"Good afternoon and welcome to this special edition of WHO's weekend news. My name is Jeanette Crowder," I started, beginning the broadcast with a warm smile hardly befitting the chaos that seemed to have been let loose on the planet that day.

"Today, at approximately 10:58 a.m. Iowa time, an event took place that has altered almost all of mankind," I said, reading off the teleprompter. "What some people have begun calling The Great Shift has migrated souls from one person to another person. This was a totally random and still unexplained event."

The Great Shift: Breaking News Part One
by Danielle J

Synopsis- Middle aged television news anchor Paul Hanratty is working the weekend shift in Des Moines Iowa when The Great Shift takes place.

This story is dedicated to one of my favorite Fictionmania writers, Hypatia. Only she has as warped a muse as my own. I'd like to thank Steve Zink for his help in preparing this story for publication. I'd also like to thank Professor Yin for his assistance. He gave me some information about Iowa City(where the story visits later on).

A couple of author's notes- There really is a WHO Channel 13 in Des Moines Iowa. Also a football game did take place the day before the day I set The Great Shift as happening. Some of my more dedicated readers know my attention to details.
 

~*~
 
Looking in the mirror one last time, I felt satisfied with most of my appearance. I had spent up to an hour fine tuning it in preparation for what could be the biggest day of my life. By now I was growing decidedly nervous at what lay ahead. Even wishing I could have a smoke, something I hadn't done in ages.

Getting dressed that day should have been simple but I just couldn't make up my mind what to wear. I walked around the room semi-naked and nervously looking for the proper clothing.

What is the saying? For any action or inaction there are unintended consequences? I was a living example of that today. It all began almost four years earlier on a summer day in Des Moines, Iowa...
 

~*~
 
My left leg felt unusually sore and stiff as I swung my feet out of my 1998 Chevy GMC pickup. I had just pulled into my space at the parking lot for WHO Channel 13 in Des Moines, Iowa. According to a Des Moines Register newspaper sprawled on the front passenger seat it was July 29, 2000. My name then was Paul Hanratty.

After locking my truck doors with one of those beeper gizmos, I slowly made my way to the building that hosted the local NBC affiliate for which I worked. For some reason my leg was acting up that day over fifteen years after it was first injured. I tried hard not to be seen limping, as I stepped into my workplace. In accordance with the line of work I did, I was wearing a white shirt with a red and black stripped tie. The pants I wore were gray and on my feet were two well polished black shoes. Since it was summertime, my suit jacket was slung over my right shoulder.

Why was I so self-conscious that day? The injury to my leg was certainly not my fault. It had occurred seventeen years earlier when the Marine barracks I was sleeping in came falling down on top of me. Back in 1983 I was a first lieutenant in the Marine Corps, five years out of Annapolis, and stationed in Beirut, Lebanon. Life had changed a great deal in the intervening years. Now in 2000 I was working as a weekend news anchor for WHO. There could hardly be two jobs or occupations less alike.

Some of my co-workers said hello to me as I walked toward my office. I either nodded or said hello back. I wasn't real friendly with anyone at WHO, mostly because I'd only been working at the station for two months. Another reason was the television news business was always shifting or in a state of flux. People come and go. In my opinion it made little sense to make any close friends at work.

The office I had at WHO wasn't so much an office as a glorified storage room. In a space about half the size of a room at any Holiday Inn, were four desks or one for each of WHO's four weekend and evening news anchors. Each one of us had a tiny cubicle where one was lucky not to bump a body part while in the process of a deep breath.

At this time none of my co-workers were in, so the room was empty. Maybe the reason for this was my early arrival at the office. I had arrived at WHO an hour earlier than needed.

Right after sitting down, I tried massaging some life into my left leg. Once upon a time this injury would have been seen with sympathy, but not today. I'd more likely be seen as an invalid by my co-workers and even possibly station management. That was the last thing I needed, I had more than my share of strikes against me.

As I tried bringing life back to my leg, I noticed the office door open and close. Whoever it was, they didn't acknowledge my presence nor did I theirs. A sniff of the room told me who had come in. It was my fellow weekend anchor Jeanette Crowder. Her perfume was unmistakable.

Feeling my massage may have worked wonders to my leg; with apparent ease I slid my large frame carefully toward my desk. At 6'3 and having long legs, it was too damn easy for me to injure myself in this room.

My desk was dominated by a Gateway PC that was on top of it. I turned the computer on straight away and immediately reached for my in box that was hanging on a nearby wall. For a Sunday or slow news day, the box was surprisingly full of the latest news off the AP and Reuters wires.

My first plan of business was for me to catch up with the day's news before a planned 1 p.m. news meeting, but first I noticed a yellow stick-it attached to the pile of news reports. A scribbled note told me to report to the news producer as soon as I came in. No signature was there, just the letter T. That and the handwriting told me the message had come from WHO's Executive News Producer, Tracy Jenkins.

Like when I was in the Marine Corps, I took this order or summons seriously. Getting to my feet, I began to leave the office but not without making eye contact across the divider with Jeanette Crowder.

"Hi, Jeanette," I told the pretty Asian American anchor. My colleague had long and straight jet black hair befitting her Korean heritage. Jeanette stood about 5'3 or 5'4 and her figure was so slender to the point she looked almost anorexic. "How are you today?"

"Good, Paul. And yourself?"

"Okay, I guess. I got a note to see Tracy," I said as I made sure my tie was straight. "Talk to you later."

"Okay," Jeanette replied as I left the room. Only later on would I recall that my co-anchor's face showed a slight grin or smirk at my departure. I'd soon find out why.

Tracy Jenkins didn't waste any time when I got to her office. The Executive News Producer was in her early-thirties, rather young for the job she now held. She also bore a remarkable resemblance to actress Mercedes Ruehl.

"Mind if I smoke?" Tracy asked as she took a cigarette and lighter out of a desk drawer. She didn't wait for my answer but instead lit up immediately.

Policy at WHO said the building was non-smoking and that meant employees needed to step out for a light. Tracy for her own reasons believed this policy didn't apply to her. I wasn't about to object. "No, go ahead."

"I'm glad you're here, Paul," Tracy began saying as soon I was seated. "The management at WHO have made their decision in regards to the new weekday news anchor."

The moment I heard these words, I knew the news wasn't going to be good. It was Tracy's mannerisms; she just didn't hide her emotions or thought processes very well. Also with almost fifteen years in the news business, I had an uncanny way of predicting a falling sandbag. One was about to hit me that day.

"Okay."

Not wasting any time, Tracy made the announcement. "I'm sorry to say, they have selected Jeanette for the position."

While staying stoic in my outward appearance, my mind just couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had been a weekday news anchor for television stations in Boise, Idaho and Las Vegas, Nevada, and I was being passed up for a girl or woman barely out of college.

"That means we'll have two female anchors?" I remarked. WHO had just announced they were not renewing the contract of anchor man Fred Talbot. With him leaving on July 31st, the only remaining weekday anchor was Alicia Fernandez.

"Yes, it does. Sorry, Paul. If it was up to me you would have gotten the job," Tracy Jenkins said back to me. The woman couldn't look me in the eye and I concluded from this that the Executive Producer was feeding me a line of bullshit. It wouldn't be the first or last time this had happened to me while I had been working in the TV news business.

As angry or disappointed as I was with the news, I could see the logic behind WHO's selection for the anchor job. Television news was becoming more show biz and less reporting the news with every passing day. This was mostly driven by Nielsen ratings which determined the rates WHO could charge for commercials. Bad ratings meant less revenue. Less revenue meant heads begin to roll. Television news in the process became more reporting of what the viewing audience wanted to see rather than what news was most important on any given date to people's lives.

Ratings were why Fred Talbot was on the way out. WHO's evening news had been finishing a consistent second in the critical 6-630 p.m. slot on weekdays. The most recent sweeps ratings were slipping so low that WHO was seriously in danger of falling to third against their major network competitors. If I had to guess, the station had done some polling that had laid the blame at poor Fred's feet. He was one of the last old-style anchormen or newsmen in Iowa. The nearly sixty-year-year-old anchor had become passé.

In Fred's place WHO would now have two sexy anchor babes. Or in one of my moodier states, and I was in one at the moment, two news readers not news reporters. What did Alicia and Jeanette really know about reporting? Both had graduated college since 1994. Even worse in my weekend co-anchors case, she had graduated from Northwestern University just three years ago. Before coming to WHO, she had worked in a Springfield, Illinois television station for less than three years.

Jeanette had been hired by WHO the previous May. Without spending a single day at the station as a field reporter, my colleague had been made a weekend news anchor the second she walked in the door.

So Jeanette's hiring riled me but I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut. I had to count my lucky stars after being fired from my Las Vegas job. There I had told one Producer to do an anatomically impossible act after disagreeing with them over a story. The station fired me three days later. Being fired in the television news was often career suicide.

My anger with WHO's decision was not based on anything personal between me and Jeanette. Our working relationship was solid; she had a great on-air demeanor and a warm smile. I'm sure these were some of the reasons behind the station's choice for a new weekday anchor.

On the other hand, Jeanette was very cool off the set. This wasn't unusual in the industry, but there was something about this woman that just made her demeanor or attitude unlikable to others. Behind her back some employees at WHO called Jeanette the Ice Queen. I had to admit there was some basis for this.

What little I knew about my co-anchor was gleaned from others at the station, not Jeanette who rarely said anything but hello or goodbye to me off the set. I knew she was twenty-five years old, a graduate of Northwestern, a Korean adoptee whose white parents had lived some one hundred or so miles from Des Moines till dying in a recent fire, and that she chain smoked when off the set. That was all.

Tracy Jenkins took this moment to come around from the back of her desk. This was unusual for the Executive Producer; she was usually very formal in her dealings with station employees. "Paul, you're still a valued employee here. I hope this decision doesn't affect the working relationship we have together."

'Why don't you just say I've been fucked?' I thought to myself. "I promise it won't."

"Good, Paul," Tracy said while going back to her seat. "We still want you anchoring the weekend shift here at WHO. No decision has been made yet on Jeanette's replacement, but there should be one by week's end."

"If you want my recommendation, I'd promote Karen Walker," I said, maintaining my professional composure. Ms. Walker was the station's Legislative reporter and a professional to her fingertips in my humble opinion. Des Moines being Iowa's state capitol meant much of WHO's news reporting concerned the Governor and other elected state officials.

"We'll give your recommendation serious consideration."

'Sure you will,' I thought as I began to rise from my seat. "Is that it, Tracy?"

"No, Paul, it isn't," Tracy began saying, only to be interrupted by her desk phone ringing. "Excuse me for one minute."

As Tracy turned her back to me, I thought of my present situation. Not getting the weekday anchor's position was not the worst thing that could happen to me. I'd seen enough things go awry in the last eighteen months of my life to know this was a minor setback. Or at least that was what I hoped it was.

In addition to my firing in Vegas, my wife Donna who I had been married to for almost eleven years had asked for a divorce. Other than our being childless, I had thought Donna and I had a good marriage. Boy, was I mistaken; my ex-wife said I was the most boring person she ever met.

So I had setbacks both personally and professionally in the last year. Throw in the fact that Donna had made our divorce a bitter one and successfully got a court order where I had to pay heavy alimony...well, let's say Murphy's Law had overtaken my life.

Tracy Jenkins' phone conversation was almost over. What had begun as an unintelligible mutter had increased in volume to where I could have eavesdropped if I had cared. In the meantime while I waited, I had seated myself back down in the chair across from my boss.

"Yeah, he's here...he'll be out in a few moments. Got to go now. Talk to you later." After putting the phone down, Tracy turned her chair around so as to face me. "Okay, where were we?"

"You said there was something else you had to tell me."

"Oh yes," Tracy said as she picked a paper up off the desk. "Did you hear about the small plane crash up in Ames?"

I shook my head. Ames, Iowa was the home to Iowa State University and located about thirty-five to forty miles due north of the state capitol. During my short residency in Iowa, I had never gone to that city. "No, I hadn't."

"Well, it only happened in the last half hour," Tracy said, reading from some notes on her desk. "A small plane, presumably a private one, crashed up there. There were at least two passengers on board, maybe more."

"Did you send a crew up there already?"

Tracy shook her head. "No, we're short-handed this weekend. I need you to go up there with Jeff Davis and his crew."

Now I was beginning to question the sincerity in Tracy's words earlier about my job status with the station. On the other hand, it was summer time and several reporters were on vacation. Also, there was the fact I did field reporting when not anchoring.

"No problem, Tracy, my only concern is being back here in the studio in time for the 6 p.m. broadcast."

Tracy appeared to have thought about this already. "I think you'll be back in time, if not Jeanette will have to fly solo tonight. Think she's up to it?"

'Like my opinion matters, bitch, but what can I do?' I asked myself as job insecurity seemed to overwhelm me again. "Jeanette will be fine, I'm sure."

"Good," Tracy Jenkins said as she got out of her seat and I rose also. Our meeting was obviously over. "Jeff and the crew are waiting in the lobby. You'll leave for Ames immediately."

After saying goodbye to my defacto boss, I left the office. On exiting the room I immediately caught the smell of Jeanette Crowder's perfume. She was passing by in the hallway, her destination unknown.

'Smirk away, bitch. You won this battle, but what goes around comes around. Look at Connie Chung these days,' I thought as I made my way to the station's lobby. Just like she had in the office, Jeanette had that same stupid grin or smirk on her face when she passed me in the hallway.

Cameraman Jeff Davis and technician Ray Altman were waiting for me in the lobby. "You all set?" Jeff asked.

I nodded my head. "Yes. Let's get going then. I want to be back here for the six p.m. broadcast if possible."

"We have to wait a minute," Ray said. "Taylor is fetching the van. He should be back here in a minute or two."

Not knowing what else to do, I just stood silently in the lobby for about a minute. Then Jeff spoke up. "I guess you got the news?"

I wasn't surprised by Jeff's question. The station was a hotbed of gossip under the best of circumstances. "Yes, I did," was my glum response.

"Bummer," Jeff answered back. "Paul, if it's any consolation, I think you got royally screwed."

Jeff's comment was no consolation at all to me. I was saved from making further comment by the arrival of Ron Taylor's van outside the station's front door.

"Ron's here, time to go," Ray Altman said.

I followed the cameraman and technician to the front door. It was when I walked out into the hot July Iowa air that I began to feel real dizzy and even weird. Then my knees buckled...
 

~*~
 
The very next thing I remember was my feeling light headed. As my head cleared, the surroundings I was in caught my immediate attention. I was sitting on a bathroom commode.

"Holy shit," were the first words I said. This was followed immediately by a bodily function appropriate to those words. I rarely swore except under stress and at this moment I was extremely stressed. For one thing the voice I heard wasn't mine but sounded familiar. Then there was the location. "How the fuck did I get here?"

My senses quickly went into overdrive. First was my vision, besides seeing I was in a bathroom stall I now saw by looking down at myself that my clothes weren't the same. In fact a skirt was around my ankles. If that sense wasn't enough, then there was the smell and I am not talking about my shit, either.

I quickly wiped my buttocks and other equipment and then redressed myself. When done I hurried out of the stall. This nearly landed me flat on my face. Only by catching a sink across from the stall did I avoid falling down. Pulling myself up straight I looked in the mirror above the sink already suspecting the reflection I would see.

"Holy shit! How did I become Jeanette Crowder?"
 

~*~
 
I don't know how long I stared at the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not counting me, the ladies room at WHO was vacant. The lack of urinals helped tell me my location.

Looking in a mirror and finding a reflection not my own was the most unnerving experience in my life up till then. The first question was how or why did this happen? My second was how long would this last?

At first I thought this could be something out of the Twilight Zone. Like the episode where a family donned these masks. No such luck, if I was seeing an illusion, it was worthy of an academy award. One look by me in the stall while still on the toilet and another while in front of the mirror by looking down the blouse I now wore confirmed my entire body, not just my face, was female.

Somehow I had become Jeanette Crowder. Now what was I supposed to do? That's when I got company in the ladies' room.

"Jeanette, I am so glad to find you," said Tracy Jenkins.

I was still too fixated on what had happened to me. So Tracy spoke again, "Jeanette?"

This left me in an instant quandary that demanded an instant decision. "Yes, Tracy, it's me."

My decision to impersonate Jeanette was a quick one but also highly risky. Was Jeanette in my own body? If so she would be soon showing up claiming to be me. I may instantly find myself in hot water for saying that I was really Jeanette.

The scarier scenario for me was admitting I wasn't Jeanette. If I said this, Tracy Jenkins would just as well think I or Jeanette had lost her marbles.

Getting fired could be a possible outcome of my taking this path. It was insecurity about my job that made me decide on the impersonation route. I had made it in a split second.

"Are you all right?" Tracy asked.

"I just felt a little light-headed. Why?" I asked.

"Something wild has happened. Everyone at the station has changed," she began saying. "Except you and me, it seems."

For some reason I didn't understand what Tracy was saying yet. Instead I was feeling a slight headache coming on. "I'm starting to get a headache."

Tracy was almost staring at me at this point. She didn't speak up till about a half minute passed. "Get yourself together, take some aspirin or Tylenol and then get over to the newsroom. All hell is breaking loose and its not just here at the station."

The Executive Producer then left the room. Doing as I was told, I went back to the stall to flush the toilet which I hadn't done yet. While inside I picked up the purse that was on the floor there. I was now Jeanette Crowder, and the black handbag belonged to me.
 

~*~
 
The second I emerged from the rest room I knew something bizarre was going on. It was more than me now being a woman walking around wearing two-inch heels. The shoes took some getting used to and if people were to believe I was Jeanette, I'd have to act as normal as possible.

No one was acting normal at this time. The television station was normally a quiet place on weekends. It had been till my change. Now people were acting weird, crying, running, screaming.

Was I worried about myself and the ruse I was pulling at that moment? I was pretty calm as I made my way to the newsroom. My Marine Corps training and fifteen years of reporting television news made me bring a professional attitude to any job I was assigned to. Right then I wanted to find out what had happened to me and why, but I also had a job to do. Or at least Jeannette Crowder's job, that is.

As to my masquerade, I was certain it wouldn't last for long. Most likely Jeanette would arrive, probably in my own body. If not one of the station employees would notice me/Jeanette acting weird and start asking uncomfortable questions. If that would happen I'd just come out and confess. What's the worst that would happen then? I'd get fired? Compared to what I hoped was a temporary sex change, this seemed trivial. I was a survivor now and always had been.

Before entering the newsroom, I composed myself in the hallway. Mostly by running my hands over the clothing I now wore. I had seen my wife Donna do this many times. Then taking a deep breath, I opened the door and went in.

The newsroom door actually connected to three midsized to large rooms. First was the television studio, from which the news was actually broadcast. This was actually broken into two areas, one for the anchors, and another for the weatherman. Good weather or bad, reporting the day's weather on average comprised fifteen percent of a half hour broadcast. What was it that Mark Twain said about the weather? People talk about it but no one ever does anything about it?

Another set of rooms were for production. A control room among them was where the news broadcasts or any programming were followed by technicians or the station brass, whatever the case may be. Next to this room were editing rooms, where video footage was selected and edited for broadcast.

My destination was none of these rooms. I was headed to WHO's Conference Room. This was where reporters and producers met daily to decide what would and what wouldn't be on that day's broadcast. I opened the door to this room and walked straight in.

I discovered approximately twenty of WHO's news personnel in the room. Almost none of them noticed me entering; instead every single one of them was watching the thirteen-inch television in the room. It was set to WHO and was presently showing a news broadcast.

"This is fucking incredible," a co-worker by the name of Leslie King said as she shook her head. Ms. King was supposed to be a devout Mormon who I had never heard mutter a curse word in my short stint at WHO.

"But why did this happen?" one of the station's cameramen asked.

"Who knows," Leslie said, speaking up. "I just pray to God that it can be reversed."

"If what they say is true, we'll all need a miracle," another man said.

I hadn't taken a seat yet. Still being cautious in my new identity was one reason, another was I was trying to learn what was going on. Finally, Jeff Davis who was also in the room noticed me. "Hi, Jeanette?"

"Hi, Jeff, what's all the commotion about?" I asked while trying to act like Jeanette Crowder.

"I'm not Jeff," the man said, "I'm Ron Taylor."

"You swapped bodies? How?" I asked. In the corner of the conference room was a small table where there was an electric coffee pot and some donuts. I decided to help myself.

"We don't know. This is so crazy. You're still Jeanette?"

I nodded as I poured my coffee. "Yes. What's this all about?"

"We're still finding out, but it looks like ninety percent of the world's population swapped bodies."

"Oh my God!" Leslie said while still watching the television, "Oh my God! Run, Run, Run!"

The image showed a car being set on fire by a group of youths. According to the caption on the TV screen this was live footage from Chicago, Illinois. Apparently a riot was underway in that city.

Most everyone was left gasping at the last image shown by NBC before the network cut away. The youths who probably meant only to set the car on fire had instead caused the vehicle's gas tank to explode. A sheet of flame had engulfed at least three of the rioters, two of whom had almost immediately fallen to the ground but the third still remained standing. He or she was on fire from head to toe, a literal walking torch staggering before the cameras.

"This is unbelievable," were the only words I could think of at the moment. One co-worker was dry retching into a nearby waste basket.

"It sure is," Ron said. "If you're looking for Tracy, she stepped out but should be back soon."

"Okay," I said back. Then I decided to take a small chance. "I see almost everyone here, where is Paul?"

Ron looked up from the coffee cup he had just poured. "I don't know. We were leaving to go to Ames to cover that plane crash. That's when this thing happened, when we woke up Paul or whoever he was said he was a woman and left."

Right then I began to consider what Ron had told me. Had Jeanette become me? But why then had she left the station?

I didn't get much time to ponder these questions because Tracy Jenkins then entered the room. "Will everyone please take a seat and someone turn the volume down on the television."

Doing as Tracy ordered, I took a seat three quarters of the way down the table from the Executive News Producer. Before sitting down I brought over a donut, napkin and a cup of coffee and placed them in front of me.

"Quiet down, everyone," Tracy said to everyone in the room. She didn't speak again till there was silence. "We've got a lot of things to go over and a news broadcast to put on the air as soon as possible."

"Did you see what just happened in Chicago?" someone in the back of the room asked.

"Yes I did, but we're not here to discuss that," Tracy replied, still standing up and reading off a yellow memo pad. "I've got assignments for everyone here in this room. You will need to get working on them immediately."

Tracy set about giving out the assignments with a vengeance. WHO was short handed, but we would cover what later became known as The Great Shift as good or better than our competitors. Within hours of this unnatural occurrence 'The Great Shift' was the moniker given to the event. Or sometimes it was called the 'Shift' for short.

WHO was concentrating on the local angles regarding the Shift. The good news was the station's location. We were near downtown Des Moines and the state capitol. Some of the first assignments Tracy gave out were for news crews to go to both these locations.

As crews were given their assignments, the room began to slowly empty out. I just sat quietly making no comment. While doing so I sipped on my coffee and finished eating the donut I had gotten earlier.

My masquerade continued to be successful, though now I questioned myself whether I should just come clean about who I was. Everyone present in the room acted as if I was the real Jeanette Crowder and whoever had become me wasn't here. I decided therefore to keep my mouth shut. Being in the body of what many called an 'Anchor babe' may have some benefits. One was the potential in Jeanette's life and career. Was the loss of being male compensated for by the life I would be assuming? The thought had crossed my mind while I listened to the assignments being given out.

There had been a brief pause in the meeting when someone entered the room to give Tracy a message. As soon as the Executive News Producer read it, she re-started the meeting. "Leslie, I'm going to send you up on our news chopper. There are auto massive wrecks on I-80 and I-35."

This was when I learned Leslie was no longer herself. The person who answered was Carlos, a young Mexican man who worked as one of the station's drivers. "Okay, Tracy. Do we have a pilot to take me up?"

Tracy didn't answer right away. She was giving me an odd look for a few seconds. Had I somehow disclosed who I really was?

The Executive News Producer said nothing to me. Her glance over at me had lasted maybe five seconds. "Yes, Leslie, we found our pilot Frank. He is preparing the chopper right now and hopes to pick you up at the pad in thirty minutes. Be ready to go by then."

WHO had a small helicopter pad behind the station. When not at the station or in the air, the helicopter was usually kept at a hangar at Des Moines International Airport. During my brief employment at WHO I had been up in the chopper three times to cover stories.

"Okay, Tracy," Leslie said while getting up from her seat, "I'll get going on that immediately."

The meeting was almost over by now. For some reason I was feeling increasingly antsy as the meeting went on. It wasn't anxiety over my present situation but something else I couldn't put my finger on.

After Leslie left, the last assignments were given out. Two crews were sent to hospitals in the city. It was rumored people were already flocking there in hope of being cured from the Shift.

That left me and Tracy only in the room. "So what do I do?"

Tracy got up from her seat and walked down the table closer to me. Then not surprisingly she plopped her butt on the table maybe two feet from me.

"Jeanette, you're going to anchor the broadcast live from the studio. Feel up to it?"

"Absolutely," I said confidently.

"Good," Tracy said with an impish grin. "Paul went and disappeared on us. Good riddance, if you don't mind me saying so. He was an over-the-hill hack and why this station ever hired him I haven't a clue. It wasn't my decision."

I listened to Tracy trying hard not to bat an eyelash. My suspicions about this woman and her chameleon like personality had been verified. Maybe it was good that my life as Paul Hanratty was over.

"We haven't been able to find any of our other anchors yet. You could be on the air solo for some time."

"That won't be a problem."

Tracy then got up and went back to grab her notes. "I think we'd better get moving. We've got a lot of work to do."

I got out of my chair and followed Tracy out of the room. It was just as we stepped into hallway that I thought of a question to ask. "How long before we go on the air?"

"An hour at most. I'd prefer sooner if possible," Tracy replied. We sure did have a have a lot of work to do, and little time in which to get it accomplished.
 

~*~
 
It took a lot of hard work but we beat Tracy's deadline of an hour before going live on the air. We began broadcasting from the studio at 12:43 that afternoon.

Before broadcasting began I spent a great deal of time in the production room. There I was either reading the latest breaking news from the wire services or helping to select the film footage supplied by NBC that would be used for the broadcast. All while doing this no one suspected I wasn't the real Jeanette Crowder.

I had already formulated a theory as to why this was happening. It was based on two things. First was the fact that Jeanette was fairly new to WHO, and personality wise had been pretty much an enigma to her co-workers. There was no one at the station I knew that was close to her.

A second possible reason was my professionalism when it came to my work. I took my job very seriously, as did the real Jeanette. Was this trait enabling me to make people believe I was Jeanette Crowder?

I was really too busy to give this real thought. There was a news broadcast to put on. Having finished upstairs in the production room, I hurried to makeup. There was only five minutes till we went on the air.

The makeup woman had changed like everyone else at the station. Meg had worked at WHO for almost forty years and was in her late sixties. Now after the shift she inhabited the body of what I had to guess was a seven- or eight-year-old boy. Was it her grandson?

"I hear you didn't shift?" Meg asked.

"No, I guess I was a lucky one." Unlike most men I had no aversion to makeup. It came with the job I did.

"Guess not too many of you are around," Meg said, stopping to take a puff on her cigarette before continuing. "No, it doesn't look like it. Were you home when it happened?"

Looking in the wall mirror I saw Meg nodding. "Yes, I was. I had just gotten home from church service with my children. I was preparing breakfast for all of us when it happened."

"You became one of your grandchildren?"

"Yes, I did. My eight-year-old grandson Willie became me," Meg answered with a shake of her head.

"Boy, that has to be tough," I replied. A thought crossed my mind then. It may not be wise to engage in small talk with others at the station, it could lead to people discovering who I was.

"Yes, very. I sure hope they find a way of reversing this soon."

"I do too, for everyone's sake particularly you and Willie," I told Meg, who then thanked me. Losing sixty years of your life and becoming an elderly woman, I inwardly shook my head at the horror of what the Shift had done to people. I could only imagine how difficult this had to be for Meg and her grandson.

Meg's preparations didn't take long at all. She knew the drill, television news was a high-speed business. "What do you think?" Meg asked when she was finished.

"Looks fine to me," I said as I began to get out of the chair in which I had been seated. That's when Tracy stuck her head in the room.

"Ninety seconds till we go on the air," the Executive News Producer announced to me and then closed the door.

I was out of the makeup room seconds later but not before Meg had given me one last look over. She then gave me a final thumbs-up. In a minute it would be show time.

As I entered the television studio the familiar voice of Tracy could be heard over the PA system, "Sixty seconds till we go on the air."

I went straight to Jeanette's regular seat. It wasn't so much a seat as a stool and a very uncomfortable one, to say the least. As soon as I sat down, production people began to circle me.

"Forty-five seconds till we're on the air," Tracy announced over the PA system.

As a microphone was being put on me, and an almost invisible ear piece placed in my left ear, I kicked off the two-inch heels I'd been wearing. The shoes had grown unbearable to my feet. As soon as the footwear was off I slipped my feet into a pair of pink slippers that Jeanette kept stored under the podium. These proved much more comfortable for my feet.

"Thirty seconds till we're on the air."

'Can I make people believe I'm Jeanette Crowder?' I asked myself once again as the seconds ticked away. Self doubt was trying to take over my mind again, but I pushed these thoughts aside. Still, for some reason I was feeling increasingly antsy. What was the cause?

"Twenty seconds."

The production people were finished with their work and left the set. Feeling thirsty I reached for a cup placed beneath the podium on a small table. I took a quick swig of the liquid.

"Ten seconds...nine..."

'Yuck. Who the heck likes Ginger tea?' I thought, trying hard not to show my displeasure facially. My co-anchor for some reason enjoyed that concoction and the production crew knowing this had prepared the drink just for her...me.

"Five seconds...four..."

I took these last seconds to compose myself. I looked straight ahead at the camera as I held meaningless papers in my hands. They were a leftover from the days before teleprompters but were still sometimes used by forgetful newsmen and newswomen. To me they were just unnecessary atmospherics. I stared into the camera, ready to smile when the cue came.

"One..."
 

~*~
 
"Good afternoon and welcome to this special edition of WHO's weekend news. My name is Jeanette Crowder," I started, beginning the broadcast with a warm smile hardly befitting the chaos that seemed to have been let loose on the planet that day.

"Today, at approximately 10:58 a.m. Iowa time, an event took place that has altered almost all of mankind," I said, reading off the teleprompter. "What some people have begun calling The Great Shift has migrated souls from one person to another person. This was a totally random and still unexplained event."

"For how this is affecting the people of Des Moines and the State of Iowa we'll go to our reporter Steve Gallagher. She is on the steps of the state capitol. Steve..."
 

~*~
 
As soon as the camera on me was turned off, I made a request. "Will someone please get me some water?" I just couldn't make myself drink any more of that ginger tea.

You'd be surprised, but the pace in the studio picks up when an anchor is not on the air. Any glitches needing correction are made at this time. Also, changes can be made to the broadcast, or in this case a large cup of water is brought to the news anchor. People hurried about their business while I sat there waiting for the next cue that I was on the air live. A television monitor showed the broadcast from the capitol and the sound was supplied to me by my earpiece. What was going on in Des Moines at least for the moment looked sedate in comparison to the scenes I'd seen earlier of Chicago.

Meg came on the set to wipe my brow. A television studio demands a lot of lighting, which makes the room often unbearably hot. As Paul Hanratty I'd be sweating even before a broadcast began. As Jeanette I still hadn't broken out perspiring but this wouldn't last for long.

"You're doing great," Meg told me, and then withdrew from the set. I took the time now to drink some of the water they brought me. It was while doing this that I finally noticed the taste of the lipstick I was wearing. Till now I had been too focused on my work to pay attention to my physical state.

That was except for how increasingly antsy I was becoming. What was causing this? Was I PMSing? No, I didn't think so. There was no sign of blood in my underwear when I was in the bathroom stall. Was it female hormones? Nerves? What?

Right then the live feed into my earpiece of our broadcast was interrupted by the voice of Tracy Jenkins. "Jeanette, you're going back on live in sixty seconds with Steve."

"Gotcha." Then I reached with my right hand for a pen on the podium. I was going to begin writing a few quick notes till I realized my right hand didn't feel right trying to write. I quickly switched to writing what was now the correct way - left-handed. The real Jeanette was a southpaw.

The seconds were ticking down to when I'd be back on the air. The countdown had reached eight when I got a brainstorm. I now knew why I was so antsy.

'Shit, I need a nicotine fix.'
 

~*~
 
Those thoughts were dismissed as soon as I was back on the air. It was time to ask Steve some questions. "Thank you, Steve, for describing the scene by the state house. My question is - where are the Police, Firemen and Paramedics right now?"

Reporter Steve Gallagher was no longer a man. He had swapped bodies with Linda Kramer, one of WHO's production people. This may have been an ironic wwap, supposedly Linda and Steve had recently broken up a romantic relationship they were having. "Jeanette, since I arrived at the capitol I can count the emergency personnel I've seen on one hand."

I knew the answer to the question I was about to answer, but asked it still. The question and answer were meant to inform WHO's viewing audience. "The police and emergency personnel were altered by The Shift then, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, Jeanette, almost no one was immune from this event," Steve told the audience. They were seeing a live example in WHO's reporter. "Emergency and police personnel were affected as was approximately ninety percent of the world's population. Till they can reorganize themselves, police and emergency services will be limited."

"How about 911?"

"It's basically overwhelmed at this moment," Steve explained as she held her stomach as if the news reporter was in some kind of pain there. "Since the shift occurred, people have been frantically dialing that number, so much so that no one now can get through."

While Steve Gallagher was explaining this a memo was carefully passed to me by someone off-screen. A quick glance allowed me to read the paper.

A United 737 is inbound to Des Moines airport and will be making an emergency landing within the half hour. We have a crew almost there and we will be cutting there shortly. - T

There was still the matter of Steve Gallagher at the capitol meanwhile. "Any word from the Governor or any other State Official?"

"None so far, Jeanette. We've heard rumors about a press conference but nothing has been confirmed so far."

I continued popping Steve with questions about conditions around the capitol. WHO's field reporter answered them the best she could. Des Moines still appeared pretty calm, but the images of people wandering the streets as if in a daze were pretty unnerving in my opinion.

"How about the mayor of Des Moines or the Police Chief?"

Steve shook her head. "No word from any elected official."

Right about then Steve was handed a slip of paper. "Jeanette, we just got a statement from the Governor's office. The governor has scheduled a press conference for 2:30 p.m. local time."

"Any word on what news they will have for us then?"

"Negative, Jeanette. We were just told that a press conference would be held and what time it would start. No other details were given."

By now Steve Gallagher's report was drying up. It was hard to come up with new questions and I was hoping we would soon break away to another reporter.

"Steve, let me ask you this-"

I was interrupted by WHO's reporter in the field. "Hold on Jeanette, I may have something."

Right then Steve Gallagher and her cameraman set off on foot after someone. It was time for me to speak up again. "That was our reporter Steve Gallagher reporting live from the state capitol in Des Moines. From what we can see Steve is apparently trying to catch up with someone, when she does so we'll go right back to her."

"Updating everyone again, if you tuned in late. At 10:58 a.m. this morning, an event now being called The Great Shift took place across the entire face of this planet. What happened was a mass soul migration or body swap. At this moment no one knows what caused this event to happen."

I paused then for a moment, someone was talking to me through my earpiece. Then I continued. "Now we'll go live to Debra Zabriskie, reporting live from Mercy Medical Center..."

As soon as I was off the air, I said into my microphone. "Do I have time for a smoke?"

Again it was Tracy Jenkins who answered, "Yes, but do it quickly, Jeanette."

As was the real Jeanette's habit, she kept a pack of cigarettes and a lighter beneath the podium we did the news from. Picking these items up and while still wearing my slippers, I hurried to an emergency door behind the television set.

It was still a bright and sunny Iowa day when I opened the door. The moment I was outside I began to light a cigarette. As I did so my hands were visibly shaking, that's how bad the body I now possessed needed its nicotine fix.

The second I took my first puff, the case of the nerves began going away. But I didn't stop after one puff, I continued puffing away in rapid succession. Back in my teen years, as Paul Hanratty, I had smoked but kicked the habit while at the Naval Academy. Midshipman in Annapolis led a very austere life. I had smoked up to that point in my life thinking it was the in thing to do. When I was a midshipman it proved to be a nuisance and I gave up the filthy habit.

Now being in the body of Jeanette Crowder, I found myself seriously addicted to this habit forming drug again. That's what nicotine laced cigarettes really were in my mind, a legalized drug. If the tobacco industry wasn't worth billions of dollars of business to the US economy, these health altering substances would have been banned long ago.

I finished my first cigarette in about a minute's time. That's how bad my need for a fix was. In the short period of time I had known the real Jeanette I had seen how much the woman smoked but only knew now how addicted the anchorwoman was to cigarettes. When we had done broadcasts together, Jeanette would slip off the set like I had and grab a quick smoke. Even if it we were just doing a thirty-minute broadcast. That definitely said a lot.

With a few minutes to myself I began to think now of what had happened to me. Was the shift permanent? Right now no one had any explanation for why it happened. So taking that fact into consideration, I was already concluding no reversal would be happening for some time if ever. For one thing, how about people who were shifted and found out their original body was now dead? From the reports over the police scanner at WHO, at least thirty-eight people had died in auto wrecks around Des Moines after the shift. That total was certain to rise. And how about other parts of the country? Working at a television station gave me some knowledge to how shattering the Shift had been to society that day.

My own personal belief was the world would bounce back in the end. Life would be rough in the beginning, but mankind was too resilient not to recover.

In my fifteen years of news reporting, and even going back further to my Marine Corps days, I had seen my share of tragedy. I'd also seen incredible acts of recovery in the aftermath of disasters. The Great Shift had changed the world, not destroyed it. Therefore I was certain life would go on.

I would go on too, even if it meant living the rest of my life as a woman. But then, what choice did I have in the matter? Absolutely none, so I'd have to cope with the Shift's aftermath like everyone else.

This was what I was musing on while puffing on my second cigarette when a coworker stuck her head out the door. "Ms. Crowder, you're going back on the air in ninety seconds."

I took one last puff and then stubbed the cigarette out against the side wall of the station. "Coming right in."

When I got back to the podium Meg was waiting for me again. As she prepped me, I read some of the news bulletins that had come in while I was having my break. What I read was highly distressing to say the least. Riots in New York, Washington, DC, Chicago and Los Angeles to name just a few cities. Fires were blazing out of control in London's West End and a forest near Oregon's Mt. Hood. Plane crashes had happened in Austria, Indiana, The North Sea and Bogotá¡, Columbia.

Was I wrong about mankind's resiliency? Were we seeing the beginning of the end of the world? I didn't have time to be philosophical now. It was time to put on my happy face and continue with the broadcast.

"That was Debra Zabriskie reporting from Mercy Medical Center in Des Moines," were my first words once back on the air. "To repeat what doctors and now city officials have said, they are asking all residents of Des Moines to go back to their homes and stay there. Going to the hospital seeking treatment for the Shift is not advised. No cure has been found at this time. Repeating what Debra Zabriskie has just reported, people are being advised not to go to any area hospitals unless it's a medical emergency."

Right then a piece of paper was passed to me by a studio technician. I quickly read it and then began speaking again. "This just in, the Governor of Iowa, Thomas Vilsack, has declared a state of emergency for the entire state effective immediately. National Guard troops are being ordered to report for duty at this very moment. In addition, a curfew has been enacted statewide. It will be in effect from 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. effective tonight. Any violations of this curfew will result in a person being arrested. Repeat, just moments ago Governor Thomas Vilsack has announced a statewide state of emergency and is the process of ordering the state's National Guard to activate."

Now I was getting a message from the production booth through my ear piece. "Now we're going to our reporter, Christine Hampton. At this moment Christine is reporting from Des Moines International Airport. Christine, what is going on there?"
 

~*~
 
WHO's broadcast then went from the studio to Des Moines International Airport where Christine Hampton was reporting. Christine was a veteran reporter of almost twenty-five years at the television station. Outside the workplace she was a mother of four and soon to become a grandmother for the first time.

Like almost everyone at WHO, Christine had been changed by the Shift. She had been a Caucasian woman in her late forties. Now she inhabited the body of WHO's receptionist Deb Richard, a slightly chubby but pleasant looking African-American woman in her early twenties.

"Jeanette, about fifteen to twenty minutes ago we got word that a United Airlines 737 was inbound to Des Moines International for an emergency landing in approximately fifteen minutes. As soon as we got the news my crew raced here to the scene," Christine said, looking into the camera.

Behind her was a chain link fence and further back some hangars and a view of a slither of one of DSM's runways. The reporter turned slightly backward for a second. "As you can see, we're not being allowed any closer to the airport for safety reasons, but we just heard some emergency vehicles leaving to take their positions along the runway."

It was time for me to ask some questions. "Christine, any more details on the flight?"

"Not too much, Jeanette. There are one hundred and thirty-five people on board. Eight of those are supposed to be crew members."

"The passengers and crew were then affected by the Shift?"

"Yes, we believe so. United didn't give many details. Just saying the person flying the 737 was not a United employee but had some piloting experience."

"So none of the cabin crew is currently piloting the plane?"

"Right, Jeanette, that is what United is telling us. All we know is the person at the controls has some piloting experience."

As Christine described the scene at the airport, something from the recent past sprang forward in my mind. The scene unfolding on the air was eerily similar to that United DC-10 that crashed in Sioux City, Iowa eleven years ago. Emergency personnel readying for the incoming plane, press waiting at a distance to catch the scene live. Back in 1989 I was a weekend anchor/weekday field reporter for the CBS affiliate in Cheyenne, Wyoming and remembered vividly the horrifying scene of the disabled DC-10 somersaulting as it struck the runway. Over one hundred passengers died that day but almost two hundred survived. Would this United plane meet a similar or worse fate?

Who was this person piloting the jet? Piloting experience could mean anything, a glider pilot, a jet pilot, or a weekend flyer of a single-engine Cessna. Coincidentally, that United Flight in Sioux City had a pilot, copilot, and engineer who had each gotten some special control malfunction

training and even a training pilot in the cabin. They worked heroically to land that plane and still many people lost their lives that day. Piloting, pardon the pun, was not something you learned on the fly.

"We just got a report; the plane is ten miles out," Christine Hampton reported. Then a surprise happened, the gate behind where WHO's reporter was standing began to open. "Hold on, Jeanette, I think we're being allowed onto the airport grounds."

I watched as Christine spoke to the person at the gate. It looked like the camera crew and reporter were going to be allowed in but were being told what they could and could not do.

Christine's brief conference ended. "Jeanette, we're being allowed onto the airport property. We'll be right back. Stu, lets move it!"

If Christine was no longer speaking to the camera, cameraman Stu continued shooting. The next footage, a bit jumpy since it came from Stu's rapidly walking shoulder, showed the WHO reporting crew all climbing into their van. Then some emergency vehicles passed by followed by a Des Moines sheriff with his siren blaring. The WHO mini-van trailed behind.

It took about ninety seconds for Christine and Stu to be set up again. Their new position was next to a hangar, and more importantly gave a clear view of DSM's main east-west runway.

Christine began her report then by pointing to her left. "Jeanette, the 737 will be landing from the west on Runway 25."

"Christine, one quick question, isn't there a residential development just west of the airport?"

"Yes, Jeanette, there is. If the plane don't make the runway...well, the result could be cataclysmic."

"The pilot is probably not experienced enough to come in from the east. What do you think?"

"Most likely it's because coming from the east would have them landing with a tailwind; since it's light it would be safer, but supposedly someone in the tower is talking to the man or woman who is piloting the plane. Whoever it is, they're probably not experienced enough to change course."

I held the same opinion. It was probably Stu who spoke next, "Look!"

The camera swung to the left and began to zoom in on an airplane approaching the airport. I'd flown on enough planes in my life to know it was a 737, probably one of the more recent -800 type versions. The plane was nearing the airport. It was too early to tell, but it seemed to be making an almost perfect approach.

No one, not I, Christine, Stu or anyone in the television studio spoke as the drama unfolded. The plane looked to be a mile out and about to pass over the approach lights.

'Keep going baby, keep going,' I thought to myself. Then remembering my long out of practice Catholic faith, I made a sign of the cross and said a quick prayer.

The 737 continued over the airport's outer fence, then over the landing lights to the runway. Suddenly the wheels touched down as the plane passed directly in front of Christine, emergency vehicles could be seen frantically chasing the airliner.

To make a long story short, the new pilot of the 737 correctly applied the reverse thrust of the big engines, made a safe landing and rolled to a stop. Almost immediately cheers broke out in the news room.

"That was a close one, Jeanette."

"It really was, Christine," I said with a sigh of relief. Then I paused as a message came into my ear piece from the production booth. "Christine, we'll now be cutting from you for some other breaking news. We're now going to Leslie King who is on chopper thirteen."

The next scenes shown on WHO made me shudder. It was a live shot from overhead I-80 about five miles east of the I-80/I-35 interchange. A massive fire with apparently an oil tanker truck at the center of it was raging on the interstate. There were massive automobile pile ups in both directions.

One disaster averted, but another in progress. That was pretty much how The Great Shift unfolded, live and uncut.
 

~*~
 
The news coverage of the Shift that July day seemed to lurch from one tragedy to the next. First the large pileup on the interstate, where when a body count was finally done, had taken over seventy lives. Next were two smaller but equally tragic auto accidents in the greater Des Moines area.

There were even bizarre deaths. WHO reporter Denise Goldsmith almost had someone fall on top of her. A woman leaped to her death from the fifth floor of an apartment house. No reason was ever discovered, but the person must not have looked too carefully before taking her plunge. Only quick thinking by a WHO cameraman, who pulled Denise to safety, prevented the suicidal woman from landing on the reporter.

Inside the studio I was physically safe from the calamities taking place in the outside world. I wasn't safe from them emotionally, though. The almost nonstop barrage of one disaster after another proved to be very draining. On more than one occasion I had to wipe back a tear or two at the sights I was seeing on live television.

I really didn't have time to weep. There was a broadcast to be put on the air, and I maintained my professional and level headed best as WHO switched frantically from one report to another on that day's happenings.

All in all Des Moines was pretty quiet compared to other locations around the globe. There was little or no civil unrest. People were dazed and confused by the day's events, but didn't vent their frustrations outwardly. Most of Iowa's citizens appeared to be more shocked than anything else.

I was way too busy to do little anything but the occasional rumination on what had happened to me. The pace at WHO that day was like nothing I had ever experienced in my years of broadcasting. Before coming to Des Moines I had worked at stations in Billings, Montana; Cheyenne, Wyoming; Boise,

Idaho and finally Las Vegas, Nevada. The first three were hardly hotbeds of activity. Two were like Des Moines, state capitols where much of the news seemed to revolve around the state government. That type of news was rarely exciting or dramatic, to say the least.

Las Vegas was a busy city, but most excitement in that town was related to show-biz or entertainment. In fifteen years of news reporting, I had never reported on a major disaster. A couple of hotel fires were the worst I had seen, and even in one of those there were no fatalities.

Not anymore, since the day the Shift happened. With WHO being shorthanded I'd be required to stay on the studio set or nearby for almost the entire day. There were no commercial breaks. The only breaks I received were when we left the studio for a report from the field or broke away to broadcast some of NBC's network news coverage. Even during these I couldn't wander too far from the set. I did take advantage of these times to either use the restroom, grab something to eat or drink, or most often get a cigarette break.

I really needed these little breaks for a couple of reasons. First, the day's happenings were draining emotionally, particularly those disasters we were broadcasting on television, and I needed to get away from them. Secondly, it's not easy working under the lights of a television set nonstop, particularly with the heat from the lights; the uncomfortable stool I sat on made me need a break for this also.

One break came during the Governor's press conference. It was interesting seeing what had happened to the state's chief executive. Governor Tom Vilsack was now a woman. Half the world had gotten a sex change that day, so this wasn't all that surprising. It's who the Governor became. She wasn't his wife Christy, but her top aide Monica Banks, a former Miss Iowa. The rumors would swirl for the longest time about what those two were doing at the time of the Shift.

While the Governor was giving the press conference, I enjoyed about a twenty-minute break from the television studio. Like everyone else, Governor Vilsack had no answers as to the how or why behind the Shift nor any information if its effects were permanent or not. Mostly the State's Chief Executive pleaded for people to remain calm and stay in their homes unless there was an emergency.

My first stop during the break was a trip to the ladies room to relieve my bladder. After that was accomplished I grabbed a cup of coffee and went back to my little hideaway to smoke some cigarettes. I wished this wasn't necessary, but my new body needed the nicotine fix.

I was just lighting up my second cigarette when someone joined me outside the emergency exit. "Mind if I join you?" Tracy Jenkins asked me.

"No, not at all," I told the Executive Producer after taking a long drag on my fourth post-Shift cigarette. Soon enough I'd stop counting. "Is the Governor still on the air?"

"Yes, she is," Tracy said as she took out her own cigarettes. "I'd bet you a hundred the Governor was screwing her when the Shift happened."

I then laughed for the first time after the Shift. "I'll pass on that bet."

"Don't blame you," Tracy said after lighting up and taking her first puff. "If they were screwing, the bitch deserved what she got."

I didn't agree with Tracy. My own opinion was no one deserved what happened to them that day. Since my fellow nicotine addict was also my boss, I discreetly changed topics rather than disagree. "Anything new going on out there?"

"Lincoln Tunnel is ablaze, but I think you saw that."

I nodded. "Yes, I did. Any word yet on why this happened?"

Tracy shook her head as she finished her first cigarette. "No, nothing at all. I don't think it looks too good for all the folks in different bodies now as far as getting this Shift reversed."

I was drawing the same conclusion. There was no logic or science known to man that could have caused such an event. It had to be supernatural, and plus it appeared totally random. I just didn't see it being reversed.

This meant I'd be female for the rest of my life. I guess I'd find out how the other half lives, not that I had any choice in the matter. Like almost everyone else on the planet, I'd have to accept and move on. It wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to me. Seeing all the news coverage of the day had shown me that my fate could have been far worse.

Guess I'd have to get used to women's clothing, PMS, perfume and jewelry and a myriad of other things associated with female life. Plus some things personal to the woman I had become, like this addiction to cigarettes. Something I swore I'd kick as soon as things began to settle down. I had done it as a guy, why can't I do it as a woman?

The funny thing is I was already thinking the reversal of my gender may have been a reversal of fortune for me also. Where was I going in life as Paul Hanratty? My marriage was kaput and my professional career probably near an end also. I was in honest truth, a middle-aged has been. If I lost the job at the station as Paul Hanratty I'd probably never get another job in broadcasting ever again. Without a degree in the field, that meant I was probably cooked. What was I going to do at age forty-five with no other discernible skills or training?

Now I was female, young, attractive, educated, with a good resume and no baggage from the past. Okay, actually that is the real Jeanette and I was under no illusions that my masquerade at WHO would eventually end. Even if I was fired, I could certainly start anew somewhere else using Jeanette's identity and background. To me it was looking like a winning proposition.

So I'd take my chances as they were at the moment, as Jeanette Crowder. If the real Jeanette showed up or WHO finds out and doesn't appreciate my masquerade, I'd deal with it then. No question it was a gamble, but what was so appealing about the life of Paul Hanratty at the present? Not very much at all.

"Yes, I've got to agree," I told Tracy, and then after dropping my second cigarette to the ground, stubbed it out by stepping on it. "If no one understands how or why it happened, how can they fix it?"

"That's what I was thinking, too."

"It's going to play merry havoc with the world," I replied. Right then I was trying to fight the urge to light up again. Willpower, now that would the key.

"Sure will. Is this the end of the world?"

"No, I don't think so."

"We got a hold of Dr. Harriman Nelson here at Drake. He's a physicist, ever heard of him?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't."

"He's agreed to do an interview, talk about the Shift. Give his theory on what happened. Anyway, he needs some time to prep for it. I'm sending Christine Hampton over to meet him at the University."

Tracy was done with her cigarette and like me didn't light up again. "By the way, you're doing a great job today. Keep it up."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," I said as I examined my female hands. At this time my back was feeling a little sore also. I attributed this to the hard stool I had to do the news from. Why couldn't the news be done like those morning programs? All homey, and doing the news while sitting on a soft couch.

Because it wouldn't look professional, the pollsters say. We're here to tell the news. What a crock, television news was entertainment first and foremost. We like to pretend we're something that we are not.

"You're going places, Jeanette, just keep it up."

"Thanks," I replied, and then took the opportunity to ask a question I'd been wanting to ask for over an hour. "How long are we going to be broadcasting like this? I mean all news."

Tracy's willpower wasn't as strong as I thought, nor was my own. We both decided to smoke another cigarette while we had the chance. "We'll be covering the news of this thing for some time. The networks have all canceled their regular programming tonight. So we'll either use the network feed or continue live from the studio."

"Have you heard anything from Alicia?" I asked, referring to WHO's weekday anchor.

Tracy shook her head. "No, but even if I did she wouldn't be much use at the moment."

"Why? She only lives like fifteen minutes from here," I commented.

"She went to Chicago this weekend, for her parent's thirty-fifth wedding anniversary," Tracy began saying. "Funny, I remember her mentioning that to you just four days ago."

I almost immediately thought I had slipped up and Tracy would know I wasn't really Jeanette. Was it time to lay my cards on the table or continue the act? All television personalities, even those in the news business, were part actor or actress. We could turn on the appropriate emotion almost on cue.

So I laughed. "I totally forgot, maybe the Shift took part of my memory."

Tracy laughed right away. She appeared not to be suspicious. "Yes, that might be it."

We were both done with our latest cigarette before Tracy spoke again. "Don't worry, we'll be getting you some relief. By midnight worst, trust me."

"No problem, I was just asking out of curiosity."

Tracy grinned slightly. "It's not like you have a hot date tonight. Or do you?"

"No, just going to try getting back home and get some sleep before having to be here tomorrow."

"Good," Tracy said as she finished her cigarette. I was right behind her in finishing my own cigarette. "I guess we'd better go back inside and get ready to go back on the air."

"Yes, ma'am, we've got a job to do," I said, and then followed the Executive Producer back into the television station.
 

~*~
 
It was maybe ten minutes after I returned inside that the Governor's press conference ended. As soon as this was finished, WHO switched back to the ongoing I-80 tragedy.

The interstate disaster was easily the worst tragedy in the Des Moines area. There were smaller wrecks and suicides, but compared to elsewhere Iowa remained pretty quiet the day of the Shift.

We did show footage of the tragedies in other parts of the world. The Lincoln Tunnel fire was still raging, and of course being in New York City it got a great deal of coverage. There were over fifty airline crashes, also. Could be more, but I never kept track. Good thing half the world was asleep when the Shift happened or more would have happened. You had to wonder how it felt for these people to wake up and find yourself unexpectedly someone else.

Then again, didn't ninety percent of the world do that on July 29, 2000?

Just before 5 p.m. Christine Hampton's interview of Dr. Harriman Nelson began. In addition to teaching at Drake University, Dr. Nelson was a highly respected physicist. Unfortunatley, if I or WHO's viewing audience were looking for answers from Dr. Nelson, we were to be disappointed. The Physicist was as clueless as everyone else about the Shift. He did however confirm my own personal opinion, that a cure for the Shift was highly unlikely.

The Professor was certainly a sight. Now, after the Shift, she was one of the cutest seven or eight-year-old girls you'd even see. She had bright red hair and bangs. I took her opinions seriously but I'd have to wonder if others did.
 

~*~
 
While Dr. Nelson's interview was going on, I got information from the production booth through my earphone. Sometime after five p.m. WHO would break from its local broadcast to show the national feed from NBC.

Right after the switch was made, and while I was taking off my microphone and earpiece, Tracy arrived on the television set. "Come with me to the conference room, we've got pizza for everyone there."

After I was unhooked, I got off my stool and began walking with Tracy to the conference room. "Where did we get the pizza? I'm surprised anyone is open after what happened."

"Ceccarelli's is open," Tracy began to explain. Ceccarelli's was a little mom and pop pizza and pasta place about two minutes from the station and WHO frequently ordered food from there. "Looks like the husband and wife owners swapped with each other. So business just went on."

"Makes sense to me. I guess people still need to eat," I commented back. At the moment I was very hungry and would have eaten a horse.

Inside the conference room were about fifteen station employees, all helping themselves to the pizza that was available. Apparently four pizzas were ordered for the station, one plain cheese, one pepperoni, one sausage, and the last was a mix. I helped myself to some of the pepperoni pizza. Also soft drinks were ordered, I took a diet Pepsi for myself.

Most of the staff took their food and drink elsewhere. This was because of the room's limited space, which was even less when the food was accounted for. When everyone was done, Tracy, Jeff Davis and I were the only ones in the room.

"You're really shoveling that stuff away," Tracy said to me. I was starved and hadn't wasted time getting right to my food.

"Other than the donut, I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. I'm just so hungry."

"Oh."

Jeff spoke up now, "You heard the whole Atlanta Falcon football team died in a plane crash this afternoon."

'What a shame. They had just come off the Super Bowl,' I thought as I nodded my head. "Yes, I read the wire report from UPI."

"I wonder what other athletes got killed today. Probably a quite a few," Jeff commented.

Tracy didn't hide her disdain for sports very well. "A lot of people died today. Not just athletes. The rich, the famous, the very ordinary, it affected everyone."

"I guess so," Jeff said timidly. Possibly feeling hurt after being rebuffed by the Executive News Producer.

"By the way, we got relief for you. They will be coming in tonight and you should get out of here around midnight," Tracy said as she slowly ate some of the pizza.

"Oh really, who will it be?"

"You know or heard of Ed Rowland?"

Jeff Davis, obviously unfazed by Tracy's early rebuff, butted in at this point. "Ed's coming back? He's a great guy. Everyone liked him here at the station and I'm sure you will too, Jeanette."

Jeff was sitting behind and to the left of Tracy. This prevented the cameraman from seeing the eye roll made by the Executive News Producer. "You grew up not far from Des Moines, you must have heard of him."

I nodded my head. "Yes, I remember Ed; I just have never met him."

Actually the second part was a lie. I was thoroughly acquainted with WHO's retired news anchor, and had met him at a news reporter convention in Dallas around 1993 or 1994.

Ed Rowland was a local legend in Des Moines. He was one of the station's first news reporters. He got his start on our sister radio station also named

WHO after leaving the Army in 1948. Beginning in 1964 he anchored WHO Channel 13's evening or 6 p.m. news and would continue to do so till he retired in 1996.

My one meeting with Ed had left me impressed. He had a warm personality and a great sense of humor. More importantly he was a news professional to the bone. Ed was dedicated to bringing information to the public without unneeded commentary. He was much respected in Iowa and even loved, that is something rarely mentioned when talking about news people.

From other sources I learned Ed was devoted to his wife Claire, the woman was an invalid who spent her later years confined to a wheelchair. That's what had brought about the newscaster's retirement, his wife's failing health. I believe Claire Rowland had died in either 1998 or 1999.

Tracy went on to explain further. "The station owners called up Ed this afternoon. Apparently he wasn't shifted; anyway, he's going to come in and help out here till we get back on our feet."

I might have asked how this would affect my or Jeanette's status at the station, but deferred till later. For one thing, I didn't want to discuss this topic with Jeff Davis in the room.

Jeff butted in again, "No one thought about talking to Fred Talbot about coming back?

Fred was WHO's recently fired weekday anchor. This time Tracy didn't bother to hide her feelings when replying to the cameraman. The Executive News Producer turned around in her chair so as to look Jeff right in the eye. "Fred is done here. He won't ever be working again at WHO."

Seeing Jeff put in his place by Tracy, I got us back on topic. "So Ed Rowland is coming in tonight to relieve me?"

"Yes, Ed will. That's why I said you should be out of here by midnight."

Two things cropped up in my mind almost immediately. First was the curfew that was in effect. I hoped the Des Moines police made exceptions for television station personnel. Weren't we an essential service? I didn't bring this up but rather raised the second point I had. "Do you think there will be much news tonight here in Des Moines?"

Tracy had finished her pizza by now and was looking like she was full. "Maybe, maybe not, but we'll keep a skeleton crew on just in case."

"Makes sense to me. I guess nothing has been heard about Paul?"

"No, nothing," Tracy replied.

The pizza from Ceccarelli's was excellent and I was about to get a second slice when Ron Taylor walked into the room. "All of you got to see what ABC is showing in New York right now. Mind if I change channels?"

"No, go right ahead," Tracy answered.

The ABC broadcast showed a Chinese looking woman captioned as Chip Morton ABC-TV New York standing in a boat somewhere in the sea. There were buildings in the background but it didn't appear to be Manhattan.

"According to the FAA a British Airways 747 is inbound from London. The person at the controls is not the pilot and he or she is attempting an emergency landing at JFK airport," Chip Morton reported.

What was unfolding was eerily similar to the earlier United 737 landing at DSM. I also knew where the filming was taking place. It was Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn, New York. Long ago I had an aunt that lived in that city and I sometimes visited Coney Island while visiting her.

Tracy, Jeff and I were riveted to the unfolding drama. ABC's Chip Morton filled in some details about the plane. The 747 had over 400 passengers and crew on board and had called in a mayday while still well out over the Atlantic. Like in Des Moines, air traffic controllers were talking to the man or woman piloting the plane in order to bring it to a safe landing.

Within a minute or two the big 747 slowly came into view. I watched the plane begin to make its approach to JFK. My sixth sense told me not to be very optimistic.

"I think he is coming in too low," Jeff Davis said.

Watching the television, I had to agree with the cameraman. "Yes, he is. Pull up, baby. Pull up!"

The plane continued its approach toward JFK, but if anything the plane seemed to be descending.

"Oh my God, she's going to go in!" Jeff exclaimed.

A few seconds later the 747 did exactly that. A spray of water was kicked up as the plane struck the water. In so doing almost all sight of the plane was lost, but unless I was badly mistaken, I saw the parts of the plane breaking off.

The ABC reporter Chip Morton looked to be in tears as she exclaimed a moment after impact, "Holy Mary, mother of God. Have mercy on all of those on board."

In shock and reeling from the video I just saw, I suddenly lost my appetite for more pizza. It would later be reported that three hundred and fifty-three people on board the plane died. There were only fifty-nine survivors.
 

~*~
 
About fifteen minutes after watching the tragedy in New York, I had to go back to the television set to continue WHO's news broadcast. It wasn't easy, the footage from New York had shaken me that much but there was a newscast to be done. I would just have to go on.

The pace that evening began to slacken; there were several reasons, most of which would probably be attributed to Midwestern hospitality and people helping other people in the wake of the Shift. Society pulled together in order to persevere in this time of crisis.

Another thing was the curfew that went into effect at 8 p.m. In an earlier interview with the Des Moines Sheriff, Francis Sharkey had stated that the curfew would be taken seriously. Unless a person had good reason to be out on the streets, they would be arrested. That was another reason people were inviting strangers into their homes.

Just before 9 p.m. and as was announced earlier, President Clinton came on the air to talk to the American public. I didn't pay much attention to the speech, first because I found most such speeches deathly boring, and second because I felt little new news would be provided. In this instance I was correct.

Taking advantage of the break, I made a trip to the ladies room and then to Jeanette's office. Yes, I skipped going to have a cigarette. I was determined to kick that nasty habit.

Once in the office, I plopped myself into Jeanette's chair. It was time for me to find out a few things about the person I had become. In truth Jeanette Crowder was still an enigma to me even if I had possessed her body. What I wanted to learn now was essential stuff like where she lived and how to get there. I knew she owned a BMW having seen her arrive in it on at least three occasions since beginning work at WHO.

By that time at night I may have learned one thing about Jeanette Crowder. I was aching from head to toe. A headache was taken care of by some Midol kept in my purse, but I mean my muscles and particularly my back hurt. I don't think this all could be attributed to the poor stool I sat on in the studio. Did Jeanette have some health problems I would soon discover? Like back trouble?

I had to leave these discoveries until later. My main job now was to locate Jeanette's home and plan my route from WHO to there. A check of the anchorwoman's drivers license showed the woman lived in Pleasant Hill. This was one of Des Moines' southeastern and prettier suburbs. I myself had lived in Urbandale on the city's northwest side and while knowing where Pleasant Hill was, I was just not familiar with the area.

So I signed online at the office. Luckily for me, Internet service was still up and running. Once online I went to Mapquest's website and entered the station's address and Jeanette's. A moment later directions were available and I zapped these off on a printer. I then put the printout in my purse.

It was at this time that I made an interesting discovery. Looking further into Jeanette's purse than when I removed her wallet earlier, I found a small handgun. It was a Beretta and was loaded. I guessed the real Ms. Crowder carried this around for protection at night. That wasn't particularly unusual, Northwestern University was in the city of Evanston, not one of Chicago's better suburbs.

While all this was going on I had some peanut butter crackers to eat. The real Jeanette must have loved these as a snack; there was an ample supply in one desk drawer. In addition I had some cranberry juice to drink which I had acquired earlier from a vending machine.

The down time from the news gave me more time to think. So much had happened that day it was still taking time to sink in for me. I was still astounded at how easily I had, pardon the pun, filled Jeannette's shoes. It looked more and more to me that no one at the station had really known this woman. That had to be the reason for me successfully masquerading as her.

But tonight I was really taking a gamble by going back to the woman's home. But then, what was I supposed to do otherwise? I'd need clothes in the days ahead, and I certainly didn't have a female wardrobe back in Urbandale.

There were risks in going to Jeanette's. Did she have a roommate? A boyfriend even? I knew I'd never be able to convince anyone like those that I was the real Jeanette. Weighing the risks of going to Pleasant Hill or to Urbandale, I decided on going to Pleasant Hill. At least for the time being, it was risky but very few things weren't in the Post-Shift world.

As to being a woman, it was definitely not what I wanted in life. Not once in the forty-five years of being Paul Hanratty had I ever wished to be a woman or even fantasized about it. I felt desires such as these were unnatural and perversions. I knew that there were people like that, and in my opinion they were almost certainly homosexual. Who in their straight mind would want to be the opposite sex? Not me, I abhorred anything that smelled of
homosexuality.

So why was I trying to make others believe I was Jeanette Crowder? It was not out of liking what happened to me, which I didn't. It was a matter of expediency and survival for me. Part of my decision-making was career-related.

I was going to be a woman the rest of my life barring a major miracle. It wasn't what I wanted; I'd have to accept it. There would certainly be many issues I had never dealt with before as Paul Hanratty, I'd have to learn to deal with them. I didn't have any other choice.

Looking at the woman's watch I wore, I saw it was almost 9:30 p.m. We or I would soon have to go back on the air. Discarding my garbage in a nearby trash can, I then left the office and went back to the television studio.
 

~*~
 
WHO's eleven p.m. news had just finished and the station had cut away to an NBC special report on the shift, when I saw Tracy Jenkins was again in the studio. By now my back was in considerable pain, my first resolution on arriving home was to take a good hot bath.

"Great job, Jeanette," Tracy said while I was getting unhooked from my microphone and earpiece. "You're done for the evening and can go home."

"Am I done for the day?" I asked as I began to stand up.

"Yes, you are. We won't need you till the noon news tomorrow," Tracy explained. That meant I would have to be in the studio at least ninety minutes ahead of time. "But first I thought I'd introduce you to someone."

The person I was introduced to by Tracy was standing further back in the television studio. He stood slightly taller than six foot, wore glasses and had a full head of gray hair.

"You must be Jeanette Crowder?" the man said, extending his hand to me. I immediately shook it.

"And you must be Mr. Rowland?"

A twinkle could immediately be seen in the retired anchorman's eye as our handshake ended. "That's me, but call me Ed, please."

"Okay, Ed. I've seen you on television. You weren't shifted I guess."

"I saw you on television, too. No, I wasn't shifted," Ed replied, laughing slightly. Then the anchorman smiled. "We'll be working together for a while. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too," I said, looking at my watch. "It's been a long day and I need to get some rest. See you tomorrow morning, Ed."

Having finished saying goodbye to Ed I made my way back to Jeanette Crowder's office. There I quickly collected my purse and exited the room again. In the hallway I found Tracy Jenkins waiting for me.

"You're going home?" the Executive Producer asked as we walked to the station entrance.

"Yes, to Pleasant Hill. I've got to, that's where my clothes are."

Tracy looked over at me as we walked. "It's still a little unsafe out there. Please be careful."

"I will, Tracy," I replied as we reached the front door. WHO's security guard Ken Tobey was working that night and at the moment was seated at a desk in the lobby reading that day's newspaper.

"Kenneth," Tracy began saying, "make sure Jeanette gets to her car safely."

"Will do, Ms. Jenkins," Ken said, getting up from the desk. "Follow me, Ms. Crowder."

A minute later I was climbing into Jeanette Crowder's BMW after saying goodbye to Ken. Sliding into the car's driver seat I placed my purse on the front passenger seat but not before removing the printed directions to Jeanette's home I'd stuffed in the handbag earlier. Then I put my keys in the car's ignition. The BMW started up immediately.

I was about to pull out of the reserved parking space when I came to a quick conclusion. "This just won't do." I was referring to my footwear, and in particular the two-inch heels that came with them. How do women drive with these things on their feet?

Instead I quickly set upon plan B. Taking my shoes off, I decided to drive barefoot. This wasn't easy or satisfactory either. My pantyhose covered feet were so slippery on the pedals but it was easier than driving in heels.

Pulling out of the station parking lot, the BMW accelerated very quickly. The German made car certainly had lots of horsepower and required a light touch on the gas. As Paul Hanratty I had dreamt of having a car like this. Now I was behind the wheel of my fantasy car. Maybe the Shift wasn't half bad.

The drive to Pleasant Hill was smooth if slow going. There were wrecked cars almost every mile, but no sign of people on the streets. People were obviously taking the curfew seriously.

I was also taking the drive home seriously as I was all too well aware how unsettled society was after the Shift. My car doors were all locked and my senses at high alert for any potential trouble. So far I had seen none, all was quiet.

As good I was at noticing my surroundings, I wasn't as attentive as to where I was driving. Just after passing through a green light I realized that was the intersection at which I was supposed to turn right. So I went a little further on till I was able to make a U-turn. That done I doubled back to the intersection which would now require me making a left hand turn. I was waiting for the light to turn green again when I got a surprise. A cop car was behind me and he briefly sounded his horn. When the light turned green I turned left but instead of continuing south, I turned into a convenience store parking lot and stopped my car. The police car did the same, stopping directly behind me.

Before stopping my engine, I pressed the button to roll down the driver side window. I then waited till the police officer showed his face.

It wasn't a half minute before the Des Moines city deputy sheriff did just that.

Officer Crane, I immediately learned this from a name tag on his uniform, was around thirty years old, with short blonde hair, what looked like blue or grey eyes and a small mustache. He was also a tall and apparently well built man.

"Ma'am, may I see your driver's license, auto registration and proof of insurance, please?

"Yes, of course, officer," I replied. Then I went about getting the items requested by the officer. Admittedly I was feeling a little nervous. I had a healthy respect for the law but when it involved one's self, I would get decidedly nervous. Moving slow as not to alarm Officer Crane, I first removed the driver's license from my purse then opened the car's glove compartment. An unsealed envelope with the words Insurance and Registration written on it was there. I then gave all of these items to the police officer. "Here they are, officer. Is everything all right?"

The officer looked at me, not what I gave him. "Ma'am, you know there is a curfew in effect tonight?"

"Yes, I do, officer. I was on the way home to Pleasant Hill. See, I just got off of work," I tried to explain. It was then I remembered the Beretta in my purse. Maybe having a concealed weapon wasn't such a good idea.

"It isn't safe for a lady like you to be driving alone at this time of the night. That's why we're having a curfew, Ma'am," Officer Crane said as he studied the documents I gave him. He then paused to speak into a portable microphone or walkie talkie he had on.

"Yes, officer, I understand and I do apologize."

"Ma'am, we've been arresting..." Officer Crane began to say and then suddenly stopped. He then shined his flashlight at my face which caused me to blink for a moment. "My apologies, Ms. Crowder, I didn't recognize you at first. I've seen you often enough on the TV news, and your face graces all those billboards around town which advertise your station. No lie, I do like to watch you doing the news more than the other stations."

"Thanks, and that's quite all right, officer," I said as the policeman passed me back my documents without a further check. It was a common occurrence as a newscaster to be recognized by people when in public. Sometimes it was annoying; at other times it helped to get you out of a tight fix like this one. "I know you're just doing your job."

"Thank you, Ma'am. It's been a long and stressful day for all of us."

"It certainly has," I said, taking a moment to beam a smile at the officer. This got a smile back from Officer Crane in return. "We all have our jobs to do, you were doing yours."

"Thank you, Ma'am, I appreciate that. You people at the station are doing an important job by keeping everyone informed."

"Thank you. So, can I go on my way now?"

"Of course, Ma'am. We've been advised to let people like yourself pass, the job you're doing is a vital service to the community and we're just trying to have the rest of the public stay home where they're safest."

I nodded my head at the officer. "Thank you, it's been nice meeting you."

My driver side window was almost half closed when Officer Crane spoke again. "Ma'am, could you just stay here for a minute? I want to radio dispatch."

"Is there a problem, Officer?" I asked, thinking how tired I felt right then. My first goal after arriving home was to soak this new aching body of mine in a warm bathtub.

"No, not at all, Ma'am. Can you just bear with me for one minute?" I said okay to Officer Crane who then returned back to his patrol car. It was more like two minutes before he returned. "I just checked with dispatch, if you want I can give you an escort home. You'll just follow me."

Actually I felt grateful for Officer Crane's offer. It was unsafe to be out late at night, more so since I wasn't familiar with the location to which I was driving. So I decided to accept the offer. "If it isn't any problem?"

"No, Ma'am, it isn't."

"You know where I live?"

Officer Crane smiled. "Yes, Ma'am. I've got a friend who lives a half mile from you."

That clinched the matter. "I'm all set when you are, Officer." A few moments later I was back on the road again with Officer Crane leading the way.

The ride to Pleasant Hill took just over ten minutes. As he said, Officer Crane knew the way and we kept a steady pace on the way there. I think there was a chance the police officer knew where less safe roads were in the area and discreetly worked his way around them. While driving I noted the way to Jeanette Crowder's home for future reference.

Jeanette's home or rather townhouse was in Overlook, a recently built housing development where many lobbyists who worked in the state capitol were supposed to live. The anchorwoman's two-story home had a small driveway and garage. A small electric door opener was attached to the car's sun visor and which I pushed on pulling in the driveway. Once the door was up I pulled into the small, uncluttered garage.

Getting out of the car I noticed Officer Crane walking up the driveway toward me. I spoke first, "Thank you, Officer, for the escort."

"No problem, Ma'am," Officer Crane said. "If you don't mind I'll come inside for a minute just to make sure everything is secure. There have been a few break-ins since the Shift. They were mostly people trying to find refuge because they are scared."

I had appreciated the Officer's escort but was a little hesitant at his coming in the house. This lasted for about two seconds. "Okay, officer, I'd appreciate that."

Officer Crane and I went into the house. On entering I turned on a nearby light switch. The home was very nice and well decorated if effeminate in appearance. I went straight to the kitchen while my escort checked out the entire home.

I was glancing at what was in the refrigerator when Officer Crane came down from upstairs. "All is clear."

"Thank you, Officer, for everything. I appreciate it."

"Not a problem, Ma'am."

"Would you like anything to drink?" I asked. It was the least I could do for what this policeman did for me. "I only have juice and water."

"Glass of juice is fine," Officer Crane said appreciatively. I then poured two glasses of orange juice, one for the policeman and one for myself.

We talked for five minutes or less while still standing in the kitchen or front foyer. Most of the talk was about our respective days. It certainly hadn't been boring for either of us today.

"You weren't shifted then?" I asked after Officer Crane spoke about some of his colleagues at work.

"No, Ma'am, I'm still the same."

"Me, too," I lied as I finished my juice.

"I guess we were the lucky ones, or unlucky depending on how you look at it," Officer Crane said, finishing his juice. "Thank you for the juice, Ma'am. I'd better get going."

Officer Crane began toward the garage and I followed. "Thank you again, Officer, for escorting me."

"No problem, Ma'am, least I can do," Officer Crane said as he stepped into the garage and pushed the button to open the garage door. "You can call me Lee if you want, Ma'am."

"Nice meeting you, Lee, and I am Jeanette for your information," I told the police officer as he walked out of the garage.

Officer Lee Crane stopped by the garage door and turned around. "Nice meeting you, too, Jeanette. Let me give you something before I go," the policeman said, walking back toward me. He then took a small business card out of his pocket. "If you want to, when getting off work at night give that bottom number a call, it's to my department. I'll give you an escort home every night till things settle down if I'm not too busy."

I looked at the card but remained non-committed. Right then I knew what I may well be experiencing for the first time in my life as a man or a woman. Like a man coming on to me. Such is life for an attractive woman and like so many other aspects of my new life, I'd have to just adjust to it. "Thanks, Lee."

"You're welcome, Jeanette. Take care and double check your locks before going to bed. Just to be safe. Sleep well," Lee said to me and then walked out of the garage. As soon as he was clear, I pressed the garage door button. A few seconds later the garage door was down and as told I locked it.

Once that was done I checked all the downstairs doors and windows. They were all secured and in order. As I was doing so I began to notice how well kept the home was. Nothing was out of place, everything well dusted. I even remember the Sunday newspaper in the kitchen, how organized it was placed on the kitchen table. Had I become a neat freak?

I set about on my plan for arriving home. Going upstairs I went to the master bedroom of the two-bedroom home. The room was huge and had its own private attached bathroom and this was where I went. Going straight to the room's main feature, a large marble tub, I began filling it with warm water.

"Bubble bath?" I said aloud, noting a label on a bottle by the bath's faucet. "Sure, why not." I then opened the bottle and poured some of its contents into the tub.

With the bath running, I began to undress myself. First thing was to kick off the unbearable shoes I was wearing. Having done that, I then unzipped my skirt and unbuttoned my blouse. That left only the female underwear I was wearing, and those were the last garments I took off.

The bathtub still wasn't full so I just looked around the bathroom and bedroom. It was as immaculately kept as were the downstairs rooms. Another part of these rooms was a large walk-in closet. It was overflowing with women's clothes. Now I was a neat freak and a clothes horse.

All while I was doing this, I tried hard not to look at my new female body. It was a matter of my not wanting the affirmation I was really a woman. In my heart I was still a man even if I didn't have the body to match anymore. It was also as I undid my bra and let it go that I found how different life was. I had always been a fan of women's breasts but it was so different when you now were the possessor of the very same thing.

This could also be said for my hair now. I mean, most guys find long hair beautiful on a woman. Now I owned hair so long it touched my bare buttocks when I was naked. This was very different from a man who had kept his hair almost Marine Corps regulation short his adult entire life even when out of the military. I swore I'd get a much shorter and more manageable hair style when the first opportunity arose.

The tub was finally full, so I went and carefully lowered myself into the marble tub. As soon as I did the warm bath water had the desired effect on my weary and sore body. The pain lessened and became more and more bearable with every second.

Despite being uneasy, I set about washing myself in the tub with a frenzy, using a bar of Dove soap I found lying next to the bathtub. I doubt if I was very dirty, but I just needed to confirm my cleanliness. After that was done, I shampooed and then just relaxed in the tub for about twenty minutes.

I didn't want to spend too long in the tub. The reason being I wanted to get to sleep at a decent time. So I got out of tub, taking a large bath towel and began the process of drying myself. This was when I learned the toughest part of my job; it would take a combination of a towel, and a hair dryer and much combing for my hair to be finally dry and presentable looking. It took at least an hour to get that done. I swore I'd get a much shorter and more manageable hair style when I got my first opportunity.

It was while I was in the process of getting ready for bed that I noticed two things. First, that I was certainly a fine specimen of womanhood. Beautiful even, and I had never been a connoisseur of Asian women. Blondes had always been more type. But I was beautiful, no doubt about it.

The other thing was strange or even disturbing. Brown blotches on my lower back and buttocks. Birthmarks? I didn't think so. Bruises? They weren't fresh but it was possible they had been there for some time. What the heck could be the reason for these?

While still tangling with my hair but since the rest of my body was dry, I donned a bathrobe Jeanette had kept in the bathroom and went back to the master bedroom. There was no television set in the room, which would have been my first choice right now for some relaxation. I instead turned on a Bose radio in the room. It was set to the local NPR/Classical radio station. That was fine with me.

As I blow dried my hair I looked for something to do. So I got curious about the person I was now and decided to open the nearby night stand. That was when I made an interesting discovery.

"Holy shit, is that her or my idea of a sex life?" I said while picking up the vibrator that was in the drawer. There was an ample supply of backup batteries. I had seen enough of the drawer's contents, and like I was using prongs to dispose of a dead rat, with two fingers I placed the device back in the drawer.

As soon as I was down to just combing out my unruly hair, I returned downstairs and went straight to the kitchen. My earlier survey of the kitchen had been dismaying. Among all the things I was learning about my new self was that I was a vegetarian. There wasn't any food in the refrigerator but fruits and vegetables and the makings for salads. There was also a large amount of vitamins and health food stuff on one of the shelves. Seems Jeanette was a fanatic in regard to what she ate, but is it really healthy to weigh barely one-hundred pounds and stand 5'4? I had checked my weight while in the bathroom.

Taking care of one's health and weight is important, but I mean Jeanette seemed to have gone overboard in this aspect. I would make some dietary changes for my new body. There was no way I was going to give up my love of a medium cooked New York strip steak and some other
foods.

Then I settled in for some television viewing. My first stop was to check on WHO. Ed Rowland was there doing an update on the local news, the main feature of which was an interview of a Des Moines police Captain named Frances Hennessey. According to the report, the Iowa capitol was pretty calm at the moment.

I had my fill of the news so I decided to flip flop channels. Sci Fi channel had always been a particular favorite of mine but there was paid programming on now. ESPN and ESPN2 were both off the air at the moment, so those were out. In the end I settled for a movie on TNT.

The problem I would have that night was that while being tired, I was almost equally wound up from the frantic activity and events of the day. I wanted to fall asleep so bad, but couldn't do it. I retired to the bedroom that night before 2 a.m. only to toss and turn for over an hour. At one point I got up in hope of finding a book to read. This ended in failure; Jeanette Crowder's fair sized book collection consisted entirely of romance novels and books on art and art history. Not of any interest to the former Paul Hanratty. So in the end I didn't fall asleep till past 3 a.m.
 

~*~
 
"Will you please let me sleep?!" I said to the ringing phone later that morning. 'Why can't people let us have peace and quiet? I refuse to buy any of your crap!' I thought angrily to myself. In my current groggy condition I swore it had to be a telemarketer. It was only when I heard a familiar voice speaking into the nearby answering machine that I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Jeanette?" asked the familiar voice of Tracy Jenkins. "Are you still in bed?"

"Uh, yes. What time is it?" I replied, rolling to the edge of the bed and then sitting up. Before going to bed earlier that morning, I had put on a night dress to wear. "Crap, its 11:09."

"Yes, it is," Tracy said, barely concealing her annoyance at my having overslept. "You're supposed to be here in time to do the noon news."

"I'm sorry, and-" I began saying before Tracy cut me off.

"Ed agreed to stay on till you get in. Now get your butt into the station." The phone then clicked, signaling that the person on the other end had hung up.

Shaking the sleep out of my head I got up off the bed and made my way into the bathroom.
 

~*~
 
I didn't get to the station till almost another two hours had passed. This was attributable to the new time element in my life. The days of getting dressed and ready for a day's work in thirty minutes were over. I'd need at least ninety minutes every morning to prepare, even closer to two hours since I was still learning the womanly ropes.

Getting ready that morning was a chore. I showered first, but wore a shower cap to avoid getting my hair wet. It still required some brushing before I found it acceptable. Then there were the matters of dressing and makeup. Clothes weren't so much finding something to wear as choosing what to wear. I mean there were thirty outfits to choose from at least. Jeanette had even more clothes in the second bedroom's closet.

Makeup I fussed over for twenty minutes before deeming lipstick and some face powder enough. Even with all my past experience in doing makeup for on the air work, I was finding this to be a much more demanding task. I was going to have to learn this aspect of womanhood the hard way. That is unless some smart person writes the perfect book for men turned adult women post-Shift. Makeup for Dummies would be a guaranteed best seller.

Also remembering Jeanette's penchant to overdo perfume, I applied just a small amount on myself. If I was going to make people believe I was the real Ms. Crowder, I'd have to pay particular attention to my appearance.

The last thing I did before leaving for work was grab a quick breakfast of Special K cereal, toast and a cup of decaffeinated coffee. Jeanette Crowder didn't have a coffee pot in the house, and only had some Taster's Choice decaffeinated. Paul Hanratty had been a two cups first thing in the morning coffee drinker, and my current situation just wouldn't do. Getting a pot and some real coffee would be one of the first things on my TO DO list. That's when I had time to shop or even write a list.

The drive into WHO proved semi-eventful. I did catch onto most of Officer Crane's route of the night before but still managed one wrong turn. I had to make another U-turn to get back heading in the right direction.

Then about halfway to the station I noticed two adults, a man and woman, sitting in the middle of the road. Taking a chance I got out of my car. I was instantly barraged with the words, "I want my mommy." Seems both the man and woman were really children pre-Shift; this made my heart break, but I had to get to the station. Using my cell phone I called the Des Moines police and reported my finding.

Other than that I got to the TV station safely if late. I went straight to the studio, where I found Ed Rowland patiently waiting for me.

"Ed, I am so sorry for being late," I told him, trying to sound very apologetic. This definitely wasn't a good way to start off a working relationship with someone. "I completely overslept."

"No problem, Jeanette," he said, standing up from his seat. "We were just very concerned something may have happened to you."

"I just forgot to set my alarm clock. How can I make it up to you?"

"Jeanette, you don't have to," Ed replied as he began walking toward the studio exit.

"If you want to come in late tonight, that would be fine, I owe you," I said, hurrying after the veteran newscaster like a puppy following her owner. "I want to make it up to you."

Ed didn't stop till we got to the station's front door. "Let's do this, Jeanette. When things calm down, you owe me dinner one night here in Des Moines."

"Dinner?" I asked, being surprised by the Anchorman's request. Was he asking me to go on a date with him? He was old enough to be Jeanette's Grandfather.

"Sorry, I meant dinner as in food and talking, not a date," Ed said with a smile. "A pretty woman like you has to have men beating down her door. I'm too old for that. All I want to do is to know you better, Jeanette. I think you've got a big future ahead of you in television
news. Sorry, but I'm really getting tired. Talk to you tonight or tomorrow."

Ed began heading out the door. Speaking loud enough to make sure he heard me, I called out to the newscaster, "That's a deal, Ed. Have a safe drive home."

This done, I had my first chore of the day to do. Deb Richard, as was her customary duty, was sitting at the reception desk in the lobby. Whether she had eavesdropped on me and Ed I didn't know.

"Deb, any mail or messages for me?"

The receptionist turned around in her swivel chair so as to reach for some envelopes on a table behind her desk. "Just these, there were no phone messages."

A quick glance showed what had to be forty or fifty envelopes and assorted mail, all held together with a rubber band. "Do you know where Tracy Jenkins is?"

"In her office, I just sent through a call to her there," Deb told me, and after thanking her I set off for the office of WHO's Executive News Producer.

After knocking on the boss's door and then being told to come on in, I entered the office of Ms. Jenkins. She was currently on the phone but waved for me to take a seat. About a minute later Tracy was off the phone. "So, you finally got in this morning, I mean this afternoon."

"Yes, Tracy," I answered, trying to look and sound contrite for my transgression. My life as Paul Hanratty was one big screw-up. I didn't want to do the same with my second chance at life. "Got here about ten minutes ago and saw Ed, then we talked for a few minutes. He just went home, by the way."

"That's good," Tracy said to me as she looked across the desk at me. "You owe him big time. If not for Ed willing to stay on and cover for you, I would have had to come down on your pretty ass like a ton of bricks."

"Tracy, that's why I'm here. Please accept my apology for today. I promise it won't ever happen again."

My boss stared at me for what seemed like an eternity when it was probably less than a minute. Tracy looked at me like she was studying me. Was I about to be unmasked as not being the real Jeanette? That had caused me to have a restless night's sleep the night before. I feared the real Ms. Crowder would show up at the Pleasant Hill home.

"Apology accepted."

"Thank you," I said, hanging my head in shame but grateful for Tracy's understanding.

She changed subjects then. "Get home all right last night?"

"Yes, but I had trouble sleeping and forgot to set the alarm clock."

My boss didn't feel the need to harp on my tardiness, and I was grateful for this. "Well, I didn't go home. But I guess you can tell that."

"No, I can't."

Tracy laughed in reply, "Liar! So everything was all right last night and this morning?"

"Yes, except I was so wound up that I had trouble falling asleep," I explained to Tracy. These little chats we had made me feel more and more comfortable in my efforts to assume Jeanette Crowder's life. The risk I was taking seemed to be diminishing with every passing minute. "Oh, on the way home I got stopped by a Des Moines police officer. He was telling me about the curfew when he realized who I was."

"Oh," Tracy said, raising an eyebrow for a moment.

"Then he gave me an escort home. Even checked out my home to make sure I had no intruders."

My boss sat forward in her chair. "Checked your house out? Hmmm...was he handsome?"

I was a little surprised by where this conversation was going. When I entered the room I was prepared to be chewed out for my tardiness. Now I was discussing men with Tracy. "Yes, he was. His name is Lee Crane."

"So did he or you check anything else out?" Tracy asked with a wink.

"Uh...no. He did offer me an escort home every night till things settle down."

Tracy didn't say anything for about a minute, just gave me this bemused look. "If you don't have any interest in Officer Crane or better yet he has a cute brother, send him my way. It's been too long since I last got laid."

"Okay," was my short reply. I felt a little embarrassed by the conversation to be honest.

The phone began to ring in the office, so Tracy picked it up. "Yes, hold on for a sec." The Executive Producer put the caller on hold and then spoke to me. "We've both got work to do. There will be the usual meeting at 2:30 in the conference room."

Getting the signal from my boss, I rose from my chair. "Okay, Tracy. We're not going on the air locally then before 5 p.m.?"

"No, but if any breaking news happens we could."

"Right. Anything else I should know about?"

Tracy shook her head. "No, just another day at WHO, talk to you later."

After departing from Tracy's presence, I went straight to my own office. The room hadn't changed since I last saw it. It was still small and cramped, but with my new more compact female body the room wasn't as uncomfortable as before.

Still in need of some caffeine, I decided to make some coffee for myself. While that was brewing, I checked my in box which was very full, turned on my computer, then kicked off my shoes so as to be more comfortable. The last bit of this process was an improvement on the day before, today I wasn't wearing any heels. Instead I donned a pair of black flat shoes that I had found in my closet this morning. It was one of only forty or fifty pairs of shoes I now owned.

As soon as the coffee was finished brewing, I poured myself a cup and then went and sat at my desk. The first thing I started with was the mail, most of which was either junk mail or love letters written to Jeanette Crowder. Yes, anchormen and anchorwomen get fan mail all the
time. Anchorwomen, particularly young and attractive ones, often get inundated with these letters. Some were nice, some bizarre, marriage proposals from complete strangers were not unheard of. A coworker of mine in Cheyenne averaged getting one of those every week and she was a married woman and mother to two small children.

On top of the mail I got that afternoon was one phone message. A Sgt. Kowalski was asking for me to call him back. He had left a long distance number for me to call. I just discarded this in my trash can. Whomever this person was, if it was important enough, he or she could
find me at WHO. Otherwise I'd ignore phone messages from people I didn't know.

I put the personal mail aside for another time. It was time for me instead to start preparing myself for the evening's newscasts. Taking ll the printouts out of my inbox, I set about reading them.
 

~*~
 
The rest of July 30th proved to be pretty mundane. It was almost like any other day at the studio. Life in Des Moines was very quiet. Most businesses were still closed but the city didn't have any major disturbances. I began to wonder if people having gotten themselves to
somewhere safe, were now just in too much a state of shock to do anything but stay indoors.

Other than a special report at 7:30, WHO went back to its usual newscast schedule. That meant 5 pm, 5:30 pm, 6 pm and 11 pm broadcasts. All of which I anchored solo from the television studio. When not on the air with the local perspective on the Shift, the station broadcast the national news. There was still no sight of the network's regular programming and The Great Shift and its ramifications for mankind overshadowed everything including entertainment.

My own routine was less frantic than the day before and more routine as if it was any other day. Either on the air giving the latest news, or preparing for the next broadcast. One deviation was my staying at the station after the 6:00 p.m. broadcast ended. Under normal circumstances I'd go back home and or eat dinner out. I instead had dinner at the office, chatting with some of my coworkers about the changes that had happened in our lives thanks to the Shift.

I did plan on going back to my Urbandale apartment at some point in time, if only to collect a few things from my life as Paul Hanratty that I wished to continue having. My body had run off with my keys but this presented no problem. This morning in the parking lot I had
discreetly removed my backup set of keys from the tire well of my pickup truck. Goodbye pickup, hello BMW.

Also, I was working hard on the cigarette or nicotine addiction I had inherited along with Jeanette Crowder's body. I was absolutely determined to kick this habit, but I'd do it gradually, not cold turkey style. I was going to limit myself to a pack and a half a day, and
slowly cut myself back to zero. The possibility of having to go cold turkey wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Who knows if the cigarette supply would dry up suddenly due to the Shift?

Not much else happened that day. Most news coverage of the Shift was now of the personal interest story variety. One such piece was about a surgeon in Ames who would begin advertising his services for SRS or sexual reassignment surgery, most commonly known as a sex change. It seemed some people planned on cashing in on the Shift for their own benefit; to each their own. Other stories included a tale of survival from that horrific wreck on I-80, and a family in nearby Ottumwa that was taking a home video when the Shift happened. Life in Des Moines was very quiet considering all that had happened.

If anyone thought I was not the real Jeanette Crowder, they were keeping it to themselves. I still couldn't believe how easily I had blended in to this other person's life.

Tracy and I had a brief chat again after a meeting in preparation for the 11 news. After that broadcast was done or when Ed Rowland showed up, I could go home for the evening.

"Good work today, Jeanette. Keep it up," Tracy told me after everyone else left the room.

"Thank you, Tracy. I appreciate it," I replied. Funny, but before the Shift Tracy never had praised my work as Paul Hanratty. I actually couldn't remember her praising anyone's work at the station. The Executive News Producer had a nickname of 'Queen Bitch' at WHO. So for
what reason had she changed all of a sudden?

"So, you're on at eleven. As soon as Ed Rowland arrives you can go home for the night."

"No problem."

"I think that pretty much covers everything," she said, announcing the meeting was at a close.

I picked up my yellow memo pad and began to leave the room. Before exiting I came up with a couple of questions. "Any idea when we will go back to regular programming?"

Tracy laughed for a moment, "Soon, I'm sure. You wouldn't believe it but the station got at least twenty calls today asking why we weren't broadcasting daytime soaps this afternoon."

"I'd believe it."

My boss laughed again. "Yes, I guess people never change."

"The station must really be taking a hit from all the lost commercial time," I commented. There hadn't been a commercial on WHO since the Shift.

Tracy nodded her head. "Yes, we are. That and because it's gotten so slow here in Iowa leads me to believe we'll be running commercials again soon. Even as soon as tomorrow. Oh, and as far as regular programming from NBC, your guess is as good as mine."

"I think I'd better get ready for the newscast, then."

Tracy smiled and then waved for me to take a seat again. I did as requested. "Jeanette, you're really catching on fast. Three years out of Northwestern and you know how things really work in this business."

"Thanks," I said, trying to hide my nervousness. Had I just been too inquisitive or talked too much? Was Tracy going to ask if I was the real Jeanette? Trying to read my boss' body language left me without an answer. "I just have been paying attention, you know."

My boss nodded her head. "Wise girl, you're really going places in this business."

"Thanks," I told Tracy. Then suddenly I was hit with a back spasm. This caused my facial expression to change as I winced in pain. Tracy then became concerned.

"Are you all right?"

"My back is bothering me," I told her. Did I have some undisclosed medical problems due to my inheritance of Jeanette Crowder's body? I was beginning to wonder if I should have a thorough medical exam at my earliest possible convenience.

Tracy continued to appear concerned about my health. "Maybe you should have that seen by a doctor or chiropractor? Or at least get a massage."

I laughed hesitantly, "What I really think I need is a new chair to sit in on the television set."

My boss shared my humor. "I guess that stool has to be hard on your back."

"Yes, very hard."

"If it was up to me, I'd get you a nice swivel chair to sit in, but those cost money and I have a budget to watch right now. Maybe I can do something in a few months."

The pain was beginning to lessen. Like the night before, I planned on another warm bath once I got home. "I understand that it's not up to you, Tracy. I'd appreciate it if and when you can help me out."

Tracy had work to do and got up again. That signaled our meeting was over. We were both busy women with jobs to do.

When I exited the conference room, Kenneth Tobey approached me. "Ms. Crowder, I have a phone message for you."

"Thanks, Ken," I said as I took the message from the security guard. The note was very short.

I'll be at the station at 11:30 for your ride home- Lee.

I then crumbled up the message. When I got to my office, I threw the slip of paper in a trash can.
 

~*~
 
"This is Jeanette Crowder, WHO. Have a pleasant evening," were my final words at the end of the 11:00 p.m. news. As soon as the cameras were off, I began the process of unhooking the electronic gear I wore. Once that was done, I got up out of my seat and left the television set.

"Great job, Jeanette," Ed Rowland told me as I walked off the set. He had been quietly watching most of the telecast from the camera area. "How are you tonight?"

"Good, and yourself?"

"Can't complain. I guess you will be going home now. Good night, and see you in the morning."

"Good night Ed," I told my co-anchor and then left the set. My next stop was to collect my purse.

Having gotten that task finished, I exited the office to find Tracy Jenkins waiting for me in the hallway. "How's your back?"

"Pain comes and goes. Right now it isn't too bad," I said, making a detour to the ladies room. I wasn't certain if I could make it home without needing to pee, so I decided to be safe.

Why was I not surprised at Tracy's following me into the ladies room and both of us each taking a stall? I'd lived a long enough life and been married to recognize a female custom of going to the ladies room in twos. By now I was totally used to the new method to urinate. Having awakened post-Shift on the commode had given me a quick and early lesson.

It was after we came out and were both washing our hands that Tracy restarted our conversation. "I'm finally going to go home tonight."

"Good for you."

"I think this place can survive without me for a few hours."

"Yes, I'm certain it will." Tracy's words kind of struck a nerve. I had given a great deal of my male life to the news business and what kind of life did I have to show for it till the Shift happened? Not a great deal, being truthful. A broken marriage and a professional career if not broken, at the very least in turmoil.

One of the things Donna said to me during our divorce proceedings was how tired she was of me putting my job ahead of our marriage. The woman was right, I had done just that. All the work I had done since taking that first job in Billings, Montana had basically gone for naught. The lesson from all of this is, or at least I think it is, that we need to put our own lives ahead of our jobs. No one is indispensable in the television news business.

Which leads me to this, would I make the same mistakes I did as Paul Hanratty as Jeanette Crowder? Or would I go the other path? Still ruled by my male prejudices, I didn't find marriage and motherhood all that palatable. Maybe that would change in a few years, I was certainly young enough to put off that important decision.

Tracy and I then finished washing our hands and said goodbye. Once out of the restroom, my boss and I went our separate ways. My course was straight to the station lobby and therefore the exit.

"Good evening, Jeanette," said Officer Lee Crane, "have a good day?"

"It was pretty good." I had totally forgotten about Lee, even with the phone message I had received. It wasn't till Ken Tobey was letting us out the front door that I noted Officer Crane's police cruiser parked out front.

"If you want I'll give you an escort home tonight."

I answered after about two seconds, "Sure. I will follow you again then?"

The drive to Pleasant Hill was shorter than the night before. The drive took only twenty minutes. After parking my car in the garage and turning off the ignition, I walked back to Lee's police cruiser which had stopped in the driveway directly behind me.

"Thank you, Lee, for looking after me," I told the Des Moines police officer. He was still seated in his cruiser.

"No problem, Jeanette. Glad I can help out. Are you working again tomorrow?"

I nodded my head. "Yes, every night till we get some help at the station. That could be a week."

"If you want I'll escort you home at night."

"I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"You're not, trust me."

"I'd better go inside; it's been a long day, Lee. Thank you again and I guess I'll see you tomorrow night then."

"Bye, Jeanette. I'll wait till you're in the house the safely before leaving," Lee told me as he restarted the police cruiser's engine.

I had taken three steps toward the house when I recalled something from the morning. So I reversed course. "Lee, could I ask your help with a small favor?"

"Sure, I'll help you if I can," he said eagerly.

"It's so unusual," I said, making up a lie to cover my request. "See, I used to have this old coffee maker. I had an accident last Thursday and broke the pot. So I just threw the whole thing away."

Lee just listened to my tale. He showed no reaction as to whether I was being truthful or not.

"I really miss my caffeine in the morning. So much I was late to work today, all I have is decaffeinated Taster's Choice. You wouldn't have a coffee pot and coffee I could borrow? I just have been too busy to get to the store. Presuming there's even one open for me to buy them."

The patrolman thought for a few moments before answering. "I just have my own pot, but I do have some coffee. Let me see if I can find you something tomorrow."

"You're so sweet to help me like this," I said to Lee as I turned on some female charm. "Thank you for helping me out."

"No problem, Jeanette. Anything else you need?"

There was one more thing. I was working on the cigarette habit but it would take time. At the moment I was running through about a pack and a half a day. "I could use a carton of Virginia Slim lights, too."

"Okay. You want me to swing these by tomorrow morning or at your work tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night will be fine," I told Lee, and then looked at my wristwatch. "I'd better let you go. Do you want me to give you money now?"

"Tomorrow is fine, Jeanette."

"Bye, Lee, and thanks for everything."

"Bye, Jeanette, and you're welcome."

I slowly walked my way back to the garage. While I was doing this, I paid particular attention to the way I walked. For Lee's sake I tried to add a little more swivel into my hip action in hope he was watching me carefully and this would bring him a little pleasure. The police officer was certainly enamored of me and I appreciated the favors he would do for me.

It was later while I was soaking in the bath tub that I began to study the actions I had taken with Lee. I had used my female sex appeal with a man obviously attracted to me to get something I wanted. Why did my actions now leave me with a bad taste in my mouth?

As I thought about it, the answer was very obvious. The reason for the bad aftertaste wasn't that my feminine actions clashed with my still male mind. It did but slightly; I had made the conscious decision to make the swivel show for Lee. The bigger reason was how I was using Lee to get what I wanted. I was manipulating him, and taking advantage of his obvious attraction to me. In my time as a man I had known my share of women who used men like this.

When these females got what they wanted, they discarded the guy like some used toy. It had happened to me once, way back in high school. A girl named Laura Swenson who I had the biggest crush on. I spent a small fortune buying things for this girl and when Laura was through with me, I was dumped unceremoniously. How did I feel when this happened at age sixteen? The words used and betrayed come to mind.

Teenagers and adults have a term for this type of woman. It's called bitch. A manipulative bitch would be a more thorough description. Men despise women like this, I certainly did. Was I turning into one now as a woman?

I had led Lee on, even hinting I may like him. As a friend Lee would be great. I had only been a woman for less than forty-eight hours. In no way was I ready mentally to enter the world of female dating. At a later date, maybe. Right now I wanted to adjust to what the Shift had done to me and keep others from discovering I wasn't the real Jeanette Crowder.

It wouldn't surprise me if Lee asked me soon on a date, and he'd be justified in a way. I'd signaled I was game. A date didn't mean I'd have to engage in sex, but I'd have to spend an evening or evenings in the company of a man who liked or desired me. So what do I do if Lee
asks? I didn't want to be the person or woman I disliked when I was a man. If I had been up front with Officer Crane about my real identity, maybe I could have been equally up front in saying why I was reluctant. However, this wasn't a real option now.

Right then I decided to play for time. I was a very busy woman at the moment. Lee was busy with the police. Our schedules didn't leave much free time. Sooner or later I'd have to make a choice.
 

~*~
 
Tuesday was an even quieter day at WHO. This time I wasn't tardy for work, either. My alarm clock was set for 9 a.m. and I was at the workplace just before eleven.

The major networks were still broadcasting news about the Shift 24/7 so WHO's programming was completely news. By now almost all scientists were unanimous in having the same opinion. That The Great Shift's cause was unknown and not reversible. People were being urged to move on with their lives the best they could.

Changes at WHO began that day. That afternoon we showed commercials again for the first time since that fateful day. The Shift had happened, but we had pitchmen trying to sell people new cars and even Viagra. Just what a married man turned married woman wants to get their
spouse. NOT!

The station continued to work public interest stories. Like when school would begin again, whether adults turned children would have to attend school. The possibilities were endless. Also, we covered the effect the Shift would have on state government, particularly the budget. Some hard decisions would have to be made in the days ahead.

Changes at WHO were also taking place. The evening news meeting proved to be very illuminating.

"Effective tonight," Tracy began the meeting saying, "the news division will maintain just minimum staffing between the hours of midnight and seven a.m."

"Ed won't be coming in tonight?" someone in the room asked.

"No, he won't. I've got a new schedule posted on the board in the break room. Everyone please consult it."

Meg, who attended these meetings but rarely ever spoke, surprisingly asked a question. "Tracy, how many staff did we lose or are unaccounted for?"

Tracy had to think for a few moments. "I believe the current total is thirteen. We lost three anchors, three reporters and seven other support staff. Some of them I haven't heard from and others are not capable of working here at WHO anymore."

The room got awfully quiet then. Almost as if everyone was praying for these employees.

Sensing what may be going on, Tracy didn't speak again for about a minute. "I'm very sorry for those we have lost. If they could speak to us now, I'm certain they would tell us to carry on with the work this station does."

While I believed Tracy was sincerely upset at what happened to some station employees, I think her statement sounded too clichéd. Since no one else was talking, I decided to ask a question. "Will there still not be any morning news?" WHO had news from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. seven days a week. When I was still Paul Hanratty, I had worked a few of these broadcasts.

"No, not at the moment, but we hope to have that up and running again soon," Tracy said answering my question. "Christine, I need to see you in my office right after this meeting.”

"Okay, Tracy," Christine Hampton said nervously. Or at least that was my opinion. No one likes being called to a private meeting with the boss. My hunch was that WHO would be asking for the veteran reporter to help out in some anchoring position. According to the office grapevine, Christine had told the station no in the past, citing her family's needs.

Tracy went to the next item on the agenda. "A message from management. The owners and management of WHO want to express their thanks to all of you for your hard work in this very trying time. Without it this station would not have been able to provide the important public service we do."

"Hear, Hear," a male member of the station's production crew exclaimed.

"It is also hoped all employees of WHO can work together like this always. There is still much work ahead of us as society recovers from the Shift. We hope all of you will continue to work in the days ahead with same dedication."

Jeff Davis then spoke up, "I think we all need to thank Tracy. Without her this station wouldn't be running."

At once everyone in the room began applauding. Tracy was blushing at the adulation she was receiving. "Thank you, but I couldn't have done it without you, either. One last note, paychecks will be distributed this week. Our bookkeeper Mel came to work today. There may be a one or two day delay, however."

"Ms. Jenkins," Cameraman Ron Taylor began to say, "we will get paid this week for sure, right?"

"Yes, Ron, everyone will. Mel is a little behind but assures me everyone will be paid."

"It may not do us a lot of good," Cameraman Alex Thompson said. "If our banks don't re-open, what are we supposed to do with the check?"

Professional as always, Tracy Jenkins came with a prepared answer. "Not a problem, Alex. Our checks are drawn on West Bank. The branch just down the road from here was open for business today. Payroll checks can be cashed there, no fee is charged."

"Considering what's going on, it may be best to cash your check," one employee added.

The meeting broke up a few minutes later. People were still in the room when I decided to ask Tracy a couple of questions. Total privacy wasn't needed. "Tracy, how will this affect me? What newscasts will Ed and I now be doing?"

"Jeanette, I will need you for the noon, five, six and eleven o'clock broadcasts. Ed will do the 5:30 and co-anchor the six with you. Tomorrow Ed agreed to do the noon broadcast that will give you a small break. Are you up to it?"

"Of course," I replied.

"Good. Right now I'm hoping to get Christine to fill in for you and Ed on weekends. But Ed is unavailable this weekend. I may also need you to fill in on both Saturday and Sunday six and eleven p.m."

"No problem, Tracy."

My boss smiled. "Jeanette, thanks for being flexible. The first few weeks or month till we get restaffed is going to have us shorthanded. Please bear with me."

"As I said, no problem." I planned to be very accommodating in regard to my work and availability. No more Paul Hanratty screw-ups.

"Anything else?" Tracy asked, and I said no. "I've got to meet with Christine. Talk to you later."

"Bye, Tracy." I then left the office. What Tracy had told me confirmed my suspicions. I was also truthful with my boss; I had no problems with the current schedule. At the moment I was like most other WHO employees, grateful to be alive, healthy and employed.
 

~*~
 
I exited WHO's lobby at 11:45 that evening. It was raining very lightly, so I was using an umbrella to cover myself. Since there was no sign of Officer Crane, I walked out to my car by myself.

It was just as I was climbing into my BMW that I heard a car horn nearby beeping. It was Lee Crane in his police cruiser. As soon as his car was parked, he hopped out of the driver seat and hurried over to my car. "Jeanette, sorry that I ran late. I only got off ten minutes ago."

"No problem, Lee. Am I going to follow you home like before?"

"Yes. Are you all ready?" Lee asked, and I said yes. "Just pull out of the lot till you're behind my car. I'll be waiting for you."

Twenty minutes later we were back at my Pleasant Hill home. On getting out of my BMW, I saw Lee walking into the garage carrying a box under one arm and a plastic bag in the other. "I got the things you wanted. Mind if I come inside?"

"No, not at all," I told Lee, and then we went inside together, closing the garage door behind us.

As soon as we were in the kitchen, Lee put the purchases he'd made for me on the table in that room. He then began showing off what he'd for me. "I got you a Mr. Coffee coffeemaker, and two cartons of Virginia Slim lights. That's what you asked for?"

"Exactly. Thanks, Lee," I said appreciatively. Actually I had asked for only one carton; my friend was just being thoughtful.

Lee then took the last things out of the bag. "Here are two cans of Brown Gold coffee. I drink this brand myself. Best store brand coffee you'll ever taste. I also got you a loaf of whole wheat bread, thought you could use it."

"Absolutely, you're so kind to me. It wasn't too much trouble?"

Lee smiled. "None at all, Jeanette."

While Lee took the coffee pot out and set it up, I asked my friend if he wanted any refreshments. He said orange juice would be fine. I poured two glasses, one for Lee and one for myself.

After a trial run to check if the coffeemaker worked, which it did, I invited Lee to take a seat in the kitchen.

"Thank you again for everything," I told him. "How much do I owe you for all of this? I can write you a check if you want."

The prior night I had located Jeanette's financial records. The woman had a checking account with West Bank, and a CMA account with Smith Barney. Ethically or legally I would probably be wrong to touch this money, but I'd accept that risk and face the consequences if I was found out.

"Don't worry, Jeanette," Lee said while sipping the orange juice I poured him. "Pay me back when everything is more settled."

"It wouldn't surprise me if banks are hesitant to give people money for a while. They will be afraid if they make a mistake they'll get sued."

Lee nodded. "It already happened. One unhappy customer at a downtown bank raised such a ruckus, the bank manager called the police."

"Did you respond to that call?"

"No, I just heard about it from a coworker."

I paused to think for a moment. "Did I understand you correctly before that you're off from work right now?"

Lee nodded again. "Yes. I just finished my shift at eleven. Things have quieted down in Des Moines pretty much. The city probably doesn't want to pay out too much overtime."

"That makes sense. Government is also going to feel the pinch from what happened on Sunday."

I had come home that evening tired and wanting to shower and just climb in bed. Now I was enjoying Lee's company, it was just so nice to have a friend who wasn't a coworker, too.

"I'm on call twenty-four hours a day still if things change. How is your work doing?"

"Okay, but we're shorthanded," I explained. "The station lost about thirteen employees, so we're very stretched at the moment. How about you?"

"The same, pretty much."

I didn't want to talk about work, so I changed subjects. "Where do you live?"

"East Des Moines. It's less than ten minutes from here to my place," Lee explained as he finished his juice. I asked if he wanted a refill, but my friend said no.

"Yes, it is, we're almost neighbors."

Lee smiled at the comment. "We sure are. You grew up in Iowa, didn't you?"

If I had to guess, Lee had probably read Jeanette Crowder's bio thanks to the Des Moines Register, the town newspaper. I recalled an article on my co-anchor not too long after my own arrival in the state capitol.

"Yes, a little place called Norway. It's near Cedar Rapids or nearly two hours from here. Heard of it?"

Lee shook his head. "No, I haven't. Nice place?"

"Yes. My parents were still living there, but they died recently."

"You were adopted from Korea?"

"Yes, as an infant. I was an only child, too," I confided.

"I read a little about that. I'm so sorry. It must be very difficult for you right now," Lee said, as if he was sorry for my or Jeanette's loss.

"It's okay, really," I answered. If I had to make a guess, Lee would have enjoyed a beer right then. Unfortunately, Jeanette Crowder didn't keep any in stock. I'd make sure to pick some up whenever I found time for grocery shopping. "How about you? Are your parents alive?"

Lee began giving me a bio of himself. He was twenty-eight, born in Springfield, Missouri, where he was the fourth of four children. His parents were David and Elizabeth Crane. Both were employees of the city in which they lived, Lee's father a chemist for the Water Department and his mother a librarian.

"Mom and Dad swapped when the Shift happened. My two brothers and sister did the same with their spouses."

"They're pretty much okay, then?"

"Yes, I haven't been able to talk to Dave or Jan yet on the phone, but got emails from them. They're doing okay, all things considered," he explained.

My friend was right about that. There were a lot worse body swaps than one's own spouse. Adult to child, child to senior citizen? WHO had shown more than a few of these in its news coverage. "Are you a close family?"

"Yes, I think we are. Dave and Tom both live in Missouri with their wives and kids, and I see them all the time. Jan moved to Oregon with Diane four years ago, but we stay in touch a few times a month."

Like most men, Lee liked to talk about himself or in this case his family. His parents were about to retire to Florida in two years. He told me a story or two about his growing up. He appeared to like most sports, particularly college basketball, or more specifically the Univ.
of Missouri, and also St. Louis Cardinals baseball.

As to Lee's siblings, his brother Dave was a policeman too, he worked in Independence, Missouri, a suburb of Kansas City. Jan was gay or a lesbian, but she and Lee were very close.

"I was the first family member Jan came out to," Lee explained.

"You must be okay with Jan being gay then?"

Lee nodded his head. "It's her business, not mine. I love her no matter what. Diane is a nice woman, too. She and Jan have been together eight years and have a four-year-old son."

"That's good, you're all close to one another. How did you get started in law enforcement?

For the next ten minutes or a little less Lee and I talked about our respective careers. My friend had joined the Army right out of high school and after training to be an MP, had served his entire active duty stint at Fort Riley in nearby Kansas.

"I'm still in the Army Reserve, one weekend a month and two weeks every summer."

"That's good, you still serve your country," I commented. Lee seemed to take pride in his work. "You get hired as a policeman right after quitting the army?"

Lee nodded. "Yes, I wanted to work in Springfield, but Des Moines offered me a slot at the Academy first."

"Well, you're still not too far from home. How long does it take to get to Springfield? Three? Four hours?"

"No, more like six," he replied. I had only been guessing, to be honest. Being new to the Midwest I was still learning my way around.

"You're single, I guess?" I asked.

"Yes, I am. You?"

I knew we'd sooner or later get around to this topic. "Right now I'm not seeing anyone either."

Lee's face lit up at this comment. "No one? A beautiful woman like you?"

Now it was my turn to blush. "Thank you, but no there is no one."

Lee and I talked a little while longer. I talked some about my own career. As we did, I started yawning. It was past 12:30 and I was badly in need of some sleep.

"I'm sorry; I wish I had a beer here to give you."

"No problem, Jeanette," he said with a small smile or grin.

"I've got to get to the grocery store for some things. Might do that tomorrow morning, but are there any stores open around here?"

"An Albertson's about five minutes from here is open. I can take you there tomorrow morning if you want?"

Lee was a nice person and a friend, but I was beginning to question if I was going too far with a person I barely knew. Then what harm was there in going grocery shopping? "Great, if it's not too much trouble."

"No, it isn't. What time would you like me to pick you up?"

This took a little calculating. I had to be at WHO by 2 p.m. I also needed to get some rest, and there were the pre-bed and first thing in the morning now time-consuming female routines to factor in also. "Ten-thirty?"

"Okay, I will be here at ten-thirty, then."

I glanced at a nearby wall clock. "Lee, it's getting late, I need to get ready for bed."

Lee stood up right then and I did the same. "No problem, Jeanette. It's been nice chatting."

"Same here," I replied as we walked to the home's front door. We stopped just short of it. "Thank you, Lee, for helping me out."

"As I said before, Jeanette, it's no problem," he said as we talked in the front foyer. "Can I ask you something?"

I had a good guess what the question would be. "Sure?"

Lee was a self-confident type of guy and he got right to the point. "Would you be interested in dinner or a movie with me?"

My suspicion was right. Now I was faced with a dilemma I had hoped wouldn't have come so soon. Then again, I was to blame for this early onset. I had led Lee on that night about my availability. His question therefore shouldn't have surprised me.

I had to make a quick decision about the woman I wanted to be right then. "Yes, I'd like that. I'm busy at work right now, it may be a little while before I get the time."

Lee's gray blue eyes lit up in the dimly lit foyer the instant I said yes. He didn't show any disappointment at there being a delay when he spoke. "No problem, Jeanette, my work is kind of complicated too at the moment. So I do understand."

"Good," was all I could think of saying. At the moment I was looking in Lee's face and only realizing then how handsome he looked. The sexual tension between me and this police officer was definitely building.

"I'd better get going," he said, and I stepped ahead of Lee so to unlock the front door. When that was done, my friend stepped out of the house but stopped to say a last goodbye. "Bye, Jeanette. See you at 10:30 tomorrow, or I mean this morning."

"Bye, Lee, and thanks again for everything." Then I did the unexpected. I extended my cheek so as to allow the man to kiss me. This Lee did. "See you in the morning."

A few moments later I was walking upstairs to get ready for bed. My head was spinning from all that I had just done. 'Good God, Paul, you have a boyfriend. What kind of man are you?'
 

~*~
 
The next morning may not have constituted a date in the old-fashioned sense, but by the time I left for work that afternoon I felt I had just experienced one. The feelings or memories I had were good, to say the least.

As promised, Lee arrived at 10:30 that morning but I was still engaged with my new found chore of applying makeup. This aspect of my new life took on more significance that day. By the time I was done and had come downstairs, it was 10:40. After a brief kiss like the night before, I gathered my purse and grocery list and left the house on Lee's arm.

Lee drove me to Albertson's in the Ford Tahoe he owned. The grocery store was moderately busy and we spent around forty-five minutes in it. I did fulfill my vow from July 29 to change the dietary habits of the body I owned. Among the items I bought were chicken, some steaks and shrimp, rice, butter, some pasta, apples, and a six pack of Michelob beer.

On arriving home, Lee and I put the groceries I bought away. The night before my friend had said he would be buying groceries too, but in reality ninety percent of the purchases were my own. At least I paid for them. Lee just supplied transportation and company.

After finishing with the groceries, we sat down and ate lunch. I had bought some fried chicken along with carrot salad and coleslaw at Albertson's deli department. So we dug into our lunch together while making some light conversation.

"Sure you don't want a beer?" I said as I finally sat down.

"No, Jeanette," Lee said. "Cranberry juice is fine. Remember, I've got to report to work this afternoon."

"I'm totally forgetting about that," I told him. "Thanks again for taking me to the store."

"No problem, Jeanette. I like helping you out."

"You're working three to eleven again?"

Lee nodded his head as he swallowed some friend chicken. "Yes. I can meet you at the station again if you want."

"Sure, if it isn't any trouble."

"None at all. You're anchoring the weekday news now?"

"Yes, I just got the promotion a little while before the shift."

"Congratulations. That must be quite an honor."

I nodded. "Yes, it is. That's the position people like me aspire to. Reporting the news is important to inform the public. Like you and being a police officer trying to protect the public. My job is less risky, of course."

"Yes, but it's important, too."

I really enjoyed the conversation I was having with Lee. He was polite, never pushy and listened to every word I said. Occasionally he would ask a question. I had made a very good friend, and wasn't that the most important attribute you look for in a person for romance or marriage?

That wasn't on my mind then. I was however noting the growing sexual tension between Lee and myself. It was getting hard not to notice it. There were first the compliments Lee made to me about my appearance. Each time it made me feel more confident as a woman, fed my vanity and told me I was making people believe I was the real Jeanette.

There was more. Lee rarely took his eyes off of me. Guys did this when attracted to what they thought was a beautiful woman, but I was feeling oddly satisfied and happy that some man thought of me like this.

I was also beginning to appreciate that Lee was a good looking or handsome man himself. He had rugged good looks, and piercing blue gray eyes. I liked being in his company, and while in his presence I felt excited and feminine. There were other things, in the store we often
held hands, at other times I clung to him like a blanket. I just wanted to be near him.

My body was physically reacting, too. I felt warm, and turned on by his testosterone. My nipples hardening and warm feelings in my vaginal region resulted only when I was near, or thinking of him. At one point that morning I began to undress Lee in my mind. Had the body I
inherited helped to change the way I thought? Because Paul Hanratty would never have felt like this about another man. But then the body I was now in was female, and my former body wasn't.

It was both exciting and confusing as Lee and I talked. The conversation eventually turned to sports. Lee was a big college basketball fan, but I didn't know squat about that sport or its pro version. We did however both enjoy baseball. So we talked about our being Cardinal and Cub fans, and how the Shift would affect the sport.

"I think they'll start playing again next year," I said as I started picking up around the kitchen. Lee and I had finished eating by now. "People love their sports, it is entertainment. There will be a demand for it."

"I think you're right," Lee said. I think another reason he enjoyed or liked me was because I liked some sports. My wife Donna's interest in sports was limited to the Olympics and ice skating.

"The teams are going to be different. Then what isn't?"

"Very little, I would say."

"If not for the Shift I'd take you to an Iowa Cubs game," Lee said, mentioning the Triple AAA farm club that played its home games in Des Moines.

"I'd like that. We'll probably have to wait till next year, though."

Right then I was hit with another back spasm. I winced from the pain which immediately drew Lee's attention. "Are you all right?"

"My back is acting up."

Lee got up from his seat at the table and walked over close to me. "Maybe you should see a doctor."

"I'll be all right," I said while still cleaning up from lunch. There was some leftover chicken. I'd bring this to work for that evening's dinner. "What I could really use right now is a back massage."

Lee then took me by surprise. He began massaging my lower back. It felt good and I didn't mind this intrusion on my body. "A little higher."

My friend did as I told him and it continued to help. "Jeanette, why don't you lay down on the couch in the living room. I'll help you there."

Taking Lee's advice, I did go to the couch and lay down. For the next few minutes he massaged my aching back. It really felt good.

"You have some bruises back here," Lee said. In order to massage me, he had gotten more than just a small glimpse at some of my flesh.

"I had some childhood injuries. They happened a long time ago."

"Okay," Lee answered. I don't know if he believed me or not. That was the only answer I could think of at that moment.

When Lee finished the massage, he lent me his hand so I took it, after which he pulled me to my feet. When done, only inches separated us.

"Thank you for the massage," I said, looking up into Lee's eyes. The sexual tension had increased tenfold now. My mind was spinning more than ever.

"No problem, Jeanette," he said, looking down at me. A smile slowly began to form on his face. Then his head began to lower, then my neck arched. A moment later our lips met in a passionate embrace while at the same time our arms wrapped themselves around each other.

Here I was seventy-two hours from having been shifted into a woman and I was kissing a man. I just didn't care now, I was enjoying this aspect of my new gender, and wanted Lee not to stop as our lips and tongues danced their merry way for at least a minute.

At the same time that our lips were embracing, our bodies were almost doing the same thing. Placing his hands on my lower back and upper buttocks region, Lee gently drew my body inward to him. Goosebumps soon covered my body, my nipples became hard and erect and warmth filled my vagina. It all felt so good and I didn't want it to end.

Only when the kiss was almost over did I notice Lee's manhood poking or rubbing against me. I didn't at all recoil from this, instead I felt pleased that my friend was enjoying this moment too.

Finally our erotic kissing slowly began to lessen. Our lip dance becoming small pecks till this even finally concluded. I was feeling speechless, all I could say was, "Thank you. I like you, Lee."

He smiled at me. "I like you too, Jeanette. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

I blushed from the compliment. "Uhhh...I think we'd both better get going. We both have to get ready for work."

Lee and I returned to the kitchen and talked about our plans and work schedules. Till our professional lives were a little more settled, we'd see one another when we could. Lee proposed that on a night he was off and I was working we could either have dinner at a restaurant near WHO or even go back to his home where he would make me a home-cooked meal.
You see, after finishing the 6 p.m. news at 6:30 I had about two and a half hours down time. This left ample time to have dinner with Lee.

It would take a little finessing but Lee and I would find time to get together. Things would eventually slow down and we'd have more opportunities. Maybe this slow time was good, my mind still reeled from how fast I was moving with Lee. He did let me know he had his Army
Reserve commitment the weekend after this next one. So that weekend would be out.

"I'm going to Springfield on Labor Day weekend. My family is getting together, maybe you can come with me," he suggested.

"Maybe," was my reply. I barely knew the man and he wanted to introduce me to his family!

"I guess we'll get together one way or another."

"Yes, we will. You could always come over again, maybe even mow my lawn."

Lee laughed, "But you don't have a lawn!"

I giggled like a school girl who had a crush. "Then you can wash my car instead."

Lee left my home at approximately 1 p.m. as we both had to get ready for the coming day's work. Before he left, we shared another passionate kiss and embrace. Then I let Lee out of the house and after locking the front door, went up to my bedroom still glowing from the feelings I felt. Then I suddenly remembered something.

"I'd better get rid of that damned vibrator."
 

~*~
 
If the pace of my personal life was quickening, work was taking the opposite course. The shift was still the main focus of WHO's news operations, but the pace had slackened now. Other news was starting to creep into the station's broadcasts.

After the daily 2:30 news meeting, I returned to my office to begin prepping for the evening news. I wasn't seated a minute, when Ed Rowland stuck his head over the top of the cubicle that divided us.

"Jeanette, I just wanted to tell you how much I look forward to working with you."

I felt the same in regards to working with Ed, he was a fellow professional for one thing. Another is that he wasn't in any way a threat to me. The world of television news was often a back stabbing business as people tried to climb their way to the top. This wasn't Ed; his only goal in life was to help inform the public. "Me too, Ed. I've heard a great deal about you."

"Thanks," he replied. "When I came in here the other day I really expected things to be much different from when I left in '96. They weren't, some things have changed but most haven't."

I nodded my head. Right then I thought Ed may begin to regale me with tales of the good old days. With fifty years in broadcasting, I'm sure my colleague had more than a few anecdotes. I had some of my own but would have to keep them to myself. It would risk my cover or masquerade if I made them known.

However, Ed didn't talk about old times, instead he mentioned something else. "They're getting so cautious around here."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Television news rarely took risks, station management almost always being afraid to anger someone. More often than not, a news station backed away from any controversial story involving people of influence. Being cautious with the news instead of taking risks, seldom came with the threat of litigation.

It hadn't always been that way and Ed knew that. It was just the current trend. "Earlier today I mentioned to Tracy about my saying a few words on the Shift and how Iowans had worked together in this crisis."

"Tracy told you no?"

Ed nodded. "Yes, she did. What could be controversial about that? I used to sometimes end my broadcasts with a brief commentary. Now it's deemed too controversial."

I was sympathetic to my colleague's plight but knew station policy was sacrosanct. Or was it? "Maybe you should just say it anyway."

Ed showed a glimpse of a smile. "You might be right." The conversation soon ended but a seed had been planted in my mind.

It wasn't till the end of that evening's 11 p.m. news that I got my opportunity. The newscast was about to end, I took a deep breath and so I took the plunge. "Before we leave tonight, I'd just like to say a few words. Last Sunday, almost all of Iowa and mankind underwent a transformation unlike anything we had experienced. I hadn't been changed but most of my fellow friends and colleagues were, some in very dramatic fashion.

"One thing the Great Shift couldn't change was our humanity. In the time since this event happened, the people of Iowa have pulled together to help one another in a way I've never seen before. It's this unity that makes me feel we will survive this crisis and become a better people for it. I just want to conclude by saying I've never been prouder to be a citizen of this great state. God bless us all. This is Jeanette Crowder, and I wish you all a good evening."

The moment the cameras went off I was shocked to hear the sound of applause from some of the people present. One of them was Lee Crane; he had arrived on the set about five minutes before the broadcast ended.

I was still getting myself unhooked when Tracy Jenkins came down on the set. The look on her face wasn't a pleasant one. "What was that?"

"I just felt the need to say a few words."

"A few words?" Tracy said, apparently not happy with what I had done. Had I gone too far and descended into the bad habits that had gotten Paul Hanratty into trouble in the past? Tracy remained silent till I stood up to leave for the evening. "Go home, Jeanette, we'll talk tomorrow."

I was doing just that, beginning to walk off the television set when Tracy had one last question. "Who is that?" the Executive News Producer said, pointing to Lee. He was in his patrolman's uniform.

"Just a friend I made," I told her. Tracy must have forgotten our talk of ours about my being stopped by a police officer on Sunday night. Maybe she had too much on her mind to forget that minor detail. She only raised an eyebrow in reply.

"Ready to go home?" Lee asked as he bent down and kissed my forehead.

"Yes, I've just got to collect my purse and use the ladies room," I told Lee, who then followed me off the set.

Less than five minutes later Lee and I left the station. We held hands as we walked out to our cars. Everyone at WHO believed I was Jeanette Crowder, I had a nice and handsome boyfriend and a good career. Life as a woman may be challenging for a former guy but it certainly had its pleasures.
 

~*~
 
To be continued in Part Two