Chapter 13

As they all relaxed and talked, David raised a point that had been bothering him. "Have you ever tried using your powers on yourself?"

"A little. I can change my skin tone, and somewhat change my features." She demonstrated, taking on her Afam persona. After giving them a good look, she changed back.

"Impressive." David acknowledged. "But what about something more substantial?"

"Substantial?"

"A fundamental change, like giving yourself more power or something."

"I don't know. Never tried it. Remember, it's all pretty new to me." Angel was intrigued. She agreed to give it a try, and see what happened. She went inside herself, asking her subconscious resources to put together the necessary patterns and make her aware of what she needed to know.

Then it all went wrong.

Angel suddenly felt sick. Worse than anything in her life. Physically and mentally, she curled up into a little ball. She knew that she had gotten some information, but she was too sucked up into the maelstrom within her body to pay any attention.

To pay any attention to anything.

After an eternity or ten, a voice reached in and started calling her name. She latched on to it like a lifesaver, and allowed it to bring her back up out of herself. As she started to emerge, she recognized the mental voice as Lena's.

When she started noticing her surroundings again, she saw that the others were looking at her with worried expressions.

"Tha ... that was interesting." She smiled weakly. The looks eased a little. A drink found its way into her hand, and she barely noticed what it was as she drank it. Her mind and body started to settle, and she found herself better able to think and talk.

"There are some limits I didn't know about."

"Limits?" David asked.

"Yeah. I can change things like skin color and fat distribution in myself, and even change the rate and color of my hair growth anywhere. I can heal myself, prevent or cure infections, and control my fertility." Angel stopped to draw a breath, then continued. "But I can't make my powers any stronger. They will grow a little as I age, and maybe with some exercises, but my range will never get beyond about two inches. I can't make myself bigger or smaller, or younger or older." Silently, she added And I can't turn myself back into a boy.

I'm sorry. I know you miss it sometimes. But you really do make a good girl.

I don't want to think about it now.

The mental exchange was very quick, so the others barely noticed a pause. When she started talking again, it was much like her earlier pauses. "I can't cure MORFS, in myself or others. If I catch it early enough, I might be able to keep an infection from triggering the changes, and I can create a virus to rewrite someone's genes and then trigger the change. But even that has limits. The first part of MORFS, the old terrorist weapon, is so thoroughly integrated into our bodies and genes that trying to remove it would kill the person. Or animal."

She looked around at the others. "In a way, it's a relief. They're not a matter of power, but something more fundamental. Even a powerful bio elemental, like that Wilson woman, would face the same limits. And the very fact of such limits makes the world seem a little safer. I might be able to seriously hurt or kill someone - heck, any one of us can do that. But I would have to work both hard and smart to cause any sort of widespread damage."

Like AMORFS? Lena asked, silently.

That was working hard and smart. Just not consciously.

They both let that drop.

While Angel recovered some more, they talked about the Pope Hill project. They had a variety of ideas for the "payoff", but rejected most of them in the end. They decided that it would be something they decided later, based on new circumstances. Penny brought up a good point, however.

"It will provide a good cover for some of the MORFS changes that Angel makes. I can see a significant danger otherwise, when the pattern of changes slews too much. Angel - all of us - could be on the receiving end of some very unpleasant attention without such a cover."

"Voice of Cassandra?" Angel asked.

"Voice of Cassandra." Penny confirmed.

That was good enough for them. They went into brainstorming the details. Of the four of them, Cassie would have the smallest of the critical roles. Once they had the necessary information about a candidate, she would let herself notice whether there were signs of trouble either way.

When the hill was "open for business", Lena and David would watch for approaching candidates. They would also check for hidden watchers, and Lena would watch for thoughts of electronic recording or transmission devices.

Angel would get a preliminary pattern on the candidate, preparing for the creation of the change agent. Lena would read hir intended request, and relay it to Angel. Angel would take that information and see whether she could create the change.

Lena would also expedite a quick discussion of the worthiness and risks of the candidate and hir goals. They wanted to screen out malice, world domination fantasies, and the like. With David, they set the precedent for allowing motives that were socially unacceptable but generally harmless.

They also wanted to screen out the really unstable types.

Lena and David would set the stage when the candidate approached the hill. Lena would read the final form of the desire, then send the image to David and the details to Angel. If Angel could accomplish it, and everything else checked out all right, David would create a small visual effect to cue the person that the change was a done deal.

Angel, looking different either because of her self induced changes or because she was cloaked by an illusion compliments of David, would make contact and transfer the "packet".

They would do things a little differently each time, to disrupt anyone trying to figure their pattern.

If the request was unacceptable or undoable, David and Lena would create an experience that made it clear that the request would not be granted. If the request was particularly malicious or the like, they might impose a punitive change.

Penny brought up the issue of when to make the Hill available. They didn't want to have the plan running every hour of every day and night, and they wanted to be able to schedule around it. They decided on at least twice a month, and no more than once a week, the pattern to be determined later.

David came up with a justification for randomizing the date somewhat. They could let it be known that the Source needed time to recharge, which varied depending on the strains the requests caused. But nobody would be sure what sorts of things caused more or less stress.

Angel suggested one or two more trial runs, and nominated Robin. She pointed out that they needed someone they could trust, someone who they could confide in later and could get feedback from. Robin fit those criteria, and was the only one of their inner circle who had not changed yet.

Penny nominated another candidate. Although the rest of them didn't know her, Penny knew and trusted her. Pat was about to be a sophomore at Penny's school, and was very much a boy inside. She couldn't afford the very expensive reassignment surgeries, and her parents were divided over the issue. And even if she could afford the surgeries, it would be years before she qualified.

Angel could certainly sympathize with a physical girl who was a boy inside. Her own inner boy was starting to slip away, but the torments of that dichotomy were still fresh in her mind. She suggested that Robin go first, and that they use the feedback from her to refine their approach for Pat. The others agreed, with the caveat that s/he had to go through the full screenings.

That left only the timing for the tests, and how to approach them. Angel suggested they approach Robin almost immediately, so she could go through the change over the holiday weekend.

David could let slip to Robin the part the Hill supposedly played in his own transformation. If necessary, Lena could amplify Robin's curiosity and desire. They wouldn't tell her about that part.

While they were talking about what they would tell, and to whom, they decided they would not tell their parents about the plot. But they could talk about the Pope Hill rumor all they wanted. Angel and David had already done so, and Cassie and Lena could easily work it into conversations.

In fact, Lena was sure she could arrange for various adults to "remember" the rumors as being from more than a decade before. And seemingly old and well known then.

When Angel got home, there was a message from her mother. She had some plans for them, so Angel didn't need to start dinner. But she did need to be at home and available when her mother got there.

Since she had gotten home a little later than she had planned on, it was a relief that she hadn't delayed dinner. That relief was tempered by speculations about her mother's mysterious plans.

Whatever the plans, she suspected she was underdressed. And after tramping around the State park, she decided a quick rinse off was a good idea.

As she rinsed off, she reflected on some of the trivia of her new life. Like shower caps. When she was a boy, he never saw the point of the things. Even when he styled longish hair, he didn't mind if a little got wet at the ends when he showered. Now she understood.

Since her mother hadn't said anything about appearance, she put on one of her plainer - and less daring - skirts and a polo shirt. She briefly debated about shoes, and bypassed her sneakers for a comfortable pair of flats.

By the time her mother got home, Angel was relaxing in front of the tube. Her mother took a quick look at her, and nodded her head. Soon, they were on their way.

"First, a little bit of shopping." Her mother said. They headed for the mall, and went right to the swap shop. Her mother quietly checked her balance, then they were off looking at clothes. Within minutes, Angel's mother had handed her two blouses and two skirts to try on. They were nicer than what she had on, but not too nice for school or somewhere special.

They didn't like the fit of one of the skirts, but the blouses were both fine. Angel got even more suspicious when her mother removed the price tags from the skirt and blouse she was wearing, grabbed her clothes and the other blouse, and all but dragged her to the register. Once Angel was in the process of thumbing for her clothes, her mother went to put the other skirt back.

Angel had seen her mother surreptitiously check her watch a couple of times. That, coupled with the unusually short shopping trip made Angel certain something was up. Angel carried the bag with her old clothes and her other new blouse as they power walked to the car.

Her mother drove for some time, finally arriving at a very fancy looking building. It seemed to exude an air of wealth and privilege. A valet took their car, and they briskly walked inside.

"All right, Mother. Where are we, and why?"

"I thought you might like to see the place you are considering working." Her mother had a twinkle in her eye. "And your prospective boss has offered us some complimentary services while you do so."

Her own mother. Taking advantage of her situation as shamelessly as Lena had. Or as Angel had done to Lena. Ah, well.

While the potential services didn't excite her the way they did her mother, Angel was interested to see the place.

As they approached the front desk, the receptionist rose and smiled at them. "Mrs. O'Connor. Miss O'Connor. Welcome." She gestured to one of the neatly dressed and groomed young ladies standing nearby. "Cindy will take care of you. If you have any questions, or need anything, be sure to let her know."

Cindy introduced herself, and told Angel that she hoped to have her working there soon. She seemed genuinely excited at the prospect.

At her mother's urging, Angel accepted a hair and nails styling, which her mother would also have. Then, while her mother enjoyed some of the other services on offer, Angel would tour the facility.

It was like something out of a movie. While everything was elegant - and spotlessly clean - different areas had different subtle themes. Angel walked by an area with hints of southwestern decor, another she interpreted as East Coast Old Money, and even an unmistakable, if subtle, California theme. Nothing garish or overt, just combinations of subdued colors and hints of architectural elements.

They were lead to a room with two fully equipped hair and nail stations, and left in the care of the operators, Gina and Leslie. The two young women were, of course, immaculately groomed and looked every inch the professionals. They invited Angel's mother to change into a robe in a small changing room, and settled Angel into one of the chairs.

Angel was surprised at what Gina asked. Instead of asking what look she wanted or the like, she just asked how important things like ease of care, flexibility, and formality were to her. Curious, Angel asked what she knew about her.

"I know you start tomorrow as a junior at Cherry Creek, and it is your first year there. You might be joining our happy little family here, as some kind of a specialist. You also work at a management level for one of the theater chains. You have some sort of morf derived power or powers that make you very useful. And that you're sixteen, and still finding yourself."

"As a more direct observation, you're an attractive, pleasant, and well behaved young woman who is not used to the trappings of wealth and privilege. You have nice coloring, and probably shampoo your hair a little too often. What else can I tell you?"

"How do you know all that?"

With a wink, she picked up a tablet and showed Angel the display. It had a picture of Angel, and a few paragraphs of information. She touched an icon, and saw an image of the corridor outside.

"We get such a briefing for each of our guests, and watch them on their way in for clues about what they want and what mood they're in. It saves time, and adds to the experience for them. Normally, we let it seem like magic. But you'll be doing the same thing yourself, soon. Trust me, you will like it here."

Angel gave a half smile at the assumptions, but let them pass. "So, what now?" she asked, as her mother settled into the other chair and started talking with Leslie.

Gina looked a Angel a moment, then replied "We will wash, treat, and condition your hair, to begin with. Then give you a low maintenance style which both compliments your appearance and allows you to fit in at school, on your other job, and here with minimal effort."

"All that from a haircut?" Angel grinned.

Gina smiled back. "All part of the magic. Wait till you try some of the other services here."

Gina fastened a protective cover over Angel's body, then tilted the chair back and rotated it a little. Angel noticed a quiet whirring sound as she was being moved, and found herself leaning the back of her head over a large, ornate sink.

As Gina was washing Angel's hair, two other girls came in and set up next to the chairs. Angel was startled to find her fingertips soaking in some sort of soothing liquid. Glancing at their mother without turning her head, she saw that her hand was similarly immersed in a bowl of liquid.

She felt her shoes and socks being removed, and her feet were lowered into a pleasantly warm soak.

While the hairstyling and manicure were broadly similar to the experience the one time she had gone to a salon, there was something a little more ... she didn't know what, just more, about it this time.

Time drifted by, and she found herself styled, shod, and standing. Gina gave her some suggestions about washing her hair less often, and some products to help keep it clean and fresh without washing.

Cindy appeared, as though by magic. She took Angel on the promised tour of the facilities. There were a mind boggling array of services and facilities available, for women and men. Angel had to ask what some of them were for, and Cindy cheerfully explained each. In a few cases, she candidly said that the benefits of something were dubious at best, but that it was something some of the guests expected. And the place was all about service.

After showing Angel the women's facilities, and most of the men's, She took her up to the residential and social areas. As a full service spa, they had provisions for some of their clients to spend the night - or several nights - there. They also had meeting and recreation rooms for those residential clients.

Cindy took Angel back down to the employee area. While not as distinctively decorated as the customer areas, it was just as clean and unexpectedly large. In addition to smaller versions of most of the guest facilities, there were class rooms, locker rooms, and a service bar and cafeteria.

Cindy explained that the service bar prepared drinks for the guests, as well as herbal tonics and the like. Employees and contractors were emphatically not allowed to drink alcohol or other intoxicants on site, even when off shift. However, they could get soft drinks, smoothies, and non alcoholic herbals there.

Their versions of the facilities served double duty. They were used for training and certifying employees, and also used by the off duty (or on break) staff for their (real or imagined) benefits.

While they were walking around back there, Angel noticed several obvious morfs. Still... "What are the policies regarding morfs?"

"It gets a little complicated. There's no discrimination in terms of general hiring and promotion. Those of you with special abilities might get preferential hiring for specialized functions, but otherwise it's a wash. But we are sensitive to guest attitudes. Those who have an aversion will not get obviously changed operators, unless their ability is necessary for the service. Those who prefer morfs, get them if at all possible."

"Some people prefer morfs?"

"It's kind of an odd mix. A lot of the people who are morfs themselves like the idea of using other morfs. Some of the more bigoted non morfs actually like the idea of seeing morfs in what they think of as 'inferior' functions. And some people just have a fascination, or even a fetish, for morfs. We don't allow improprieties, but the fantasies are a part of the experience for some guests."

"Eew."

"Yeah. Some of the guests can be pretty creepy or abusive. Another of the things we have here for the employees is counseling and support services. Entire teams have been known to show up after some of our more ... difficult guests. Remember that. You are never really alone here, and we all support each other."

"That part of the sales pitch?" Angel grinned.

"Actually, part of the new employee orientation. A lot of people start out with the attitude that using those services makes them look weak or unworthy. It doesn't last."

"How do you keep the morf guests separate from the bigots?"

"The only place there's any real chance of that is in the lobbies. We have people who do nothing but quietly direct traffic to keep guests from encountering each other. Even the group areas are choreographed. Each guest gets a feeling of having the whole place for hir own. But not abandoned. There is someone obviously nearby at all times."

"We have a whole system of what we call secret passages, so we can go from room to room without the guests seeing us. All part of the illusion."

"So that's how you magically appeared. I was wondering." Angel smiled.

Cindy took Angel back to the service bar and offered her a smoothie. She got one for herself as well, and they sat and talked some more. Cindy turned out to be a shift lead, and had been chosen as Angel's escort for the purpose of answering her questions. The only things she wouldn't discuss involved money. Most of the operators and specialists worked for a commission on their services and any tips they got. The regular and administrative employees got salaries, but she wouldn't discuss numbers. She also wouldn't discuss the prices guests paid for the services.

She noticed something on her pad, and got up. She guided Angel through some smaller corridors, and suddenly they were in the room they started from, watching her mother get up from the chair. They escorted her to a room with two small pools. One of the pools steamed and smelled vaguely of sulfur. The other ... didn't.

"We get the water from a famous mineral spring in the mountains," Cindy told them, as Angel's mother discarded the bathrobe and slid into the steaming water. "State of the art systems keep the water clean and hot. Because of the heat, we have to limit the time you spend in the water at a time, and how much time overall."

As her mother luxuriated in the water, Angel followed Cindy to what appeared to be a small cupboard. Inside were Angel's half finished smoothie, and a murky green beverage. Cindy gave the latter to the soaking woman, explaining that it was a special herbal preparation. Angel's mother took a tentative sip, then a larger drink. Whatever it was, it apparently tasted good.

After what seemed like a few minutes, Cindy urged Angel's mother into the cool pool. As she cooled off in the clear water, Cindy asked whether she had any questions or reservations.

"What about Angel's age? Will that be an issue?"

"It shouldn't be for any of the staff. We have two operators here who look even younger, but are actually in their late twenties. We also have a number of other high school students here part time. If anyone here so much as thinks twice about her age, I'll be surprised." She thought a moment, then continued.

"It is possible that it will be an issue for some of the guests. If so, we will deal with the issue then." Her expression made it clear that she didn't consider it a problem.

As she eased back into the hot pool, she wistfully asked "Will I get to come back?"

Cindy laughed pleasantly and assured her that arrangements could be made.

When she was finished with her soak, Cindy directed her to a small side room with a shower. She opened a closet and showed her that her clothes were there, cleaned and ready for her. Her purse was there as well. "All part of the service" Cindy assured her, with a wink at Angel.

On the way home from the spa, they picked up some take out chinese. When they arrived, Angel adopted an air of conscious virtue and went up to take care of her clothes before eating. Her parents were clearly unimpressed, but they did offer her indulgent smiles when she came back down.

After eating, Angel spent some time making sure she had everything ready for school. Including her outfit, down to the underwear. She checked her theater email, and read the routine messages there. Then, she wished her parents good night and got ready for bed.

Angel didn't recognize the classroom she was in. All but one of the desks was filled, so she sat there. She looked up, and the Board said Final Exam. She wasn't prepared. The teacher was somehow both Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Tabor. She turned and addressed the class.

"I assume everyone has the required materials. Get out your composition book, Pencil, pen, and references. Do not open the question packets until I tell you to. Mister O'Connor, why don't you have your materials ready? And WHY ARE YOU NAKED?"

He was. His body, completely male again, was completely exposed. He was paralyzed, unable to cover himself. Or to flee.

"Well, Miss O'Connor, What do you have to say for yourself?"

Her breasts were back, and she couldn't tell for certain without moving her head to look, but she was pretty sure she was female down below as well. Either way, she was still stark naked. In front of everyone.

Someone threw a net over her, and she was tangled in it. She could move a little, and she struggled to get free. No matter what she did, she couldn't get free. As her struggles increased, the Voice of God intoned "Wake up!"

And she did. Her body was tangled in her covers. Her pillow was on the floor. And she was only physically alone.

Damn. When you dream, you don't go half way. The Voice of God was Lena, sounding a little groggy and annoyed. I don't know about you, but I need my beauty sleep if I'm gonna knock 'em dead in school.

Sorry. I don't know what that was.

It's called a nightmare. And that one was a doozey. Bad enough that I had to share it, but I had to be you in the process! Ugh!

Yes, I know it was a nightmare. I just don't know what it means.

Just go back to sleep, and make sure you put some clothes on before you go to school.

The rest of her night seemed dreamless. Or, at least, she didn't remember any more dreams.

In the morning, she showered with the water cooler than usual, to help wake her up. At least she had her clothes picked out. Per Lena's earlier advice, she was going with her longer denim skirt (the shorter one wouldn't pass the dress code) and a pale blue blouse. She dressed and carefully but quickly did her hair and minimal makeup.

As she was finishing, she recognized the smells of bacon and toast. Knowing her parents, it would be the typical First Day breakfast. Far too much food, with far too much fat and carbohydrates, and wonderful all around.

The breakfast was all about encouragement and preparation. She would do well, she would like her new school, which was a great school, she was ready ... all the usual.

Her mother gave Lena and her a ride to the school. After a quick goodbye and a deep breath, she plunged into her first real day at her new school.

For the first couple of classes, everything went well. She had no trouble finding her locker or the classrooms, right where they had been before. She noticed that whenever she saw David, someone was calling him "Captain", "Cap'n", or "CP". Apparently, word spreads as quickly at this school as it had at her old school. Other friends were met with "Radar", "Otter", and so on.

First period was Spanish 2. It was immediately apparent that they handled language classes somewhat differently than at her old school. In this case, she thought the difference might work in her favor. Despite her heritage, and her pride in that heritage, she had unexpected difficulty with that language class. She also thought that the teacher suspected her former self of slacking off, and expected him to already have a significant background. This class would be hard work, but she was confident she could handle it.

Second period was an eye opener. Morfs Awareness, a State required class, was mostly full of freshmen. The other older students seemed, like her, to have come from out of state. The teacher, a tall, muscular man covered with rust colored fur similar to that of Angel's cousin, got everyone's attention with his first statement.

"Everyone in this room has MORFS. Everyone in this school has MORFS. To all intents and purposes, everyone in the world has MORFS."

After the reaction died down somewhat, he briefly sketched the two part nature of the condition, and the history of the first part - the terrorist bioweapon. By the end of class, she realized that she had been operating on some faulty assumptions. She had a slightly better idea what she had been doing, and figured that she would have a much better idea by the time she finished the semester.

Third period started out with a notice on the door that the class had been moved. To the other end of that building. The good news and the bad news were the same: it was just a couple of doors down from the class she had just come from.

After class, she witnessed a confrontation. She was headed toward the girls' room, when she saw a crowd around the door. A knot of Pures were confronting a young looking, vaguely ursine girl. They were telling her that the restroom was a "No Freak Zone", and suggesting that she go outside like the animal she was.

She was about to try and intervene when Lena stopped her. As she watched, the Pures were suddenly surrounded by a somewhat larger group of distinctly larger morfs.

"You got it backwards, 'pillar." a tall, furred and muscled girl said. She moved in, forcing a gap in front of the door. Another of the new arrivals ushered the frightened freshman into the restroom, while the tall one continued.

"It's 'pillars that belong in the bushes, until they can get their silk together and change. Maybe we should show you the way. Wouldn't want you getting lost."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Yeah? Why? Now that ole' Reverend Dick is one of us, how much power do 'pillars like you think you have any more?"

Pillars? Angel asked Lena.

Short for caterpillars. They are calling them children, and implying that they were nothing more than morfs who haven't changed yet. Technically correct, but very rude.

Don't they get in trouble for the name calling?