Before I could control myself, I started crying.

To my eternal relief, Mrs Wilson didn’t come and offer to help.

When I’d recovered my composure, I said to her,

“You can’t be serious. You really want me to come and tell a load of adolescent girls about a man who does not want to be a man and why he’s having his dick cut off?” I blurted out rather angrily when I’d recovered at least some sort of composure.

I dragged a handkerchief out of my handbag and tried to dry my eyes without making too much of a mess of my makeup. 

I’m getting a welcome signal. Someone wants me to come visit them.

There’s a little HAM Digital receiver in the flight deck. I picked it up in a truck stop, with a wink and a nod, for $100 bucks, ten years ago. It’s about the size of a lunch box, with a four foot antenna cluttering up the deck. I’ve got a pretty heft load on the antenna, so it’s strong enough to pick up from inside the ship. There’s no jack for an antenna on the surface hull, and it would get melted into vapor on re-entry in any case.

What if you could fly? You, know, be a kick-ass superhero whenever you want. That's what happened to college freshman Ned. Though, here's the catch—every time he uses his powers he turns into a woman. Still want to be that superhero?