Here we are again. I disclaim of course, and I think you all for your patience.

Now in this installment, we answer those burning questions...about baseball.

This time, I woke to what appeared to be a darkened airplane hangar or warehouse, some large building that I couldn't see the walls of. Inhabited by many shadows, all with yellow hardhats on top of their silhouettes. Oh, I'm dreaming again. Off in distance, the shadows were constructing something; they looked to be taking large boxes from one tarped..building? It looked tall enough...and carrying the items to another cloaking thing and plugging them in or stacking them. I watched for a moment, amused. I have been having the weirdest dreams lately....

"Hey you! Yeah, you!" A female silhouette with a dark red hard hat walked up to me; I couldn't tell anything else other than her gender, and that she was about my size, just a bit smaller once she got close enough. She spoke in an over the top 'joisey' accent that couldn't be real, and wasn't, of course.

"You the boss?' She asked loudly, and I got the distinct impression of a gimlet stare. 'Yeah that's you, you're the client. Well come on, come on, I may got to give you the tour, but I don't got to take all day at it."

Still a bit bemused, I followed her as she led the way closer to tall shapes. She led the way to a table just in front of them, pointing to a set of architects' blueprints laying on a carpenters' table. Depicted on the blueprints were two forms, also silhouettes. One tall, one small with curves like my weird foreman..? Foreperson? Forething?

"So here we are, as you can see we've had to do some on site modifications to make our deadline and keep budget. All OSHA certified of course, completely safe! Absolutely. The power plant is in' She pointed to the smaller figures' head. 'and showing almost 40% capacity already. That's good. On the other hand, the bundles here aren't fully moved yet. We're a bit behind on those." She was pointing at the larger figures' arms and legs.

That got my attention.

"You have questions? One second; hey, you! dummy!' she pointed at on of the workers. 'Not that one, the other one! you don't pull the right one, he feels all the pain in the lower right quadrant! You want him sidelined for the big game?!?"

The worker, which somehow managed to look sheepish despite having no face, went back to pulling out a box to the right of the one he was pulling out before.

"don't worry, they aren't all as stupid as this mook; we have you covered. So, your questions?"

"What is going on here, exactly?"

She cocked her head. "Really? You don't know? Why renovations of course, got the plans from the chief architect itself! Got to follow them, bad things will happen if we don't. It's OK though, don't worry, it knows what it's doing...mostly."

"Why does this fail to reassure me? OK I'll bite, what does the finished product look like?"

"Ah, a great question; the answer is, no one knows, not even the chief architect. It won't look bad though, I've seen the plans!" She gestured to the table behind her. As soon as I was distracted looking that way she muttered something.

"What was that?"

"I said, that there might be a few minor performance glitches. You have good ears."

"What kind of performance issues?" She put her hands behind her back and whistled in a classic pose that spoke of a child getting her hand caught in a cookie jar.

"Don't worry, don't worry! Me and the boys already worked out a good fix for most of it, and OSHA certified, just like I promised! we're good like that, and after all, the power plant is nearing 40% capacity! That's really really good, it insures our fix will work Well...mostly. One second: You!, Yeah you, sweep this trash up! these bone fragments are everywhere, and a hazard! Someone could trip! OK, you were saying?"

"I think I need to talk to this chief architect of yours; know where 'it' is?"

"It's around; you sure you want to talk to it? it's a really unreasonable sort of thing."

"Yeah I'm sure; I'd rather avoid any performance issues if I could."

"OK, well don't say I didn't warn ya; just look behind you."

Like a moron, I looked, and there it was, the largest blue and pink Watson and Crick double helix ever. But alive, as if Godzilla were a living tentacled mass of D.N.A. And
on top of this squirming cyclopean mass...a huge maw with shard like teeth. My 'foreperson' and I shared a long look.

"What? I didn't make it that way."

Then of course it grabbed me and started to pull, hauling me towards it's stupid looking mouth. Panic only barely begins to describe what I felt that moment.

"Myrc, look at me! Focus!' All trace of her ridiculous accent was gone as I struggled, in it's place was a slightly harried but soothing tone one might use on colicky children.
'you can't stop it, neither of us can...but it doesn't have to be bad; I promise you, it can all work out! so just calm down, relax, and take each day as it comes, OK? Please?
Can you..."

Then the maw swallowed me whole, and I knew no more.

Till I woke up of course, an unreleased scream on my lips and the remains of panic in my heart. Glad I held it in; screaming at the top of my lungs would have been pretty embarrassing. It was...morning? The sunlight shining through my window certainly seemed to announce that with finality. Last I remember it was just after dinner, and I was messing around on my computer...but my computer was powered down and all my books were stowed. I was out of my gym clothes and in pajamas, and the only thin I remember about the intervening time was a strangely compelling dream which was even now fading. Something about New Jersey...heck no wonder it was a nightmare!

So, almost nine, the wonderful smell of homemade waffles in the air, and only a few wispy clouds on game day. Not bad at all. Unfortunately I ruined it by moving. My limp had settled itself, I noticed right away...by one hip deciding the other had the right idea; now both were acting the same, forcing me to swing my hips to walk at all. Moving to the bathroom was another mistake, as one look in the mirror convinced me my nose had shrank...but at least it no longer looked broken. Very straight, very small, with one of those little upturns at the end. Something else was wrong with my face, but I couldn't pin it down. At least I still looked mostly like myself. After a quick awkward shower where I stared anywhere but down at myself while I soaped up and rinsed off (and hoped this wouldn't become a trend) And I was out, where I noticed the third and fourth major
difference.

Toweling off actually hurt. And not a little hurt either, but a nice solid chafing that throbbed. Secondly my uniform, my beloved uniform, no longer fit. I could barely pull the pants over my apparently now huge butt, and the cuffs were now too long. The shirt mostly fit, but of course it itched terribly all over my torso, and the sleeves had too much length. Just perfect...I was losing size too, somehow, yet getting fatter? I stepped on mom's scale (a leftover from her diet days, when she had us loving kids and dieted to lose excess weight) and I weighed in at 120 pounds. Again...what the hell?

Even the faded dirt and grass stains were in the wrong places...let's see, about an inch here, and maybe 2 inches there, and the shirt seemed longer...Reviewing my cussing lessons in my head again, I decided that de nile was more than a river in Egypt, and if I didn't see it yet, no one else would. Perfect way to deal with the fact that I was becoming a large carnivorous DNA worm thing, at least for today.

Thus bolstered, I walked bold as brass downstairs.

"Morning mom!" Great, another shock, though this one was more mild and less mental health threatening; my voice, never the strongest under the best of circumstances, barely responded at all, as a rather wispy whisper. Odd, out of all the things happening today, my throat felt the least treacherous. Stupid body, turning into a mutant worm. Stupid me, for thinking up the mutant worm thing...where had that even come from?!?

"How are you honey? You OK, you look...different. And awful. I think a visit to the E.R. might be in your near future."

"honestly I feel fine. I think I know what's wrong with me, and I don't think it's anything that the E.R can help."

And just like that, she was in my face, concern etching her face, making her look much older suddenly.

"What do you think it is?"

"Are dad and Ian up? I don't want to have to say this twice. I don't think there is any cause for your alarm though; I don't think its any life threatening disease or anything."

"whats a disease?" Dad asked, walking in from the garage, Ian in tow.

"Oh,' I replied while snagging a plate and piling it full of waffles. 'I think I'm a mutant with G.S.D., and I'm busy changing at the moment."

"..."

Great, I had them speechless. then all at once, the dam broke.

"Cool! Can you do anything amazing yet?" Ian.

"Are you sure?" Mom.

"Well, you do look a mite..different. Dad.

"Different? he looks like he shrunk!" Thank you, Ian.

I held up a hand. "It's kind of easy to explain why I think I'm a mutant, but it all boils down to what Ian said; what other kind of body problem leads to a loss of height in just a few days? If you'll all look, its pretty obvious." And it was...to prove it, I moved next to my mother; we were staring each other in the eyes, something that was impossible less than a week before.

"Yes I see it now...and you look a mite more like your mom than you used to. And have a lot less of my own distinctive good looks."

"Are there midget mutants?"

"Get bent Ian. Seriously."

"So why do you think you have G.S.D.?"

"What is G.S.D.?"

"Gross structural deformity; a polite way of saying you now look like a freak of nature. And it's the only thing I can think of that explains massive body change; Most mutants
don't change much at all."

"Well to be fair, I don't think that structurally you have changed all that much; you could be done."

"Mom, I don't look that different to you? You think shrinking and getting fat are valid mutant powers? Are you smoking pot again?"

"You promised never to bring that up again. I'll forgive you this once, but another mention gets you grounded."

"Hmm, come to think of it, this might explain the mess in the garage. I thought Ian did it, making those derby cars of his."

"A mess in the garage? I don't think Ive been in there since last Monday, when I mowed. We got time, I want to see." I carried the plate out with me, chewing all the while,
almost daring mom to get mad...she gave me a look, but let it slide. At least, I thought she had.

"You said something about getting fat? Do you think you should be eating like that if you are?" she whispered, a fact which I was thankful for.

"I can't help it, I'm really hungry...and my waist shrank a bit I think, but check out my butt. It's huge...I really hope I'm not going to sprout a second set of legs or something."

She checked, and poked. Dad and Ian did not notice.

"Mom! What the hell!" I hissed.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about a second set of legs." she said, giving me another good once over. I was getting really sick of all those stares. But I knew they were likely just beginning. Sigh, Ralph, and me.

Then I caught sight of the garage.

"What hit this place?"

The entire space was filled with tools discarded haphazardly, little scraps of wood and metal (none bigger than a dime) and a workbench loaded with papers...schematics. It looked like dozens of them. I didn't want to admit it, in the face of my dads' displeasure, but at least a few of them looked slightly familiar. He looked at me and asked, though.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry sir, I think I might have...but I don't remember it."

"Well son, I'm not mad, yet, but I'd really like to know what required the motors out of half my power tools, a stack of my power tool batteries, and half the engine from my
project car...and where all the missing stuff is."

"...What?" I looked again...most of his Black and Decker power tools were in fact stripped, the lithium ion batteries missing...and my dads project car (an 1973 barracuda, black) looked like gremlins had torn apart the engine, throwing pieces as far as five feet away carelessly.

"I'm sorry sir,' I tried again...'but I really don't know what happened here, I can't remember. I'll try to fix or replace what I can, as soon as I can. I promise."

His gaze swept past me a second, then back and softened.

"OK son, I believe you. You will however, put everything back, and replace what you can, as you promised."

"My brother, the mutant mess maker" Ian snickered.

"Laugh it up, ass. I can still take you."

"Language Myrc; and Ian, be more considerate please. Your brother is going through a rough time."

"Yes mom." we chorused.

"Alright, you can go to this game, but afterwards you clean this up and take an inventory of what's missing to start. I'll call Dr. Halleck and see if we can get him to make a
house call."

"Thank you sir."

"Come on Myrc, I know a few tricks that will make your changes a bit less noticeable,"

I followed her out. "Is it really that noticeable?"

"To someone who doesn't know you? No...To someone like us or Ricky, or your class? I'd say absolutely. Don't worry about it, we can make you look enough like you for there to
be no problems; with a little work people will know something is different, but not what."

"Best I can hope for I guess. Mom you ever know any mutants?"

"No Myrc, I haven't; you'll be my first."

I looked into her sunny smile a minute before it hit...then I could feel myself grin back, just a little. She ruffled my hair, something she hadn't done for years; since she had
to reach up to do so. Then she stopped, almost forcing me to run into her.

"What? something else happen?"

"No, no, don't panic...nothing new is going on; just old habits coming to the fore."

"It's OK mom, felt kinda nice."

She shook her head, taking me into the master bedroom, otherwise known as 'where kids dare not tread'. I gave her a look as she plunked me down on her chair in front of her
vanity.

"No arguments, sit, and watch."

And under her gentle hands, now no smaller than my own somehow, my old face was reconstructed. She put the break back in my nose, and it looked a bit larger. She also did something that added volume to my chin, and something to my cheekbones. Through all of this, I watched, fighting a wave of the most intense boredom I'd ever known. It was like sitting in class, or playing a computer game times one hundred, and came on suddenly; one minute I was enjoying my mothers' company and love, the next I was fidgeting like
an ant on sun drenched concrete.

"Myrc."

"Sorry mom, you say something?"

"You zoned out for a bit there, something wrong?"

"No! No, just really, um...."

I looked down at my hand, realizing something was in it. Mom's blush. My other hand held her lipstick. I put them back so quickly they rolled all the way to the mirror.

"What were you going to do with those, hmm?"

"I, uhh, don't really know? I was thinking of extracting the talc to do something with it..."

"Myrc, do me a favor. Don't 'extract' my make up, OK? Some of it is specially made."

"OK mom, sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"It's OK honey, you didn't do anything wrong...yet. Just trying to make sure that you understand the action would be a bad one; you've already angered your father. You broke his third child!"

I laughed, then blinked. Honey? where had that come from? She always just called me by my name (well, nickname) before...

"Come on, time to go down and greet your public."

"Sure."

I let her take the lead, kind of nervous; I'd never worn make up of any kind before, I was half convinced I'd look stupid. I mean, what if someone noticed? Those fears were soon proved groundless, however.

"Whoa bro, looking ugly as always...can't tell a thing!"

I looked between Ian and my father, searching their eyes for any hint of deception. I saw none.

"It really looks fine? Like I'm normal?"

"You look like you, Myrciel...and no talk of not being normal. Mutants are fairly normal anymore, after all; remember that fracas over the summer?"

"Yeah I remember." It was true, in the days of my fathers' youth, mutants or super powered beings of any kind, really, were far less common than now. Not that they were common, but certainly more common and well known then the 'dark ages'. Perhaps even common enough for some acceptance.

Then I remembered Ralph. Here, yet not here, in a perpetual limbo. Distant, with only one person I knew that treated him with anything resembling respect or equanimity; myself. Well maybe his family too, I didn't know. Not all families were as understanding as mine was after all; even now I could read the concern in their postures, though nothing but love and support shone from their faces. That very moment I determined to find out more about Ralph's life; to see if he had the kind of help he needed, the kind I was sure I already had. Then I frowned again. They knew, like I did, that whether I was a mutant or had some horrid disease (or both, another possibility) that this would be my last game; I'd never be allowed to compete if I were a mutant. And if I had some weird disease we'd never heard of, well chances are I'd die from it.

There, I said it. Denial over, hopefully never to return. Focus on the positives, as my father would say. My family was also placing worry aside, in order to make this day special for me; who really could ask for more?

These thoughts loaded my mind as we wordlessly and without further ado piled into mom's car (she had the wonderful 2001 black dodge Durango, while dad was stuck with the white ford focus)and we drove the admittedly short distance to the baseball diamond behind our school. We arrived with a mere 10 minutes to get ready; apparently the make up took longer than I thought.

Looking around, it seemed that everyone was here; the entire school (most of which I recognized) some of the other schools' children, checking out the competition I'd guess. Parents and kids of all ages, walking, jumping, and running around with abandon, enjoying the balmy day and the prospect of a day spent not doing
anything in particular. None of them seemed to pay any special attention to me, for which I was grateful.

The true test however, was coming up.

"Hey Myrc, was beginning to worry!"

"Ha, sick but wouldn't miss this for the world Joey."

"Dang right you are man, can't hear you at all, what happened to your voice? laryngitis?" I nodded, not like it's a lie, for all I know it could be true!

I made it into the team huddle, and nodded to coach Reynolds. He took one look at me and asked immediately: "You OK son?"

"Hes sick with laryngitis." Joey answered for me helpfully. I nodded again, not wanting to talk more than I had to, to keep up the possible charade.

"You're here to play? You look a bit rough; your parents know?"

I pointed to them. They waved. I waved back.

"Good enough for me. Alright we won the toss, we're up first. lets do this, Myrc you lead off."

Shrugging, ruthlessly suppressing my stomach lepidoptera, I grabbed my bat and strode up to the plate, As soon as the game start was called I set myself (I'm a lefty) and tried to look crazy, to intimidate the pitcher. I don't think it worked well, judging by the fast ball that came in inches from my face. Reasonably fast, but I caught the motion; hmm, in between, 82 and 87 miles per hour, angled to make me start. Next likely pitch is a curve or a slider, angled low and possibly away from me to make me chase.
Wait, what? Never mind, focus! Hes pitching!

I watched it come in, reading the curvature by the arc of his arm. A fast slider, low and away as I thought. I stepped into it with a textbook swing, and hit it an inch from my bat tip; sending it out to mid right field. Unfortunately, it was only mid field. Even worse, While normally I could run moderately fast, today I felt much more slow. The end result of these two factors was I only barely succeeded in a single, not my usual double or triple from such a perfect shot. As I stopped, panting, from my sprint I saw coach Reynolds frowning. Hopefully he wasn't too mad.

Considering how good we were, it didn't take long till I was trotting home; I wasn't quite the best bat on our team, that honor went to Darrel white. I was simply very good. My strength was my field play; I was a pretty good shortstop. Well suffice to say, I may be looking like myself, but I definitely wasn't playing like myself. I had no problem at all in calculating angles, getting a perfect jump on the ball in batting as well as fielding. But physically I was always a step late and muscle short; my throws barely reached anywhere, with almost no velocity at all, and I could barely hit into the outfield.

The end result was I did manage to contribute to our win, but I had to pick my moments; I never did strike out, but was limited to base hits and sacrifice plays as opposed to home runs. My play as a shortstop left quite a bit to be desired, but I only really screwed up once, when I couldn't throw a ball to home plate, letting the other team score.

While we celebrated, I mourned. I had lost my physical prowess...maybe I was actually sick? My theory could be wrong after all, I only had anecdotal evidence.

"Myrc?"

Here it comes. "Yeah coach?"

"Don't beat yourself up, you played well. Honestly you did great. I've never seen you read the ball so well."

"Thanks coach."

Pretty sure he was just saying that to make me feel better...but it worked.

"Victory party at Pizza Cabin!"

I waved and pointed towards my parents, coach saw and nodded. My family closed ranks around me like a personal guard detail, dad to the left, mom to the right, Ian in the lead.

"You have an emergency appointment with Dr Halleck at Logan."

I nodded, after all that has happened, it was obvious no simple clinic visit was going to be enough. I was mildly curious as to why Dr Halleck was meeting us there, as he was
just a simple country quack, wasn't he? Oh well I'd find out soon enough.

Almost as soon as we had all piled in the car, I started feeling very sleepy. The car ride did it's magic, lulling me none too gently to sleep. If I dreamed, I don't
remember it.

I woke up from being jostled, finding myself being put one of those medical examination beds. The air around me reeking of disinfectants and the lights blinding, it took
me a minute to remember what was going on. Oh yeah, I was dying. Into the typical hospital room, single; bed and table, television in the corner.

"How are you Myrc?"

"Pretty crappy doc, how are you?"

"About the same, can't complain. So what symptoms are we looking at?" he and some other guy in a lab coat, were setting up some weird looking machines in a corner. I squinted,
only barely able to make them out, even though it was..well I couldn't tell, but 20 feet away at most. One was sized to fit a human inside though, like a
magnetic resonance imager.

"Well, I've either shrunk or am shrinking, loss of strength and speed, getting fat, and I apparently made car and tool parts disappear; And the newest one is I'm going blind. Who is your friend?"

"Oh that's X-ray. He's what is called a devisor, he makes medical scanners that can come in really handy, and he owed me a favor."

The guy came closer, close enough to see finally as he started pasting leads on my head, without a word. Tall, at least 6 ft 4 in, rather well built, lantern jaw, unshaven,
with green eyes and brown hair streaked with silver. He looked maybe 25. I didn't see a ring, I'm guessing he cleaned up at the bars. He had a sour look on his face, however.

"Not a people person, is he?"

"Not even a little bit, but that's fine, because his machines here are going to tell us what is happening and why, and in less than 30 minutes!"

"Only for most of it, the DNA scan might take longer."

"Why?"

He stopped a second and looked at me as Dr Halleck escorted my family from the room. They were about to start attaching leads in some very embarrassing places.

"what do you mean?"

"I mean, why does it take longer? Is it a processor issue? A database issue in matching the right sequences?" Rather reluctantly I pulled off my wonderfully dirty sweaty uniform.

"No, it's actually a combination of both. This scanner uses most of its' own processor power to run and record all the information, So it sends the data to my mainframe. My mainframe analyzes the results and sends it back. The long delay is mainly due to the information involved."

"So do you send the entire code there and back? That seems wasteful; why not just send the entire code there, and then send any rare differences back? seems that would save a lot of time."

"It probably would, if my database were large enough. I may miss some evidence otherwise."

"Good point. how big is your database?"

"As good as the human genome projects' plus my own. At the moment, a good 20,000 subjects. Not quite enough by my standards though hopefully yours will help."

"As long as you don't steal any DNA to make clones of later...I'm all for it. That was a joke by the way; no need to start frowning at me! Give me a break, I'm nervous."

"True, my apologies, though your joke was in poor taste. Into the machine please, and do not move. And no talking, that is movement."

I climbed in, then heard Dr. Hallecks' muffled voice.

"Cards?"

"Sure. Poker?"

"Sounds good, I'll deal first."

I hated them in that moment.

The machine whose clutches they had left me in had few tender mercies; I was poked, prodded, sampled (one time I'm sure my spine was tapped) and generally had every horrendously uncomfortable test I could have. The less said about it, the better. Really. What was really torturous was that I was still tired, and it kept
me up!

Then a small chime rang, like an oven timer. Darn it, I'm not fries! I am so going to....

"You awake yet? You can get out now."

Crawling out of the claustrophobic space I fixed him with my best glare: "You have REALLY got to work on your bedside manner. No help for a terminal patient? An oven timer? What the hell?"

I looked; my family was in the room, they were playing cards with Dr Halleck while X-ray was reading a pamphlet of some kind, not even paying any attention
to me at all. My family was tense, Dr Halleck looked like he had a new insect to play with, and I started to feel the pressure.

"...What?"

"Dude, you've been asleep for hours,' Ian informed me: 'We were beginning to think we'd have to rent a room from the doc."

"It's true Myrc, you were out for just over two hours; we had time to translate the gobbledegook X-rays machine spit out for us." DR Halleck added.

"And they told us already, honey." Mother looked concerned, father looked very uncomfortable. And there was that 'honey' again; though I didn't mind at the
moment.

"Let me guess: it's cancer...or an aneurysm."

X-ray snorted, still not looking up.

"You're not dying, though it's interesting what the multiphasic spectrometer came up with; for example, you've never had a prostate, and your appendix is functional. Though what it's doing..." he trailed off to incoherent mutters.

"You're bedside manner REALLY REALLY sucks. Do I need to resort to violence here?"

He looked at me deadpan and stated: "Congratulations, it's a girl."

I looked at him, then down at my body.

"You high? pretty sure I have what you have there, buddy. Though maybe mine's bigger..."

Then mother was there, gently forcing me into a chair.

"Myrc, don't be rude, even if the man's an ass.' she shot him a glare and continued, 'Hes telling the truth however, we've had a few people look at the readouts, even re-calibrated his machine. It always gives the same results. Genetically you're a girl."

I felt, on top of feeling like my world was tilting, a little weird. Possibilities and probabilities suddenly caught fire in my head, a type of haze or fever, and I had to ask. Both feelings seemed oddly incongruous, at odds with each other, yet harmonious, as if one brought the other.

"How is that even possible? Do you have anything concrete?"

X-ray handed me the pamphlet he had been studying...it was the results of the tests; my entire genetic code, summed up in a sort of cribs notes. I...understood that. I could read some of it at least, so I started to.

"You see there?' he pointed to highlighted portions, 'You entered puberty a bit late for males, nearly a year ago by best guess. The problem is your puberty was a bit different than normal. Tell me, have you heard of that old wives tale about all babies being born women?"

I nodded, still reading.

"Well it's false. Males and Females are genetically separate, assuming nothing is abnormal according to current human standards. For the record, abnormal includes RNA transcription errors and some of the older stable mutations such as different peptide combinations in the brain leading to different sexual tendencies and proclivities, etcetera, as well as hermaphrodites and such. Babies are normally androgynous at birth, and develop along gender roles at puberty. That is 'normal'. I could hear the quotes.

Well, in your case, the old wives tale holds true. You have two X chromosomes, perfectly represented..but one of your chromosomes had its' function partially turned off, leaving one line of your second X dormant. So while genetically female, you were biologically male for all intents and purposes. That all ended shortly after you hit puberty.

For some reason, when your body started producing Gonadotropin or GnRH to start producing body hair, it acted as a switch...your second X chromosome fully activated. So your puberty was obviously a bit different than that of a normal male. Instead of testosterone, your body started producing large amounts of estradiol;
this was further complicated by the fact that for you at least, most of your mutations are located in the same part of your genetic code...the part previously turned off. Once it became active, all the abnormal genes followed suit, and one of those mutations is a rather low level regeneration; I'd say according
to the current scale used, a 1 or a 2. Certainly no more than a 2."

However, that regeneration was enough. I could see it now...without regeneration, my somewhat anomalous physiology would go no further than say, hormone shots and some other medication, and nothing further. With it, however, my traitorous body looked at my genetic code and reproduced it faithfully, carrying
the new orders involving what my body and puberty should look like, according to the newly active genes; there was apparently a huge difference between the two.

"I see you understand. The truly fascinating thing is the loss of mass; your regeneration, from what I can determine, turned your entire bone structure into a cartilage similar to that if a sharks'...and is currently ferrying mass away from it, in order to comply with whatever your new height is supposed to be, for example. Its amazing. Never have I gotten such readings of what actually goes on inside a body as it mutates."

"so wait, my skeleton is shrinking of course...so are my tendons and ligaments? That would explain much of the loss of strength, as not only the simple machine numbers change but also the joint tension...."

I grabbed a piece of paper from him, one of his pens from his lab coat, and started scribbling the
required equations to figure out the difference. He blinked.

"And that all but clinches it. Dr. Halleck, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, I'm all but certain your child is a devisor of some kind. The changes are by no means complete, though they are proceeding exponentially now, and have been for at least a week. My best guess is Myrc will be ready for testing by the end of next week, and I'll schedule one if you're willing; I have a few contacts with the facilities."

My nose was bleeding again...irritably I wiped it away from my calculations and finished them.

"There. It doesn't completely cover the estimated strength loss though..."

"How do you feel, honey?"

"Oh, I'm fine mom, just ravenous and very fatigued.' I sighed. 'There is no way to reverse this. I can tell there isn't. I'll be a female within the week. If not for the stupid regeneration...ugh."

"It'll be OK honey, everything will work out."

"thank you for your time doctors, We'd like to take our children home now, unless there is anything else?"

"No, of course...let me give you my number, please call me if there is any help I can give; I have your number now, and will call you with the appointment details. One last word though; burnout. That is the name given to a condition where mutants, usually those whose powers are still emerging, strain themselves to violent and sometimes explosive results. Many cases heard in the news of mutants going on a rampage or exploding were actually burnout cases.

Now I saw no evidence of this, and regenerators don't often suffer this problem, as they are buffered somewhat by the ability. But it remains a condition
to be aware of."

He grabbed my shoulder, and looked at me, really looked at me for the first time.

"Don't overdo it, please."

"Yeah, uh..OK."

"See you next week." he waved.

Damn, he waited till the end of the visit to be human! What was with that? I did notice the walking on eggshell pronoun usage everyone was doing; he started it off, on purpose maybe?

I looked to my dad, who still looked decidedly uncomfortable. He was not alone in this, but he needed cheering up. I assessed the situation...and came to what I felt was the proper conclusion.

"Dad."

"Yes Myrc?"

"Food. Now. Right now, and in large amounts." I grinned."

He gave me a ghost of a grin back..but it was something.

"Sure thing Myrc...pizza, since you missed yours?"

"Perfect, dad."

As soon as he turned away I dragged mom aside.

"You should call X-ray back and get Ian tested as soon as dad is distracted." I whispered.

She paled, but nodded. Hey I didn't like the implications either, but it had a 50/50 chance of affecting Ian too; after all, that weird X chromosome had to come from one of them, right?

Oh well, too much heavy thought. Time to enjoy pizza, off color humor, and sleep. Too much of that heavy thought stuff would drive anyone insane.