Chapter 1: Beginning

In the summer of 2035, I was at school when the first signs of what was to come surfaced. It was just after lunch on the Friday, I had just narrowly avoided getting beaten up by one of the school's resident bullies. Standing 5'9" tall but skinny as a rake, I was usually OK, but I lacked the social status or athletic prowess to be totally safe. It was still 20 minutes till the end of lunch break, so I sneaked off to the library. Our school was one of the better equipped in the area; the library had plenty of books and info tech learning resources for pupils to make use of. The ground floor was dedicated entirely to books, while the upper floors were filled with the more modern teaching tablets that had high speed access to the teaching networks and a filtered subset of the Internet.

I found my friends in a corner of the reference section where we tended to meet, as it was quiet there. Most other students went up stairs, avoiding the books at all cost, so the downstairs was free for us to use most of the time.

The whole gang was there. Including myself there were five of us. John Fielding sat at the head of the table, the most outgoing. He had been one of the schools top athletes till MORFS changed him. It had given him a hunched back and foreshortened limbs which made it hard to run like he used to. He had taken this setback in his stride and bounced back. Unless you are really, really good at sports, you end up as a salesman or insurance agent if you can't do anything else. Universities look for good test scores too, not just sporting prowess, so he always had the academic side to fall back on. After all, he had always had more to him than just sports. After MORFS, he refocused his efforts on more studious pursuits. Still, a lot of his previous friends shunned him, partly due to his altered form, and partly due to his inability to bring home the track trophies. His previous girlfriend, Stacy, was fiercely anti-MORFS and had rejected him quite violently on hearing of his change. As far as I know she had never spoken to him again. He now seems to view this as something positive, saying 'he was well shot of her'.

On the left of him sat Jonesy or Steven Jones, as his passport said. He was a large slightly overweight ginger haired boy, who so far had not undergone MORFS. He was completely obsessed with a recent TV show, Violet Dawn, about a young girl whose entire family had been killed by a criminal gang. She gained super powers through MORFS then went on to fight crime, trying to avenge her family by night, while still pretending to be a normal school girl by day.

He had transfers all over his bag, all the merchandise pens, books, stickers, holograms, action figures, ring tones and backgrounds for his mobile, and numerous pictures of the actress who played Violet. She had been somewhat controversial due to being genuinely a MORFS survivor, although her changes were nothing like the fictional Miss Dawn. Apparently she had a very low level power, an elemental or something. He would often attempt to relate all information in terms of his favourite show and could talk for hours on the subject should you be foolish enough to ask.

Next to Jonesy was Paul Smith, a small kid with glasses, who has fine dark hair all over his face. He has the rather unimaginative nickname of 'Mole' in certain quarters. A year or so ago he had gained the appearance of a mole with fine dark hair, hands adapted to digging, and slightly prominent front teeth. He has been bullied relentlessly and has not been very happy of late. The library was the only safe haven where he could relax. He was a nice guy and good friend, so it annoyed me that he was picked on as a result of his changes.

On the right of John sat Sally Black, the only girl in our group, and as far as I knew she hadn't undergone MORFS. She was a reasonably pretty girl, but she was very into computers and electronics. She also had a habit of wearing fairly tomboyish clothes and having various bits of half finished tech hanging out of her pockets. This caused her to be categorised as weird by the rest of the girls; however, I thought she was wonderful and was trying to work up the courage to ask her out. I wasn't entirely sure why she hung around with us, but I was glad she did.

I took the empty seat next to her and sat down. "Hi guys. What's new?"

"Not much," replied John. "Jonesy was just updating us with the latest happenings in his favourite show."

I groaned inwardly, Jonesy could talk about a new episode for days after the broadcast, seemingly unable or unwilling to realise no one else was interested.

"Did you catch it, Tom?" Jonesy asked excitedly, on my shaken head he continued, "Oh you should have. It was the episode where Violet finally confronts one of her family's killers. I have it recorded if you want to borrow it?"

At that, Sally gave a snort of amusement, he was always trying to get the rest of us into it, with no luck so far. I had watched it a few times it was OK, it was a popcorn show: tastes good but ultimately hot air with very little substance. I just couldn't manifest the same level of almost religious zeal about it as Jonesy.

"Maybe some other time," I said diplomatically. "So, how are you lot doing on your English course work?"

"Done it," said Sally distractedly. She had pulled a gadget of some description out of one of her coat pockets and was dismantling it with a set of screwdrivers. "Wrote about the guy who invented television."

"The rest of us are still working on it," said Paul. "How's yours coming?"

"I've still got another few hundred words to write," I answered.

I pulled out my work book, and began writing. I got about half way through a page when I got a terrible headache. I dropped my pen and clasped my head as the pain gripped me. It felt as if someone was stabbing hot daggers into my head.

"Are you alright Tom?" asked Sally.

"Just a headache," I replied.

The headache passed and I carried on with my work. A few minutes later I suddenly started feeling increasing unwell.

"You're not looking so good," observed John. "You sure you're OK man?"

I was about to answer when I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up. I ran over to the gents, and was sick several times into the toilet. After the nausea passed, I cleaned myself up, and headed back to where my friends were. I was feeling increasingly wobbly on my feet, my headache was back again.

"You look like shit," Sally observed, briefly looking up from what ever she was working on.

"Yeah, you look pretty bad. Are you sick or something?" asked Paul.

I glanced up and said, "I think I've got the flu or something."

"Maybe you've been poisoned. In episode 14 Violet got sick due to being hit by a toxic dart. Your symptoms remind me of that," Jonesy chipped in gleefully.

John fixed Jonesy with an annoyed stare, "I would imagine Tom would remember being stuck by a toxic dart, and that would have come to mind before flu."

"Violet didn't know either, we should check him for small puncture wounds," replied Jonesy, to which John just shook his head, and Sally rolled her eyes.

"You better go see the school nurse," Paul said.

"Silly cow will probably just recommend he sits by an open window," snorted Sally.

I packed up my stuff and stood up. As I started to make my way out I stumbled and nearly fell. Sally was beside me, holding me up in a flash.

"Easy there, you guys look after my stuff, I'll help Tom get to the Nurse," she said.

She put my arm over her shoulder and helped me out the door. On any other day, being so close to her, having my arm round her, would have been my idea of heaven. But I was too sick to enjoy it.

My muscles were now painful, making walking difficult. Sally helped me move slowly towards the Nurses office.

On the way, we had the misfortune to encounter one of the worst bullies in school. Mark Jackson was the sort of thug who took great pleasure in hurting and humiliating people. In fact, the only thing he liked better was doing so in front of an audience. Today he was with only one of his usual complement of three henchmen. Brian Daniels was a skinny, sadistic, little worm, who on his own, was fairly harmless, but with Mark around, he acted to encourage the larger boy, making him more violent.

"What do we have here, Gadget Girl's got herself a boy toy," sneered Mark.

"She should have stuck with things that take batteries, they last longer," cackled Brian.

Mark shoved me down and grabbed Sally by the shoulders. She struggled in his grip trying to get free.

"Leave her alone," I shouted. Staggering to my feet, I tried to help Sally.

Mark let Sally go and rounded on me. He gave me a hard punch to the chest and then one to the stomach. This wasn't the wisest move against someone who wasn't feeling well, as I promptly threw up all over him. I was quite surprised by how much stuff was still left in my stomach, since it covered his face and was all down his front. He stood there for a bit stunned, a look of horror and disgust on his face. He seemed to come out of his shock and rage showed on his face, his fists clenching in anger.

Then there was the sound of a girl's laughter from somewhere behind him. He spun round to attack whoever was mocking him and found himself staring at a 7ft tall girl with purple hair. It was Dorothy Newman, a girl from the year below, but even at only 15 she was one of the tallest and strongest people in the school. She was known for taking a dim view of bullying, and was more than capable of making her displeasure known physically.

"This is none of your concern, Newman!" Mark said, trying his best to sound intimidating.

Not fazed at all, Dorothy replied, "Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up, and leave these two alone?"

You could practically hear the cogs turning in Mark's head. He wanted to hurt me badly, but Dorothy was not likely to let him get away with it. He scowled angrily at Dorothy, then me, and finally moved off. I knew at the first opportunity, he would make me pay for this. Still, Dorothy had won me a temporary reprieve, I was grateful for that much.

"Thank you," I said weakly.

"No problem, can't think of anyone I'd rather see thrown up over," she joked. "You should go see the nurse though, you look pretty green."

"We were just on our way there before those clowns showed up," Sally said.

"Well you should be clear now. I'll let you get on," she said, with a smile, and headed off.

Sally helped me the rest of the way to the Nurses office without further event. It was a small room in the main school building that had very basic medical facilities, since the school could only provide basic first aid. The nurse herself was a reasonably pleasant woman, if somewhat cynical. But I guess the constant stream of people trying to fake being ill took its toll.

"What do we have here then?" the nurse asked, as Sally helped me into the office.

"Tom's not feeling well. He's been sick a couple of times," Sally replied.

"I see, well you run along to your next lesson. I'll see to your friend here," the nurse said.

Sally gave me a squeeze on the arm then dashed off. The nurse quizzed me about my symptoms then took my temperature. When she was satisfied I wasn't faking, she rang my parents. My Dad was able to come get me, while managing to get a last minute appointment at the doctors, so when he picked me up he drove me straight over. We waited a short while in the doctor's waiting room. By this point I was feeling too unwell to do much besides sit there and try not to throw up.

Eventually we were called in. The doctor, a nice lady by the name of Doctor Morris, got to finding out what was wrong. She didn't do a lot of the doctoring stuff I had expected. After I described my symptoms she got a funny look on her face, went over and rummaged round in a drawer.

She came back with a small kit. "I think I know what might be wrong. I just need to do a simple blood test to check, is that OK?" she asked.

I nodded, as she took a small pin out of a sealed packet in the kit. She slipped on some gloves, pricked my finger holding it so the blood dripped into a small tester kit. She put a small plaster over the wound. She fiddled about for a bit with the kit, and then she nodded to herself and looked up.

"It's as I suspected, you are entering the first stages of Massive Ontogenetic Regulation Failure Syndrome, which you may have heard shortened to MORFS. Do you know much about MORFS, Tom?" she asked.

Still a bit shaken by her diagnosis at first, I couldn't speak, then I spluttered out, "We studied it in biology last year."

She gave me a smile, "So you'll know the basics, I have some information packs for you and your family so you know what to expect. I'm going to prescribe you a course of transition packs. They contain a drink that has various nutrients that your body will need and some sleeping pills to make you more comfortable during the change. It will make MORFS run through much quicker and easier. You will be out for at least a week depending on the severity of any change."

She turned to my Dad and continued, "You'll need to tell his school that he'll be out for at least a week. Once it has run its course, get him booked in for an appointment at a post MORFS centre. There is a number for the local one in the information pack, they can give him a check up and give any specialist care required. The information pack details what to expect as MORFS runs its course and some things to watch out for."

She handed Dad a card with a phone number printed on it and a prescription. She then reached into a box under her desk and took out a small booklet and handed it to me. It was titled 'MORFS and You'. "The booklet contains information for both Tom and you, so I suggest you both read it carefully. If you have any problems or concerns, give me a call. My number is on that card," she said then stood up to shake both our hands.

We left the clinic and wandered over to the nearest pharmacy to pick up the drugs. I was still in a daze. I had always accepted I might get MORFS, but it was still a shock. Since a few of my friends had under gone it before, I knew it wasn't the end of the world, but I knew it could change things. Would my friends still like me if I changed radically? I was pretty sure they would. A few of them had already undergone it, so I expected they would be pretty understanding. But, could I win Sally's heart if I was someone completely different? Well, since I didn't know if I could win it in my current shape, I guess it was hard to say. We got back to the car and I continued my internal monologue debating what would happen to me.

Perhaps sensing my somewhat dark mood my Dad tried to engage me in conversation, "You're awful quiet there Son. Are you alright?"

"Just thinking," I said.

"Well don't you go worrying too much. I'm sure things will turn out fine."

"I know, it's just a bit oppressive to have this change hanging over me, not knowing who I'll become. I like who I am."

"You'll still be you, Son. Just maybe a little different on the outside."

I nodded, I hoped he was right and there was bugger all I could do about it anyway. The die was cast, now all I had to do was wait to see what the final result was.

We got home and then read the booklet through, I largely knew what to expect. Various friends had told me about their changes and what it was like. I knew I would spend the next week or so mostly asleep. I was still feeling very shocked by the whole thing, I felt trapped. I wanted to run away but there was nothing I could do about it.

After we had read the instructions, I went straight up to bed. Dad handed me a dose of the drink and a pill, I gulped it down. It was revolting like bitter, salty, raw egg. I settled in, soon the sleeping pill knocked me out.