Matthew Jones is the only son of Randy Jones, honored deacon of the Church of Genetic Purity. He and his girlfriend, Amy Cox, have been taught from birth that MORFS is a symptom of moral depravity. While they had quietly questioned that doctrine, they were not prepared for the opportunity to find out for themselves.

sex: 1/10
violence: 7/10
profanity: 3/10

Categories: Male to Female, PSI

Timeline: 2060

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Chapter Seventeen: Confrontations, healing, renewal

I was coming downstairs when I heard a knock at the door. When I answered it, three people came bursting in and said, "We came to pick up Amy Cox." I quickly read in their minds that they were up to no good.

*Visitors! Amy, stay well out of sight! Mom! Kim! Sara! I think I need some adult help here at the door.*

Kim walked up to the trio. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Yes," the leader said. "We have instructions to pick up one Amy Cox for her safety."

"I am Amy's legal guardian, and I can assure you that she is perfectly safe here," said Mom.

"Our instructions are to remove Miss Cox from this household. Please step aside."

"Do you have a warrant?" asked Kim.

"Look, kid, don't play living room lawyer with me. Step aside or we'll call your parents!"

Kim walked up and looked him right in the face. "I am an adult, this is my house, and you are not invited. Please remove yourselves now."

The two men who had come in with him pulled handguns. Immediately, the guns pointed at the floor, then flew out of their hands. Then, the attackers fell to the floor. I pinched the carotids of the one on the right, and Larry did the one on the left. He didn't quite have the control at that distance, but compressing the entire area worked well.

Sara and Cindy restrained the ringleader while Kim called the police. Soon, officers Trowbridge and Saouda, along with some backup, were here.

It turned out that he did have a court order to take Amy to a foster home, but didn't have a warrant to come into Kim and Sara's house. The court order came from a lower court, so it didn't override the court order that gave Mom legal guardianship of Amy. Still, the fact that the people who were trying to get their hands on Amy managed to get a court order was ominous.

We contacted our lawyer the next day, and he filed the appropriate legal papers that would allow Mom to adopt Amy officially. Since Amy's parents had signed away their legal parental rights, there was no opposition. Meanwhile, an investigation was launched. What did those people want with Amy, anyhow?

Amy and I were enjoying a little 'sister time' at the local park when we were accosted by a couple of the pures that we recognized from school. They didn't go to our old church, but they were pretty obnoxious.

"Can't you guys ever learn that we just want to be left alone?" Amy sighed. "Maybe things would change if you got MORFS."

They came over and got into her face. "That is not the way to address your betters!" they said as they grabbed her.

I felt something weird through my link with Amy -- as if she released something. It felt a lot like it feels when she induces MORFS in an animal.

I used my TK to unwrap their grubby mitts from Amy's arms, then pushed them away.

*What did you do?* I asked Amy.

*I don't know. I think I gave them MORFS.*

I couldn't help but snicker. *I guess you got your wish, then. I just hope they don't get any powers.*

*Nope. I think they are getting that custom strain that we were all dreaming up the night of the sleep over.*

I giggled. *I guess they won't be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, either.*

We telepathically followed them home. We kept checking up on them and their families. Sure enough, the came down with MORFS about two days later. They changed pretty much like we had all discussed at the party. I almost felt sorry for them.

Almost.

We had all been practicing our powers, but this was the first time we found out for sure that Amy could custom morf a person.

The Sunday after next, we had some guests at church. Some of our members had invited a family over for a special prayer session. The young lady was ill with terminal cancer. It was very hard on the parents, and on the doctor, who was a family friend. Some of our church members, relatives of the family, had urged them to come over. Whenever a member is sick, either the elders, or the entire congregation, will pray for them in a session much like the descriptions in the Bible.

I was looking at her body and saw hundreds of tumors inside her. Amy and I combined perceptions, and I could see that the cancer was growing and spreading everywhere, and that it had some of the signature of MORFS. We also saw that she didn't have long to live.

The doctor explained that he had had a bio elemental lined up to treat her, but the elemental had disappeared. It has always been difficult to find bio elemental help at any price -- they are just too rare. Now, it's almost impossible.

It was a very touching ceremony. The elders and the youth group all laid hands on her and prayed over her. The congregation, for the most part, held their hands out in her direction.

After we were done, Amy talked to the girl's doctor. *I'm a bio elemental and my sister has very fine control of her telekinesis. The rest of our household can help us by lending energy to us. Can we all meet downstairs after the service?*

I saw the doctor whispering to the parents. After a short conference, he replied. *Thank you!*

After the service, we all went over and led the four of them downstairs.

Once we got down to Myra's makeshift treatment room, we all introduced ourselves. The girl's name was Tina Shepherd. Her parents were Mary and John, and her physician was Doctor Josephson.

"Doctor Martin and Doctor Martin? That sounds familiar. I remember two Doctors Martin from when I was in med school in Sun City."

"That would be us," said Kim. "We have changed a bit since then, but we're still the same people."

We explained to Tina that Amy is a bio elemental, that I am a telekinetic, and that everyone else is telepathic and can lend energy to Amy and me.

Amy and I combined our perceptions and looked at Tina. We shared our perceptions with the doctor.

"OK, Doc, we can start any time you're ready. Just guide us and let us know what we need to do."

I was up first. The doctor chose a tumor, and I studied it. By combining Amy's bio elemental vision with my own remote perception, I learned the difference between 'tumor' and 'not tumor.' This allowed me to surround it with a kind of shield. Then, I liquefied it and drew the liquid out through a tiny tube of force. I did a few of them, but the meticulous work soon became tiring. I let Cindy use my fine control to do it while I relaxed. Then, Mom did some on her own. Larry, Kim, and Sara all took their turns. We followed round-robin like that as we carefully removed each tumor. The doctor watched over the whole operation, and was impressed.

Once we did that, it was Amy's turn. She found all the 'wrong' places in her structure and fixed them. When we were done, each cell was brought back to its 'right' state.

"The tumors are caused by some kind of anomaly in her genetic code. The MORFS genetic code reacts to it badly, and creates tumors. It's going to happen again if we don't do something about it," said Amy.

"We're grateful for every day added to her life," said her mom.

"What happens if she gets MORFS?" asked the Doctor Josephson.

"According to what I am reading in her, that will cure her permanently."

Just then, Pastor Dan came down with a pile of power bars, energy drinks, and other snacks. We all sat back and ate and relaxed to replenish our energy.

I looked at Tina. "If you could choose how you MORF, what would you choose?"

Tina looked adoringly at the kitty four. "I think I would like to look like them, and have wings, too."

"Any powers?" Amy asked.

"Telepathy is really cool, and I would like to help people the way you did."

I asked Amy, *Can you give her your elemental powers combined with my suite of powers?*

Amy seemed to think about it for a while, then knitted her brow.

*What's the matter?* I asked.

*I can't give her the ability to create custom morfs. There is a missing component that I can't give her.*

She looked around with our combined vision out to the limits of our perception.

*I guess we really are sisters, because I can give you the ability. The Martins have such powerful intellects that I can give it to them -- but I'll have to do it a piece at a time. I can't find anyone else that's even close.*

*That might be a good thing,* I said. *We wouldn't want anyone to be able to make an army of morfs. Meanwhile, let's take care of Tina.*

Amy asked Tina to visualize what she wants to look like.

"It's all set to go. All I have to do is give her the bug."

Kim spoke up.

"Doctor Josephson, it's my opinion as a MORFS specialist and as someone who knows Amy well that she can successfully give MORFS to Tina, give her exactly what she wants, and cure her of this cancer forever. What do you prescribe?"

He smiled. "Ah, the legal stuff." He looked over at Tina's parents. "As her doctor, I prescribe a case of MORFS, as induced by Amy Cox. What do you say?"

"If Tina wants it, you have our permission."

Amy looked at Tina questioningly. Tina nodded. "Do it, please."

Amy touched Tina on the arm and released the virus packet. "It's done. You'll come down with MORFS in two days."

The doctor was happy to see his patient cured, but he felt regret that he couldn't do that for more people.

*Amy, can you give the good doctor the same suite of powers you just gave Tina?*

Amy concentrated a bit, then sent, *Adults can't get MORFS, but I can give them a bug that'll do the same thing.*

She looked at Doctor Josephson and said out loud, "You regret not being able to help people more. I can give you the same suite of powers if you like. Would that be OK?"

"If you do that," Kim commented, "you need to do his wife, too. After all, MORFS is going to set back the clock for him, and it would be a huge strain on his marriage if his wife didn't get the same thing."

"Unfortunately, Candice isn't here. She had to work at our practice today," said Doctor Josephson.

"I could give you the bug, and make it sexually transmittable," Amy snickered.

Doctor Josephson blushed, but said, "That actually sounds like a perfect solution." He thought about it for a bit. "Does there have to be a physical change? Can we both come out looking the way we do now?"

"Except for the fact that you'll both look younger, there doesn't need to be any change," Amy said. "In fact, if there is no physical change, the symptoms should be almost nonexistent."

The doctor smiled. "OK, that'll be perfect." He held out his arm. "Zap me, please."

Amy did.

"Please understand," Sara pointed out, "That there are people who would stop at nothing to get the power to change morfs. For Amy's sake, don't let anyone know how you got your powers."

A few days later, Amy and I were hanging out in the park when we saw the couple that she had infected earlier. They started walking toward us.

*Uh oh,* I said to Amy. They were smiling, though.

"We wanted to apologize to you guys for being so rude a couple weeks ago."

We just stared at them with our mouthes open.

They introduced themselves as Marvin Donaldson and Dolly Vincetti. Then, they described their former appearances and reminded us of the earlier incident. "As you can imagine, getting MORFS has pretty much changed our attitudes."

I held my hand out. "Welcome to the world of the butterflies." Amy and I both felt a bit guilty, though.

"You know, these bodies aren't the best things that we could have gotten, but it was worth it if that's what it took to shake us loose from our destructive path."

"You know," I said, "I said pretty much the same thing. I was the son of a deacon at the Genetic Purity Church. I didn't know it, but life was sterile and I was headed for destruction."

"I was his girlfriend," Amy added. "We were good friends, but wouldn't have made it as girlfriend and boyfriend. We're much better as sisters." Amy smiled and gave me a hug.

They looked pretty much identical. It would have been impossible to tell who was originally male, and who was female, if we couldn't have read their minds. I also sensed a curious type of contentment.

For most of their lives, they have been living with the conviction that the gene scum were spreading evil in the world, and that there was little that they could do about it. Suddenly, reality shifted. They found out first hand that going through MORFS doesn't turn you into a monster. The big insoluble problem that had been a central part of their lives suddenly evaporated.

I guess the same thing happened to me. I had already been working on my perception and attitudes about MORFS, but tolerance was always at odds with what I was taught by parental and church authority. Now, the dearest people in my life are MORFS survivors, and life is undeniably better.

We chatted with them for a while. While they regret the loss of strength, and wish they looked less like the classic devil caricatures, they are happy. They even shyly admitted that the loss of their gonads hasn't prevented them from pleasuring each other. Amy privately noted to me that there are some interesting concentrations of nerves in those areas. I quietly conferred with Amy, and she agreed to give them another case of MORFS that would trigger in about a week, and would get rid of the horns, change their facial features, give them back their strength and flexibility, and give them the ability to change their skin color. We decided that weak telepathy would be good, too.

Chapter Eighteen: A question of forgiveness

I had a disturbing dream that night. I don't remember much of it, but I remember vaguely that I'm being asked to forgive my father. I had been putting off that issue, but I knew it would eventually come back to bite me in the butt. I decided to talk to Kim about it, since I have been going to her for a lot of advice since I moved in here.

Kim called Pastor Dan and made an appointment for me. I didn't really want to talk to the pastor about it, but I wasn't going to tell Kim that I didn't appreciate what she did for me. Also, I really like Pastor Dan.

But still, what good will it do when he tells me that God wants me to forgive my father? I already know that. Shoot, I can quote a couple of the verses from memory -- seventy times seven, and all that stuff.

But he's the pastor. It's his job to tell us what God wants us to do. So I went anyhow. I smiled and thanked him for taking the time to talk to me.

Before we sat down, he handed me an envelope. "Let's get this part out of the way right now." I took it and looked at him curiously. "No, don't open it yet."

"What's in it?" I asked.

He gave me a smirk. "It's the obligatory lecture about how God wants you to forgive everyone, supported by a bunch of quotes from the Bible. You probably already know a lot of that stuff, but I have to give you the information, anyhow."

I must have still looked confused. He waved at a comfortable chair, and sat himself down.

"The fact that you find forgiving your father to be difficult is proof that failing to do so will hurt you."

I looked at him without comprehension.

"Has he asked for forgiveness?" he asked.

"No," I admitted.

"Then it's all about you. You don't even really have to tell him. In fact, it's quite possible that he considers himself to need no forgiveness. He may think that he did what was right."

"Then what's the point?" I asked.

"When you think about your father, what happens? How do you feel?"

"My guts clench up," I admitted.

"Is that a good feeling?"

"No, of course not," I replied.

"So, you have three choices. You can go through life feeling your guts clench up every time something reminds you of your father, you can make a good attempt to never think about him for as long as you live, or you can try to forgive him."

I mulled over that for a while. I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened to come out.

"I don't have to be a psychologist to know that you had PTSD from your experiences with the stonings. How do you feel now?"

"Well," I said, "at first, I was full of fear. After a while, their ability to make me afraid started to go away."

"How did that happen?" he asked.

"First of all, I made a decision that I wasn't going to give them power over my life like that. Myra helped me make that decision and stick to it." I sat and thought for a bit. "Later, after I had defeated them, then after the incident in the park, I came to realize that I'm not totally helpless in the situation. I defeated them twice, and they're in jail."

He smiled. "Most PTSD survivors don't have the advantage of your later experiences. They have to face back the fear, knowing that it is still all too valid to feel afraid. Faith helps a lot of people. Knowing that, in the end, God will see to that they win is the final thread of hope that they cling to."

"That helps me a lot, too," I said.

"But what about the clenching in your guts? You have managed to pretty much put aside the fear, but what of the other? Your attackers no longer have the power to make you afraid, but they have the power to make you harden your heart."

I looked at him with new comprehension. "How do I do it? I can say it. I can even will it. How do I make it real?"

"Start by admitting that you need and want to forgive him, but that you just don't have the power to do it on your own. Then, pray about it."

I thought about it for a while. "Needing to do something that I can't do makes me feel powerless," I told him.

"Join the club," he said. There's an old song that says, 'Just give it your best, pray that it's blessed, and He'll take care of the rest."

"I recall reading something like that in Paul's writings; but it all seemed so theoretical to me."

"Philippians 4:13, and a number of other places," he affirmed. "And it's not theoretical at all. It's something that we all experience when we bump our heads against the wall, then ask for help when the wall refuses to crumble."

I sighed, then smiled. "I guess I'll just have to do what I can and wait to see what happens."

"That's very often all anyone can do. Still, knowing what you need to do, and why you need to do it, is a big step."

"Yes," I said. "I need to get rid of this hard lump in my heart because it's hurting me more than it'll ever hurt father."

I got up and thanked him. I started by shaking his hand, then gave him a hug.

After I got home, I laid on my bed for a while; lost in thought. Then, I changed into a swimsuit and lounged around the pool. I prayed about it that night, and every night thereafter -- until there was resolution.

Summer continued to pass amiably. We all continued to attend advanced gym class, practice our powers, work in the labs, swim, skateboard, walk through the parks, and do general summer stuff. I played with Markus a lot, and he has gotten quite good at landing on my shoulder without scratching me.

Kim and Sara sequenced the virii that Amy used to morf animals and people. In general, it was shorter than most 'wild' DNA. If the DNA that Amy creates looks like a well-designed program, the wild stuff looks like a very large, old, and haphazardly maintained piece of legacy software. Kim and Sara's research showed some distinct difference between the morfing of themselves, the morfing of Mom and me, and the morfing that Amy can induce.

There are three ways of morfing an adult, and no consistency between them.

And then there were four.

We started seeing reports of a curious batch of adult morfing, and it couldn't happen to a nicer group of people. These people grew furry, sprouted horns, and lost their voices. The fact that it was the pures that were hit made us suspicious. Amy insists that she never envisioned those particular changes, though.

The Martins got samples of the virii. It turns out that three separate virii are needed to induce the morf. They are similar to Amy's in that they are coded neatly, but they lack Amy's signature.

When working with DNA, there are many ways to get a specific result -- sort of like programming, but much more so. Therefore, it is possible to use statistical analysis to detect a very distinctive 'style.' Amy has morfed enough test animals for the statistical analysis programs to assemble a very definite signature. The AMORFS suite of virii doesn't match that signature. The good doctors suspect that another bio elemental did it.

So, out came the epidemiology programs.

This bug seems to have a long incubation period. I wonder if the perpetrator of the plague did that to make it difficult to track down. We would have to have lots of private information about lots of people to do an effective job.

The Martins sent their results to several of their colleagues, including the elementologist in Sun City who administers the MORFS registration database for elementals. They debated talking to her about Amy's abilities, but decided to wait. The last thing we need is for Amy to get the attention of some powerful groups who want her abilities.

We have lots of decisions to make about that. How are we going to use her abilities to their greatest advantage while keeping them secret? How are we going to protect her if she is found out?

One day, I got a letter from father. It was from the state penitentiary; from Randy Jones, followed by a long inmate identification number.

My gut clenched.

I was about to throw it out, but I decided that I need to read it or I'll never get out from under his power to stir up my guts. This is where faith is tested. This is where the rubber meets the road. I need to reach past how I feel and do the right thing, or be under his power forever.

Dear Cara:

I'm sorry.

I was wrong. I was horribly wrong. I know that my admission doesn't mean much, but it's all I have to offer.

I'm not asking for mercy.

I lost you. I lost my wife. I lost everything I have ever worked for and earned. I lost my freedom. I almost lost my soul. I fell under the deception of the preacher and his ilk. They seduced me by stroking my pride and telling me that I was one of the chosen few superior ones. Oh, how my prideful soul drank in their flattery. If things had kept going, I would have lost my soul. Instead, I lost everything else.

Including you.

I know it's too much to ask from the likes of me, but I really need your forgiveness. Can you find it in your heart to forgive a foolish man who has hurt you so and stolen much of your childhood? I'm not asking you to lessen the consequences that I have fairly earned. I just want your heart to free me and not hold me bound.

I regret the childhood that I stole from you. I regret the energy that I put into hatred when I should have dedicated myself to caring for your mother and you. I regret the children that I would have fathered if I had loved your mother instead of driving her away. I regret never having had a daughter, and I regret that I drove you away before you became my daughter.

Since moving into jail, I have come to know what God really wants from us. I learned of a loving God who would rather save than condemn. I pray for you every day. I pray that you will avoid the pitfalls that have ensnared my life. I pray that you and your mother will find happiness and be successful. I pray that you will never be tainted by my sin.

So, if you can find the grace to forgive a man who deserves death or worse for what he has done to you, I will be eternally grateful.

I love you very much.

Dad

I put the letter down.

Why are there tears in my eyes? Why do I care?

Somehow, some part of me felt sorry for father. Somehow, part of me missed him. Somehow, early memories of being bounced on his knee, playing catch, being read to, and other happy events of my childhood came to me. I shuddered, put my face in my hands, and sobbed.

Kim and Sara came running over to see what was causing me so much distress. Sara took me in her arms and held me. Kim saw the letter sitting on the table. She picked it up and looked at me. I nodded. She started read it. I could tell that she was sharing it with Sara. She set the letter down. "It's hard, isn't it?"

I looked at her questioningly.

"It's hard to love and hate someone at the same time," she said.

I didn't know what to say. I just nodded.

"This is where the rubber meets the road," said Kim. "You're sitting on the fence, and fence-sitting is never comfortable."

I asked, "What do I do?" but I knew the answer. My heart wasn't believing it, though. Father had hurt me too badly for me to let go easily.

"You can choose to try to forget the good times and concentrate on hating him, or you try to let the hate go. Your choice. Which choice will bring you the most peace?"

Sara got a far off look in her eyes, then looked at me. "Have you ever heard the song, 'Amazing Grace?'"

I nodded.

"It was written in the mid 1800s by a slave trader named John Newton. In his song, he celebrates the fact that his sin, which had broken the hearts and lives of countless slaves, was forgiven. I doubt if many of the slaves forgave him, though. I would like to think that I am the kind of person who could forgive him, but I'm not at all sure."

"And my father is like the slave trader?"

"Yes," said Kim. "It's not up to us to judge who's sin was greater, but both have repented. The biggest real difference is that your dad is paying much more dearly for his sin."

"Want another story?" asked Sara.

"Sure," I said.

"Joseph was the favorite son of his father Jacob, and Jacob didn't make that a secret. His brothers were jealous and intended to trap and kill him. They started to do just that, but changed their mind and sold him into slavery instead. He did well in his new life as a servant, but the lies of his master's wife landed him in jail for a number of years. He was finally sprung, and ended up working for the pharaoh. He became second only to the pharaoh in Egypt."

"You left out some details," I said.

"And the ending," Sara replied. "But what is the point of the story?"

"People kept doing bad things to Joseph, but he just bounced back better than before," I said.

"They tell us in Sunday School that what others meant for evil, God turned to good," Kim said.

I nodded. "In the end, the very brothers who sold him into slavery came to Egypt to beg for help -- and he helped them."

Sara smiled. "I wonder how many years Joseph's guts twisted every time he thought of his brothers, or Potiphar's wife."

"Are you telling me that I have to forgive my father?"

"No," said Kim. "We don't need to tell you that. What we are telling you is that it is possible to move beyond all this pain. It doesn't help to know what you're supposed to do unless you know that you can do it."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know what I'm supposed to do."

A new thought hit me. "He wasn't even there when they tried to abduct me. He wasn't there when they stoned me. He was all too willing to kill Amy, but would he have changed his heart if I had stayed home when I morfed?

"I don't know," said Kim. We know that he has changed his heart, but we don't know when it happened. He would probably tell you if you asked, though."

I gave Kim and Sara a good night hug and went upstairs. Emotionally drained, all I had the strength to do was to drop the letter on my bedside table, say my prayers, and collapse into bed. I slept soundly.

(end of part 08)

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