Matt’s study session was less than successful, and that was putting it mildly. It didn’t matter how hard he focused in on the text inked over page 244; the vocabulary instantly left his brain. In its place, thoughts of failure and the Chronivac washed over. The Chronivac was supposed to be this captivating, life-changing device that allowed you to become anything you dreamt. And he wasn’t even smart enough to get it working (or so he thought). On top of that, he couldn’t even remember what it was he had wanted to change with the device.
His head hung heavy in defeat, tusks laying on the table. He’d have to get this studying done another way; he’d all but devoured the snacks from the store in an effort to delay time, and the evidence was all over his trunk. He rubbed it off on his shirt sleeve.
The plan was to head to the café. Maybe some coffee was the spark that he needed; he could plug in his laptop and study the forums to find a solution to his issue. Matt packed his bag and took off from the library.
Café Diane was a quaint little coffee place just off campus that Matt often frequented because it was one of the few places where everybody knew him well - they kept the elephant trunk comments at home. That was, except for the barista, Mike. He groaned to himself just thinking about him.
Mike was one of several baristas who worked at the café, and like Matt and Chris, he was a student at the local college. He had blondish-brown hair and green eyes, and a well-trimmed, wrap-around beard. Svelte, but stocky, he wasn’t going to stop women on the street, but he could look much worse. He wasn’t the typical personality of someone you’d expect to be working behind the counter, either, stirring up lattes and mixing mochas, no - Mike was like, the adversary of any café staff. He would burn coffee, he would drop food, he would bring in his friends and give out free stuff - it was a miracle that Mike was still employed, to be honest.
And yet, Matt had heard rumors that Mike was a member of the President’s Club, and that it was the only reason he could keep Diane (the manager) from kicking him out to the curb for good. Diane supervised the club, and she had connections with Mike’s family.
But, above all that, Mike was just plain mean to people he didn’t like. And Matt was one of those “nerds” that “needed to f*ckin’ shower once in awhile” and would imply fart and shit jokes to his face. He loathed Mike with a passion, and he loathed days when Mike was on the clock.
So it was a painful nightmare for Matt when he rounded the corner to open the café front door, and Mike was manning the counter.
Mike mock-waved to Matt as he entered through the café front entrance. “Hey there, elephant-boy! How’s it hangin’...”
Matt walked up to the counter, staring daggers, dismissing the comment.
He turned and winked, smirking like a devil. “...the trunk, that is!”
“I know what you meant, you ass.”
“Woah, woah, woah… language! I don’t think the -”
He interrupted Mike. “I told you to stop calling me that. Just get me a medium latte and let me go.”
“Apology not accepted…” Mike replied, turning away from Matt as he grabbed for a cup from the back counter, “... and $2.95.”
He put down three dollar bills, not bothering to stick around for the nickel. He found an open spot in the back of the café, and walked on over to set up his computer.
Jesus mother Christ.
Mike knew just how far he could take it without creating a real problem. One of these days, he’d have his come-uppance. He imagined thrusting his head at him, strangling his neck with his trunk, just to see his reaction... God, he was such an ass!
...
Something clicked in his brain.
Ass…
...
He had an idea.
It didn’t matter to Matt; he didn’t care if he hadn’t got it working yet. Anger was fueling him; the Chronivac was supposed to work, and he’d use it on Mike to show him a lesson or two about life.
Dropping his books onto the floor, Matt booted up the program. It scanned the surrounding area for potential people, and along with a few other random café-goers, Mike’s data came up.
Now that Mike was in the system, he could do whatever he wanted to him… He selected the entirety of Mike’s body, and via the Species alteration menus, he set it to “donkey.” He moved the slider bar to 50%.
Just as he was. A walking, talking ass.
He didn’t care about the rest; he clicked “Start” and the animation popped up with the timer (it stayed at one minute) and the good ol’ message, "Check emitter and confirm status. Y/N."
“F*ck!” Whatever, he clicked ‘N’. It didn’t seem to matter either way.
“Check emitter bypassed. Accept defaults? Y/N”
Last time, he clicked ‘Y’. Perhaps he didn’t want the defaults… but he was short on patience here. He clicked ‘N’, just to see what would happen.
“Defaults not accepted. Please choose Emitter settings:
Transition Period? (in mins.): 1 ----- ∞
Transition Pleasure?: Y/N
Alter Reality?: Y/N
User Aware?: Y/N
Subject Aware?: Y/N
Go Back - Start”
“Uhhm,” Matt said to himself. This was different. He didn’t have the emitter with him, but he assumed this meant he could choose the settings that were on the emitter itself.
Okay, whatever. Having a transition period to select was nice, so he moved the slider bar to one week (10,080 minutes) and put everything at “Y”. He clicked Start.
The window disappeared with a message, “Settings sent to Emitter… Transferring…”
…
“Complete.”
It flashed for a brief moment, and the counter appeared.
<<1:00… 0:59… >>
His eyes darted up to Mike, who was about 20 feet away from where Matt was sitting. He was chatting away with some other chick who worked there - Larisa was her name, maybe? - who was preparing his latte.
<<0:55… 0:54…>>
Mike’s hand lifted up his apron to scratch at something - probably his pants, but then he stopped moving.
...Oh my god.
<<0:50… 0:49…>>
He could see it from here. Something was clearly happening to Mike’s arms. They were taking on a duller color, and looked to be much hairier than he remembered.
But Matt nearly choked on his own saliva and fell out of his chair when he saw Mike’s face. It was growing *longer*... his ears were getting longer, too!
He grabbed his trunk to his mouth. Holy SHIT! It was … working.
At that moment, Mike was looking at his arms, as well, and he reached up to his face.
<<0:44… 0:43…>>
“It’s working…” Matt repeated in his mind.
Larisa thumbed for the back fridge. “Mike, go get me an ounce of cream for the next few orders, we’re running low.”
“Hhh…”
Something was pushing down on Mike’s pants, and his feet felt trapped.
<<0:39… 0:38…>>
“... Mike?”
Matt was staring bewilderingly at what was happening, almost too shocked to breathe. His eyes flicked to the monitor, which was almost halfway through, but … he … he actually was… changing Mike! The Chronivac was working!
“Mike? C’mon.”
<<0:33… 0:32…>>
Mike could feel his nose growing away from his face, and as he looked down, his left shoe ripped open. Shortly after, his right did, too. Underneath the shredded shoes and socks, his feet were twice as long, covered in grey hairs, and his toes were fusing together.
“H… hhelppp!”
Then, suddenly, Mike turned and bolted for the back-room.
“Mike? ..!! Where are you going?”
<<0:28… 0:27…>>
He almost tripped and fell, but the last that Matt could see of Mike, a donkey-like tail had flung out from underneath the apron. There was a pure look of horror on his face, which now looked more animal than human.
<<0:22… 0:21…>>
“God… uggh,” Larisa rolled her eyes as she turned to get the cream from the fridge herself.
He could hear some commotion from the back, but without any visual, all Matt could figure is that Mike was looking in a mirror, horrified.
The Chronivac had worked! Oh my god, yes!
Oh…
...holy SHIT.
<<0:16… 0:15…>>
It was working… he was turning someone into…
Holy crap! What would this actually do??
This wasn’t the first change he had in mind...
<<0:11… 0:10…>>
But, strangely enough, everything seemed at peace. There were still some strange noises of stuff getting knocked around in the back of the café, but nobody was reacting to it. Or, at least, they weren’t caring.
A female voice interrupted his analysis. “MATT! I’ve got a 20-oz latte with cinnamon on the counter!”
It was Larisa shouting his name. He got up and walked over to the counter, doing his best to play it cool… it was hard, though. Once he got to the counter, he heard a ding come from his laptop.
“Thanks,” he hesitated, looking at Larisa.
“No probl- oops! No top... Hold on, let me get ‘ya a top for that… Mike! Mike…”
She went past the counter and off to the back room. Matt didn’t know whether to ignore the fact that he had no top to his cup and bolt for the exit, or risk sticking around to get a look at Mike.
After what seemed like an eternity, in which he could hear muffled voices of concern and discomfort, Larisa reappeared with a top for his coffee.
“Sorry for the wait - one of our staff’s locked up in a closet and they won’t come out,”
“Oh…” Matt replied. “Umm… why?”
Larisa shrugged it off. “I dunno - donkey stuff, probably.”
“....”
“Anyway, enjoy your latte!”
--------
Despite the wet conditions, Chris could get a good grip of the pavement and keep a steady pace, jaunting along with Trent riding on his back. The weight was nothing new for Chris, as he’d worked during the summer hauling wooden planks on his back. He had also draped a blanket over his hide so that, if it did rain again, Trent wouldn’t have to ride bare-back and get his butt wet from the fur. He guessed that it took about 15 minutes at normal walking speed to get to Bradley Hall, but he could cut that in half with a good jog and beat any incoming rainstorm. Chris had strapped his and Trent’s bookbag just behind his upper back, and tied it to his waist. Behind that sat Trent, who was trying his best not to fall off, as per usual.
“Question for ‘ya, stud...” Trent asked, hands gripping Chris’ sides for stability.
“Shoot.”
“When you give rides, like… for real... has anyone ever fallen off?”
Chris turned his head to Trent as he kept jogging.
“Well… not really,” the centaur replied to the inquiry. “I guess it’s like draping a towel over your shoulder. Doesn’t feel like much, and it’s gonna stay on.”
“I don’t know about that…” Trent warned, just as something went *CLICK* from Chris’ backpack.
“Yo, something just made a sound from inside your bag.”
“Yeah, I felt that…” Chris said, turning back to his front side. “Can you check it for me?”
Trent unzipped Chris’ bag as carefully as he could while they kept moving, and he pulled out the Chronivac emitter. “What’s this?”
“What’s what…” Chris turned again. “Oh. That.”
“An electronic panel… thing?”
“No, no, no… it belongs to Matt. I think it’s called an emitter.”
They were approaching the front entrance of Bradley Hall, so Chris slowed down to a trot and stopped at the front steps. Trevor hopped off with his bag on his back, still holding the emitter in his hands.
“Well, I think it made the sound. It’s got lights and stuff, too...”
“Weird…” Chris said, grabbing the thing back, tail flicking. “Yeah, I know. This thing is so weird!”
He examined the front and back side of the device again, looking over the digital displays, which now showed four ‘Y’s and the number ‘10080’. In addition, the red lights were no longer flashing on and off. Chris handed the device back to Trent, who wanted another look.
“That’s not what it showed before.”
“Why do you have it?” Trent asked.
“It’s a joke…” Chris replied nonchalantly. Suddenly the bell rang, startling him a bit.
“Shit!! My class starts like... now!” he said frantically, turning around and galloping to the doors. He had left Trent at the front steps with the emitter.
“Chris, Chris! Your stuff -”
But Chris had ran in already, out of earshot.
“Sigh… whatever.”
Trent put the emitter into his backpack, and walked up to the 2nd floor stairs.