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Homage Synopsis: This story is different from my other work. It is an homage to a fellow author. As an homage, it is written to emulate his style, structure, and thematics. If you want to know more than that, you'll have to read the dedication. Dedication: For me, the internet was a great boon, as I imagine it was for many of the people that read my work. My first foray into it took place when I was still too young to actually be visiting the kind of sites I saw, but that only made me appreciate my access even more. It would be some time before I realized that there was a downside as well, an issue that plagues me to this day. In spite of its ability to grant instant access to all sorts of stories and people, the internet has a tendency to create shallow and one-sided relationships. One often knows very little about the people that one talks to, if one even talks to them at all, and doesn't just lurk around them, reading what they have to say. As such, it is possible for those people that one cares about to just vanish. Without close connections, it's impossible to know what happened to these lost people. They're just gone, seeming to apparate from existence into nothingness in a instant. One such person for me was an author named The Professor. I have no idea what happened to him, only that, at some point, he stopped writing. I had never spoken to him, but he'd offered me hours of enjoyment with his work. Then, he was just gone. Many years after my first forays into the internet, I tried my own hand at writing. At the time, I approached the authors that had been most impactful to me in my early journeys and wrote things specifically for them as a reward for what they had given me. However, by then, many of them were already gone, vanished into the nothingness. The Professor was among those people. Now, many more years have passed since that day, and I realized something. A man like that isn't just gone, but forgotten. If someone has come to one of these sites to read stories in the last five years, they've probably never read a story by The Professor. In fact, anyone since the advent of the smartphone and common internet usage probably hasn't. That fact bothered me. Of course, I could've just accepted that it is all our fates to one day be forgotten, but I didn't want to do that. I had the ability to delay it, if not stop it. As such, I decided to write a story in honor of the man to which I had never had the chance to speak. I chose to mimic his style and set it in his most well known setting. I have no idea if that would upset him, but I will say that my intent is entirely to get more people to go read what he left us. If he is upset, and still somewhere in this world to express his displeasure, all he need do is email me at [email protected] and I will have it taken down immediately. Until that happens, allow me to present - Ovid Auxiliaries: The Defiant By: Light Clark Setting created by: The Professor A bored little sigh slipped from my lips as I looked around at my desk. For all of its appearance as a sleepy little town, I had never considered Ovid to be a dull place to live. Yes, it lacked the glitzy tourist traps and glamorous night life of a big city, but I had never felt like it was lacking without those things. Maybe that was because I was far too busy between my job, husband, and kids. At the moment, that husband was at his own job. Those kids were at daycare. And my own employment, well, it was in a bit of lull. Given the recent threats to the town, transformations had been put on hold. In fact, for the last few days, the Judge had been doing little judging of any kind while he worked to tighten up security. That had left me with very little to do, and a good hour left until it was time for lunch. "I suppose there is that little bit of filing that I've been putting off," I reminded myself as I pondered whether I was bored enough to tackle it. That particular job might actually be worse than doing nothing at all. "And you really should keep putting it off, my dear." When I lifted my head at those words, I found a rather unusual sight waiting for me a few feet across the room. It wasn't just that the woman that spoke was unusually stunning, although she was, a gorgeous woman with fair skin, black hair, and smoldering eyes. No, it was her attire that warranted that adjective, an inappropriate and lewd affair of black and white that looked very much like the male fantasy of a french maid, complete with extremely low neckline, short ruffled skirt and visible garters for the black stockings. "Diana!" I gasped in surprise at the sight of my friend. I was used to her appearing in all different bodies and clothes, but this one was wild and unexpected even for her. "Bonjour, Madame Patton," the goddess greeted as she dipped into a graceful curtsey. "Et elle est Diane Lune, ce jour." "Bonjour, yourself," I replied, still staring at the woman's outfit. "I can't believe you're walking around Ovid like that." Straightening up again, Diana smirked at me. "I hadn't planned to be. This little number is for a costume party in London, but there was a story that I wanted to see first." "A story?" I questioned in surprise. "But there haven't even been any new ones in the last few days." "This one's apparently a bit older," Diana informed me. "Erika Bryant." That name had me furrowing my brow as I tried to place it. There had been a lot of cases over the years, and not all of them were interesting enough to immediately spring to mind with just a name. As such, it took me a moment to sort through my memories for the person in question, but it finally came to me. "Are you sure?" I asked once I had placed the name. "There was nothing special about her as I recall. No one particularly famous before, came, got changed, tried to get the judge to change her back, but ended up coming around. You know, the usual." "So I thought, too," Diane commented. "That is, until this afternoon." Instantly, my curiosity was piqued, forcing me to ask, "What happened this afternoon?" "I was at March's talking to Vera about what costume I should wear when this red haired girl walked by and greeted us," Diane recounted. "There didn't seem to be any odd about her, just another Ovid teen, but when she greeted us she did so as Venus and Diana." My eyes went wide at that little detail. After all, none of the changees were able to refer to the gods by their more deific titles, at least not without permission. There had also been plenty of trouble with infiltrators and the like who often broke such rules, which made this information more than just a bit worrisome. "Did you tell the Judge?" I asked immediately, concerned that we were about to have another scare in Ovid. Nodding, Diane replied, "I did, but he just smirked and said not to worry about it and that she had probably just done it to prove that she still could." "Still?" I repeated that word, only growing more confused with the story. "But she was changed after that rule came into effect." "I know, but that's what he said," Diane responded, shrugging helplessly. "Obviously, he's alright with it, though, which has me wondering what exactly happened with this Erika girl." "You and me both, so why don't we go find out," I told her. And with that, I drifted off into a familiar trance... ***** The soft click of the keys on the keyboard matched the appearance of letters on the screen before me. All of them came out in nice neat lines, perfectly ordered to be easy to read and check. In spite of that, a great many people wouldn't be able to read them, or more precisely, understand what they meant. After all, they may have spelled out english words, but they didn't do so with english grammar. That was no surprise, since it wasn't english. It was computer code. Ever since I'd first learned to write the simplest of programs, I'd always loved coding. It was cathartic in a way nothing else ever was for me. I think it was the control. I could shape every little detail and then once it was done, I could look at the new world that I'd created with all the rules that I'd set for it. Compared to the real world with its fickle whims, that seemed pretty great. Unfortunately, the real world tended to get in the way of the one built of code. Right in the midst of my rhythm, the phone on my desk buzzed to life, jarring my focus and tugging it back to reality. Turning that way, I leveled a glare at annoyance and offered a huff of frustration before I picked it up. "Y'ello?" I greeted lazily, tucking the phone between my chin and shoulder so that I could get back to typing the few lines that I needed to finish the section on which I'd been working. "Yeah, Louis, this is Mitch," a male voice on the other end, one that belonged to my boss, replied. "I need to see you in my office real quick." "I'm kinda in the middle of something right now," I noted, never a fan of dealing with management. They were too bossy and not productive enough. Things would go a lot smoother if people like that just let me do my work. "Well, you'll have to put it on hold, because this can't wait," Mitch rejected my excuse. "I need you in here now." Rolling my eyes at the command, I considered refusing, but decided that would probably lead to a longer delay than just agreeing. Caring more about getting back to work than anything else at that moment, I just mumbled, "Yes, sir. Be right there." A click on the line freed me from the conversation a few moments later, allowing me to drop the receiver back onto the phone. As I did, I let out a weary sigh as my mind worked to memorize what I was in the midst of doing before the interruption. I would have to finish it when I returned. Once the sigh was done, my hands found the armrests of my chair to shove me up to my feet. The effort prompted a grunt and wince as stiff joints and muscles complained about the exertion. There was even a soft hiss of pain when my knee popped as I stepped around my chair. All of that would've been fine without the sudden bout of lightheadedness that hit me a step later. Instantly, my vision was invaded by spots as I swayed unsteadily. Luckily, my chair was close enough to catch myself, but I still stumbled, shaking my head to try to clear my sight. "You alright, Lou?" Andy, from the cubicle across from mine, asked in concern. Dizziness starting to fade, I turned toward that voice and nodded. "Yep, just stood up a little too quick." "Alright," the other man acknowledged, shrugging off his moment of worry and turning back to the report he was reading. Rattling the last few spots from my world, I started off through the maze of cubicles, while muttering about how old I was getting. At forty-two, the aches, the pains, and all the rest were a common occurrence. I didn't even need to stand up. Just the other day, I'd hurt my shoulder just reaching for my cup of coffee. Sure, I could've taken better care of myself and maybe lessened some of those problems, but it had never seemed worth it. My lack of concern with myself was readily visible to anyone that looked at me. It wasn't that I was hideous or unhygienic or something. I just really showed my age and disinterest. My clothes were bland office attire of the cheapest variety that I could find. My brown hair unkempt, unstyled, and invaded by plenty of gray. Even my walk showed it, a meandering amble complete with slouched shoulders and lazy pace. No matter how dense an observer was, they could tell that I had no interest in this world. Lazy as my pace was, it was enough to get me across the floor of my building to the fancy offices that ringed the wall. One such office housed my current boss, Mitch Harding. As bosses went, he was pretty middle of the pack, not too annoying but not great. Really, his problem was that he cared too much. He was one of those people that was going places, and he wanted to make sure he got there as quickly as he could. His clothes were fancy, his appearance perfectly coiffed, and his projects always on time, even if that meant the quality suffered. As someone that didn't care about the first two and thought quality was far more important than speed, I was never going to get along with him. My distaste aside, I was still the man's employee. That was enough to get me to the door to his office. It was even enough to get me to knock. In spite of that fact, though, I resented both actions, wishing I could just go back to my desk, or better yet, had never left it to begin with. "Come in!" After taking a moment to sigh one last time, I turned the knob and stepped into Mitch's office. It was pretty nice, sitting as it did on the fourth floor of the building with a set of large windows to give a view. Given that the place was in the county outside of St. Louis proper, there wasn't exactly much to the view. It was just a parking lot and across the way another office building. "Louis! Thanks for coming over!" Mitch greeted me with a warm smile as he rose from his seat behind the desk as I entered. "Why don't you close the door and come over and have a seat." "Alright," I muttered disinterestedly, shutting the door before walking over to plop into one of the chairs that sat opposite the younger man's desk. "So what do you need from me, Mr. Harding?" "First, I really wish you'd call me Mitch. I mean, I know I'm your boss, but I like to think that we're just colleagues working toward the same goal," Mitch requested with charm and pep. Shaking my head, I said, "Sorry, Mr. Harding. Anything else you need." "Yeah, I need you to accept that transfer to Chicago that you got offered," Mitch told me. Mention of that offer put a scowl on my face. It had first come up a couple of weeks ago, a fancy transfer to the main headquarters complete with pay raise. It was a pretty good deal for just about anyone else, but I had no interest in it. "Again, sorry, Mr. Harding, but that's not gonna happen," I replied. "I like it right here." The smile of Mitch's face faded away at my answer, turning to a more serious expression as he tried, "Look, Louis, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but this branch isn't going to last. It's going to be shut down inside the year, and anyone that hasn't taken a transfer somewhere else is getting laid off. I don't want to see that happen to you. You're my best programmer, fast, hardworking, never fooling around or taking a day off. I want you with me in Chicago." "I appreciate that, sir, but I don't want to go," I reiterated, standing firm in my choice. "Is it a money thing? I can get the raise upped a little, and obviously we'll cover the expenses to move," Mitch pressed on, trying to make the sale. "Maybe we can even do a little more than that. If your wife needs help finding a new job or your-" "I'm not married," I cut in coldly, growing angry at how Mitch refused to respect my decision. "And I have no interest in going to some cold, blustery, lake town like Chicago." That harsh certainty of my refusal actually made Mitch wince. It wasn't enough to get him to give up, though. With a shake of his head, he tried once more with, "I know how you feel, Louis, really I do. I didn't want to get transferred to St. Louis and I'm not looking forward to Chicago either, but it's never as bad as you think. At least give it a try, come up, spend a year, make some money. If it doesn't work out, I'll understand." While I had no idea how many more tries Mitch or some other manager would have in them, I knew right then, I was at my limit for saying no. Clenching my jaw, I leveled a hard stare at the man, and said. "Look, Mr. Harding, why don't I make this simple for you. I quit." "Quit?" Mitch repeated the word, looking utterly dumbfounded. "What do you mean you quit?" "I mean, I'm not waiting around for you to close this branch. I'm done with this job right now," I spat as I shoved myself from my chair and spun to leave; relieved to find no painful pops or dizzy spells to ruin my exit. "Good day." ***** "Jesus, you quit again, Lou?!" Howard, my brother, gasped on the other end of the phone when I told him my news. "What does that make, now, seven jobs this decade?" "Six," I corrected stiffly, a bit perturbed by the judgement that I could hear in my brother's voice. It wasn't like I wanted to quit jobs. I liked the actual work. It was all the nonsense that seemed to have to come with it that bothered me. Far off in Dallas, Howard sighed, loudly enough to get picked up by his phone so that I could hear. He was probably shaking his head, too. He did that when he thought I was being obstinate for no good reason. "Well, what are you going to do, now?" Howard finally asked. I shrugged at the unseen man. "I don't know. Find another job, I guess." "Are there even any jobs left?" Howard queried. "I'm a good programmer, so there's bound to be something," I assured my sibling. "I'll start looking after the new year." "You may be a good programmer, but your resume is looking worse and worse with everyone of these jobs you quit," Howard warned. "Plus, business isn't exactly booming in St. Louis. Why don't you look for something out in Denver? I may even be able to get you a job where I work." Still a touch angry from dealing with my boss, my jaw clenched at the mention of moving, forcing me to fight to keep my voice neutral as I replied with, "You know why not, Howie. I've lived here my whole life, and our folks are here." "Mom's not anywhere on this Earth, Lou, not anymore, and Dad ... he couldn't tell you apart from the wall of his room," Howard countered. "You may have been stuck caring for them because I had a family, but that's over now. It's time for you to move on, and the best way to do that is go someplace you can start fresh. Hell, I think Rose has a few friends that might be interested if you're looking to finally settle down." "I'm not, just like I'm not looking to leave St. Louis," I told my brother in no uncertain terms. Again, Howard was sighing loudly, probably shaking his head once more. Unlike my boss, he knew better than to keep pushing me. He just conceded by saying, "Alright, Lou, but why don't you at least come out here for the Holidays? It's not like you have anything holding you in place right now, and my kids haven't seen their uncle in years." "Fine," I agreed, not really wanting to go but thinking it a fair compromise. It was true that I hadn't seen my niece and nephew in a while, or my brother for that matter. "When do you want me, like the twenty-third and out the day after Christmas?" "What? No! You're not in a hurry to get anywhere. Just come on out. You can stay 'til new years if you want," Howard suggested. "That's when you wanted to get started on finding a new job anyway." My gut reaction was to say no. I didn't have a good excuse to refuse, though. It wasn't like sitting around my place alone would be any better either. There was even a chance that I'd actually enjoy myself. Still, a month seemed like a long time ... That was how I ended up on the rural back roads of Oklahoma, killing time in an effort to delay my arrival in Dallas. Just to get that far, I'd hit all sorts of random stops at anything that looked even halfway decent all while driving the most obscure route I could follow on a map. Doing that, I'd already burned off a few days, and I could probably get a few more before I finally made it to my brothers. The stops had been good for more than just wasting time, too. A long time ago, when Howard and I were still kids, our mother used to drag us on road trips like that. I'd hated them back then, always wishing I could just stay at home with my toys and what friends I'd had, but now, I felt sort of nostalgic about them. It made me feel like a kid again. It made me feel like my mother was there with me. It made me feel like I was actually living in the real world for once. "Scenery looks nicer now, too," I remarked as I glanced off the road at the view. When I was a kid, I'd never really cared for the scenery; always found it boring. My memories of Oklahoma's countryside were especially bleak, painting the picture of some flat barren wasteland. I couldn't talk about the rest of the state, but the eastern edge seemed alright to me now. As the countryside rolled by, I reminisced about those long gone days. Back then, it was normal to live off in some fantasy world. Back then, the world was a bright and hopeful place full of possibility. Back then, I'd been alright with my life. Ah, the naivety of childhood. It was in that moment of contentment that I felt a sudden fluttering in my chest. With it came a dizziness and spots filling my eyes. Shaking my head, I tried to clear my vision as a rush filled my ears. Through that noise, I heard the sound of a car horn blaring. That got my head up and my dark, narrow vision focused on an incoming pickup. Instinct made me jerk the wheel to the right. The time between my turning the wheel and me hearing the sound of wood snapping was just a blank. That new racket snapped me back to the world, though, forcing me to once again yank my head up. Slamming the breaks, I skidded along the side of the road until the car, finally, lurched to a stop. Once it had, I just sat there, breathing heavily as I stared at the steering wheel that I was clutching so tightly that it made my hands ache. After a few moments, my breathing started to slow, and the shock of what had happened wore off enough to allow new action. The first thing I did was twist around in my seat, looking back over my shoulder to see what had happened. There was a wooden sign back there that I must've clipped because the post was shattered. Seeing that had me looking back to the front, trying to assess damage. There was a dent in the hood on the right side, but the engine sounded like it was running fine. Still, it would probably be best to get it checked out, if there was even a mechanic anywhere nearby that I could visit. Where exactly was I again? Knock knock came the sound on my window, catching me just before I could grab the map from the passenger's seat. When I got my gaze up and around, I saw a police officer leaned down by my window. Relief flooded me at the sight, getting me to roll down my window immediately. Police meant a town couldn't be too far. Plus, I could ask him for directions to a mechanic and what to do about that sign. "Hello, officer, I'm so glad you're here," I began. "I guess I've been driving a little longer than I should've been and ended up losing focus back there." "I saw," the officer, Mercer from the name on his uniform, answered curtly. "License and registration, please." "License and ... ?" I started to ask before my stressed out mind recognized the request for what it was. "Oh! Of course, officer," I agreed readily as I fished in my pocket for my driver's license. After that, I leaned over to grab the registration from the glovebox before finally handing both items to the officer. "There you go." "Good, now, please exit the vehicle," Officer Mercer instructed. This new command had me furrowing my brow. "Alright, but I haven't had anything to drink or anything like that." "I know," Officer Mercer stated matter-of-factly. "However, such reckless driving demands that I impound your vehicle and take you into Ovid to see the Judge." "Oh ... " I mumbled not pleased with the news. I'd never experienced it myself, but I knew these small towns had a tendency to trump up charges to rake in some revenue. As such, it might prove very difficult to get my car back if I let the officer do as he said. I couldn't really argue with it, though. I'd torn up a sign if nothing else, which undoubtedly warranted a substantial fine at the very least, and I didn't mind paying that if it was reasonable. If it was too bad, though, I could always just get myself a lawyer. "Of course." With that said, I got out as asked. Officer Mercer had me switch over to the passenger seat, so he could drive my car into town. I supposed that meant he had a partner with him to take care of his own car, although I didn't ask. Maybe he would just get someone to go out with him later and get it. As we drove, Officer Mercer remained perfectly silent. He had an air about him that made me not want to break that silence either, so I kept my mouth shut. Instead of chatting, I let my gaze wander over the scenery as I silently cursed myself for messing up behind the wheel. The town of Ovid seemed like a nice enough place. It was nestled in a cozy valley, and had the look of something you'd expect from a TV show. The buildings were better maintained and the people more nicely dressed than you'd expect from a little midwestern town. I knew, because I'd been through a bunch of them just on that trip alone, and they usually had a more rundown look, like they were long past their prime. Perhaps the strangest part of Ovid had nothing to do with the town, but with the people, some them at least. They were odd to look at, at once perfectly normal, and yet strangely ... transparent, like they were only half there. After what had happened out on the road, that fact certainly worried me. Clearly, once I was done with the judge, I was going to need to go get checked out by a doctor. My little stunt on the road must've rattled something in me that wasn't supposed to be rattled. Whatever was wrong with my vision, it didn't seem to be incapacitating at least. I made it all the way to the courthouse without any trouble. I got up and followed Officer Mercer inside without any more than the usual complaints from age. "Wait inside. The Judge will be in shortly," Officer Mercer instructed when he finished escorting me to the courtroom. Having come that far, I saw no reason to argue now, so I did as I was told and walked inside. The courtroom was as nice as the town within which it sat, well maintained and appointed. It was not, however, very busy. There was just one person inside, a brunette woman that stood by one of the tables. Maybe she was the local DA or something? The sound of the door closing behind me had the woman looking up to favor me with a professional smile. In spite of recent events, I found myself returning it. That may have had something to do with the fact that she was young and attractive, but in an intelligent manner complete with glasses. That and her tasteful navy suit and low heels projected an air of competence that always looked good on a woman. "I'm Susan Henderson," she greeted crisply, offering her hand as I approached. "I've been appointed as your Public Defender." "Louis Cook," I supplied as I took the offered hand in a lazy shake. "Can't say I expected a court appointed attorney for a little car trouble. I must be in more trouble than I thought." "That will depend on your point of view and your answers to some of my questions," Susan informed me. "Certainly, you should take this very seriously." Nodding in understanding, I replied, "Understood. Go ahead and ask whatever questions you have." "Do you have any drugs or other illegal substances in your possession?" Susan asked. I shook my head immediately, adding, "No, never touch the stuff. Don't drink either," for good measure. The young attorney just nodded and continued on, "Is there anything in your past, crimes, even ones you weren't convicted of?" "Well, I wouldn't say I was a saint, but nothing of note," I told her. "You know, a few moving violations, an arrest at a protest, that sort of thing. I've always paid what dues I owed for them, and I plan to do the same with this, too." Strangely, my answer earned a smile from the woman that almost looked relieved as she said, "Good, then I take it that means you have no issue with a guilty plea?" "If you think that's best, then no, none at all," I answered. "Alright, then that's what we'll go with," Susan confirmed. "Other than that, just be respectful and if the Judge asks you any questions, make sure that you answer truthfully." "Can do, ma'am," I affirmed. My answer came just in time as a moment later, the world broke into motion. The first thing was that I heard the door open behind me, when I looked back, I saw a woman enter and find a seat in the observer gallery. She was an attractive blonde about the same age as my new attorney, and just as professionally dressed. I wondered if they were friends and had plans once my trial was over. She certainly couldn't be there to watch whatever quick, boring trial that I was about to undergo. "All rise!" I suddenly heard, tugging my attention toward the front of the court where Officer Mercer had apparently slipped in to take up the bailiff position. Was that how it usually worked in small towns? "Municipal Court for the City of Ovid is now in session, the Honorable Judge presiding." On cue, the Judge in question stepped into the courtroom, cutting a rather impressive figure as he did. I suspected that he was probably older than me, but he certainly didn't look it. His dark hair was still full and only just starting to gray. He moved without any hitch in his step or sluggishness from age. In fact, he stood incredibly straight, moving with more of a formal march than a normal stroll. He was a man that commanded respect, and given what Susan had told me, expected it as well. At the very least, he certainly seemed to deserve a capital J on his title, because, if anyone was the epitome of a judge, it was this guy. Taking his seat, the Judge grabbed his gavel, gave it a quick wrap, and said, "Court is now in session. Next case is the people versus Louis Cook. How do you plead?" "Mr. Cook has agreed to plead guilty to the charge of reckless driving, your honor," Susan declared for me. "Given the apparent lack of malicious intent or priors, I believe some leniency is in order here." Nodding to the woman, the Judge raised a hand to beckon me forward. "Approach the bench." "Of course, your honor," I agreed immediately, pushing myself up from my. I had to stifle a bit of a grunt to keep up appearances, but the walk over was easy enough, although, standing there with the Judge looking down at me was a little intimidating. While I had expected him to pronounce judgement or ask questions, the Judge did neither, or at least, I could not tell if he did. He did speak, but it was in a language that wasn't english. In fact, it sounded more like latin. Maybe it was some old legal treatise or something. Like with medicine, I knew they used a lot of latin terms in the law. I didn't have a lot of time to consider it, though, not because he stopped quickly, but because something else pulled my attention away. At first, it was just a faint chill, then a slight tingle that made it feel like my whole body had gone just a touch numb. Maybe it was more than just a touch, because I couldn't seem to move. I was just sort of stuck there like a propped up toy. At the same time, those unknown words seemed to push down on me, scrunching me into the floor. Inch by inch, my perspective shifted downward as my body shrank in on itself. My clothes seemed to shrink as well, not just matching the speed of my body, but going a little faster so that they were tight rather than the looser fit that I was accustomed to. Something around my chest was especially constrictive. "-now, I trust that next time, you'll refuse when your friends try to pressure you into doing something you shouldn't, won't you Miss Bryant?" the Judge was suddenly saying, no longer speaking latin. The chill and numbness fled my body at those words, replaced with an overwhelming confusion. Every detail of my being seemed wrong. I was too short, too slim, wearing the wrong clothes, feeling something swishing along my neck, back, and shoulders, missing something that should be there, and many other things. Even more so, the Judge was acting like he'd been speaking something other than latin before, and he'd done so to someone else - a girl someone judging by the title that he'd used. All those befuddling thoughts sent my gaze dropping down only to have my eyes immediately go wide. The ground was in fact closer than I remembers, and I was certainly a lot slimmer than my previously aging and paunched self, but that wasn't what drew my attention. No, my primary focus was on the two small bumps tenting out the front of the nice, brown, knit sweater that I now wore as well as the prim, tan skirt below it and the skinny, little, nylon clad legs that stuck out of the bottom before ending in brown mary-janes. Even as I took all of that in, something new fell into my view, long, shimmering, copper colored strands of hair. Raising my hands, I used one to brush back the soft locks while the other drifted toward other areas. "Did you hear me, Miss Bryant?" the Judge's voice interrupted, firm and commanding. Instantly, my snapped up, tugging my attention from my body to look at the man ... no something else, that had done this to me. "Y-Y-Yes, sir," I stuttered out, bemused and fearful, two emotions that were only amplified by the high, cutesy sound of my voice. "I will, sir." The Judge smiled at my answer, a warm fatherly expression. "Then I think I can let you off with just a warning this time. You can go back out to your father, now." "Father?" I mumbled in confusion. My father was in St. Louis under the care of a rather nice retirement home. He certainly wasn't in Ovid, but then, I supposed that I wasn't exactly myself at the moment. Somehow, I was a red haired girl whose father apparently was waiting outside the courtroom for her. Having put that much together, I nodded dazedly at the Judge and turned to do as I was told. As I walked, I couldn't help but marvel at how much bigger the world was, which only left me to wonder how small I was. Fortunately, there was a measuring post along the way, my attorney. While not a tall man, I'd still been a touch taller than her in her heels, but that certainly wasn't the case anymore. I couldn't be sure of the exact difference, but it was enough to tell me that I was quite short. That combined with my father waiting and the childish squeak to my voice led me to believe that I was quite young, too. I had breasts, though, so that probably stuck me somewhere in the dreaded tweens. It was all just so ... impossible. Even as my mind wrapped itself around its impossible yet real situation, it walked me right out of the courtroom. Once I was there, I just drifted to a stop, still lost in a haze as I looked around the room. I was supposed to meet my father, but I had no idea what he looked like. Luckily for me, it proved to be pretty easy to identify my father. For one, he had red hair, although, it was a dark more auburn color than my own and it had a few gray strands in it. For two, he brightened at the sight of me and immediately walked over. For three, he greeted me with a, "So how'd it go with the Judge?" "Uhm ... alright?" I responded uncertainly. "He ... he just warned me to not let it happen again." "I figured it wouldn't be anymore than that," the man, Mr. Bryant I supposed, replied with obvious relief. "After all, kids your age get into trouble now and again. I just hope you learned your lesson, so this doesn't happen again." "I sure did, Daddy," I answered almost automatically. Even as the words left my lips, I frowned. I hadn't meant to call the man Daddy. I hadn't even really intended to answer him at all. As distracted as I was, I'd just let the flow of the conversation take me, and those were the words that popped out. That was weird. Clearly, I needed to focus, otherwise there was no telling how long I would be overwhelmed like this. "Good, then let's get you home, so I can get to work," My, er, Mr. Bryant said as he held out what looked like a coat for me and tipped his head toward the door. Assuming that the garment must be mine, I took the offered coat and slid it on, but I did that with some trepidation. It wasn't a grown up's coat, made of neither wool or leather. It was one of those cheap brightly colored things that kids wore. Apparently, the nice, mature clothes that I'd been dressed in was more of a special occasion outfit than typical attire for the girl that I'd become. Oddly, that childish coat actually helped order my scattered thoughts. It grounded me in one simple fact, that somehow, I'd been transformed and the Judge was the one that had done it. It didn't appear to just be a change in my body either. I was some other person, a young girl with a family and presumably other connections as well. How was that possible? Why had it be done? Could it be undone? Those questions had me glancing back over my shoulder at the courtroom. If I wanted answers, the easiest place to get them would be right there. "Erika, come on," my d-er Mr. Bryant's(Why was that so hard to keep straight?) voice cut into my thoughts. "I don't got all day." "But-" I started to protest, but while I'd just learned my new name, I had no idea what I should say. Did this man know what had been done to me? He didn't seem to, but that didn't mean he didn't. If I said no, would he even listen? I was supposedly his daughter, and I was clearly not old enough to be counted as an adult. All the questions made one thing clear, I needed more answers before I faced the ... thing that was responsible for my current state. I didn't even know what exactly that state was. So far, I'd barely managed to piece together my name. That simple fact got me to mumble, "Coming," as I turned to do as I was told. My second ride through town was much stranger than the first. A large part of that came from suddenly being a young girl, but that wasn't all. The other thing that made it strange was that I no longer just ignored those odd transparent people. After what had happened, it was impossible to think that was just the result of some injury or stress. Instead, I suspected that they too were some sort of unknown. What they were was harder to tell, though. The Judge hadn't been that way, nor had my lawyer or the blonde woman or my father. I didn't seem to possess that quality either. Were they some kind of magical construct? Could others see them, too? "Uhm ... Dad-dy?" I spoke up, fumbling awkwardly over how to address the man. "Do you see that woman over there?" I asked, point toward one of the transparent people that was walking along the sidewalk. "What about her?" my, no, Erika's father inquired, glancing very briefly at the woman in question. "Does she look strange to you?" I asked. "Like how?" Taking that as my answer, I just shook my head and mumbled, "Never mind." With a shrug, Erika's father went back to driving while I returned my attention to my thoughts. So far, I knew that the Judge had transformed me into someone else, a girl named Erika Bryant. He'd done so while speaking latin. The girl I'd become was apparently someone people knew. She even had a family. Had there been an Erika before me? Was that what those odd see through people were for? That would make sense. In fact, the oddly pristine nature of the town sort of made sense, now, too. Someone with power like that could probably create his own little small town paradise. To what purpose? A stepford wives kind of thing? That was certainly a sickening thought, although, I doubted it was a likely one. After all, what good would this scrawny little underaged body be for that? That wasn't to say that the purpose wasn't manipulative and revolting, I just doubted that it was something so lewd in nature. I didn't get too much thinking done in the car, mostly because the drive wasn't that long. It took less than ten minutes to get from the courthouse to stopping in front of a house. There, I got let out so that m-Erika's father could head off to work. I guess he had taken the morning off to deal with my trip to court and had to get back. That wasn't a problem for me. Since he didn't seem to know anything, having him around would only be distracting. The Bryant family had a fairly nice, although, fairly small home. It was nestled in a neighborhood of similar houses, cute little two-stories that looked like they belonged on a fifties sitcom. They were clearly not new, but like all of the town, very well-maintained. The inside proved to be as well, neat, clean, and nicely decorated. It also appeared to be devoid of other family members. I did learn that there were other family members, however. Pictures around the house showed a family of four, all with red hair. The boys, the man I just saw and a boy that looked to be in his mid to late teens, tended toward a darker auburn and the girls, my new self and her mother, had the brighter tones, although the mother's was starting to darken and gray a little with age. There were other resemblances too between Erika and her mother. They had similar faces, and unusual blue eyes. Figure-wise, though, they couldn't be further apart. I'd been turned into some rail thin young girl, while my new mother was decidedly vivacious, with a dynamic figure that was apparently getting a little plump over the years. Altogether, they seemed to be a happy family, but I wondered if they still would be now that my imposter self had been shoved into the mix. Other than pictures, I also found my bedroom. Unlike my body, it was very clear that this was a teenaged girl's room. There were no toys or dolls. There were posters for bands, many of which my forty-two year old self had never even heard. The item that drew my attention first, however, was the full length mirror that sat in one corner. Between glances down, the mirrors in the car, and the pictures around the house, I'd managed to piece together a pretty good idea of my new appearance, but stepping front of the mirror was my first chance to see it all at once. As I already knew, I could see that I was skinny and young. My best guess was twelve, but maybe not even quite that old. I was cute, but in a childish sort of way with rounded features and big blue eyes. In addition to the copper hair, I had fair skin, but thankfully, I hadn't been cursed with a coating of freckles to match the clich?. Not quite willing to just trust my eyes, I ended up raising my hands as well, tiny and girlish as they were, to give me a second opinion. Running them along my face seemed to create the same topography that I saw in the mirror. Once that was done, though, they drifted lower, ending up cupping my chest. When they did, though, I frowned in confusion, giving a few test squeezes. While I'd never been married, I hadn't been completely celibate. In my younger days, I'd at least tried to have a relationship, and during the course of that I'd gained some rudimentary understanding regarding the feel of the female form. My new breasts did not have the yield I was expected, even given their small size and what I assumed was a bra wrapped tightly around my chest. They felt more like pillows than flesh. Curious as to what was going on, I gave up on groping myself, dropping my hands to the hem of my sweater. A quick tug yanked it up over my head with none of the usual aches and strains that such a movement would've prompted from my joints earlier that day. With it out of the way, I also had a clear view of my new chest, and with it, the reason for the odd feel. While I did have breasts, they were smaller than they had looked with the sweater over them. In fact, they were just miniscule bumps that weren't even enough to properly fill the cups of my bra, cups that were fairly thick and cushiony. "Really? A padded bra?" I questioned, feeling a little embarrassed. Resorting to something like that was just so juvenile, but I supposed juvenile was a good adjective for my bust. I doubted I was even the twelve that I had first guessed. I certainly wasn't even close to my mother's size. Mine were still growing, though, so maybe someday I wouldn't be so-wait what was I thinking? Shaking my head, I drove the strangely jealous thoughts from my head. Worry replaced them, as I wondered why I'd even had that thought. I mean, yes, it was true that this body was pretty undeveloped, but it wasn't my body - not really. I was just stuck in it because some strange being had made it that way. I didn't have too much time to worry about the odd thoughts before the sound of a door being loudly closed on the first floor of the house echoed up into my room. Suddenly not alone, I immediately grabbed my sweater and tugged it back on. At the same time, I wondered who had arrived, the brother, the mother, or both. I wasn't sure how much help either would be in my efforts to gather more information, but talking to them couldn't hurt. With that plan in mind, I turned and walked out of my room. As luck would have it, I didn't have far to go to find the new arrival. He was just making it to the top of the steps as I came out of my room. At first, he barely seemed to notice me, just offering a quick glance, a head bob, and a "Hey, Eri," but even as his attention started to turn away again, he froze and jerked his head back with wide eyes. "Hey?" I greeted uncertainly, offering a shy wave to the boy that was staring at me. I recognized him from the pictures as what I assumed was my, I mean, Erika's older brother. He was a fairly good looking boy, probably seventeen, but kind of lanky. He was also completely opaque like Erika's father had been. "You're ... I mean ... uhm ... did the Judge do anything ... unusual while you were at the courthouse?" the teen asked, starting out shocked but quickly turning evasive. That sudden shift in reaction from disinterest to stunned was a dead giveaway to me that the teen knew what had happened to me or at least had an idea. The way he was hedging his words was peculiar, though. Was there some rule against discussing it? Maybe it was like some secret rebellion. Slowly, I nodded and said. "Yeah, he ... gave me a whole new perspective on life." "You remember!" the teen blurted in response, shattering all the ideas that I'd been starting to build around the weird conversation. "That's great! I was worried you were going to be like our dad." "What do you mean?" I questioned, thoroughly confused. "Oh right, you're new here, so I should probably explain," the teen began. "For starters, if you didn't know, my name is Martin or Marty, and I'm your brother. You're Erika or Eri." I nodded at the information, glad for anything I could learn. "I'd figured out the latter, but it's good to know who I'm talking to." "Yeah, it can be real confusing right after the change. The Judge just kind of dumps you into your life and lets you figure it out," Martin remarked. "You were changed, too?" "Sure was." "Who were you before?" That question had Martin sucking air through his teeth before he answered. "I should warn you, that's not considered a polite question around here. Most people want to focus on who they are now, not who they used to be." "Oh ... well, sorry, you don't have to tell then," I apologized awkwardly, supposing that it wasn't really crucial to know who Martin had once been. Even as I was ready to give up on that information, Martin waved off my concern and gave me what I'd asked for, "No, it's alright. It might help you settle into things," he explained before taking a brief pause to gather himself. "I used to be called Valerie Hanover." My eyes widened at that news. "You were swapped too?!" "Too? Oh ..." Martin started to ask before recognition dawned on his face in the form of a smirk. "So you used to be a boy, huh?" "Yeah." "Well, I know it's probably weird for you right now, but trust me, you'll get used to it," Martin assured me. "You'll probably even grow to like it. Most people do. I sure did." "You're not mad about being turned into a boy?" "Nope." "Did you not like being a girl?" I questioned, wondering how anyone could just be okay with something like that. Shrugging, Martin responded, "I don't think I'd say that, but I was really vain as a girl; wrapped up in my looks and what they could get for me. My husband was the same with his money. It's not like we hated each other or our lives or anything. We just never even tried to get to know one another. Outside of the bedroom, we barely interacted. I was there for his money and he kept me for my looks. It took us ending up here, and a gender swap, before we realized we actually liked each other - a lot even, and that it's a lot better like that." Learning of yet another gender change who was presumably happy with it, I only grew more confused. It seemed like such an utterly invasive thing to do to someone, rip away such a defining trait, and yet Martin seemed to be fine with it. If he was telling the truth, his former husband seemed to be alright with it, too. That was ... unsettling. "Did The Judge like ... do something to you to make you accept what he'd done?" I queried worriedly. "That, I don't know for sure, but I have wondered about it. I'm sure a lot of people do, in fact," Martin admitted. "After all, I've never heard of someone who remembered that didn't settle in eventually, although, some take longer than others." "Not everyone remembers?" I asked. Shaking his head, Martin told me, "No. Actually, we're in the minority of the people they change. Something like three fourths are like our dad; just think they've always been whoever they've become." It was at that moment that real fear gripped me. Whoever this Judge was, he could literally rip away everything that a person was, and leave them as nothing but someone else. The very idea of it was chilling. "Anyway, I'm glad you remember," Martin continued. "Maybe you'll be less of an annoying dork than my shade sister was." Tugged from my horror by the unfamiliar word, I asked, "Shade?" "That's what people like us call those people you can sort of see through," Martin explained. "They're like stand ins until real people come and get put in their role." "So until this morning, there was one of these shades playing Erika?" I asked. "Yep," Martin confirmed with a nod. "Sorry that you got stuck as her by the way. I certainly wouldn't want to have to be that little runt, not even back when I first changed and thought being a boy was the end of all good things." Such loathing for the idea of being Erika actually surprised me. I mean, sure, I wouldn't have picked a body like this, but it didn't seem to be a terrible one. Given the way Martin described his initial reaction to being turned into a boy, it should have been preferable to what he got. That led to the following question, "What's so wrong with her?" "Oh, uhm, nothing terrible or anything like that," Martin answered quickly, apparently realizing that what he said wasn't helpful. "It's just that, as I said, I was really vain. I was used to being the prettiest and most popular girl around, and Eri, well, she's an awkward, underdeveloped hanger on that gets pushed around by her prettier friends. It probably would've been a fitting punishment to make me her, I'd certainly treated other girls like that in my day, but I'm glad the Judge didn't go that route. At least being a boy was an unknown, so there was some hope of it ending up alright." Hearing those insulting words, I narrowed my eyes at the older boy. How dare he say stuff like that, as if he was some great catch. He was kinda scrawny, too, and he was a lot older than me. Plus-what was I thinking? Why was I angry? Erika wasn't me. I was just trying to learn about her, and Martin was being very helpful with that. Shaking my head to clear it, I looked down at my figure and asked, "Am I really that bad for eleven?" "Eleven?" Martin questioned before bursting into snickering. "Your fourteenth birthday is in May." "I'm thirteen?!" I gasped in surprise, finally understanding the problem. By that age, most girls were a good chunk of the way through puberty. They were typically about as tall as they were going to get and already well on the way to becoming women. Yet, there I was tiny in every regard. I supposed that I could be a late bloomer, but that wasn't very likely, and it wouldn't make the other kids make fun of me any less. Damn it! There were those unwanted thoughts again. Martin nodded in confirmation. "Yep." "Alright, so I'm older than I thought," I began, trying to dismiss how that fact made me feel. "What I really want to know is what the point of it all is? Why is the Judge transforming people?" "That is the question," Martin replied. "Everyone asks it, and no one ever gets an answer. Even those of us that are close to them, don't know what their purpose is." "Them? There's more than just the Judge?" I asked, wondering just how many of these things I had to worry about. "Oh, yeah, there's a bunch of 'em, and don't ask me what they are, because I can't say," Martin informed me. "It's one of the rules. You can't talk about what they are, and we can only discuss what happened to us in twos. Otherwise, you'll just start choking on your own tongue if you try." If there was news that could make me feel worse in that moment, what Martin had just told me was it. Not only were there numerous mysterious beings capable of changing everything about a person. They even imposed rules on us to keep us from discussing it freely. It was like some authoritarian regime from a dystopian novel. It was a nightmare. Apparently my distress was easy to see, because Martin immediately added, "Look, I know it sounds bad, but it's really not. Remember, most people end up really liking it here. After a while, you won't even notice the rules, because you won't even care to talk about that stuff. You'll just want to live your life, and the Judge and his friends don't really interfere in that." "Why would they need to? They already interfered about as much as they possibly could," I retorted, an angry edge creeping into my childish voice. That tone earned me a worried look from Martin as he pleaded, "Come on, Eri, just give a chance. It's nice in Ovid, really, and trying to argue with them about it, well, let's just say nobody's ever heard of anyone changing back but there are rumors of people finding themselves in worse spots. I even heard of one guy that supposedly got turned into a baby for causing trouble." Honestly, it was a good warning. Trying to go up against an unknown number of seemingly godlike beings was not a plan that was likely to meet with success. It was easy to concede to that fear, to just say to yourself that it would easier and safer to just go along with their demands. Once that happened, though, you ceded control over your life to someone else, letting them dictate to you what you can want and be. I would never accept that. "I'm not just going to roll over and take this," I stated firmly. "I'm going back to that courthouse right now to talk to ... whatever the hell the Judge really is." "That's not a good idea, Eri," Martin tried to tell me, but I wasn't interested. I was already marching right past him, and I didn't even slow to listen. He tried to call, "Erika!" as well as I went down the stairs, but that wasn't my name. It was someone else's name. A few of seconds after that, I had grabbed my coat, gone out the door, and was on my way to talk to the Judge. ***** "I'd like to see the Judge," I huffed, feeling a little breathless after my trek back to the courthouse. It might have been less than ten minutes by car, but it was a lot longer by foot, and I hadn't taken it slow. It was cold out, too, leaving my cheeks rosy and my nose cold and a runny. I certainly wasn't at my most imposing appearance wise, but given the body that I'd been saddled with, I doubted that there was anything I could actually do to look imposing even at my best. My request was directed at a woman sitting at the desk, in front of which, I stood. I recognized her from my time in court as the attractive blonde from the gallery. Apparently, she was the Judge's secretary as well, and according to her nameplate, named Cindy Patton. It didn't seem like the name of some magical being, but that did little to keep me from suspecting her anyway. "I know you think that's a good idea, but-" Cindy started to warn me away with a worried look on her face. "Just save it. I already got that warning from my new brother, and it doesn't mean anymore coming from you," I cut off the woman. "Now, can I see him or not?" My behavior only deepened the worry on the woman's faced, but she nodded and answered, "Yes, but not until Monday. He's out of town until then." "Out of town?!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "If he can turn me into this," I continued gesturing down at myself, "then he can get his ass back here to talk to me about it!" In spite of my rudeness, the woman favored me with a sympathetic look. "I know how you feel, really, I do, but it's not a good idea, and even if it was, there's nothing I can do to expedite it for you. If you really have to see him, you'll have to wait until Monday." Currently, it was Thursday, although, most of that day was gone, so waiting until Monday wasn't exactly terrible. It was really only three full days. I could handle that, assuming that when the time came, I did actually get to see the Judge. "This isn't some kind of runaround, is it?" I questioned suspiciously. "No, if you have an appointment, the Judge will see you at the specified time," Cindy assured me. Nodding, I agreed, "Alright, then Monday it is. As early as possible." "Is nine AM early enough?" "Yes." Nodding, Cindy grabbed a pen to make a note of it. As she wrote, she added, "It won't change anything, you know, you talking to him. Nobody ever changes back, and most of us don't want to. I certainly don't." That comment caught in my thoughts, piquing my curiosity. "You were changed, too?" "Sure was." "And were you a boy before like me?" The blonde nodded. "Yes, although, you may be the first person to guess that. Everyone always seems to assume that I've always been a girl." Looking the woman over, I could see why people might think that. Her attire was professional and feminine. Her makeup was immaculate. There was no sense of unease from her. In fact, her mannerisms and posture seemed perfectly comfortable and womanly. It would be easy to think that she'd just always been the pretty, young, blonde woman that she appeared, and that was what worried me. "Well, forgive me for ruining your streak. I just guessed because the only other changed person I've met was also swapped, so I was thinking that might be all that this Judge does," I explained myself, not meaning to offend. "It's not that uncommon, I'll admit, but it's certainly not all that he does," Cindy told me. "It's also not that bad. We all learn to get used to, and even enjoy it. I love my life, my husband, and my kids. Trust me, if you give it a chance, you'll be happy here, too." While I was sure that those words were meant to be comforting, I found them rather bone chilling. This place was like a cult. Everyone was too happy. Everyone was trying to get me to just give up and drink the punch. It was creepy. "Yeah ... well ... I'll see you on Monday, then," I told the blonde, skirting around her comments. It was obvious that there would be no point in trying to argue with her. Smiling politely, Cindy nodded and said, "I suppose so. Enjoy your weekend." "You too," I mumbled insincerely as I turned to go, trudging back toward the exit. While I may have secured a meeting, I still felt like I'd suffered a defeat. The trek through the December chill was tiring, and now, I was going to have to repeat it. The Judge was going to have his way, at least for a few days. There was no way of knowing what effect those few days might have on me either. I'd already had strange and unwelcome thoughts slipping into my head. Would I even be able to resist whatever Ovid did to people for that long? For the entire walk back home - to Erika's home - that worry plagued me. Certainly, I would do my best to resist. It would take vigilance and determination, but I would give both my all. Given the power that the Judge had shown, I wasn't sure that it was actually even possible to keep myself from succumbing, though. He could make believable facsimiles of people that seemed capable of independent action and thought. Maybe the shade that had been Erika before me would eventually just take me over, subsuming my soul and discarding the rest. If that was going to happen, I doubted that there was anything I could do to stop it. "How'd it go?!" Martin called out when I entered the Bryant home, stepping out of his room to look down the stairs at me. Feeling lifeless after the hike and all the worry, I shrugged lazily as I answered, "I have an appointment to talk to the Judge on Monday." The fact that had left me so despondent prompted a relieved slouch from Martin. "And you're going to wait for it?" "Don't seem to have a choice," I grumbled unhappily as I started up the steps. "Well, then, I should probably let you know that Lisa called for you," Martin informed me. When that earned a confused look from me, he smirked and added, "She's been your best friend for years, although, you're more like her pet these days. Her number should be written down in Mom's little number book by the phone in the kitchen." "And why would I want to talk to one of Erika's tween friends?" I demanded, in no mood to deal with anything related to the new life in which I'd been stuck. "First of all, I could understand not wanting to talk to her," Martin remarked, insulting the absent girl. "However, right now, she's your friend, and that 'right now' might be a lot longer than you think. Plus, she didn't do anything to you, and if you do get changed back, whoever does end up as Erika didn't do anything to you either. Besides, It's not like you have anything better to do while you wait." Too tired and frustrated from my day to argue, I just sighed, "Alright, fine, I'll talk to her, but not for long." Martin snickered at that claim. "You don't have much experience with teenaged girls do you?" "Ugh, of course," I groaned, rubbing at my face as I remembered that I wasn't a forty-two year old man anymore. There was no way I was going to get off the phone in under an hour as a thirteen year old girl. Yet, I still didn't have anything better to do, and Martin was right, I didn't exactly want to screw up Erika's life. I might get stuck with it or the Judge might stick some other poor unsuspecting fellow in it. If I got out of here, though, I swore to at least try to help prevent the latter. Anyone coming here should at least know what was going to happen to them, so they could make an informed choice. If they had that and could trust the Judge to not meddle, a quaint little town like this and a new life to live in it might not be so bad. Resigned to an excessively long talk on the phone, I trudge back down the stairs and into the kitchen. There, as Martin had said, I found a little phone with a little book laying on top of it with various numbers written inside of it. That gave me the number to my-Erika's best friend which I immediately dialed. There were a few rings before a youthful female voice greeted, "Hello?" "Hey ... uhm ... Lisa?" I began uncertainly. "Eri! Oh my God! What happened?! I thought you were supposed to be back from the courthouse hours ago!" Lisa exclaimed with energetic concern. "Did the Judge throw the book at you or something?" I certainly felt like I'd been hit with a book, a big, heavy, an