Donkey One Seventeen’s ears twitched pensively, “Please give me a minute to think sir.”
“Affirmative!” the Chronivac on his wrist beeped.
“What?” One Seventeen stared down at the watch. A sixty second countdown timer had appeared.
One Seventeen was suddenly struck with the knowledge that he knew how to count to sixty. Not just as someone’s identifier, but as an actual math skill. He even knew sixty seconds comprised a minute.
His thoughts started to speed up. The blissful haze that One Seventeen spent his time in gave way to true clarity of thought.
“I increased your intelligence for a minute sir,” Owen explained, “So you can think.”
Haw! Owen wasn’t kidding! One Seventeen was thinking straight for the first time in months!
Well, he was thinking quickly at least. One Seventeen felt oddly conflicted. There were more than a few personalities and impulses floating around in his head. There was the eager to please donkey man, some really intense corporate brainwashing, a desperate con artist, and…
Somewhere towards the back of One Seventeen’s mind was his original self. The human accountant with a good job, a nice house, and… and… enough discontent that he’d spent an absurd amount of money on some fanciful device with the supposed power to change who he was and his lot in life.
Well now he had. One Seventeen pondered Owen’s original question for a moment: Was he happy with his change? He looked down at himself curiously. Donkey One Seventeen was a dumb beast. He was a literal piece of property of his former employer. But… He was honestly really happy. His new donkey self seemed completely satisfied with who he was and the life he was living.
The “corporate training” had some to do with that, sure. Even in this state of increased intelligence, One Seventeen knew he couldn’t bring himself to break his contract. There were probably ways he could do it if he really wanted to. The trick would be to order Owen to make the contract to end today. Even that felt a little dishonest, but the con artist in One Seventeen knew how to bend the rules.
So that just left the question: Did he want to? One Seventeen watched the seconds on his watch count down. He could ask Owen for more time, but he had made up his mind.
“Owen, I think I’m going to stay a donkey for a while.” He glanced down at himself, “Thank you for all this.”
“I’m truly pleased that you like your changes sir,” the Chronivac legitimately did sound happy, “Your backup file is taking up a considerable amount of my storage space. Shall I hold onto it for now or delete it?”
One Seventeen’s eyes went wide, “Whoa, hang on. We should probably-“
The timer struck zero. One Seventeen felt his thoughts slow, and his eyes gloss over into a dim stare. “Haw?” He rubbed his head, “I… I’m not sure I understand the question sir.”
“Your backup file is taking up a large amount of my storage space. Do you want me to keep your old human form around?” The watch said, switching back to brays.
One Seventeen rubbed his ear. “I want to stay a donkey.” He could still feel the determination he had during his brief burst of intelligence.
“Understood sir,” Owen responded, “Do you think you’ll want to be a human again at some point?"
One Seventeen looked down at himself. He loved being a donkey! He couldn’t imagine giving up his fur, or his hooves, or his anything! This is what he wanted, right?
“No sir?” He wagged bashfully.
“Affirmative sir,” The Chronivac let out a small chime, “Setting new default form. Deleting unused profiles.”
One Seventeen tilted his head, “What does that mean sir?” One Seventeen felt a shiver run down his tail, and the jumble of thoughts in his head got a little more clear.
“It means your Chronivac 5 Pro is ready to be used again sir,” Owen explained, “Just whisper to me anyone or anything you’d like changed.”
“Haw? Okay.” One Seventeen’s ears twitched, “I can’t think of anything. Can I get to work please?”
“Of course sir,” Owen responded, “Might I make a suggestion though?” The device paused, “Tell me you want the cafeteria to be serving carrot oatmeal today.”
One Seventeen tilted his head, “They only do that on Fridays.”
“Just try it sir,” Owen said a bit more forcefully.
“Owen, I’d like the cafeteria to serve carrot oatmeal today?” One Seventeen tilted his head.
“Done,” the watch beeped.
“Really?” One Seventeen’s head perked up. He sniffed the air, and could pick up on the distinct smell of oats and carrots wafting in from down the hall.
“See, I can be useful even if you want to stay a donkey,” Owen said cheerfully.
One Seventeen started clopping quickly towards the cafeteria, “I see that now…!” He wagged eagerly, “What else can you do?”