by George Opacic

The walls show an outdoor scene of tall green/brown redwoods with soft moss dripping off their lower branches. Shades of green and brown everywhere. Fallen trees nurse new growth. Ferns search for room to spread out. Through the tall canopy, shafts of sunlight slowly march along the uneven floor. Large woodpeckers tap the deeply gnarled bark of cedars, then dash off to another pockmarked tree. In the distance, crows call to each other. The smell is heavenly.

A knobby outcropping of rock nearby has a multicoloured fossil embedded near its top. Lichen and spots of whitish moss cover most of the surface except for the bit of fossilized tree. This has marks across it, as if it has been raked by a great paw.

An old man sits in a comfortable brown recliner, feet up, drinking in the scene before him. Even though he has only a pair of shorts on, he is fully relaxed.

He scratches absently across his slowing heaving belly, rubs an ear then glances to his right. “Can I have a tissue, please? I’m still leaking.”

A hand stretches from behind him with a hanky. “Will this do?” The voice is soft, very reassuring, perhaps female.

The old man, Sam, nods. “Environmentally friendlier.”

The person behind Sam pauses, then, “Than what?”

Sam smiles. “Than paper. Disposable paper…” He adds, “I usually use mine quite a few times before, you know, disposing of it.”

“Oh.” The disapproving tone is noticeable. She has somehow made him feel chagrined.

His mind is, as he calls it, woozy. Sam asks, “Is that why you’re here?”

The person behind him pats Sam’s arm as she takes a step forward.

Her face and body have a covering that appears to be skin, or perhaps something clinging tightly. It holds what Sam can only think of as coloured moss dripping in random patterns between her small breasts and hips. Her hair is only a two-finger-wide circle of moss that drips down her back.

Sam thinks, There may be snow on the roof, but…

He shakes his head to clear those thoughts away.

She smiles down at him, bending slightly toward his face. “Thank you. Perhaps after we’ve completed the metamorphosis.”

Sam stiffens. Read my thoughts?…Oh well. I should’ve expected it.

She nods. “Are you ready? The transfusion will pass into your arteries. You won’t feel anything with the process. But first I need to hear your approval.”

Sighing, Sam thinks again. What do I have to lose? The cancer’ll take me in a few months, or I roll the dice with this lovely weird lady from a future I would not see.

“Yes. Let’s get on with it… Tell me again – in simple terms, what can I expect?”

She takes his hand.

He thinks, Warm.

“The infusion will take about ten minutes. In an hour-and-a-half your body will be in need of deep sleep. Over the following eighteen hours your body will undergo major repairs in all systems. During that time you will be… incontinent. This chair will accept the residue. Then, later, you may wish to have a long, cleansing shower. The waterfall at the edge of this forest will give you full refreshment. After that, your future opens up.”

He is confused, waving at the trees. “Yes, you said that, but this is just a picture, isn’t it?”

“Sort of.” She squeezes his hand lightly. “Ready?”

A sigh. “Yes.”

She nods. “Approval given. Now, adjust your arms to fit onto the chair-arms.”

Sam shifts his body back into the soft chair material and places both arms down into it.

She pulls out wide straps from the outside of each chair-arm and puts them over his arms. Sam unconsciously stiffens.

“These are only to hold you firmly during the infusion process. They will release when that is done.”

Sam nods and gives her a weak smile. As he relaxes, the straps slowly tighten on their own.

He thinks, Part of the process. Take it easy old codger. What have I got to lose?

She nods then touches something on the chair-back. Sam begins to feel a very light tingling in his arms. They become warm. His vision slowly blurs into mottled greens. Noticing it, he shrugs mentally. All is right with the world. The hour-and-a-half have already passed. He sleeps.

In his deep sleep he leaks from his eyes, his nose, his open mouth. She gently dabs at the leaks. Sam’s shorts have mostly dissolved away. She cleans up where they were and tucks his penis down to drip into the spongy chair seat, which soaks up that liquid and the more substantial residue from his bum.

Standing back periodically, she nods. “A fine specimen.” Examining his face, “Cannot meld into your thoughts yet. When you wake up…”

………………………………………………

Sam is walking groggily along a narrow path though the forest. He stumbles as he tries to lift a leg over a newly fallen tree. The small log’s root ball sticks up incongruously not far away.

She grabs his arm to steady him. “You’re still weak… Now. This is important. Think not what you could do. Think only what you want to do.”

Sam contemplates the log before him. Then he decides, and jumps over it easily. The glow in his face is infectious.

She claps her hands. “That was delightful to see! I knew it wouldn’t take you long.”

Then she leaps over the log to grab his arm before he can move on. Staring into his eyes she takes on a serious tone. “And this is even more important.” She holds both Sam’s arms to settle him down. “Listen. This is more than important. Yes?…”

He gazes into her eyes, waking out of his old wooz, thinking, She’s the loveliest creature I’ve ever met.

Her thought comes back to his mind. Stop and listen.

Her voice blends in his mind with what he hears. “Your first test was being chosen. You will understand the criteria later. Your second test was surviving the metamorphosis. That part is done. Now, you must survive what is the hardest part. Your mind can wander off into realms of ego and fantasy. You have been judged to have the potential to keep that under control. But it is not a trait in your genes as much a state of being. This you will learn better shortly. For now, please… please, for your sake and for mine, please remember that your new life is not yours. It is humanity’s. You are now living for the future of all humanity.”

Sam has a slowly moving shockwave creeping across his mind. He stumbles into a turn to sit on the log. It creaks and vibrates under his weight.

Ruefully, “You spoke of a quid-pro-quo.” Sam thinks back to their meetings. At first, he thought she was a doctor. A weird doctor with tattoos absolutely everywhere under her lab coat. At their meeting he was quite prepared to walk out of the clinic when he saw her. Now he remembers that her face was about the only surface of her body untattooed.

Her seemingly tattooed face smiles, thinking, Yes. It was uncomfortable for me. But your potential was… worth it.

They smile at each other. He thinks, I love you inside my mind. Then, wondering, Is there a place where I can be private?

She nods, Yes. I will teach you that. For now it’s important that we make it safely to the waterfall.

That’s when Sam is about ask for a towel but he looks down at his body to see it covered, like hers, with that special skin. “Huh.”

On their way along the path, they think to each other.

What’s so special about the waterfall?

It is the destination but it is more the journey. Your mind needs to catch up with your new body. You will find limits and boundaries – few but critical boundaries.

How far?

Another hour.

I could not have made it, yesterday.

The two make it to the waterfall, unharmed, unscratched, untired.

………………………………………………