As the emerald faded it, it faded into darkness. Nothing came after, but the void of mindlessness. The dark mists of torpor roil about me in this nothing. I could feel the curse of sleep on my breath as my lungs filled and emptied, slowly and weightlessly. It was serene. I think I could be here…

Forever. I could feel the warmth of my thoughts slowly draining into the cold grasp of...

The flash of guns, a pace of running inside halls, closing in and a wall of green death. Goddesses speaking in riddles and a sharp pain in my hand. Lauren, clutching a glowing crystal upwards towards the sky. Screaming.

The emerald faded and gave birth to darkness in my mind, but I can’t say I was outside of danger. I needed to wake up. The shadows take me away from myself. My mind from my body… 

A swirl in the dark, and a flash.

"Bring the subject in…”

A pressure on my arms, a weight pushing upwards on my back.

“-er hand is entirely ossified in the…”

Footsteps to my left. A inescant beeping to my right

“...been here since the rest but is still unconscious.”

How long have I been-?

 

...

 

The grasp of the darkness pulls my mind back into the depths for god knows how long again.

The sound of heavy doors complaining about being moved whine quietly, followed by the clatter of a clipboard and the patter of leather shoes mixed with boots. I still seem to be in some sort of coma, but my consciousness has returned to it's clarity.

A wiry voice fills the room, "We should autopsy the patient."

A gruff voice returned a stiff grunt in response, followed by, "Autopsy a living subject?"

"A comatose subje-"

"No. We're here to protect them from others and themselves."

"You're only letting sentiment get in the way of progress because you couldn't save your son!"

The sound of a clipboard hitting the floor echoes, "Your job is medical examiner and information specialist. Make sure they're alive and get info on their relatives or friends. Control needs to be maintained when they wake up."

Angry footfalls of boots lead their own way through the whiney doors again and silence is only disturbed by the bristling sound of fabric moving, getting closer to me.

"Oh girl, what secrets do your hand hold?" His voice was like an oil spill in the ocean. I could feel warm breath as they spoke directly into my ear. I felt a chill run the length of my body and the beeping in the room got quicker.

With a harumph, the footsteps of the man led him out of the room, the doors opening and shutting giving me the sign that I was alone again. I need to get my body back and get the hell out of here. Am I some kind of science experiment for that one guy? God help me...

Wait, girl? I focus on what he said to me as my mind fades away again. 

 

...

Consciousness comes fast and mercilessly, it hits like a wave of tepid sea foam. The water swirls along the cracks and grooves of my mind, pushing its tendrils of cold awake deeper into the black death of sleep. It was like a snap of a rope suddenly pulled taut that my eyes shot open.

The ghost of sleep was still a phantom in the air and it was haunting the moment. Any sense of urgency was muted by a fading lethargy as my senses coalesced back up again. My vision danced into place as a white ceiling lined with long fluorescent bulbs became clear above me. Just to my left were several half-empty saline bags hanging from an IV pole. I traced their tubing down towards me. A pinch of pain in my arm as I shifted my arms slightly tells me that those IV bags are definitely attached to me.

I’m in some kind of hospital but I had no idea what kind of state I was in. The flashes of what happened before I woke up ran through my head again. The green, the goddess, Lauren. The men with guns. I squeezed my eyes shut again, reveling in the sense that I was in control again. It was time to take stock.

I focused on my body. Nothing felt… wrong. I had both my hands and my feet. I wiggled them in assurance to myself. That meant both arms and legs. Nothing in my chest or waist hurt. Yet, something felt a little different. The fabric of what I assumed was a medical gown seemed to catch and pull at strange ways across my chest and around my hips. Everything felt so… soft.

I was lying on what I was now very suddenly aware was an incredibly hard bed, the thinner sheets draped over me up to my torso. All of my muscles hurt and my mouth felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton. I pushed myself up off the bed slightly and heard a gasp followed by a wooden clattering against the floor. 

There was a nurse, with her hair pulled into a tight ponytail wearing black-grey fatigues looking at me. Her eyes were wide with fear as I saw the color drain from her face momentarily. Before I could even think of anything else, she bolted from the room without a word, leaving me half sitting up dumbstruck. 

 

My gut told me that I am not going to have much more time to myself. I finish sitting up, my mind reels as I feel the weight shift from the center of my chest downward, pulling down on my shoulders momentarily. It doesn’t fall off though. It hangs against me and I instinctually try to pull my knees up to my chest. They don’t. They catch on something wrapped around them tightly.

What the hell? I pull the sheets up and away as forcefully as I can, throwing them straight off the bed I was on. There are leather straps on both of my ankles, securely holding me to the metal gurneys on the edges of the bed. I pull as hard as I can to the groaning resentment of my sore muscles. Not even a budge from them.

I was, I AM strapped to this bed. What about my hands? I look over to the sides of the bed and see two more straps, still closed, but sagging downward without the wrists that should be there to be taut against. I think I know why the nurse freaked out now, but how the hell did I get out of these? I look down at my wrists, small as they were.

Small… My brain skipped a beat. I look down at my wrists held close to my chest. With... boobs? The weight on my chest suddenly had a focal point and I can feel my medical gown shift slightly with each increasingly shallow breath across my chest, irritating the skin. There is no conscious thought as I bring my hands up to cup my breasts. I can feel my hands and my hands could feel me. 

Noticing the change was like dropping into a cold pool and I was suddenly noticing so many things. My entire body felt smaller than it used to, my rib cage tapering off into a small waist that flared out to hips that just kept expanding down the thighs. I run my hands down my body, feeling the smoothness and soft curves. I felt diminutive right now and thinking back to my strapped down legs, suddenly very very very insecure. 

I am a girl. A lot of dots were now connected and a lot of confusing moments earlier made sense. Oddly, there is no wave of dread for the fact that I was a girl, but rather there is a definite fear of the situation I was in. I can hear commotion beyond the closed door of my hospital room, and I steel myself for whatever dark evil things came my way. 

There was a discussion going on on the other side of the door. I didn’t notice it before, but it became more apparent as time went along. Perhaps they were progressively talking louder, or just not trying to stay quiet for my sake any longer. Partially strapped to a bed, I run through all of the potential things that could come through the door. The soldiers from god knows how long ago are what come to mind first. The way the nurse had run, maybe they believe I’m dangerous? Like the dude that made fire or the laser beam dude from the mall. I didn’t feel any different. Well, except my new breasts and smaller body, of course.

My fear musing is cut short by a curt yell. It didn’t exactly sound like someone screaming out as much as a very stern voice cut away the chatter beyond the door. If there were any crickets in this place, I would definitely hear them at this moment. 

It was deadly silent as the air stood still. 

 

Knock, knock. 

Any reaction I have prepared in the event of more crazy shit leaves the building with a whimper in that moment. I just stare at the door in shock. Did they seriously just…? 

 

Suddenly I realize they are waiting for me to say something. 

“C-come in,” I cough out as my voice cracks, unprepared for the staccato of speaking with much more silvery mezzo-soprano compared to my old baritone. The harsher speaking manner feels alien in my throat, as I adjust to a miniscule difference in anatomy. 

The way that the vibration of my voice reverberated through my neck into my head was incredible in how natural it felt to do yet so physically foreign. I breathe out a few hums to get a feel for the sensation. The sound of the door shutting gently shakes me from my internal exploration. 

The man from the other side of the door stands in front of me and both of us take a moment to really take each other in. His age weathered face holds a guarded yet bemused expression. A grey fox; his hair leaving color behind for the sake of displaying the dignity of a lengthy life. Even though it is cut short in the typical military fashion it still has an earnest waveness to it, of a forgotten youth of long haired nonconformity that his hair had never forgotten, even if he had. The crispness of his white uniform is only accentuated by the decorated badges pinned to it and the two star general epaulettes. All in all, his form is screaming a stern authoritarian, but a youthfulness in his eyes betrays the contrary.

“A harsher response would only further agitate you and,” he points up to an innocuous corner of the room, which now given attention makes a security camera apparent, “you do not appear to be a danger, considering you haven't moved since you woke up.” Another softer motion to the nameplate pinned to his collared shirt as he continues his one-sided conversation. 

“General Fletcher. You’ve been here for some time and we were really hoping we could figure out who our new guest is. “

I could give him my name, but it doesn’t come. It doesn't seem right to say the name Ethan. Is that even my name at this point? I narrow my eyes at him defensively while the glimmer of an old memory comes to me. Asking my mother what she would have named me if I had been born a girl, just an innocent question back then...

Your father and I had the name Hannah chosen, just in case...

This ‘General Fletcher’ must have taken my silence for refusal to answer. He takes a step forward and places his hand near my feet on the bed rail, “I can undo these for you if you’d like, but some more people are going to be joining us in a moment. Some of them will be armed with orders to ensure you don’t become a danger to the facility. Your cooperation is not necessary but will make this easier. Do you understand?”

His tone is a step above harsh but one step below gentle. There is no question in his voice but rather a calm command that leaves not much room for dissent. I remember his voice from the mess of memories that swash up from the deep sea of my coma. He was the one protecting me from the other man. My skin crawled at the thought of the other, but I felt simply assuaged by the one in front of me now. 

“I understand.” I really don’t get why he even asked for permission, but I don’t feel like I have any other choice. Not that quiping right now feels like a great idea anyway.

And just like that, the door opens and 4 men, dressed in black tactical gear sweep through the room. They had their large, M-4s, I think, rifles pointed down but poised to be ready at the drop of a pin. Followed them was a team of nurses, including the one that ran from me earlier. The guards have baklavas covering their faces, but the nurses do not. All of them a mixture of apprehension, fear, and maybe even a little apologetic. Definitely the one nurse from before. The guards take position around the room towards me. The nurses get to work on the medical equipment around the room. 

The shock of a calloused hand on my ankle brings my attention back to Fletcher, the contrast of his rough hands on my now newly soft skin sending shivers up my spine. A strange feeling I couldn't place danced subtly along with the balancing act between confusion and apprehension in my mind. My eyes shot to his hands, but he was simply undoing the straps holding my legs down.

Without looking up from me he started, “You’re scared in an unfamiliar place and things are probably happening way too fast for you, but I really hope that we can come to some sense of understanding and trust.”

He pulls up the last strap from my ankle, the other foot already free. With both now released from the grip of the gurney, I pull my knees up to my chest. I forgot what it felt like to hug my own legs without the complaint of my inflexible hips before. 

Fletcher continues monologuing while he leans over the side of the bed and picks up the strewn blanket I had cast aside.

"To answer your first question, you have been out for slightly less than three weeks until today" ...I mean that isn't my first question...  My first question was… "Secondly, you may be wondering where you are and why you are here." Yeah, that.

I glance back up and our eyes meet. He folds the blanket neatly and places it where my feet were before. He looks down at the blanket for a moment and then grins at me like I caught him doing something he shouldn’t and then continues, “but first I really need a name to call you. A first name or a nickname. Anything.”

“It’s E….” I choke on my own name. Something else is fighting tooth and nail to be uttered instead. It clamors from the back of my mind like a tribal war chant growing in intensity as the moment grew closer. Hannah. Hannah. It echoed as my face flushed. My ears burned as if I could physically hear the name repeating in my head. Hannah. Hannah. Hannah.

“Hannah, my name is Hannah.” My new name spilled out of my mouth before I could stop myself. The second it left my lips, there was this slight release of pressure on my heart I never noticed before.

I didn’t notice but I had cast down my eyes while my brain had its own civil war without realising it, and forced myself to look back into Fletcher’s eyes again. His eyes were narrowed, but there was a smile on his face. He nods to someone behind me momentarily, then looks back at me. 

“You are currently within the medical ward of Atwell Grove; an underground Detention Installation under the jurisdiction of the D.O.D. Tonight is the first waking night of your indefinite stay here.”

I’m a fucking prisoner!? How in the world was that fair, all I did was run away from people murdering each other and into some green shit! The opening of my mouth to promptly and justly yell at him was blocked by a single finger held to my mouth. He is shushing me casually, having moved to sitting on the bed next to me while my rage distracts me.

“Now, before you start yelling. It's a matter of national security and done for your protection and the country’s.” Not given the chance to direct my anger, it implodes silently leaving me glowering at the General. He just moves his finger down to my neck and stops in the exact spot pierced in the strange Goddess dream. The memory pulses vividly for a moment. Enough to raise goosebumps. 

 

“Right in here is something special,” an emphatic tap that sends another shiver down my body, “a material once entirely beyond our scientific scope. Your entire C1 vertebrae is no longer bone but something we call Trinitite. It can allow for things still well beyond our understanding. Telekinesis. Pyrokinesis are common ones.”

“Is this a joke?” I balk at his statement while my brain is playing catch up. “I am not a child. Superpowers are just stories.” 

An eyebrow raise from him, “are they? How did you get out of those arm straps without releasing them then? We’d like to know too, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you that it wasn’t any of the guards or staff.” 

I look back down at the straps. I really couldn’t argue with him as much as my instincts tell me to not believe him. He is right that I apparently got out of them, and that isn’t even broaching the subject of my apparent metamorphosis into a girl. Another shiver and strange conflicting emotions cause tears to push their way into my eyelids. I squeeze them back and look down at my hands in a defeated confusion. 

“Ah,” he motions towards my right hand in my peripheral, “and that is not to mention your hand. Every bone up to the ulna and radius, also Trinitite. Abnormal even in these strange times. Unprecedented and that makes you a very special lady.” 

 

The bed squeaked as General Fletcher stood back up. I didn’t look up to follow. In fact, I did nothing but stare down at my hands. This clean elliptic scar ran diagonally across my palm with a soft green discoloration. This was too much. My heart was a bubbling caldera that couldn't maintain the building pressure anymore. The scaffolding that was holding up the structure of my life was crumbling all around me.

“You appear to need some time to process this. We will give you a few minutes to yourself but remember,” there was a pause like he is emphasizing something, probably with some hand wave, but I don’t look up. “Cameras.” 

Several affirmative grunts followed by footfalls and a shutting of a door. Alone.

 

The tears finally push their way through.