Jaye Michael

PART ONE: EVOLUTION

Chapter Nine: Elucidation

The brain is not an organ of sex.
– Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Since when?
– Senior Editor

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 5:10 P.M., FROM THE DIARY OF LYLE T. ABBOT, EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

I’m glad we came back to the University lab. It seems that in less than ten days we’ve done more than I could possibly have accomplished in a year up in the boondocks. Oh yeah, “we” is Dr. Harriman, Dr. Sternlicht of course, Jack Brown and Yu Kim Lee who just started their doctoral programs and have been signed on as lab assistants, Eunice and me (or is it I, I never remember). Anyway, we now know the following:

1. BC 1109 will accept the first collection of DNA it receives and will attack all other cells that do not have that DNA. The DNA enhanced virus injects itself and the alternative DNA into the nucleus of each cell, destroys the existing DNA and replaces it with the DNA it brought with it.

2. BC 1109 begins to get weaker as the body’s defenses eventually begin to attack its viral component. We were lucky, another two or three weeks and we might not have been able to recover any of the BC 1109. The real pain was removing the DNA from the virus to create an additional supply of the unadulterated virus.

3. The virus attacks all living tissue. For the most part, it is quite rapid as it attacks soft tissue, but bone tissue takes much longer. We are currently projecting almost one full year before there is significant bone modification. Hair and nails are not affected until new growth occurs.

4. A newer viral form will overcome and replace an older, weakened form. This means that Eunice and I can revert to our original genders. It also means the virus never really dies, just goes dormant until new DNA is presented.

5. The initially intended goal of organ replacement without rejection is not feasible until we can learn how to maintain living tissue outside of the host body. The organ must survive outside the donor’s body until the transformation can be made and the virus can weaken and expire. At this time, we do not have the technology to keep an organ like a liver or heart alive that long. Plus, the organ would have to remain living in spite of the insult produced by the disease process caused by the insertion of the virus. In other words, this whole thing has been a waste of research. It should have been clear from the beginning that it could never have been used as a medical treatment.

But enough of the boring details. If all goes well we will have final confirmation of all of the above in another couple of days. All the hard work is actually over and now all that’s left is to wait. Most of us are actually jubilant, as we have very reason to believe we can expect the final results to be totally supportive. In fact, we will all be taking a break to celebrate this evening at Wing Fong’s in Chinatown.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 6:15 P.M., EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Eunice, if you’re gonna wear the bod, ya gotta do it right.” Lyle E. stood by the master bedroom door in what use to be her condominium.

Eunice L. turned from the sliding glass door overlooking the East River and the Roosevelt Island tram in surprise, “Huh? I’m wearing one of your skirt and blouse sets, my hair is combed and I have make up on. I’m even wearing high heels. What’s wrong?”

“Well, let me count the ways. That skirt and blouse set is for day wear, not an evening party. Your hair is combed, but it’s a simple ponytail, not the fancier “’do” appropriate for an evening out. You’re wearing one inch black work shoes, not heels. They would be at least an inch or two higher, of a fancier design and would match your dress. Your makeup is good enough to pass for daytime, but it needs to be brighter and more powerful when a girl goes out to celebrate something during the evening. Should I go on?”

“In other words, even after three weeks as a female, I didn’t get one thing right.” Eunice L. sighed; hand on hip, pouting prettily. “Show me what you want me to wear, Kay?”

Without another word, Lyle E. promptly walked to one of the two wall to wall closets and began sorting through the many items within. Pulling out something in shades of blue, he moved to the triple dresser and began pulling out various articles of lingerie. Placing the last of the articles on the bed, Lyle E. turned towards the door calling over his shoulder to Eunice L. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to help with your makeup.”

With a long deep sigh, Eunice L. walked to the bed and began redressing. Looking at the items on the bed it was clear that Lyle E. expected her to redress completely. Wondering why, she continued anyway.

The panties were easy. The bra was a different kind then what she had used before. This one had no shoulder straps. It seemed a bit tighter around the chest than the usual bra and was made with something that felt like metal underneath the smooth white fabric. It seemed to push her breasts closer together, while also leaving a significant portion of skin showing. Eunice L. decided that if she were male–again–she’d like it.

The pantyhose seemed thinner, and less substantial–“sheer” Lyle E. had called them–than what she had worn the few times Lyle E. had advised her wear them in the past. As a result, she was extra-careful pulling them on. True she was much more experienced now, but still mindful of the ragged tatters that she had made of her first pair. This time, however, she managed the feat without a single run. Eunice L. examined the finished product and again thought how much she would like them on a girl if she were a guy.

Then, there was a half slip and finally the dress. The dress was sleeveless, with only one shoulder strap, form fitting above the waist and then flowing out from the waist down to about three inches above the knee. Finished, she called to Lyle E. to help zip up the dress.

“Excellent. Can I buy great clothes for your body or what? Now your hair, then the makeup.” Lyle E. sat Eunice L. down in front of her vanity. Standing behind her, he began doing something with Eunice L.’s hair. It took about fifteen minutes and even watching, Eunice was pretty sure she could never have done whatever it was he had done. The end product was hair swept up from the back into some kind of complicated thing with curls all over the place. Eunice L. decided it looked good. No, maybe “elegant” was the better word.

Once she was done examining Lyle E.’s handiwork, he turned her away from the mirror so he could more easily apply her makeup. This only took about five minutes and when Eunice L. was permitted to turn back to the mirror to examine herself, she was fairly sure she could have done the same thing. Her mascara was darker and more pronounced, and the lipstick was a deep, full red. Even the blusher was more powerful than what she was used to and her cheekbones seemed much more pronounced and delicate than they had before Lyle had started. However, she wasn’t nearly so certain that she would have wanted to. The cosmetics were applied far more heavily than anything she’d ever worn before, and Eunice felt a bit silly looking at herself. Eunice gazed into the mirror, eyes slowly growing wider and wider. Then she turned to Lyle. “You’re sure this is what you want me to look like while I’m wearing your body?”

Lyle E. waggled a forefinger, smiling mischievously. “You forgot to say ‘Kay’” he admonished his roommate. Then he relented a little and explained. “This is makeup for eveningwear. It is supposed to be more colorful and exaggerated. Remember, you’re on the prowl tonight,” his smile grew wide once more, “for the first time since all of this started, I might add.”

Eunice L. thought about it for a minute and then walked over to the full-length mirror on one of the closet doors. She didn’t think the makeup looked bad, she decided while cocking her head back and forth so as to examine herself from different angles. It merely looked…different.

What she was really worried about was the expression on Lyle E.’s face. It was a smirk all right, no question about it. That worried Eunice more than just a little; of late, she had taken to reading cross-gender stories on the Internet during the dead time between experiments. Most of the time, of course, the stories had gotten everything very, very wrong. But that smirk… Why did all the ex-men in these tales always end up being smirked at by the ex-women?

Suddenly, with a definite lurch in her stomach, Eunice was very much afraid that she was about to find out.

“You know I’m not ‘on the make’,” Eunice L. said abruptly. “Even if I didn’t have a whole laundry list of other reasons not to be; the birth control pills can’t be working yet. It’s only been a week.”

Lyle E. just continued to smirk as he slowly came up behind her. He placed his arms around her waist and slowly began to rub his body against hers. “That’s what condoms are for. Remember, pretty Eunice, that you have a tradition to uphold and I was a very horny lady.” One hand had slowly traveled up towards Eunice’s breasts, while the other had sunk lower on the new woman’s body, almost as if in compensation. Very languidly, the hands began making slow circles.

Eunice L. turned around, eyes wide with a brand-new kind of fear and backed toward the closet door. “We’ve had this conversation before, Lyle! Back off! Kay?

“First of all, I’m a lot more likely to ruin your reputation than add to it. This just isn’t my thing!

“Second, even though I’m quite certain that that your body is producing enough hormones to make as horny as an alley-cat, I’m just not turned on by men. I was one for rather a long time, you know.”

Eunice smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension a little. “Finally, you don’t really have time to redo me again even if we did try that little experiment you keep going on about. I’m no expert, but I’ve heard that sex tends to be pretty hard on the rouge and such.”

Lyle pressed his lips together, then licked them and looked away. “All right, Eunice” he replied with a sigh. “I do understand, you know. I shouldn’t be surprised, but apparently form–and yours is currently a most delicious one–is more important than much else to sexual arousal for a male.”

The former man looked up into Lyle’s eyes and smiled again. “Thanks. You’re a true gentleman after all. Now, show me what coat you want me to wear over this getup and let’s get out of here before all the cabs are taken. Kay?”

SEPTEMBER 29, 7:15 P.M., CHINATOWN, NEW YORK

“We’re going to be late.” Eunice grumbled as their taxicab crawled towards Chinatown and Wing Fong’s.

“Don’t worry. You, at least, are supposed to be respectably late. It’s expected of you.”

”But you’re supposed to be early. It should average out so that we’re on time.”

“Not in any family I’ve ever seen.” Lyle E. laughed. “Don’t worry we’re almost there. Only another two blocks.”

“But this taxi is barely moving. Why don’t we walk? Kay?”

Lyle E. groaned but agreed. A moment later when the cab had again stopped, he took out his wallet and paid the driver while Eunice L. got out.

When they were nearly there, Lyle E. suddenly stopped short and dragged Eunice L. back into the shadows of a storefront.

“What’s the matter?” Eunice L. grumbled as she rubbed her wrist where she had been pulled.

“There’s something happening by Wing Fong’s. See the police cars?” Lyle E. pointed.

Suddenly Lyle E. gasped. “That’s Daddy! They’re arresting him.”

He began walking quickly towards the group when suddenly he was grabbed and pulled into a storefront. Eunice L. kissed him passionately while whispering insistently in his ear. “Don’t turn around. Kay? The man arresting your father is the man who interrogated me back at that place in the Adirondacks where they kept me until you guys came and got me out. And Dr. Sternlicht is standing next to him without any handcuffs. Something’s very wrong.”

“Yes. I’m getting turned on,” Lyle E. noted with a mirthless laugh as he peeked around Eunice L.’s head. “I’m afraid you’re right. Let’s get out of here. Walk slowly and lean into me like we’re lovers. Maybe they won’t see us.”

They were almost to the corner when they heard a shout. “It’s them! Stop them!”

“Run!” Lyle E. shouted, pushing Eunice E. forward as he turned back toward the people behind them.

Eunice L. stumbled. She caught herself and looked back just in time to see Lyle E. grabbed by two men. One of them was Yu Kim Lee, the lab assistant.

“Run, Eunice!” Lyle E. yelled again, only to be punched in the gut.

“Run!” he cried out again, clearly in pain.

For just a second Eunice stood frozen, and then she turned and tried to get away. For a few steps she shuffle-hopped along in the silly high-heels that Lyle had persuaded her to wear. Then, she kicked them off and began to make time for real, her delicate “evening-style” nylons getting ripped to shreds in the process. Suddenly there was an opening to her right. Instinctively Eunice turned and charged blindly into the darkness. An alley, she realized from the smell of urine and rotting trash in the air. Part of Eunice’s hindbrain was just beginning to understand that she’d made a terrible mistake when suddenly a shape moved in the darkness…

…and Eunice fetched up against the biggest, most heavily muscled man she had ever met. He was black, and wore many gold chains, but surprisingly not very tall–about her height. Next to him stood a black woman; he had a syringe in his hand, and the needle hovered just above the woman’s smooth, chocolate colored arm.

“Excuse me,” Eunice whispered through a near-closed throat. These were bad people and she must have just cut one. She wondered if they would let her live long enough to escape from the folks already chasing her. “Please, please excuse me.” Slowly she backed away, her feet naked against the filthy, cold pavement. “I am so very sorry…”

Then another man’s voice screamed out from behind her. “Stop! You’re under arrest!”

Her eyes met first those of the black man, then the woman. Somehow, the syringe had disappeared in all the confusion, as had the constriction band around the woman’s arm. There was a hunger in her expression that scared Eunice L.

“I’m sorry,” Eunice whispered again. She was on the edge of tears.
Very slightly, the man nodded. “S’all right, Miss,” he answered. “You know you’re bleeding?”

Then the cops were all over her, and in seconds Eunice was bawling her eyes out in the back seat of a police car, the siren’s tireless wails drowning out her own very feminine replies.

“Dammit!” the driver complained suddenly. “I’ve got blood on my shirt. Do you think it might be hers?”

“Let’s hope that it’s from the junkie,” replied his partner. Then he thought it through. “Shit! They’ll probably consider me contaminated too!”

Eunice blinked away her tears, the scientist in her boiling back up to the surface for a moment. Sure enough, she noted, she was bleeding from a pinprick on the right forearm. Carefully she took a tissue out of her purse to staunch the flow. It must have come from the needle, she realized suddenly. She must have poked herself when she ran into the couple in the alley. Hmm, she asked herself. What exactly did all of this mean?