Philosophy is such a joke... I mean… yeah I guess that’s insulting to a philosopher if they, like, make a living teaching it... but to a normal person… who actually needs to know all this stuff? Isn’t it better to not know so much about ourselves? Shit, we’re all gonna go crazy!
It was with these thoughts that Trent quickly grew bored with the professor’s lecture. It was a struggle just to keep his eyes open. He should’ve just seized the opportunity and bought a cola instead of being a cheapskate. But that wasn’t an option; he had hitched a ride with Chris.
That then drifted his mind to the electronic device that Chris had forgotten with him. Being at the back of the lecture hall, and with nothing “interesting” going on, Trent carefully slid it out from his backpack. He did his best to make no sound, but the zipper of the bag was always a challenge.
He studied the emitter for a moment, rotating it in his hands, looking over the digital displays and switches and knobs. The word “Chronivac” was imprinted on the top-left side where all the displays were, which were nothing more than the numbers on your average digital clock. What is a Chronivac? There wasn’t any other descriptive information, but the side of the device had a few lights with words like “Awareness”, “Lock”, “Save”, and an On/Off switch. What kind of electronic device was this? What did Chris say it was again? He didn’t call it a Chronivac; he had a different word for it...
He experimentally turned an unlabeled knob. It snapped a few times, kind of like a dial on a car’s dashboard, but it had zero effect on the displays. He flipped a couple of the switches. He turned the device off and back on, but the numbers remained the same.
Then he flipped the “Awareness” switch.
“Awareness” > N.
That changed something… there was a brief moment where the displays went blank and a red light at the top of the device turned on. But, otherwise, nothing changed.
He flipped the “Lock” switch.
“Lock” > Y.
The same thing happened, but he was too afraid to go on. What would he do if it went off or something in the middle of lecture? Like, start making siren sounds or something? Electronic stuff tends to do that… and he probably wasn’t on good measures with the professor, anyways. So he casually slid it back into his bag.
“Hmmph...” he thought to himself, furrowing his brows. “Weird toy. Gotta get it back to Chris.” Begrudgingly, he turned to his notebook on the desk in front of him and pretended -
“Ahem! … Trent!”
He looked up.
“Answer?”
Shit! The professor was calling on him.
“Uh… I don’t know, sorry.”
Damn it.
The professor dropped his head. “Just as I s- well, how about Jennifer, then?”
A girl from a few rows up put her hand down. “Twenty-three.”
“Yes, twenty-three chromosomes in a human body. Certainly something each student should know by now…”
Trent rolled his eyes. “Weh weh wehhhhhh, Certainly something each student should know by now… I’m a big fancy know-it-all professor who just wants to get laid!” … Shut the hell up.
*-*
He closed his eyes, and reopened them. The same. He closed his eyes harder this time, and reopened them. The same. He rocked back and forth on the solitary bench in the back-room closet of the cafe, utterly crushed by his newfound realm of existence.
He closed his eyes, and reopened them. Nope. He was still looking down the ridge of a long, animal-like snout. He still breathed through big, animal-like nostrils from his snout-like nose. He still felt the air flow through animal-like hair that covered his face and his arms. Fear overtook self-control when two hairy things twitched and turned on the top of his head.
He closed his eyes, and reopened them. Nothing was different.
He closed his eyes.
And yet… nothing felt different.
*knock-knock*
“Mike? Hey, what are you doing in there?”
It was Larisa. He couldn’t bring himself to say words. He opened his eyes and his ears shifted to the door. Embarrassed from that sensation, he closed back down. Something that he shouldn’t have… it whipped through the air from behind him. He felt it “swish” against his apron. He closed his eyes.
“If you’re hurt, tell me. If you’re just not going to come out, I’ve gotta call Diane. I really can’t deal with this right now.”
Asking what had happened felt trivial. He was no longer… completely human. This was an existential crisis. He could barely breathe. This only happened in books, and movies, and … part of him expected this would end shortly, because then he could just go back out and … who knows, go schedule a session with a psychologist later or something. At least then he could say it was just a dream.
But this was ... beyond real. He was feeling all of this. Every sensation, every inch of his being, had feeling. Couldn’t someone give him the answer to what was going on?
He was sick in the head. Or ... drugs! Yes, that was it. He closed his eyes even harder, and he passively set his feet down on the floor, only to have something hard scuff the corner of the bench. His heart stopped. Was it on his foot, or was it his foot?
He winced. He picked his leg back up and … he did his best to forget.
“Mike??”
A call to Diane - a call to anyone would be bad! He had to get Larisa to go away.
“I’ll be fine,” he managed to say. His voice was rough, and his mouth … area contorted in strange ways.
“...Did someone complain about fur getting in their drink again?”
Damn, Larisa, just go -
...Wait, what?
He raised his head up.
“Huh?”
Larisa rolled her eyes. “Or is it the ears again? Don't take it personally, they're idiots.”
Ears?!
He opened his eyes.
“Anyway, Makenna will be here to relieve in 15 minutes, so… uh, please figure out whether I need to call Diane.”
“Wait!” he called out.
A moment of silence.
“... What?”
“Uhh…” Mike paused. Something weird was going on.
“... do you… what do you mean, ‘ears’?”
There was another moment of silence, then Larisa responded rather brazenly: “You know what I mean. Like last week with that drunk kid. The whole ‘donkey boy’ thing.”
The words were said. The phrase rang through… well, his donkey ears.
She knew.
He looked at the door. How… how did she know? Why didn’t she care? What the heck did she mean, ‘last week’?
“Larisa… can you come in a second?”
“Maybe if you unlocked the door, I would! I don’t have time for games, dude…. And there’s a customer at the counter… hurry up!”
Mike hadn’t moved since running into the back room. He didn’t want to leave again until everything was alright. But something was very strange about how Larisa was acting, or, the lack thereof. Not like she knew something was going on, but that… she didn’t care. Like, nothing was different...
He stood up. It was a bit of a wobbly balancing act. He carefully trotted to the door with his hoof-feet, focusing on each step like a surgical operation, waiting for the feeling and the sound to find stable ground. Then he used his malformed, three-fingered hand to unlock the closet and slowly… carefully... open the door. He peeked through the crack with one side of his… face.
He waited for a scream of terror.
Instead, Larisa just stood there, unfazed, with her hands on her hips. No reaction at all.
“If you think I’m into jump-scares… I’m not. Come out here and help me, and maybe I won’t tell Diane… weirdo.”
He closed his eyes tight. He pushed the door all the way open.
…
Still nothing.
“You know, you’d really rock the beanie look,” she said with a smirk. “Tuck the ears in and then avoid all that personal crap, y’know?”
She turned away from him and walked toward the front counter.
“Good aftern - hi, Mrs. Switzke!”
The customer smiled at Larisa, and then looked at Mike.
Right at him.
“Hi Larisa! Hi Mike! Just the usual, please.”
“No problem -- get that going for her, Mike…”
He stood there for a couple more moments, bewildered and … Fuck, this had to be one hell of a lucid dream.
He looked down at his arms and hands. So… nobody except himself cared… or nobody else noticed. He had to be dreaming. What could he do, except just… go on with it? Pretend nothing was wrong, and... wait until he woke up?
With cautious steps, he walked out into the store, expecting again to hear a scream, or a weird comment, or someone choking or running away in fear. It never happened. Instead, everything looked normal. Everything felt normal… and yet...
He started up the espresso machine as Mrs. Switzke paid her caffeine dues.
Nobody cared…
*-*
...except Matt.
Matt was so elated, he almost choked on his breath. He was tugging his trunk with a mix of excitement and anxiousness. Hell yes, he thought - the Chronivac was a major success! Eat shit, Mike!
Now he’d know what it’s like to live as a mutant. He could tell, even under Mike’s animalistic expression, that there was distress in his donkey face. Matt watched as Mike fumbled with trying to grab a cup and hold it. He barely stifled his laughter.
“Shit… I can’t wait to tell Ian…” Matt thought.
Ian was Matt’s best friend, probably the only guy in the world who he could openly share his interests and ‘nerd out’ about things without feeling socially awkward or isolated from a conversation.
But then he remembered that Ian might not be “aware” of the change. This was part of the defaults he custom-set on the Chronivac, after all.
And that left another point to consider: would Mike be okay? He remembered exactly how long he had set the transformation for - one week. That meant that Mike was going to be like this for seven days, and then would revert back to his usual jerk-self. He didn’t “know” this, of course. But that was quite a long period of time, and Matt wasn’t completely non-empathetic. Mike wasn’t someone he could… that he “wanted” to keep his eye on. It was such a spur-of-the-moment change, and now the original frustrations he had were returning.
But that was only temporary, as he heard the clanging and shattering of a dish on the floor. Mike had put a muffin on a plate and was unable to secure his grasp.
Mike’s ears were pinned to the back of his head. “Sorry, sir…”
“C’mon, that was the last blueberry one, wasn’t it?” the customer asked.
“I’m… uh…”
“Okay, never mind, forget the muffin… Jesus Christ… ”
Matt smiled again, tusks and all. Screw it. He wanted to show this off to Ian. He wanted to share the Chronivac with someone. And he could try using it on Chris again.
Mike could go take a hike.
With that, Matt packed his bag of books, snacks, and his laptop, and he hustled out of the cafe to return to his dorm - but not before getting one more look of Mike’s donkey head through the glass of the store’s facade.