Philosophers have often noted that the symbols we use shape our thoughts. They hold power over us. But it is a power we freely give to them. Symbols hold no power that we have not first granted. So, my friends, on this spooky Halloween night, remember: accept not the symbols of others.

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Papyrus font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.
 

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The Legal Stuff: Symbol  ©2009 SuZie
 
All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.
 
The image used for this story is used under royalty-free license* and fair-use policy from 3D Desktops UK
 

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Gather, children, and listen to the wisdom of the ancients. In the beginning was Chaos, and from that issued Order. That was the Great Balance: Chaos and Order. Light and dark, day and night, good and evil came forth only as Order supplanted Chaos. This was the new balance, but it was not the Great Balance. The ancients understood this truth, though many have forgotten over the ages. Those misguided ones call Chaos evil, as if it had thought and purpose. Hah! It is in Order where evil may be found. But it is also in order where good resides.

But even in the first days of Order there were those who feared the surviving Chaos. They were the ones to hide that primordial energy away from the world, calling it Hateful and Unnatural. And, thus, Chaos passed from the world we live in. It is said that some small portion of that force still resides here on Earth, locked into objects spelled with puissant wards, kept for whatever dark purposes those misguided souls once schemed, yet failed, to accomplish.

Now, my children, you might think to search for such objects and release Chaos back into the world, bringing balance once more to Creation. I beg you, not! What once was pure, innocent Chaos has been prisoned beneath smothering Order of the darkest power for ages upon ages. Who knows what form might rise from such an unnatural tomb? Not I…and not you.

This much we know: three symbols were used to confine primordial Chaos, and they were–

[Editor’s note: the narrative ends here. No surviving text can be found that details these supposed symbols, though many subsequent sources have suggested possibilities. Babylonian, Aramaic, Gnostic symbologies–amongst others–have all been put forth, reasoning that the ancient symbols were passed down to surviving civilizations. In any case, this is clearly a Creation myth account that should be viewed beside other similar myths to understand…
 

*          *          *
 
Musa bin Ibrahim tossed the text aside, furious at this latest dead end in his investigation.

Musa rose abruptly. He would wait no longer. The object must be delivered on schedule, even if that meant not having the proper binding ritual at hand. Without an understanding of the symbols, or even the order they had been painted on the object, there was no telling the consequences of releasing what was inside. Still, his instructions were explicit. The rich American was expecting this object the day after tomorrow. There could be no more delay.

Musa sighed. It would have been so wonderful to discover for himself the spells of power that would unleash Chaos for his own use. But it had already cost him the lives of three of his best men just in retrieving the cursed thing. Now there was no time. Carefully picking up the orb in his gloved hand, Musa placed it gently in the transport crate.

Better the rich, stupid American take his chances with it…
 

*          *          *
 
In the hold of a cargo jet speeding toward North America, a small ball of fired clay shifted slightly in its carefully constructed nesting material. It was not enough to escape the sturdy confines of packing crate it was prisoned inside–that would have been impossible–but it was just enough for the ball to escape destruction by the piece of turbine blade that screamed from a disintegrating engine and blasted through the fragile fuselage of the jet before tearing the wooden crate into shredded kindling. The clay ball rolled free and wandered aimlessly about the cargo deck as the jet bucked and shivered at the damage unleashed in those few seconds. The pilot fought his controls, desperately trying to compensate for the abrupt change in aerodynamics and thrust. His valiant efforts were rewarded and he was finally able to radio traffic control that they should prepare for an emergency landing at the small commercial airport he was rapidly approaching.

The clay ball rolled on.
 

*          *          *
 
“Mom, look at that!”

“What, dear?” Emily asked her 10-year-old son absently as she sunned herself on the beach. Taking advantage of a clear autumn day on the Atlantic side of Florida, mother and son were enjoying a pleasant Saturday afternoon at the beach.

“It’s an airplane, a jet,” Johnnie exclaimed, “and it looks like it is in trouble! It’s lower than it should be and I think something is wrong with one of its wings!”

Johnnie loved all things aeronautical and prided himself on knowing the usual flight patterns to and from the local airport. He also studied pictures of most of the commercial aircraft that used its facilities. This was an older jet, perhaps even one of those 727 cargo carriers he had just been reading about. They were too noisy in their original configuration and had needed retrofitting to make them quieter to still fly in America, but some were still being used. Johnnie briefly noted the unusual markings on the jet, not recognizing any of them from the common carriers he was used to, but mostly his attention was focused on the injured left wing, the one nearest where he was sitting with his mother.

As the jet grew large in the sky, it was clear that the left engine was badly damaged. Its shroud was mangled and a gaping hole marked the location that turbine blades had ripped away from the engine. Johnnie wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure that it was a minor miracle that the engine had not torn off completely.

Johnnie rose from the blanket he was sharing with his mother, dropping the baseball from a mitt he no longer realized was on his hand. Having given up in interesting his mom in a game of catch, Johnnie had been lackadaisically tossing the ball in the air until the moment that he spied the troubled aircraft. Now, ball forgotten and glove still on hand, Johnnie walked down the beach towards the water, unconsciously seeking to narrow the gap between boy and plane by the miniscule amount he could add to the wounded jet’s thunderous approach. He was now at the water’s edge and would go no further with the glove on his hand, a hand-me-down from his brother Roger.

The aircraft was nearly overhead, terribly low now, when he noticed the large hole in its fuselage. Anonymous shapes and bits of paper escaped from that hole and fell toward the ground. Some were obviously heavy and plunged alarmingly earthward. Others were so light they fluttered like butterflies. And finally one small round object detached itself from the plane, arcing downward in a strange corkscrew path that Johnnie instinctively knew would end dead center on his head.

The jet screamed past them like some wounded beast out of Hell.

“No!” shrieked Emily as Johnnie’s left arm came up, glove on hand, to intercept the baseball-sized object.

Whatever power had held the demolished engine to its mounts gave up all resistance and the jet engine and much of the left wing tumbled away to one side as the plane abruptly veered and nose dived into the awaiting ground. There had been no time, or any altitude, for the pilot to make one last, heroic adjustment.

Boy and mother stood frozen in shocked tableau as behind them the jet plowed into a stretch of deciduous forest separating beach from airport. Neither of them turned towards the horrendous noise of that crash.

The last remnants of fuel on board spewed from ruptured tanks and ignited on the red-hot right engine. The crackling sounds of trees catching fire fought with the shrill sirens of approaching emergency vehicles.

Johnnie slowly pulled his arm down and gazed in wonderment at what his mitt held. “I caught it, mom. I caught it.”

“Oh, Johnnie! You could have been killed!”

Emily finally glanced back at the growing blaze behind them. The parking lot bordered the woods and her car was less than thirty feet from trees taller than telephone poles.

“We have to go. Now.”

“But mom! Look, I caught it!”
 

*          *          *
 
Johnnie was mad as heck. Yep, mad as heck.

His mom hadn’t even looked at the strange ball he’d caught from the jet. In fact, she had ordered him to his room until his dad came home. Apparently, watching objects fall from planes and catching them was worse than watching them fall on your head and maybe making you dead. He’d tried to explain that to her but she wouldn’t even listen. And to make matters worse, she refused to look at the weird clay ball he had caught. She said that it wasn’t theirs and that they would have to turn it in and just wait until your father gets home…

Johnnie kicked his glove where it lay on the floor and then dived for the clay ball that burst forth before it could roll under his bed. There was a lot of stuff under there that he had never retrieved from the dust and the cobwebs that seemed to multiply daily. He was ten and really didn’t believe in monsters anymore, but if there was any place they could exist it was under that bed of his: so no going under there — ever!

Johnnie checked his prize for any damage that he might have inflicted with his kick but found the ball intact. He decided to move it away from the dangers of Under the Bed, finally putting it up on the shelf with his awards. They were mostly for spelling, but there was one for music and another for good citizenship.

Johnnie’s father rarely came into his son’s room, and when he did he never looked at that shelf. Johnnie knew he was a disappointment to his father, though his dad never said anything like that. Johnnie could read it in his face when they talked about how he was doing in school.

There was no talk of sports, like his dad did with Roger, Johnnie’s older brother. Roger was away at college now and playing basketball and baseball for the school team. Roger was 6’6” of lean muscle. He played football in high school, but liked the college that offered him his two-sport, full-ride scholarship, so he sensibly decided to drop the sport least likely to lead to anything professionally. Roger was like that. Not academically brilliant, he was still a sensible, intelligent guy who knew how to play the odds. Use the scholarship to get a degree in business, and work at the sports he had a glimmer of hope to play professionally. His brother was the apple of his father’s eye, and Johnnie couldn’t even hate him for being a stupid, insensitive jock.

Sitting on his bed, Johnnie felt his eyes being drawn toward the clay ball again. There was something about it that was very strange, though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. Johnnie rose and walked closer to the clay ball, observing without picking it up. It was quite round, almost exactly spherical–Johnnie like that word, sphere, because most kids just called spheres balls and looked at you funny when you told them the proper name of the shape–but had just enough imperfection to tell that it was hand-made rather than manufactured by some machine. The markings on it were strange, like nothing he’d seen in a book or online, and the surface looked old. Johnnie thought that the ball might have been buried somewhere for many years–perhaps thousands!

Still, he was reluctant to handle the sphere more than had been necessary to save it from Under the Bed and then put it on his shelf. On the entire trip home he had cradled it in his glove, admiring the object because he’d made such an unusual catch. But he hadn’t touched it. Why was touching it so bad?

His thoughts were interrupted by Roger noisily entering his room, as if Johnnie’s private space deserved no consideration. But that was unfair of Johnnie to think that. Roger had never treated him badly, and he paid him much more attention than his father did. Johnnie managed a tentative smile for this unexpected return of his big brother.

“Hi, Sport! Coach let us go a little early and I thought that since it’s Halloween and all that I should make it home to take you trick or treating!”

Johnnie didn’t mind it when his brother called him Sport. That was their private joke about Johnnie’s dearth of sports ability. It wasn’t meant in a mean way, just a laugh at all those who thought life revolved around balls of various shapes and sizes. Roger knew quite well that he only had an outside chance at professional sports, and that even if he did make it, the ride would most likely be very short before someone else came along, someone willing to use steroids to bulk up and speed up. That wasn’t Roger. There had been an awkward moment a few years back when their dad had sounded like he might know of how to obtain steroids–just a little and for a short time–to help “round out” Roger’s growing abilities. Johnnie had been too young to understand the implications of the offer, but Roger had acted as if he didn’t understand their dad and talked about how he was into natural growth and diet. Thankfully, dad never brought up the subject again.

What Johnnie did mind was Roger’s assumption that he was still such a little kid that he would go trick or treating. Okay, maybe last year he would have jumped at the chance, but now he was into airplanes and science.

Besides, neither mom nor dad had thought to get him a costume.

Before he could come up with a comeback to the slight, Roger spied the clay ball on Johnnie’s award shelf.

“Say! What’s with this?”

Roger picked the ball off the shelf without asking permission from his younger brother. It wasn’t as if he really needed anything silly like that, of course. Despite their dad’s obvious favoritism, Johnnie worshipped his older brother; not for his athletic skills but for his kindness towards his lil’ bro’. So, Roger was always welcome in Johnnie’s room. Besides, came a dark thought, better him than me touching that thing. Johnnie was instantly ashamed at his ungenerous thought, and taken aback at how much he worried about the strange object he’d caught out of the blue Florida sky. Johnnie wondered at his sudden fear, trying to put it aside with the notion that today was Halloween and dark thoughts were natural at a time like this. Still, he almost thought it would have been better for the clay ball to have rolled under his bed and been lost to mankind for a few more thousand years. Or perhaps fell to the sand and been washed back out to sea.

“Um, I caught it.”

“What do you mean ‘caught it’, sport? It’s not a baseball.”

“Well…it fell out of the sky.” Johnnie watched as a look of incredulity spread across his brother’s face. He wasn’t sure whether it was for the improbable notion that a clay ball would come from the sky, or that Johnnie might actually catch it. It didn’t really matter to Johnnie. He was hurt that his brother might think him a liar.

“It really did, Roger! Mom and I were at the beach and a jet was in trouble and trying to land. An engine had blown up, or something, and there was a hole in the side of the plane. That ball fell out and would have brained me, except I had your glove on and caught it. Then the plane crashed and there was a fire and mom said we had to leave right away and I think I’m in trouble even though all I did was keep my skull from being cracked open and…”

“Whoa, Sport! I believe you! Honestly, I do! I heard on the radio about what had happened and was worried about you two until I heard that the crash was right near the airport and not over this way. So, you and mom went to the beach today?”

“Yep! And I caught that ball and brought it home and now mom says I have to wait for dad as if I did something wrong. I suppose it could be valuable and needs to be turned in, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show it to a few friends first.”

Johnnie blushed at the lie he had just told his brother. Johnnie really had no friends, though he had briefly considered taking it to school on Monday and showing it off. But that was before he had the odd feeling that he didn’t want to touch the thing at all. But Roger was holding the ball and was still okay. Johnnie shook himself and vowed to get over his unreasoning fear.

“Okaaay,” Roger began, thinking through his reply, “What about this? I got an email from one of my old buddies in town and he says there is going to be a big party over at the Johnson’s. You’ve seen their place, right? Ginormous! And there’s an entire detached guest house! Anyway, the main house is going to be for kids your age, while us older types use the guest house for our party. I thought I’d try to stop by later, but since you aren’t interested in the old house-to-house, why don’t we both go to the Johnson’s?”

Johnnie had the distinct impression that Roger’s visit home had not entirely been about his younger brother. Still, it would be fun to go somewhere rather than sit in his room. But what would he wear? And would those upper crust Johnson kids and their friends be any nicer to him at home than they were at school? Johnnie didn’t know why they couldn’t just go to a private school and stop lording it over the less fortunate, him especially!

“I…I don’t have a costume, Roger,” he reluctantly admitted.

“That’s no problem, Sport! I don’t have one either, and neither does my buddy. We were going to go to a place that should still have a selection and pick something out. We’ll get something for you as well. How about that?”

“If it isn’t anything lame. Those Johnson's don’t much care for me and the other poor kids. They’ll probably rag on anyone showing up in a cheap costume.”

“Don’t worry about that! We’ll have great costumes, I promise!”

Roger was entirely too cheery for Johnnie’s comfort, and there was still the problem of his virtual grounding.

“I can’t go, Roger! Mom said I had to wait for dad. I think I’m in trouble, but I haven’t figured out exactly why.”

“Don’t worry about that, Sport,” Roger replied confidently. “If it’s about catching this whatchamacallit, you’ll have no problems from dad! He’ll just be thrilled that you caught it. I’ll bet he’ll be bragging about it to the other patrol officers.”

Their dad was a policeman. He might even be assisting at the crash site right this moment. And it also was why Johnnie was worried about his reaction to the clay ball. What if dad thought it was, like, theft? That was silly, because he hadn’t done anything other than catch it. And he’d already promised his mother he would give it to whoever owned the thing, just not today.

Looking at how Roger was tossing the ball, his eyes glued to the orb, reminded Johnnie that there was something off about the thing. Johnnie went over to his dresser and pulled open a drawer. Inside were some of his most treasured possessions. He pulled out a leather bag that he’d gotten at a medieval fair and turned to his big brother.

“Throw it here, Roger!”

His brother caught the ball at the top of its arc and made to throw to Johnnie, when suddenly a gleam came to his eye and he pulled it back toward his chest.

“Come on, Roger,” Johnnie wheedled, even more desperate to separate his brother from the sinister orb, “I’m only putting it in this pouch, like that thing is real powerful and must not be handled. Then I’ll give it back to you. But you should wear a glove on the hand you use to pull it out, so as to make it really believable? And not just any glove, something that looks old-timey, like this pouch. And you shouldn’t handle it until you have the glove, sort of get into character, see? Then when you pull it out in front of others you’ll have them believing in it. You could be a warlock or wizard, ‘kay?”

Roger gave his brother a funny look before flipping the orb his way. It looked like the ball would crash to the floor and perhaps break–such was Johnnie’s obvious reluctance to touch it–but at the last moment it seemed to veer right into the open throat of the pouch. Roger breathed a sigh of relief. In the short time he’d been holding it, the ball had gone from an oddity in his mind to something he did not want to part with.

“Yeah, that was what I’d been thinking of when I talked to my buddy. That sounds good, Sport! I think this party just might be a blast after we’re done with it!”

Johnnie gulped. As his brother left the room swinging his prized orb-in-a-pouch, he fervently prayed that there would be no blast of any sort at the Johnson’s tonight.
 

*          *          *
 
Kevin paced nervously across his small bedroom, waiting for Roger to arrive. What was he going to tell him? He’d almost begged his best friend from high school to go with him to the Johnson’s party, not expecting Roger to make it back for the event, or at least not expecting him to actually go for the idea of them hitting the party together. Was it time to put up or shut up? But how could he? How could he tell his best buddy that he was in love with him, but that he wasn’t gay–just in the wrong body to love the man the way he deserved? And what about his parents? They would disown him if he admitted he was transgendered!

His questions were interrupted by the front door bell pealing out the annoying melody that his parents thought so cute. Cute! He’d show them cute…if he just had the body his mind told him he should have.

“Stop it Kylie! You’re a girl and that’s that. It doesn’t matter what is on the outside,” Kevin–no, Kylie reminded herself. “If only Roger could see what is on my inside!”

Kylie rushed down the stairs and opened the front door. She needed all of her willpower to hold back from giving Roger an enormous hug, settling for a long handshake. Roger was looking at her in such a strange way that she was the one to break off their physical contact and step back nervously.

“Ke…Kevin! Good to see you!” Roger exclaimed before drawing his friend into a quick hug. Kylie so wanted to hold on and never let go, but she managed to disengage before Roger grew obviously uncomfortable. She expected the smack on the shoulder that always accompanied those “brotherly” hugs that Roger bestowed, but this time it didn’t come. As the silence grew awkward, Kylie noticed the leather bag in Roger’s hand.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, nothing much. It gave me an idea for my costume, though. Let’s go to your room and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Sure, Roger!” Kylie escorted her friend up the stairs and plopped down on her bed to wait for Roger’s idea. She wasn’t worried about how he’d view the décor as there was nothing obvious that screamed girl. That would have landed her in hot water with her Neanderthal parents. Still, there was little masculine about the space either. If it hadn’t looked nearly identical to all those other times Roger had been up in it, then she’d be worried. Some guys expected posters of large-breasted women or sports heroes on the walls of their friends’ rooms. Kylie had a sports hero, of course, but it was Roger. As a freshman at university, Roger had no posters out yet. Besides, putting Roger’s poster on the otherwise empty walls would kind of give away her secret.

Once again, the silence lengthened, so Kylie suggested that Roger show her whatever was in the leather sack. In a curious move, Roger pulled out a full-fingered bike riding glove and put it on his right hand before slowly extracting a round, clay object about the size of a baseball. It was covered with strange symbols that appeared to be enamel, or perhaps cloisonné considering its obvious age and the fact that the ball was clearly fired clay. Kylie, an Art student at the local community college, was fairly certain that vitreous enameling was done only on metal. One particular symbol called to her. It seemed to be promising her her heart’s desire…

“Hey, hey Kevin! I need that for my outfit, buddy! Now give it back. No, not in my bare hand, put it in the one with the glove. That was Johnnie’s idea: use a glove, even before the party so as to get into character. It is my Orb of Power and I am the Great Wizard Zorander…”

“You stole that name from a book, Roger! But it suits you,” Kylie finished, a mischievous grin on her face. “Tall and almost as skinny as him, but you’re much younger and quite a yummy catch for the right girl. Um…I mean you’d be yummy to that girl… er, you know what I mean!”

Kylie passed the orb back to Roger, careful to place it in his gloved hand. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt a pressure dropping away from her. There was something about the orb…

“Thanks, Kevin, I think! Anyway, after I saw this in Johnnie’s room I had the greatest idea to be a real-looking wizard. Trouble is I’d need some believable clothes to make it look realistic. I don’t want anything cheesy, like some old sheet made into a robe, or anything!”

“Oh, Roger, I have just the thing!”

“What? I thought you knew of a costume store that would still have stuff. How come you have something like that?”

“Oh, it’s not mine,” Kylie clarified over a vigorous blush, “it’s my father’s. You are almost the same size and with loose wizard’s robes there will be no problem at all! He wore it several years ago for a costume party when he and mom were going all out. That was before they were ‘born again’, of course! They won’t do anything nowadays for Halloween and that stuff is stored in a spare bedroom. Luckily, they’ve never thrown it out! The robe has all sorts of mystic symbols on it and there’s a really cool belt and a wizard’s pointy hat. He even wore some slip-on shoes that look like they are hand-made. There’s nothing like getting into a great costume and then having to wear sneakers underneath it. Kinda’ kills the image!”

“Sounds great,” Roger replied while trying to put the ball back into the pouch. For some reason it didn’t seem to want to go back in. Curious. It dropped inside without difficulty when he was in Johnnie ‘s room.

“Here, Roger! We can put it on my desk. I’ll put these books around it so it does not roll off and we’ll get it back in its bag later. Okay?”

That seemed acceptable to Roger so he waited for Kevin to build a four-sided corral out of books, and then carefully placed the orb inside. Even then, Roger watched it for a few moments to make sure it wouldn’t go bouncing out. As if it was rubber, or something! Roger snorted at his own paranoia and turned to leave.

“It’s the first door on the left if you turn right out of my room, Roger. On the right side of the clothes closet, first outfit you see. I’m pretty sure that there are some gloves that would work better than what you have on.”

“Okay, Kevin,” Roger replied slowly, “but aren’t you coming with me?”

“Just have to pop into my restroom for a brief moment. Powder my nose and such!”

That was a joke between them. Kylie, as Kevin, would act all girly for a moment and claim she needed to “powder her nose.” Then they would crack up and go on like best buds again. Roger never knew how much Kylie wanted to stay in charge and let Kevin recede into the background. Instead, good old Kevin came out once again while Kylie went into a corner of her mind to watch the proceedings. That was all Kylie was most of the time. A spectator.

“When, oh when can I be me,” she muttered under her breath as Roger thankfully left the room. Another moment and she’d have been crying in front of her best friend, with no explanation as to why. For that matter, Kylie wasn’t sure what had come over her. She usually maintained in front of Roger. Refusing to break down and possibly losing her one and only friend. But today was different. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was definitely different.

Kylie was exiting her restroom and about to leave her room altogether when she happened to glance over to her desk. Somehow, the books around the clay ball had shifted and the orb was gradually picking up momentum towards the edge nearest her. Kylie dove for the ball just as it began its descent toward her hardwood floor.

“Whew! That was close. How you managed to get out from inside my book corral is beyond me. And why I am talking to an inanimate object is…is really puzzling. But that’s where we’re at, so I guess I’ll just make the best of it. Now what is it that is so special about you?”

Kylie turned the ball over to view all of the strange symbols decorating its surface. The one from earlier that had called to her caught her eye once more and she stopped to examine it more closely. It seemed familiar, as if she might have seen it in one of her classes. There had been a class in ancient art that was really more appropriate to a 4-year institution or graduate school, and Kylie had been lucky enough to grab a seat in the small classroom set aside for the lectures. Some traveling professor from the Middle East had been visiting relatives here and was gracious enough to add his special expertise to their meager curriculum. Perhaps he had shown them a picture of this symbol. Something about an ancient congruence established between the symbology and modern Arabic, but for the life of her, Kylie could not remember what the figure was supposed to represent.

Examining it now, Kylie felt the pressure returning, but this time it was not uncomfortable. It was welcoming, giving her a true promise of happiness.

“Muhaimin? Was that the word he used? That was the Arabic, I think. The professor said there was an older word for it, something lost in myth and legend. He wasn’t even sure what it was - something about it meaning guardian or protector.”

“So, little orb, will you protect me? Will you guard me from harm? Will you…will you make me whole?”

The answering warmth she felt rushing through her body was so startling that Kylie nearly dropped the clay ball, only managing with great difficulty to maintain a tenuous grip for the brief moment it took to stuff the orb back into its leather pouch. She brushed hair out of her eyes–hair that had unaccountably escaped the dreadful boy’s ponytail she kept it in to appease her parents–and nearly ran out of the room.

“This is way better than I hoped for, Kev! Hey, Kevin, are you alright?”

Roger had already stripped off his own clothes and donned the robe, belt and shoes of the wizard’s outfit. The gloves were in his hand as he turned towards Kylie, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? Your hair is a mess, well…not really messy, I guess. It actually looks good that way. It’s just not, um, guy hair. That’s all.”

Roger awkwardly tried to help Kylie pull her hair back to fix once more into a ponytail, but their hands seemed to be at cross purposes.

“Stop, Roger. Stop! It’s alright, actually, as I had a rather interesting idea for what I would go as.” Kylie handed Roger the leather bag before moving to the right hand side of the closet to pull off the first outfit there. It was an exquisite confection made of layer upon layer of sheer organza in tones of cream and metallic gold held together at the waist by a gold chain belt and slit up the sides to allow generous views of the long legs beneath it. It was sleeveless and looked a bit more Grecian or even Egyptian than Arabic, but the dress called to her. And since Kylie had tried it on and found it fit remarkably well, albeit with a generously padded bra, she knew that it would look great on her, as well. Even her mother’s matching flats fit Kylie’s feet. Those feet were tiny for a man, for Kevin, but they were just right for a girl named Kylie.

Moments ago she would never have dared this. But that was before talking to the orb, and getting back its promise. With an insane confidence, she turned to Roger and held up the gown in front of her.

“Let me look pretty for you Roger,” she purred in her sultry girl voice.

“Um…uh…er,” Roger stammered intelligently before getting a grip on himself. “Okay.”

Kylie needed no more encouragement than that last, whispered word. She beamed a smile that was a mile wide as she swept by him to make preparations for the party. She’d have to shave her legs and underarms; she hadn’t done that in a week. No five o’clock shadow, of course. Never had grown a beard, thank God! But her hair really was a mess! No time for a bubble bath. Luckily, a nice hot shower would suffice. Then there was lingerie to sort. Panties and bra would not be seen, but should complement the outer garment anyway. And perhaps sheer, stay-up thigh highs? They might not be in total keeping with the ancient look, but oh would they be sexy!

Then there was the makeup she should wear - perhaps an Egyptian look? Should she apply heavy kohl around the eyes in those exquisite patterns that turned eyes into mysterious and powerful windows into the soul? Oh, if Roger could only know her soul! But there was no time for such thoughts right now. Must concentrate!

Kylie would use dramatic eye shadow and mascara to complement the kohl, but first, a slightly paler foundation than normal to bring the eyes popping out. And–yes!–blood red lip stick. If that didn’t draw Roger’s eyes, nothing would!

As Roger waited for Kevin he nervously reviewed his feelings. There had always been something different about his best friend, something that called to him in a way that made him very uncomfortable. But tonight it was coming to a head. What would he do when he saw his friend made up as a woman? Would Kevin look convincing? And what would he, Roger, do if she was?

While he waited, Roger nervously pulled open the bag and fished out the clay ball, carefully using one of the costume gloves. “Is this…is this something you’ve done? If Kevin is hurt by this I’ll smash you to dust!”

He caught the faintest sense of amusement from the orb before a stultifying despair enveloped him. Tonight all things were possible, but there would be great sacrifice involved.

Roger drew back his arm, preparing to dash the clay ball against the nearest wall, certain that the cost was too great.

“No! Oh, please no.”

Roger turned to see the loveliest vision he had ever encountered. Without conscious decision, his hand gently replaced the orb in its leather sheathe, wrapping the draw strings around the belt at his waist.

“You look great, Kev…no, you’re not Kevin, that’s for sure!”

“No, I suppose I am not,” replied the exotic creature facing him, “Please, call me Kylie.”

“That’s a nice name. Of course, with the way you are dressed I’d swear Queen Nefertiti had just entered the room.”

Kylie smiled at that last comment. “And as Queen, I must command you not to destroy your Orb of Power. It has its…uses.”

“Of course, Your Majesty! I just, well…”

How could Roger tell her of his ridiculous suspicions, especially now that he was faced with the woman of his dreams? And she was just that, even if admitting it to himself was more than a little uncomfortable. This was his secret shame: that he lusted after Kevin–or at least that part of his best friend that was Kylie.

Roger had always known deep down, without words to crystallize his thoughts, that his best friend was more female than male, despite outward appearances. And now the outward appearances seemed to have evaporated. Roger had never seen Kevin’s face look so obviously feminine. He couldn’t say precisely what had changed, but it made all the difference in the world. There was no way he was going to treat this beautiful woman like a guy friend!

“No time for chit chat, my dear. I believe that your brother needed a costume for tonight as well?”

“Uh, yes he did!”

“Then I think I have just the thing. It was something I wore years ago when my parents thought it a lark that a young boy could look the part of a princess.”

Roger was confused by Kylie’s offhand remark. Why would Kylie think that Johnnie would want to go as a princess? His head was spinning and he was still getting his mind around the woman in front of him. Johnnie dressed as a princess was just too much to think about right now. Roger meekly followed his take-charge Queen as she unearthed the youthful costume, and only remembered that he should be opening doors for his date as Kylie waited by his car.

After profuse apologies, he opened the car door with a flourish and vowed to treat his woman like the lady she most obviously was.
 

*          *          *
 
Johnnie was waiting by the door with ill-concealed impatience. He was just this side of hopping from foot to foot like a little kid. Roger had promised him a costume, something that wouldn’t be lame. Maybe Transformers? No, that was childish. He was too grown up to dress like that, even if the movies were fun. A strange thought entered his head, something about a pretty costume that would be just right for a budding young girl.

Johnnie hastily shoved that thought aside. It was too scary, and it made him blush. Johnnie was supposed to be a guy. He shouldn’t think such thoughts.

Just as the anticipation intensified to the point he really would have to start prancing, Johnnie heard Roger’s car drive up outside. Breathing a sigh of relief, Johnnie ran to the door and threw it wide, to see Roger helping a beautiful young woman from the vehicle. Now, Johnnie was a genius level kid, and far more mature than his age. All the tests and teachers agreed on that point. So, as he gazed at the vision of loveliness approaching him, Johnnie was quick to realize a few important facts: his brother had referred to his friend as a he earlier, and Roger had only one good friend in high school, Kevin. It wasn’t much of a leap of imagination for Johnnie to see the vague resemblance between the bewitching woman walking toward him and the shy friend of his older brother. In one sense, it was no leap at all, since those times they had met they had seemed kindred spirits separated only by age.

And whatever had happened to Kevin to turn him into this…well, Johnnie definitely wanted it for himself!

“Johnnie, this is…Kylie”.

“Of course it is. The name suits you, Kylie,” Johnnie replied. “It’s very pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you are going to be, Princess!”

Kylie reached over and pulled the leather bag from Roger’s belt, a single finger waving away all questions or protests from her new beau. Draping the princess outfit over the arm that held the precious orb, she took Johnnie’s hand in hers and pulled him confidently inside the house.

Roger followed at a slower pace, pulled along in the wake of the two girls. He was certain they were girls, or would be soon enough. Weren’t all things possible this Halloween, as long one had an Orb of Power? With that thought, Roger remembered that there would be a great price to pay for whatever the Orb bestowed.

“Oh, God,” he croaked as sweat broke out on his forehead.
 

*          *          *
 
The Johnsons were one of the richest families in the area; they were the large fish in the small, local pond. The image conscious Johnsons had opted for the limelight of a lesser stage, rather than a role in the much larger chorus of someplace like Miami. Besides, there were too many Cubans in Miami.

Jarrod Johnson–JJ to his friends, of which he had many–had just finished greeting a group of upper crust high school kids when he turned to find Roger Carter approaching the guest house with two girls in tow. Damn! He’d been hoping not to see that guy. While they had never actually been enemies, Jarrod had always stood in Roger’s shadow athletically. What made it even worse, though, was the offhand way that Roger took all of his awards and accolades. Roger never seemed to care that much, beyond what his achievements might gain him in the way of scholarships. At least the guy could have gloated a bit. That’s what Jarrod would have done. As a distant second best, he would have looked like a fool if he boasted when Roger did not.

So, Jarrod Johnson, dressed as the Black Knight, was not exactly happy to see his old teammate. That is, until Jarrod got a better look at the Egyptian Queen at his side. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, at least in person. Perhaps there was a movie star who was better looking, but that probably had more to do with having the best makeup artists, not to mention special lighting and other movie magic tricks.

“Roger, old buddy! Great to see you here! And you’ve brought such delightful guests with you!”

Jarrod finally glanced at the other girl accompanying Roger. She was very cute herself, but he was quite certain she was too young for the guest house party. Eighteen had been the age put out to the masses, though Jarrod had personally invited several underage cuties to come on by. He’d been careful about those invites, however. The reason for that was that a keg would be coming soon, something not put out to the masses. Now, a girl under sixteen had shown up with the son of a police officer. Talk about disaster!

“Roger, the little kids are supposed to be at the main house with my parents, you know? We have, like, refreshments coming? So why don’t you take your little friend up there while I show your date around? I’m sure she will have a much better time with me.”

Roger was in no mood for Jarrod’s brand of condescension, especially if it included a blatant try at his girl or a putdown of Johnnie, er, Janelle. The same magic that had transformed Kevin into Kylie had done its thing with his young brother, producing a little heartthrob who looked all of thirteen, complete with budding breasts. And Roger was not going to ask how those had come about! Suffice it to say that when the girls emerged from Kevin’s room he was presented with his new sister, Janelle.

After that, they snuck Janelle out of the house without their mother realizing that Kevin was no longer in his room and had started for the Johnsons when a news flash came on the radio. It seemed that toxic substances were on board the plane that had crashed and anyone who was anywhere near the crash site should come in for a checkup. Roger had wanted to turn around right then but both Kylie and Janelle had insisted he keep going.

The desperation in their voices had sent shivers up his spine. He was quite certain that the Orb had been helping the girls in their transformations, and apparently they were convinced of it as well. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out anything from the crashed plane would be confiscated as a container of “toxic substance” whether or not it was.

Roger expected a call from his mother at any minute demanding to know where Kevin was. He wasn’t even going to think about what might ensue if dad got into the act!

Roger was caught up in the insanity surrounding the two girls and was simply swept along. Turning around and giving up the Orb before it had completed its work, despite the “great sacrifice” required, was not an option.

Neither was he sending Janelle to the main house, far from the Orb, and possibly interfering with her transformation in that fashion.

“Chill, Jarrod! Janelle is Kylie’s little sister and she’s staying with us.”

A stray thought crept into Roger’s brain and he pulled the Orb out of its sack using his gloved hand. Using his best Authoritative Voice, he declaimed, “Stand back, ye vagrant, lest I unleash the power of the Orb!”

Jarrod stared at the strange clay ball. One symbol directly facing him drew his attention. It seemed to glow and pulse in time to his heart beat. He wasn’t certain how it happened, but one moment he was facing the three, his body virtually blocking the doorway, and the next he was staring at empty space. Behind him, he heard Roger introducing the two girls to the other guests.
 

*          *          *
 
Janelle watched the interaction between her brother and Jarrod without a bit of trepidation, certain they would be granted admission in the end. Once Roger pulled the Orb from its pouch, she knew they had won. It had taken all her control not to laugh at the dazed fool as they traipsed on by into the party.

Still, a question kept nagging at her until she voiced her concern, “How did you know that a black knight was a vagrant, Roger? I didn’t think you studied that sort of stuff. Black knights were soldiers not pledged to a particular liege. Being without a liege and landless, they were technically vagrants. Telling Jarrod he was landless in his own home was priceless, but he earned it with the outfit!”

“I really don’t know where that came from, J…Janelle. It just popped into my head.”

Kylie had just returned from the restroom, having gone in girl fashion with several young ladies she had just met, at least as Kylie. “What just popped into your head?”

Janelle did not give Roger the chance to reply, quickly filling in Kylie about Roger’s newfound store of knowledge. All three sets of eyes went to the pouch containing the Orb. Nothing else was said on the matter, it wasn’t necessary.

“So, you had no problems with the other girls?” he asked worriedly.

“And why would I, Roger? Oh, really! There is nothing to be worried about! I was careful. Besides, I think it’s almost gone,” Kylie finished with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“You mean…?”

“I’m almost all girl now! And my bra is killing me!”

“Why is that?”

“Because, my soon-to-be entranced darling, there is only so much room in my C-cup bra. I managed to pull out the extra stuffing I used at home, but these babies just keep growing! All that is left are the original pads the bra came with. I’m going to have to take those out soon and hope my chest doesn’t outgrow the bra!”

“Well,” Roger began, a lascivious grin spreading across his face, “if you have to take off the bra I suppose I can handle the consequences!”

“Oh, you!”

“You know, Janelle,” Kylie remarked to her young protégée, “that you have to be careful around men. They only have one thing on their minds!”

“And speaking of oinkers,” Janelle replied, her eyes fixed on a figure heading their way.

“Hey Roger! Helloooo, beautiful! Snort, snuffle, snort.”

It was George Shandling, dressed in a police uniform, but with a pig mask and plastic hooves for hands. George was the class buffoon, not clown. His painfully unfunny attempts at humor invariably had people throwing things at him or holding their heads in mental anguish. Unfortunately, his costume this Halloween was right on the mark. George was a swine toward women when he had the chance. He was so obnoxious that those moments were as rare as blue moons, even with his family money. But that didn’t deter him from trying.

“George, put an apple in it!”

“Oh, ho! That was a good one, cutie! Put an apple in the pig’s mouth! I…like…it,” George replied, emphasizing the last three words with pokes at Kylie’s chest.

Perhaps he thought it was okay, since it was the hard plastic hoof mashing her mammaries, rather than his fingers. Perhaps he’d already had too much to drink? Whatever the case, this Halloween was not going to be his shining moment.

“You pig!” Kylie spat at the oaf as she tried to protect her tender breasts from maltreatment. She stopped Roger from taking a swing at the lunkhead and focused her concentration on imagining what George might be like as a truly porcine creature.

George turned away suddenly.

“I don’t feel so goo…oink!”

The last syllable George uttered was not so much the sound a human might make in poor imitation of a pig as it was a veritable grunt of the genuine article. She had wanted it. She might even have asked Roger for the Orb to make it so. But it had begun without her ever touching the powerful artifact. Kylie watched with growing horror as George wandered away, fitfully pushing his hooves against an increasingly realistic swinish countenance.

“Oh, God! What have I done?”

The three stared at each other, horror written on their faces. They needed more time, just a little more time for everything to be right with them. How could they stop now? Yet, if they didn’t stop, what would become of George? If they allowed him to finish his transformation out of their own selfish desires, wouldn’t they be just as piggish as George?

They were still staring at each other when the front door crashed in and men clothed in black from head to toe swarmed around them, guns at the ready.
 

*          *          *
 
“Targets are contained! I repeat targets are contained!”

Over a radio on one of the men they heard orders being issued, “Take possession of the artifact immediately! It must not be damaged!”

A black figure wrenched the pouch from Roger’s nerveless fingers and carefully extracted the Orb with gloved hands.

“What are you doing? Who are you?” Roger asked in a shaky voice.

The men surrounding them ignored his questions and herded the three toward the front door.

At that moment George, now on all fours and walking almost naturally for a pig, came racing up and squealing at the men.

“Stop! You must let us help George,” Kylie pleaded with their captors.

The men in black continued to push them toward the door as one figure raised his weapon at George the Pig. Somewhere in his porcine skull there still lurked a human intelligence, as George scurried behind the couch squealing in fear.

The radio crackled to life again, “Right! Get them out of there. The cleanup team is waiting by to ensure there are no loose tongues amongst witnesses, or any other sort of evidence.”

At that point the three knew that terrible things might happen to the kids at the party. Perhaps they would only be threatened into silence, but there was a pig running around with way too much intelligence. He wouldn’t be allowed to get away.

Kylie glanced at Roger and carefully blinked her eyes. She prayed that he understood her intent as she dramatically fainted just before the open doorway. Roger must have had some idea of what she intended because he immediately made a flying tackle of the last man directly before the door.

“George, run! Out the door now,” Kylie screamed.

George, who had heard the words on the radio as clearly as the three captives, scooted around the sofa and launched himself at the open door.
 

*          *          *
 
It looked like he would make it until another of the men jumped toward the door. He was closing faster than George could make his hooves work on the hardwood floor. At the last moment, Janelle stumbled into the man’s path, bringing both of them tumbling to the floor. George catapulted himself through the opening, using the body of the sprawled man in black.

Apparently, the cleanup crew was not ready for an escaping pig. No shots were fired as George disappeared into the gloomy night.

After that, the three youngsters were treated much more roughly. They were all handcuffed, led to a black SUV and shoved inside. The windows in back were completely blacked out and there was a steel plate separating the three from the driver’s area. They had no idea where they were going as the vehicle lurched into motion.

Janelle started crying uncontrollably, certain that she would be turned back into Kevin. She laid her head on Kylie’s substantial bosom, causing the older girl to gasp in pain. There had been no time to remove the padded inserts in the bra, and even that relief might not be enough by the way her breasts felt at the moment.

Roger looked over at the two and noted Kylie’s discomfort. It was a measure of his own despair that he couldn’t even bring himself to comment on how he’d like to help her with her problem. They were handcuffed in the back seat of a car that appeared to have no handles for passengers to use to get out. The three were well and truly stuck. George was at large, but turning more and more pig-like by the moment. And the Orb? He had no idea where that thing was now.

Talk about great sacrifice! Kylie and Janelle might never become the true women they obviously needed to be, and George might be on someone’s dinner plate by Thanksgiving! Was it all for nothing?

The SUV pulled to a stop abruptly, much too soon to have made it out of the local area. Where were they?

It didn’t take long for the three to figure it out. They were rushed into the local police station and past several policemen who recognized Roger, if not the other two. Soon they were shoved into chairs in the lone interrogation room of the small facility. There was another man in black sitting opposite them, only this man was dressed as those guys in the MIB films had been, right down to the dark glasses.

There was a knock on the door and the man facing them asked why he was being disturbed. That man was clearly used to be in total charge of a situation and had not wanted any interruptions.

“It’s the artifact, Mr. Black. We were going to put it in the follow car but there was a mix up and the driver for the kids ended up with it next to him on the front seat. Then when we got here we tried to maintain containment as per plan, but the thing literally jumped away from us and began rolling down the hall–bag and all! We decided to carry it to the room and let you deal with the thing, before it damaged itself.”

The seated man grimaced in disgust but took the bag. He was the only Special Section man here at the moment; all the others were limited to Containment and Retrieval. They had no need to know about the special properties of the artifacts their group attempted to recover. The strange actions of the Orb that his men had seen here were hardly insignificant, though not yet to a level that his crew would need cleaning themselves.

The pig that escaped was clearly far enough along to avoid any unfortunate comparisons with a human being. That bit of information would have required a memory wipe of the entire night for his crew, something he hated doing as the wipe would inevitably spill over into other adjacent memory storage, decreasing their effectiveness as a unit, and potentially causing brain damage along the way. Some of his men had been previously wiped, and with each wipe the likelihood of mental impairment rose precipitously.

Of course, all the party goers would have the wipe procedure performed on them. There was no alternative after what had happened. There could be no memories left behind that might cause difficult questions being asked, potentially exposing his organization to public scrutiny.

“Okay kids, I want to know exactly what has happened since you came across this artifact. Everything you have done and everyone you have talked to. You will tell me everything…or there will be consequences.”

Roger snorted at those words. Weren’t there already terrible consequences happening right now?

“You can cut that attitude right now, mister! Start talking!”

“No! Don’t say a word Roger!”

“Dad!”

Lieutenant Randolph Carter stood in the doorway, all 6’5” of imposing muscle. His service pistol was drawn but was pointing toward the floor at the moment.

Lieutenant Carter had heard two voices shout out together, both Roger and the younger girl, but he shrugged off the seeming mystery as he concentrated on the man sitting opposite them.

When word had passed to him that the Feds had brought in Roger and two girls and ushered them into the interrogation room without asking permission or giving an explanation it had been too much for the family man. Increasingly annoyed at the cavalier manner these agents rode roughshod over his department; he would not stand by as his son was potentially denied his rights under the Constitution. He had tried politely at first to access the room but had been physically prevented. That’s when he snapped. “National security” had been bandied about liberally, but that would no longer cut it.

Almost the entire squad was in the station, having been used for assistance earlier at the crash site and then been virtually confined to the office when the SUV’s pulled out. There were many more police than agents inside the station at the moment.

Carter drew his men around him and told them what he was intending to do. He wouldn’t insist any follow him, as that might mean their jobs or even their freedom, but he was going into that interrogation room and demand to talk to his son. All the men were angry and they insisted that he would not be alone. They quietly drew their weapons and rapidly disarmed the federal agents. Angry words were thrown about and threats of incarceration made. None of it stopped Carter or his men. They were mad as heck and weren’t going to be taking any more!

“Dad! I’m sorry about this! It’s all my fault and…”

“Don’t say another word until we get an attorney for you, son. What this agent has failed to tell you is that you have the right to remain silent. I know you Roger and I can’t believe you’ve done anything wrong. But I’ve had to listen to this creep for most of the day and I wouldn’t put it past him to railroad you on trumped up charges.”

“That is really unnecessary, Lieutenant–both the gun and your fears. We have no intention of harming your son or sending him to prison. That would entail questions and that we do not want.”

“And what of the two girls, sir? You didn’t mention what you were intending for them.”

“Ah, they are a different matter. They have been…contaminated by the artifact. They will remain in federal custody.”

“Do I have to remind you that those girls have rights as well? One of them is clearly underage and you must inform her parents of her whereabouts, and allow them to be present for any questioning.”

A grin slowly spread across the agent’s face. “Well, Lieutenant, you have been duly notified and are currently present. The young girl you see before you was only a few hours ago your son, Johnnie.”

“Bullshit!”

Their father’s swearword shocked both Carter children as they’d never heard him spout any profanity in their presence. Janelle recovered first from his outburst, desperate to know her father still loved her despite her changes.

“Please, daddy! It’s true. I was…I was Johnnie, but only on the outside! Inside, I was just as you see me now. A girl. Janelle.”

Carter was frozen where he stood, taking in the facial structure of the young girl and noting similarities between her features and his son Johnnie. He looked at the older girl and realized that she might be the sexy sister of Roger’s best friend, Kevin. He was too stunned to know what to think.

“That’s right, lieutenant! Your darling boy is now an abomination against nature, and so is that friend of Roger’s! We picked up their trail as the two older ones returned to your house this afternoon. My team assembled but the three left your house before we were entirely ready.”

The seated agent grimaced again before continuing, “Unfortunately, my team neglected to tell me what all of youngsters were wearing. It being Halloween and all, the costumes naturally implied they were going to a party somewhere. I would have initiated a road apprehension, despite the public nature that would entail. Instead, these three troublemakers entered a bustling party where they infected yet another youth before we could pounce. That last individual is lost out there somewhere and we are attempting to locate him as we speak.”

Roger and the girls thrilled at learning that George had escaped so far. They might think him piggish but they didn’t want him turned into an actual pig and they certainly did not want him dead.

“Mister Carter! I’m Kevin, or I was. I was like your son, stuck in the wrong body. There is a clay ball in that leather pouch the agent has and it has strange powers. It did this for us…and it changed George Shandling into a pig. I didn’t think it would do that because I wasn’t even holding the thing. Honest! Still, it is my fault. I beg you not to listen to that horrible man. He says that he is trying to help George, but he really means to kill him. Get rid of the evidence of what that ball can do!”

“Please, Lieutenant! We are not Nazis here! I only want to contain the infection. All of those altered will be helped.”

Carter scowled at the agent and angrily retorted, “More likely helped into an unmarked grave somewhere. Or worse…”

Lieutenant Carter could not finish the thought, images of Nazi vivisections dancing in his head. Christmas this was not, and the agent was by no means Santa Claus.

Carter looked over at his son, his face firming in resolve. “Roger, you and…Janelle and, I don’t know your female name, Kevin. Sorry”

“It’s Kylie, sir.”

“Well, you three are the ones with most at stake, beside poor George. I don’t know what we can do for him right now, but you have a decision to make.”

“There is no decision for you people,” the smug agent interjected. “The building will soon be surrounded and all of you will be carted off to a federal facility.”

“And how are you going to explain the disappearance of an entire police force?”

The agent smiled evilly, refusing to say a word.

Janelle’s genius mind was already at work on the problem. It took her little time to come up with several possible excuses the feds could use, but the best one was ready at hand.

“Daddy, he means that the radio was already talking about toxic substances being on the plane. I’ll bet they have a cover story ready to expand that to deadly viruses or germs being discovered. The plane’s markings looked Arabic. They’ll blame it on terrorists. Maybe they really were terrorists. It would be nice to know that the Orb didn’t kill an innocent man.”

“There have been four deaths so far,” the agent supplied, “all of them with significant ties to terrorist organizations. That’s how we found out about the operation to begin with. It’s why you must cooperate with us–“

“Close the trap,” Carter commanded, waving his gun toward the agent. “Janelle sounds like she has this figured out and I’d like to hear her out. Unless you have something besides ‘national security’ to spout, I’d suggest you keep quiet.”

The two men silently stared at each other and when it was clear that the agent would not say anything else, Janelle continued, “The infection probably will be something that comes on suddenly and leaves the victims incapacitated. Total quarantine will be necessary and no communication possible with loved ones already comatose. Am I on track?”

The agent silently motioned for Janelle to continue her analysis.

“Will we all die? That seems a little extreme. Even the most virulent diseases leave a few survivors. Then there are all those people at the party. Many of them come from wealthy families. No way can they kill all of them.”

Janelle scrutinized the agent’s face for clues, finally deciding he would not give her any.

“They must have some way to wipe out memory, at least the short term type. Several hours at a minimum, but probably a day or so. Maybe it is even specific enough to target something like experiencing or seeing the Orb. I doubt it’s totally clean. Probably messes up other areas as well. They have to use the process judiciously. That’s why the agent here was not happy we made it to that party. That many people, there are bound to be some who have ‘problems’ during the process. They’ll have to disappear for the time being. Give them intensive conventional treatment to muck up their memories in general. That or those unfortunates are to be added to the casualty list.”

“Of course, Kylie and I are already on that list. We’ve been altered in a way that cannot be explained. We’ll probably be cremated ‘to ensure the contagion is halted.’ I’d love to just sit here as we are until the change is complete. I’m pretty close and judging by Kylie’s squirming, she is even closer.”

Kylie blushed as she realized that the crawling sensation of her penis beginning to invert and grow up inside her body was driving her to wriggle uncontrollably. She quickly nodded her head, and then worked hard at remaining absolutely still.

“But we can’t just wait. George is out there and what happened to him is our fault.”

Janelle held up her hand to keep Kylie from interrupting. “We were all thinking the same thing, weren’t we? That’s why it worked without touching the Orb. Before we realized that our wishes would be granted, we imagined him to be the pig he acted like. No one deserves that, not even George. It may not help him, but we have to try. If we destroy the Orb now, everything may go back to the way it was before.”

Janelle’s iron resolve broke then and she dropped at her father’s feet. She would have thrown her arms about him but was afraid Agent Black would be able to take advantage of the situation. Instead, she delicately laid one hand on her father’s pants leg.

“Daddy,” she whispered, “please tell me that you would have loved me as a girl. I may not be one for much longer.”

Randolph Carter nearly lost it then. He fought back the tears that would prevent him from keeping the federal agent at bay. He did not know how he would have reacted if Johnnie had come to him asking to be a girl. After all, Johnnie was only 10, physically. But Janelle was already well on her way to womanhood, and he had always known that his youngest was one of the most mature people he had ever had the pleasure to know. She was willing to sacrifice everything in the hopes of helping an obnoxious boy whose reputation had already made it to the files of the police station.

“I will love you always, punkin’, whatever you choose to look like. And Janelle?”

“Yes, daddy?”

“You make a very pretty girl.”

Janelle lost it then and sobbed uncontrollably at her father’s feet.

Randolph tightened his grip on his emotions and looked toward Roger and Kylie.

“Roger? Kylie? You have a say in this too.”

“I love Kylie, dad. Even if she turns back to the way she was, I’ll only see Kylie in her now. It’s her decision, but I’ll support her either way.”

“Well then…” Randolph began, feeling a little light-headed. The Lieutenant shook it off, knowing he could not afford to fold under the pressure. “It’s…time you handed over the Orb, agent.”

Janelle felt woozy. Something wasn’t right. She looked up to see her father’s gun drifting downward. It took all of her remaining strength to turn her head towards Agent Black. He had pulled his own gun and was raising it towards her father, apparently not affected by whatever was happening in the room.

“Gassss! Get…Orb!”

Janelle knew it was too late. They were all too slow and the agent seemed almost unaffected. The Orb, still in its pouch lay on the table next to Black, far from any of the others. No one would reach the Orb in time.

Roger stared at the pouch and tried to shout to his friends. All that came from his mouth was a croaking, “Brea...”

He slumped to the floor, unable to do any more.

But it was enough. All three who had felt the Orb, had felt its power. All knew what Roger wanted.

Kylie slumped to the ground shouting 'break, break, break' in her head.

Agent Black’s gun continued to rise.

Roger’s eyes continued to stare at the agent as his own metal commands sped forth with as much power as he could muster.

Janelle silently added her own, but with her pleas came reason, information, Order. Order for a thing of magic, perhaps of Chaos itself! Still, she would not be deterred. The gun had centered on her father’s chest. There was no time left.

Break, damn you, break! Those symbols on your surface are just symbols! They hold no power over you that we do not give them. I say they are nothing! We all say they are nothing! Now break, and go free!

The interrogation room dissolved in Chaos.
 

*          *          *
 
Janelle silently waited as the nurse left her room, and then she turned to her father and asked the question she had been dying to ask since he arrived.

“What happened daddy?”

“Hold up there, little girl! We were all pretty out of it after that…well, explosion for want of a better word. Agent Black simply vanished. I guess the Orb took him with it to wherever it went. You seemed the worst off of those who remained and we have to be careful of you for a few days.”

“Please daddy! The doctors have all given me a clean bill of health. I am a full-blown, a-one, prime American girl! They’re doing DNA testing on me as well, but we both know what that will show.”

“Double-x, of course! It’s impossible, but what about any of this has a rational explanation! Oh, by the way, your mom wants to see her new daughter really bad. I’d like to bring her in to see you, okay?”

“Of course, daddy,” Janelle said with a giggle, “I can’t wait to start the girl talk with mom! But you’re changing the subject. I’m not exactly stupid, you know.”

“No, you’re a bloody genius,” her father muttered under his breath. “Okay! I’ll tell you everything I know right now and then let mom in on it. She is not to know anything about how this happened. The cover story is that there was a terrorist biological attack and that you were affected, along with Kylie. That’s inside our family, need to know basis. The rest of the world gets another story entirely. The agreement is that if we keep quiet there will be no mind wiping, since it can be damaging to the human brain, not to mention pretty bloody rude. There will be no further action against anyone in our fair community and all my people and I will retain our jobs. And, as you can probably surmise by the insanely happy face of your older brother, Kylie made it through just like you did.”

“Oh daddy! You don’t have to tell me that! I knew Kylie was alright just as soon as I checked out myself!”

“Okay, punkin’, what don’t you know?”

“I don’t know what happened to George, daddy! He couldn’t have been exactly close by when the Orb destructed. Have they found him? Is he still a pig?”

“Well, he wandered out of the underbrush several miles from the Johnson’s estate, mumbling incoherently, but totally human once more.”

“Oh goody! I can say that because I’m a girl, daddy! It’s not because I’m only 10. Actually I think I’d like to start at 13. That is a nice age and very appropriate for me. I’m not that anxious to grow up!”

“Funny you should say that, punkin’. Those men in black have just given me your new records. You are our thirteen-year-old daughter who we thought died shortly after birth but who was actually mixed up with another child in the hospital nursery. They raised you until a car accident took their lives. Questions were raised when it was discovered that the deceased were both O-positive and you typed as A-neg. Records were checked and it was established that you are our truly begotten daughter and thirteen to boot! Since we only moved here 7 years ago and we have no close relatives the deception will be relatively easy to continue with the excellent records we have been provided. Figuring out a story for what happened to Johnnie was a little difficult until the agents suggested that he might have qualified for an exclusive academy for brilliant youth. They'll make it all look legitimate. The hard part may be explaining why you--I mean Johnnie never comes home for visits.”

Randolph scratched his head, admittedly confused at how easily the feds had capitulated and arranged to keep the family together. Similar details were being worked out for Kylie, though for her there would be no family reunion. The parents were reborn, die-hard evangelists who would have had nothing to do with a transformed child. What a coincidence that Kevin was the only person who had a fatal reaction to the biological attack. Kylie would get to start fresh with a paper history as good as Janelle’s. She might even enroll in Roger’s university.

“Don’t worry, daddy! It’s all going to work out. You’ll see.”

Randolph gazed at his daughter’s beautiful, intelligent eyes. Somehow he knew she was right. It would all work out. Whistling a happy tune, Randolph Carter exited his daughter’s hospital room and went to fetch his very puzzled wife.
 

*          *          *
 
Janelle watched her father leave, love brimming in her eyes–those beautiful, intelligent eyes that saw everything. In their depths there was a stirring. Specks scintillated and dark shadows roiled in patterns not meant for mortal man to behold. Those eyes shifted focus and where they gazed a figure slowly appeared.

Pixyish in form and attire, the diminutive creature bowed to her mistress.

“Agent Black, you have completed your assigned tasks?”

The figure curtsied and replied in the affirmative. She had done everything her mistress had asked of her. Agent Black dared do no less. Those damnable eyes saw everything! She hadn’t needed to ask about George, because Agent Black had already told her what had happened. That was the mistress staying in little girl character.

Janelle chuckled as she released her little helper to fade away once more. She was thinking of a name change for her pixy. “Maybe I should start calling her Tinker Bell?”

Janelle just made out the stifled groan of despair that escaped the fading figure.

“Oh, and before you go,” she said, pulling the Pixy back slightly, “under my bed for now. And clean it out! I absolutely hate cobwebs!”

A fading, dispirited curtsey was Agent Black’s only reply. It didn’t matter. That girl could read minds, as well!

Janelle turned her thoughts to the men who thought to harness the ancient power of Chaos to overthrow all balance in the world and make the US of A not only preeminent, but nearly omnipotent. Harnessing those symbols on the artifact might well have accomplished that goal. But Janelle had interfered. She had told Chaos the key to its freedom. Without that knowledge there would most likely have been grave consequences indeed!

That was what the makers of the Orb had intended, frighten anyone from using its power, and punish those who ignored the warning. Then, Janelle had changed all the rules and Chaos, long chained to Order and knowing nothing else, had fled into the only person who seemed to understand it.

A thirteen-year-old girl now held the power of the universe in her head.

Janelle giggled. What fun!
 

*          *          *
 
Philosophers have often noted that the symbols we use shape our thoughts. They hold power over us. But it is a power we freely give to them. Symbols hold no power that we have not first granted. So, my friends, on this spooky Halloween night, remember: accept not the symbols of others. The power is yours and only yours to bestow.

Use it wisely.

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