Trubinger snorted derisively. "That's a rather far-fetched worry to have, isn't it? Let's cross that bridge when we come to it — if we ever come to it!"

"No," the security officer countered in a soft, calm voice. "I've already crossed that bridge. We were searching for an intruder before this happened, and by all indications one of our Marilyns doesn't belong here."

"You really screwed the pooch this time, Isaac," Trubinger was saying. He shook his head. "You've always managed to pull a rabbit out of your hat and save your bacon, but this time you're going to need a bona fide miracle to get out of this one."

van Els sat hunched over in a chair, his head hanging, his eyes on the floor. "I know," he said. "I couldn't stop myself. It was like internet porn on steroids."

Trubinger paced back and forth behind the downcast scientist. "So what the hell is this thing?" he cried. "Some kind of crazy sex toy?"

Dr. Kang and Sammy stood mute. No one knew what to say, so Trubinger went on.

"But first things first: we have to change them all back. Isaac, you need to shower and shave — you stink, by the way — and then you've got to put them in your transformation machine or whatever you call it, and change them all back."

"I can't," van Els croaked.

"You mean you won't!"

"No," Dr. Kang said, intervening. "He can't. The big transformation machine was made to camouflage the aliens — it just gives them a more-or-less random human appearance. As far as we know, it can't give someone a specific form."

Trubinger huffed and objected, "But it did that for you! It changed you into a man, and then right back to what you always were."

"Yes, but in my case, it took a snapshot of me first. None of the Marilyns have that."

"Exactly right," van Els confirmed with a heavy sigh. "We can make them different from the way they look now, but there's no way we can pop them back to what they were."

Trubinger growled. "Then you'd better find the undo button on your new little toy!"
 

In the first few moments after the Marilyns appeared, Dr. Kang had sprung immediately into action and took over. She carefully tucked the alien device into a tote bag and slung it on her shoulder. "And that's where it's staying until we know what's what!" she declared.

Next she commanded Sammy, "I'm appointing you the official babysitter. Stay with van Els and make sure he doesn't wander off." Then she descended to the cafeteria and spoke to the Marilyns. She asked each one their name, and wrote that name on their forearm. She calmed them, had them sit down and drink some tea, and then with the help of Security, rounded up the others. In each case, she wrote their name on their forearm, and asked exactly where they were when the change hit.

It turned out that thirteen people had been affected. Three were on the floor above, one was on the floor below, and the others on the same level as the cafeteria. It was strange to see them all together, thirteen identical platinum blondes, each as striking and fascinating as Marilyn Monroe must have been, fifty years ago.

Most of the Marilyns were agitated, some were afraid, and several were plainly terrified. One, Dr. Oriel Paim, was furious. She was the only one who refused to sit or take tea. She ranted and raved and she would not stop, but her new voice, which was soft, high, and sexy, rendered her shouts and fist-shaking more interesting and entertaining than threatening. And that increased her fury a thousandfold.

As it happened, nine of the Marilyns were originally women. Only one was happy about the change, and declared that she wanted to stay that way. The four men all wanted to change back, although they all wanted a day or two "to see what they could learn."
 

"What do we know so far?" Trubinger asked.

Dr. Kang glanced at van Els and Sammy before she spoke. "Apparently, the device has a range of 200 yards, projected out in a sphere. There were people affected on the floors above and below. And — luckily — there were people who were unaffected on the same floor. In one case, two people were standing in a hallway, talking. The one closer to the epicenter was affected; the other was not."

"And how is it that you three weren't affected?"

Dr. Kang scratched her eyebrow. "Maybe we were standing too close?" Sammy offered.

"No, I don't think that's it," Dr. Kang replied. "I think that Isaac wasn't affected because he was operating the device, but Sammy and I weren't affected because we've already been transformed."

At that remark, Dr. van Els lifted his head. The words already transformed echoed in his mind. He quite didn't know how, but that phrase was important. It was part of an idea... and that idea was key. The key to something… the key to understanding that damn device… somehow.

"We can test that," van Els said softly.

"No," Trubinger said. "You've already caused enough trouble. Another screw-up, and everyone in the place will look like Marilyn Monroe, including me!"

"No," van Els countered. "We can go to Area 51. There's plenty of empty space out there. Dr. Kang and I can draw up a test plan, some protocols."

"Area 51?" Trubinger scoffed. "What is this, The X-Files? No. In a half hour you can drive to Beale Air Force Base. Just knock on the front gate and tell them you want some space to be alone."

As he said the word knock, Trubinger's assistant knocked on the door. "Excuse me, sir, but we have a… a situation. Security found two more Marilyns. They were hiding."

"Hiding? Why were they hiding? And who are they?" Trubinger asked in a puzzled tone.

"That's just it, sir: they won't say."
 

The two new Marilyns looked exactly like the other thirteen: the same wave of platinum hair, the same bewitching expression, the same throaty voice. What was different about these two was that they were barefoot, dressed only in lab coats. The other Marilyns were found wearing whatever clothes they had on before: ill-fitting, oversized outfits draped almost comically over Marilyn's tiny frame.

"So? Just ask them where they left their clothes!" Trubinger said.

"They won't say," replied the security officer. "We've taken a look around the area they were found, but we think their clothes went down the incinerator chute."

"Then they might still be sitting there!" Dr. Kang exclaimed. "The incinerator doesn't run all the time."

The officer shook his head. "Sorry. We thought of that too, and we checked. Whatever was in there got burnt."

"Why won't they say who they are?" Sammy asked.

The security officer turned his eyes to the lovely young woman before he responded. "Because they don't want to change back."

"That's ridiculous!" Trubinger objected. "They must know that we'll find out who they are."

"Yes, in fact we're checking the rolls right now," the officer replied, "but I'm concerned that we'll only find one name unaccounted for."

Trubinger snorted derisively. "That's a rather far-fetched worry to have, isn't it? Let's cross that bridge when we come to it — if we ever come to it!"

"No," the security officer countered in a soft, calm voice. "I've already crossed that bridge. We were searching for an intruder before this happened, and by all indications one of our Marilyns doesn't belong here."
 

Ninety minutes later, four people gathered in the center of an enormous airplane hangar. The Air Force had given them permission to use the place, and assured Dr. Kang that no one would come within a half-mile of their experiment.

With Dr. Kang was Sammy, Dr. van Els, and Dr. Paim, who was the Marilyn most anxious to return to normal. They brought two video cameras, some food, the alien device, and a laptop. Dr. Paim carried one of her own outfits and a pair of shoes to wear when she returned to herself. She also brought every photo of herself that she could find.

A medical team waited outside the sphere of the device's influence. Sammy checked that they were in position, and declared that "everything is GO."

"Only one of us needs to be here," Dr. Kang told Sammy.

"It's okay," she replied with a smile. "I'm here as a show of faith."

At that, van Els sat down with a sigh and set the halo on his head. His eyes drifted toward Dr. Paim, and immediately the iconic image of Marilyn, nude, appeared on the tiny platform. Embarrassed and distressed, van Els pulled the halo from his head. In an apologetic tone he asked, "Dr. Paim, would you mind standing behind me? I'm not sure I can do this if I can see you watching me. I mean, if I can see you."

With eyes that burned with loathing, Dr. Paim picked up her bag of clothes and walked in a wide berth around van Els.

Once she was out of his sight, he picked up a photo of her. She was a nice, rather French-looking woman, with a small heart-shaped face and large, light brown eyes.

van Els was nervous. He wasn't good at mental pictures; the device had done all the visualizing for him, except for the women he'd actually known. Even there, the device had drawn from his memory details he hadn't pictured; things he hadn't known he remembered. In Dr. Paim's case, unfortunately, he had never seen the woman before she became one of the Marilyns. He was quite sure of that fact.

Drawing a deep, heavy breath, he put the halo back on, and looked at the tiny platform. There was nothing.

He began flipping through the photos of Dr. Paim. Many of them were shots of her with colleagues, smiling, her body hidden behind a lab coat or a desk. Then he came upon some vacation photos, and then a picture of her in a blue bathing suit. Click. He felt the neural interface engage.

Damn it, van Els silently swore. What the hell did they make this thing for? Is this some kind of extra-terrestrial porn? Then, suddenly, a suspicion of great danger popped into his head: Had anyone told Oriel Paim that the images, the tiny women, were always naked? She was already angry; seeing a miniature version of herself in the nude might be just the thing to send her anger over the top.

"Dr. Paim," he began, but before he got any further, he turned over another photo and saw Oriel the woman: She was wearing shorts, it was summer, and she was stepping onto a bicycle. It wasn't just a perfect picture, it was downright sexy. It caught her from behind, and showed off the smooth curves of her derriere, and her top was tight enough to give a very accurate indication of the shape and weight of her wonderful breasts. Isaac was aroused, and the alien device awoke. On the tiny stage, a perfect rendition of Oriel appeared. The tiny Oriel was dancing. She was completely naked, and her arms were raised high in the air.

Behind him, Isaac heard Dr. Paim's astonished, offended gasp.

"That's her!" Sammy cried, "Make it flash now! Make it flash! Make it do the thing!"

"I don't know how!" van Els replied in frustration. And he didn't: the last time, the device flashed and created the Marilyns when Sammy jolted him out of a deep sleep. "I think I need some kind of shock, something to make me jolt!"

Dr. Kang groaned in frustration. "Boo!" she shouted. When that didn't work, she let out a blood-curding scream, but that didn't do the trick either. van Els drooped, nervous, distressed, anxious to turn poor Dr. Paim back, but to no avail. Sammy picked up a wrench and hurled it against a metal drum. It made a hell of a racket, but Dr. Paim was still Marilyn.

van Els looked at the pint-sized image. His eyes were drawn to her breasts, particularly her nipples. They were so dark, so small, so unusual… so... well, there must be better words than perfect, but that was the only word that came to mind. Dr. Paim cleared her throat as a warning, so Isaac forced himself to look away.

"Now what?" she demanded. "NOW WHAT? What are going to do? Do you have any idea? Do you? Look at you! You have no idea what you're doing! No idea at all! You've brought me all the way to this godforsaken, dirty place. You made me think that you were going to fix this mess, but all you're doing is messing about! You clearly have no plan whatsoever! How do I know that you're not going to make things worse?"

"Dr. Paim," van Els said quietly, "please calm down a moment--"

"Calm down?" she repeated, incredulous. Those two words were like a red flag to a bull. "CALM DOWN? How dare you tell me to calm down, you fool, you jackass, you… you PIG! Look what you do! Is this how you spend your day, making naked pictures of all the women you fancy? Everyone thinks you're such a great man, but you're just an adolescent boy who loves his little naked pictures."

Isaac didn't dare reply. He had to recognize the justice in what she said, even as her accusations ripped into him like knived whips. He twisted in his chair so he could look at her, and as he did, he saw that the tiny Oriel Paim was still dancing naked on the miniature stage. The image was perfect and clear.

Involuntarily, he smiled — a fatal mistake — for as he raised his eyes from the mannikin to the real woman standing behind his chair, he saw something he'd never seen before: the face of Marilyn Monroe, full of murderous fury, of hate, loathing, and fire. Isaac van Els feared for his life.

© 2013 by Kaleigh Way