members of a group that calls itself The Underground."

Paul nodded, though he had never heard that name before. Eva smiled and continued, "Paul, I'm sure over the last few months you have experienced things that have dramatically changed the way you look at our society... what I am about to tell you will challenge these notions even more..."

"Our society is based on the remenants of a country called the United States Of America... you may have heard of it in your school classes on the Reformation. About two hundred years ago there was a global conflict that destroyed many of mankind's established nations. In their place grew smaller socities, with less central government - lose affiliations of City-States, if you will. Our society grew out of what had been the eastern part of the United States of America. At first, like many of the new nations, it was hostile, ungoverned, chaotic. Then, the event you know as The Reformation occured. Small groups of people who had managed to control some wealth during the tumultous years following the great global conflict sought to establish order. The used their power to begin imposing a society based upon their ideals.

"The Reformers felt that the cause of the global conflict, and subsequent breakup of nations, was the lack of a moral absolute. They believed that by maintaining certain aspects of society in strict roles they could maintain order. For example, they felt that the rapid influx of women into the workforce in the century leading up to the great conflict eroded the family unit, causing crime and moral degeneration. To maintain their society as they wished, they had to ensure that women would be kept in submissive roles, essentially as breeders and nurturers. And not only women were to be controlled... men needed to be agressive and dominant, yet respectful of authority, and minorites needed to be segregated and subdued. To achieve this goal they found only one solution.

"Before the conflict many of the Reformers had made themselves very wealthy by dealing in the trade of elicit drugs. After the conflict they sought out those contacts with whom they had dealt with before, but this time with a far more organized plan. They developed huge factories, initially on the Southwestern continent, and in their labs created many types of drugs for their specific needs. For women they developed a drug we believe is called Subtain. It causes the user to develop passive personality traits, to be controlled easily. For men they developed Mastain, which reinforces the agressive instincts of men, but also develops a need for authority. For the minorities they developed Regutain, which causes submissiveness and lowers intelligence levels. They found ways of exposing the select groups to the drugs without their awareness. Soon, as society began to feel the effects, there was a population waiting to be controlled. With virtually no opposition, the Reformers gained control easily."

Paul started blankly, overwhelmed by it all. Had someone told him before all this had happened to him that his society was controlled by behavoir modifying drugs he would have though them mad. Now, however, it made sense. He thought of all of the women he had ever known, his Mother even, and they fit the profile exactly. The men... he only had to think of someone like Tom Renalds or Mr. Billings to confirm his suspiscions. He shook his head, and looked to Eva. "But where do I come into all of this? Why did they do..." Paul looked at his body, "... this to me?"

Eva nodded, "They had too. The drugs did a marvelous job of controlling the populace... but over time they began to show side-effects. Men would occasionally have bouts of rage, minorities experienced a high number of birth-defects, and a large number of women became infertile.