“See,” Devi was saying, “a blue or green robe means you’re a girl, and yellow, orange or red means you’re a boy. At least for the Zyuneban. The Stasa have more complicated rules. And I guess we’re Stasa now, instead of Zyuneban like I was last time, so... anyway, pick whichever robe you feel like, if you can find one that fits you.”
The Mural and the Cabinet
part 18 of 21
by Trismegistus Shandy
Thanks to Lucario and Maplestrip for feedback on story ideas, and to Yuki Kitsune for beta reading the manuscript.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
Karsan hated being a little girl, and hated how casual his little sister was about the whole thing. He hadn’t wanted to come here — going to another world had sounded kind of cool at first, but not if he had to give up his dick. It hadn’t helped when Ami made fun of him for being too scared to be a girl. Now that he was here, he hated it every bit as much as he’d expected.
“See,” Devi was saying, “a blue or green robe means you’re a girl, and yellow, orange or red means you’re a boy. At least for the Zyuneban. The Stasa have more complicated rules. And I guess we’re Stasa now, instead of Zyuneban like I was last time, so... anyway, pick whichever robe you feel like, if you can find one that fits you.” She was standing there naked while she jabbered, pulling different robes off the rack and holding them up to her neck while she talked. Karsan hadn’t taken off his clothes yet; he was dreading looking at the void between his legs. A glance at the cute little face in the mirror was bad enough.
Devi pulled on a pair of fluffy undergarments and a blue robe, which seemed masculine enough to Karsan, but... apparently that was a girl color here? Karsan finally yanked a yellow robe off the rack, then turned his back to Devi and started pulling off his clothes. He gritted his teeth as he pulled off his pants and saw the smooth, hairless nothing down there.
I’m not going to cry! I’m not really a girl! I just... sort of look like one right now.
No “sort of” about it, really, she realized as she passed in front of the mirror again after getting the robe on. It was a little too long, and dragged on the ground, but she didn’t want to try on the blue or green robes after Devi had told her they were girl colors here.
Unless she was pranking her, tricking her into wearing girl stuff?
“Come on, Karsan, it’s not that bad. We’ll be boys again tomorrow. Cheer up.”
That was a happy thought to hold onto.
They tried on different pairs of slippers until they found some that fit, and then went out into the corridor again. Devi led the way to a living room with a lot of fancy wooden furniture, where guy-Sashtun and the old guy were sitting, and there was a single large window that looked out on... wow. They were pretty high up, looking out over a city where most of the buildings were a lot shorter than this one.
“It’s good to see you again, Devi,” the old guy said. “And this is your brother — what was his name?”
It felt nice to have him use ‘he’.
“Karsan the younger,” Devi said. It didn’t sound quite right, but whatever, they weren’t even talking proper English here. “Our dad’s named Karsan the elder, and our mom is Hamanta. And our grandma is Sharun, and our sister is Ami.”
Speaking of which, Grandma and Ami came in just then. Kashpur and Sashtun greeted them again. Karsan, Ami and Devi were all a lot closer in age than they’d been before, little kids of maybe seven, six and five. It totally sucked. Grandma looked younger than Dad usually did, maybe about Uncle Rob’s age or even younger.
“Tashni will be serving lunch in a few minutes,” Kashpur said. “And after we discuss business, we can go out and show you the town.”
That might be cool. But it would involve going out in public as a girl. And he was missing basketball practice for this, too.
Mom and Dad came in just then, or should it be Dad and Mom? Mom had worse acne than Karsan had back home; Karsan felt bad for him. Dad was pretty hot, or so Karsan probably would have said when he had a dick. They looked about eighteen or twenty. Mom was wearing orange and Dad was wearing green. Did they deliberately pick those because they matched their new bodies, or did they not know that stuff Devi had said about girl and boy colors?
“How are you feeling, Mom?” Dad said to Grandma. “You look good. Is being young again worth the weirdness of being a man?”
“I don’t even know,” Grandma said. “I’m still reeling in shock... Devi hadn’t even finished telling me his story when that door opened in the wall, and...”
“We’ll let Devi and Kashpur tell you the rest of it, then, and then Hamanta and I will pick up where they leave off,” Dad said.
Just then a bell rang, and Kashpur and Sashtun stood up. “It’s time for lunch,” Kashpur said. “This way.”
They all followed him into a dining room, where there was a long table with plenty of chairs for everybody. A woman a few years younger than Grandma normally looked was bringing in another platter of food as they found seats. Karsan’s feet didn’t touch the floor once he got up into his seat, another frustrating reminder of how young he was now.
“Are there any mealtime customs we need to know about?” Dad asked. “Saying a prayer before eating, or anything?”
“No,” Kashpur said. “Nothing you need concern yourselves about for a short stay and a private meal like this. For public banquets, of course, there are small ceremonies before and after eating, and between courses, and some families follow those customs at dinner when they have guests, or at holiday dinners, but Sashtun and I rarely bother.”
So they dug in, and Devi, Kashpur, Sashtun, and Dad finished telling Grandma all about the events that had led up to this.
“So,” Karsan was saying to her mother, “we figured the people who could benefit most from this thing would be older people. Changing sex wouldn’t be so bad if it came with thirty or forty years of rejuvenation... and so we thought we’d invite you to come visit here with us. Eventually Hamanta’s parents, too, of course, but they live in Florida and you’re right across town...”
Hamanta wasn’t sure how he felt about being a man. It was so strange to be taller than Karsan, to feel he could dominate her... kind of scary, and exhilarating at the same time. He had an erection thinking about her. The idea of actually using that thing between his legs on his husband — his wife, for the moment — was weird, too weird for words, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind. He tried to focus on what Karsan and Sharun were saying.
“...sure about that. I mean, being young again is amazing, it’s so wonderful to be free of back pain and rheumatism. But I don’t know if I could get used to being a man... or if I should.”
“You don’t have to decide right away, Mom,” Karsan said. “You could go home, think about it a while, and maybe come back for a longer visit after clearing your schedule for a week or two. But I hope you will retire here eventually... I mean, you’ve probably got ten or even twenty more years in you, given how old Grandma lived to be, but I don’t want to lose you. You could come here and be young again, even if we have to visit you because you can’t come to us without getting old again.”
“I’ll think and pray about it,” Sharun said, and took another bite of the rice pilaf-like dish. Hamanta and Karsan had been experimenting with some of the spices Sashtun had brought over, since last weekend, and he could taste a couple of them here.
“My parents are even older,” Hamanta said after finishing a mouthful. “I hope I can get them to move here before too much longer.”
“It will be hard to say goodbye to all my friends,” Sharun said. “And harder to explain where I’m going and why I won’t be able to talk with them on Facebook or on the phone.”
“They could come here, too,” Karsan said. “We’ve been talking with Kashpur and Sashtun about the best way to use the portal, and we think that letting retirees immigrate here might be the best thing, rather than importing and exporting goods. There are obstacles to work around, but we figure someone could convert all their assets into gold, come through the portal, pay us and Kashpur a reasonable fee for the use of it, and then find a home here in the city. Or anywhere in the Inupara Republic, really. Sashtun tells us there are a lot of nice places immigrants could live, some of them pretty cheaply. The exchange rate’s pretty favorable — your retirement savings converted to gold and then to local financial instruments would let you buy a house or rent an apartment and live pretty well for about thirty years, out in the suburbs, or twenty here in the downtown area. And you’re young enough here to find work after a few months or a year of acclimation, and save most of your money for your second retirement.”
“I’d want to know more about this world before I come here,” Sharun said. “Or tell my friends about it and invite them to come with me.”
“We can answer any questions you have,” Kashpur said. “And after lunch, we’ll take you on a tour. We can start with the roof garden; it’s got a good view of this part of the city.”
Fortunately, Hamanta’s erection had subsided by the time they finished eating and went out. Hamanta wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to find shoes that fit right, and Kashpur promised they would get them fitted for shoes. First, they all went up a flight of stairs to the roof, and looked out over the city from a charming garden. They could only see a handful of buildings that were taller than this one, most of them to the east. To the west, there were a fair number of buildings of eight to twelve stories, a handful in the twenty to thirty-story range, and a lot of two or three-story buildings. The ones near enough to make out clearly generally had bas-reliefs on their facades and statues on their cornices.
“That’s the wizards' academy,” Devi said, pointing out a moderately tall building in the distance like an expert. “And that building with the dome and spire is their parliament building...”
“Did you go see it while you were staying here?” Hamanta asked.
“Just from the outside. They don’t let visitors in, like at the state capitol back home.”
“They do at certain times,” Kashpur said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think today is one of them. Perhaps on a future visit. We can leave whenever you are ready.”
So they walked downstairs to the penthouse apartment, and then through the living areas to an office and an elevator. It took several minutes to arrive, and when it did, there was a young woman sitting there, seemingly operating it, though she didn’t have any buttons or knobs or anything to work.
“How is she controlling it?” Hamanta asked Kashpur in a low voice after they were all crowded in and the elevator started to descend.
“With her mind,” Kashpur said. “She’s a wizard, and can manipulate the threads of the elevator control spell, though she’s probably not powerful enough to cast major spells of her own, or she wouldn’t be working as an elevator operator.”
Sashtun had said that wizards were about one in a hundred and sixty people here. How many of them were working menial jobs like this?
The elevator operator was wearing a form-fitting green top, unike Karsan, and Hamanta found his eyes wandering more than once to her breasts. He forced himself to pay attention to Karsan. Remember what her breasts looked like, when you saw them earlier. You’ll see them again later.
The elevator reached the ground floor after picking up a couple of more passengers, and they all filed out through the marble and bronze-encrusted lobby to the street.
In some ways, it looked like a photo of a street scene from a hundred years or so ago. But the cars were completely different, or should he say carriages? Some of them looked more like literally horseless carriages, big wooden boxes with large wooden wheels and outside seats in front and back as well as six or so inside seats. Others were smaller, nearer the size of an American car from the fifties or sixties, but still made of wood, and though just as ornate, obviously from a completely different artistic tradition.
“We’ll walk up to the corner,” Kashpur said, “and take a bus to the street of the cobblers, where we’ll get you measured for shoes. Then we’ll have things that fit you next time you visit. Meanwhile, we’ll show you the city — whatever you wish to see that we have time for.”
The bus, when it came, was something like a trolley without wires or tracks, having open sides and a few benches as well as poles and straps to hang onto. “Are the trolley and carriage drivers all minor wizards, like the elevator operator?” Karsan asked as the conductor folded down a set of stairs and they mounted the bus.
“Most of the trolley drivers, yes,” Kashpur said, “and some of the carriage drivers. But a few years ago we developed motive spells that can be controlled by anyone — well, anyone but a spellbreaker — by touching appropriate runes carved on a wall panel or table. There wouldn’t be nearly so many magical carriages without that, and the city wouldn’t have been able to forbid horses and donkeys within the city limits. The older types of elevator and trolley that require a wizard to operate them are being gradually replaced.”
Hamanta remembered Devi or Sashtun saying something about spellbreakers. They were the opposite of wizards, right?
They rode a couple of miles and then got off in a block full of shops in the ground levels of two and three-story buildings. These had more and larger windows than the skyscrapers they’d seen at first around Kashpur’s building.
Kashpur led them into one of the shops, which had several styles of shoe painted on the sign-board out front. There, they were each measured for shoes, and for those whose slippers didn’t fit at all, or hadn’t been able to squeeze into anything, Kashpur bought shoes in something closer to the right size. The shop didn’t have anywhere near the selection of shoes a shoe store back home would, but it had a few, mostly pairs that people had commissioned but then failed to pay for. “I’ll have shoes in an exact fit for you next time you visit,” he said, and then paused a moment and added: “At least, if you have the same body next time as this. We’ll have to test that. Devi is different from last time, but I think that can be explained by the different context in which the cabinet found itself.”
“Do you think we’d look different if you or Sashtun or Tashni weren’t home when we arrived?” Karsan said. “Or if a different group of people were at home or visiting in the apartments below yours?”
“Possibly,” Kashpur said. “I don’t know how far out the portal reaches in its survey of the people nearby to form the new bodies of travelers. I made inquiries about the shops on either side of the shop I bought the cabinet from. Zyuneban families live above both shops, and both had closed by the time Devi arrived, so there would be no customers to confuse the issue. Your house is some distance from the nearest house, I understand?”
“About two hundred yards,” Hamanta said.
“And are the family in that house of the same ethnic group as yourselves?”
“Yes, though there’s a black family in the next-closest house, about two hundred and fifty yards in another direction.”
“Then I think we can assume that the portal doesn’t look that far,” Sashtun said, “or they would have influenced my appearance — if they were at home when I arrived?”
“You came over twice and looked pretty much the same each time,” Hamanta said. “And if the Powells weren’t home the first time you came, they probably would have been the second time, or vice versa.”
Once Hamanta and Sharun had shoes that fit them, more or less, Kashpur asked if they wanted to have themselves measured for something other than the robes he’d provided, to have something closer fitting next time like shirts and trousers, or if they would rather spend the time seeing more of the city. After a stop at a tailor’s shop in a nearby street, they all got on another bus and went to another part of the city, one Devi had told them about, and which she’d pointed out from the roof garden. They saw the parliament house, the courthouses, the Wizards' Academy, the Athenaeum, a couple of churches or temples of some sort, and other public buildings, as well as statuary in granite, marble, and wood — the latter including living trees molded and sculpted over decades like large bonsai.
After a few hours of touring that district of the city, they returned to Kashpur’s building just before sunset.
If you want to read the whole novel (51,700 words) right now without waiting for the serialization, you can find it in my ebook collection, Unforgotten and Other Stories. It's available from Smashwords in epub format and Amazon in Kindle format. (Smashwords pays its authors better royalties than Amazon.)
You can find my earlier ebook novels and short fiction collection here:
Comments
future retirement home?
well, I still think there will be problems.