That'll Do, Pig

[Tess Abrahams]

"Um, no, not yet. I mean, I've looked through it to get a... general feel. I'm not sure it's entirely meant for this sort of thing. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, Mom, I'm not saying that it's just... well."

Sinking low into the deep cushions of the couch, Tess cast a glance at the glossy hardcover book resting on the coffee table. A garish purple color, the jacket sported the beaming, meditative face of a willowy blond woman, eyes closed in rhapsodic peace. Heartsong: Embracing Your Inner Genetic Indigo by Dr. Suki Arhamasad, Psy.D. She wondered exactly how many copies had sold.

Leaning forward as her mother's voice siphoned into her ear via the cordless receiver squashed there by a shoulder, Tess picked up the book again and aimlessly flipped through the pages. "Is this the same lady who did that forest retreat in Tillamook that you and Dad took us to? The one where we communed with the spirit of fallen trees? She looks really familiar. Oh, her sister. Okay. Uh-huh."

The couch dipped and she glanced over in time to see Scott grab the television remote. He gave her a thumbs up and switched on the set, sudden volume blasting the relative quite of the house like a shot. Tess frowned and tossed a pillow at his head, gesturing with impatience at the telephone in her hand.

"What?" Scott flung the pillow back, casting her a blank look on his face as an MTV VJ on screen led a cow into the studio for undetermined purposes. "It's Saturday, there's stuff on."

"I'm on the phone."

"Oh, s'okay. It doesn't bother me."

Rolling her eyes and murmuring a generic noise of interest to her mother (who was saying something about Sting and kombucha, an interesting segue that she'd completely missed), Tess stood up and tucked her book under her arm, winding over the coffee table and knocking Scott's feet off the polished veneer as he settled in for the long haul. "Hey!"

Upstairs was probably an easier place to chat but as she made for the stairway the front door opened and shut with it's familiar, homey rattle, drawing her attention. By chance, the arrival was someone she'd been absently keeping an eye out for.

"Chánakára? How do you spell that?" Tess waved, her hand motioning in a hey-hold-on-a-minute manner. "Okay, I'll check it out. Mom, I gotta go but I promise you I'll read it. Yes, with an open mind. Okay. Love you, too, and I'll see you soon. Bye.

"Hi!" she chirped, ending the connection and pulling the phone away from her ear. It was hot from the long conversation. "I was hoping you'd be around."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan was in a white T-shirt and frayed blue jeans, his usual uniform for working in the garage, and sweaty from the rising heat of the morning. He caught Tess's signal and moved over to the sink to pour himself a tall glass of water out of one of the two filtered pitchers.

"Morning, Tess. What's up?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"I got you something," Tess said, setting the phone back on it's cradle and dropping the book onto the counter with a heavy thunk. She followed Aidan's confused gaze to it's thick pages and shook her head, laughing a bit. It certainly wasn't entirely beyond the realm of possibility that she'd hand out homeopathic self-help guides but there was New Age and then there was New Age.

"Oh, no no no. Not the book, that's - my mom, Meditation Monthly Book Club, she's trying to help. It's a long story," she waved her hand dismissively and then pointed at him, grinning. "Wait here, I'll go get it."

The best sort of finds were the ones that you weren't actually looking for, the ones that just serendipitously landed in your lap at the right time. Whether it was fate or karma or just some oddly appropriate coincidence, when the helmet (http://www.helmetsetc.com/images/helmets/dot/xpi/xpi_chrome_blue.jpg) had shown up in the window of the pawn shop next door to Rosalita's Sopaipillas, Tess had snatched it up because it was perfect. It had a faceguard for the wind and a wicked black sheen finish and, the best part of all, was laced with curling licks of flame. Blue flame.

She was back down the stairs in a flash, hands behind her as she held the bulky purchase out of sight. Surprise was half the fun of getting (and giving) gifts, after all.

Smiling bashfully, Tess pulled it out with a flourish reminiscent of magician's assistants, and thrust it toward Aidan. "Ta-da!"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan looked down at the helmet in his hands. It was hard to look anywhere else, in the same way it was hard to hear anything else when you were standing next to a tornado siren.

"Oh. Wow."

Flames. Flames. The domain of Las Vegas stuntmen and choppers with handlebars that broke your wrists. There was no way you could wear it and not look tacky.

"It looks great!" he said, drumming up a smile. "You know, it... matches. And everything. Thanks!"

Maybe it'd work ironically? Irony was hard to execute at 70 mph.

[Tess Abrahams]

Why had she been so worried? Of course the helmet was a hit, how could it not be? It looked like something Nic Cage would wear during a high-speed, gunshot-riddled chase through an industrial harbor that doubled as a base of operation for whatever European crime syndicate was popular in Hollywood at the moment.

"You like it? I wasn't sure on the finer points of biker fashion," Tess flushed happily and shrugged. "But now you have a spare, at least. And y'know, I figured it was better to be lame and alive than a dead Kate Moss, right?"

That sounded like a vague critique. Lest Aidan take it as such, she added, "Not that you would ever endanger a passenger, obviously you wouldn't. Although you do take liberties with acceleration but that's probably just because you're a guy and you're under thirty and that sort of thing is hardwired."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan considered saying something about the challenges of riding with a passenger who's slowly squeezing your guts up into your chest with a death-grip around your waist, but he decided against it. She'd had license to be more than a little distressed that night.

Now, she might be able to pull off a helmet like this... heck, she might even make it look good.

"Well, a bike's all about liberty," he said. "So... how've you been doing?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"Okay, in a relative sense." Tess folded her arms across her chest and leaned over, resting her elbows on the countertop. There was more than a little uncertainty in her voice but it was far less cemented than it had been the last time they'd spoken. Funny how having two feet on the ground could change so much.

"Been doing lots of research - actually, Alex showed me a few websites with forums where mutants from all over can connect and discuss current events or ask questions, give advice. It's pretty cool. I haven't registered or anything yet but there's lots of interesting, helpful reading," she glanced at the discarded book on the counter. "And it's more credible than... some sources."

The amount of information that was out there was astonishing. Of course, circumstance gathers together those whom it touches, instilling an innate need to find those who understand on a deep and personal level. But the outpouring, the sheer volume of honesty and openness had been an eye opener. Tess was still sifting through archived topics and had barely waded ankle deep.

She drummed on the counter with her hands, a staccato backbeat. "What about you? I haven't really had a chance to talk to you since... the whole thing."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan set the flaming thing on the counter island before answering.

"I've been all right. Keeping busy. I like to keep tabs on what's happening in the neighborhood, you know, with the gangs running around... Been asking what people have seen or heard. Believe it or not, things have actually been quiet this week."

He gulped down the rest of his water and wiped away a stray trickle from the corner of his mouth. "So, research is good. Figured anything out yet?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"That there is no quick fix," Tess said wryly.

"There's a lot out there. Quick way to get a headache, to be honest," she said. "But there's this one researcher out of Germany who's been doing clinical studies on secondary mutations for the last six or seven years. He believes they're easier to predict because often they're either rooted in the first or complementary to it; there's an inherit level of familiarity to them."

The idea wasn't without merit but at the moment, it was just that: an idea, as solid and nourishing as marshmallow fluff. Tess shrugged.

"So, in theory, if I can recreate what happened under controlled conditions, without all the... panic clouding everything, I might be able to get a better sense of what it is that I'm doing. Or not doing." she sighed and shook her head. "Of course, I have no idea where to start with that but... it's something, right?"

[Aidan Fox]

The logistical problems were immediately obvious. If you'd just discovered you could flex a new muscle that made people explode - well, it was hard to know how to exercise it.

"Sure, it's something," Aidan said. "It's a starting point. You just have to start thinking more broadly."

He set his glass down and paced toward the kitchen table. "Let's start with the basics: what's your mutation, as far as you understand it?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"Uh... resilient elasticity. My bones and muscles are really pliant. Like Gumby," Tess shrugged and straightened, hip propped against the counter. "Until last year I'd never had so much as a stress fracture."

[Aidan Fox]

It wasn't easy to draw a line between rubber limbs and... whatever it was that had happened to Vipul. This was going to take some digging.

"Is that all?" he said. "Think about it, if your bones and muscles can stretch and twist in ways that should be inhumanly possible, what else needs to happen?"

[Tess Abrahams]

It was strange that she had never really had to think all too deeply about her mutation - it simply was, and it's purpose had been so obvious in the context of her old life that neither Tess nor her parents had ever questioned it. There hadn't been any reason to.

"Well, we always figured that something must happen with my organs to keep them from getting crushed," Tess frowned. She moved towards the table, dragging a chair out by it's back, wooden legs scraping against the kitchen floor. "And muscles are basically oxygen powerhouses so there must be vascular adaptation to keep that supply up - that would explain why they're so flexible and why I never get stiff after. There's no chance for lactic acid to build up... but that would be an interruption of the entire metabolic system."

[Aidan Fox]

Now they were getting somewhere. Aidan nodded as she added each detail.

"Okay, this is good stuff. Altered metabolism, adaptive organs. Obviously we're talking about a pretty deep physical mutation. Maybe even sort of... I dunno, a low-grade shape-shifting."

[Tess Abrahams]

For a brief moment the Plasticine-faced head of security from Deep Space Nine conjured up in Tess's mind, all slick shiny skin and stiff upper lip, and she winced. For all that her father loved the show, it wasn't exactly a comfortable comparison. That dude had serious problems.

"So maybe it's like an external... shift?" the words didn't sound quite right, as though they were making a valiant effort to get to the goal-line under increasing offensive tackles.

[Aidan Fox]

"Maybe," Aidan said. He scooted a chair back and sat down across from Tess.

"There are basically two kinds of shapeshifters," he said. "Solid-state, and fluid. Solid-state shifters can change from one form to another. You know, like Julian. He's a kid, or he's a wolf. There's a transition from one to the other, but if he got stuck in-between, he'd be helpless, he might not even survive. They might have more than two forms, but every form is distinct from the others.

"Fluid-state shifters are different. They have a natural form they can alter. Maybe it's just moving features around on the surface to change their appearance. Maybe it's replacing whole limbs. There are even some that can break down their bodies completely, take any shape they want. Now, those are rare. But all fluid shapeshifters have to have one thing: control of their bodies at the cellular level. Maybe it's involuntary, maybe it's intuitive, but it has to be there, or you coudn't survive the transition."

[Tess Abrahams]

As Aidan spoke, Tess found herself simultaneously fascinated and bewildered. It wasn't that it didn't sound accurate - there were instinctive pings of recognition going off like popping shrimp on a sonar read, information and theories lining up and slotting in because it made perfect sense.

And that was why it didn't.

"Aidan," Tess shook her head. "How do you know all this?"

[Aidan Fox]

"Mutants are a life-long study," Aidan replied. "That's part of the reason I'm here. I've been lucky enough to know a lot mutants, and I've tried to learn something from all of them. This place?" He glanced at the walls with a lopsided grin. "Is a graduate seminar."

[Tess Abrahams]

"You're what, twenty-five? And you already sound like one of the professors at Cullen's," she caught his grin, felt it bounce off her own lips as she shook her head. "I'm impressed. What other secrets do you have?"

That would probably garnish a predictable response considering the man-of-mystery cloak he wore, so Tess carried on. "A cellular level. Huh. You know, that makes sense. When everything happened with Vipul it was almost like... for one brief moment everything was stripped apart to millions and millions of pieces and I could feel them, underneath the panic. Each and every one."

[Aidan Fox]

"That sounds like intuitive awareness to me," Aidan said. "Hmm, I wonder..."

He trailed off and, without another word, got up out of his chair and disappeared out the kitchen door. He reappeared in the doorway moments later with a small branch off a tomato vine from the garden, one with a ripe tomato still hanging off of it.

"There's a couple million living cells here," he said. "Want to see what you can make of it? Oh, might want to come outside. You know, just in case..."

He shrugged at the possibility of Tomato Surprise all over the recently refurbished kitchen.

[Tess Abrahams]

The last time a jar of marinara sauce had exploded in the kitchen (a rather unfortunate end to a promising science experiment exploring the potential of culinary warfare) it had taken hours to clean up and they'd spent days afterward unearthing missed patches of crusted tomato paste. Not keen on a repeat performance, Tess stood, gingerly took the curling vine and lumbered outside after Aidan.

It was hot out, the sticky sort of heat that meant they were due a good rain, but the House had generous eaves which provided a comfortable border of shade under which a person could stand. They stood there now, Tess cupping the beautifully round tomato in the palm of her hand. It bulged beneath it's gleaming red jacket, faint stretchmarks of pale yellow-green loping from the spiky toupee of the stem runner, still warm from it's tanning session in the garden.

Inhaling a deep breath, the smell of dust and thirsty lawns and Creamsicles heavy in the air, Tess caged her fingers around the fruit. She closed her eyes and concentrated on getting a sense of it, of the heft and weight as it rolled slightly within her grasp, odd grooves and bumps that only homegrown produce had pressing against the planes of her hand. It felt like...

... like a tomato.

Sighing, Tess opened her eyes. Aidan was standing there, watching.

"Maybe you should turn around or something," she said and gestured with the audacious little plant in her hand. "This is kind of an intimate moment."

[Aidan Fox]

"Oh, sure, sorry."

The humor of the moment wasn't lost on Aidan, but mutation was a personal thing, and there was such a thing as performance anxiety. He stepped onto the back stoop, out of sight of Tess and her tomato.

[Tess Abrahams]

"Okay, buddy, you and me. For the record, I really like you and yours so accept my apology in advance. You deserve better than ketchup," Tess muttered to the tomato in her palm, a sense of weight lifting from her shoulders. Just like back in the old days when she'd been practicing a new move in the gym, it helped to not have an audience.

Unsure of exactly how to initiate the whole... thing, the woman fell back on old standbys. She shook out her arms and rolled her neck from side to side until it cracked in a satisfyingly boney way, limbering up for a feat of cellular rerouting.

How had it started with Vipul? At the time she'd been so alarmed by the sudden loss of control and the rapidly spiraling disaster that she hadn't cared. Tess thought back, skimming over as much of the unnecessary details as she could because she'd just managed to get back to not feeling sick to her stomach and it was a pleasant medium to be at.

Connection. Skin on skin. A flicker of something locking into place like a roadmap unfolding -

In her hand the slick surface of the tomato became less pronounced, replaced by an overhead sensation of toppling into a warm pool of light that rippled over her entire body like a slow sunburn. It was faint, muted in a way that it hadn't been before, but the same feeling of being in two places at once and never moving was there and Tess could taste a sweet burst of liquid in her mouth, like summer rain and Anna's Sunday dinners. She chased it instinctively, broadening the dim outline until it broke apart like Lego pieces, individual elements that were less daunting to approach than the entire filmy illusion -

A wetness against her palm broke the tentative concentration Tess had. The thread snapped and she flinched, tomato - with a gaping split running up one side and bleeding juice - dropping from her startled palm into the grass where it gave a halfhearted bounce and rolled onto a squashed side.

"Huuuh," Tess wiped her hand on her shorts, heart giving a little double-step against her ribcage. "Uh, you can... it's, uh... well, it didn't explode."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan stepped down off the stoop and came around the kitchen wall to find Tess standing over the ruptured tomato. "Well," he said, "I guess maybe that's an improvement?"

He had a feeling she didn't know any better than he did.

"So what do you think?" he asked. "Does our theory hold any water?"

[Tess Abrahams]

Tess bent down and picked up the slain produce. Beyond a few strands of loose grass that had stuck to it's jagged wound, it was alright. She wondered if there were any consequences to eating a possibly-altered tomato; wasting food was such a terrible act.

"I think so," Tess answered slowly. "It was a bit like doing it from a distance, this time, like from the other side of a glass door. Of course, a tomato isn't as complex as a human so that could explain why."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan shrugged. "Well, maybe plant cells are too basic. Maybe we need to try with some animal cells."

[Tess Abrahams]

If looks could kill, Aidan would've been pushing daisies in an instant.

"I'm not doing this," Tess held up the tomato, "to an animal, Aidan."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan put up his hands in self defense, just in case looks decided to reconsider their hypothetical lethality.

"It's the next logical step, is all I'm saying. Better an animal than a person, right?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"Better an animal than a person?" Tess repeated. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say - that violent acts toward animals are acceptable because their lives are somehow less valuable than ours?"

[Aidan Fox]

"What - no, seriously, Tess, that's not even the point..."

Aidan pinched at the bridge of his nose and tried to adjust his logic. "If you want more practice on tomatoes, fine. But if you want to figure out how this ability works with human contact, then there's no other way of doing it, really."

He took a few aimless steps toward the garden. "What if..." He turned toward Tess and mentally crossed his fingers. "What if the animal was already dead?"

[Tess Abrahams]

That was exactly the point and she was about to tell him as much because adopting a cavalier attitude was the reason the problem existed: everyone wanted it to be a non-issue so they could buy their Jon Frieda hair products and American Eagle leather belts without guilt because having to think about rabbits screaming while their retinas were burned out by chemicals or calves being skinned while they were still alive for the sake of fashion sort of took some of the glitz out of the final product.

But then a new idea came into play and it was potentially even more terrifying.

Tess hesitated warily. "... You're not going to kill it, are you?"

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan gave her an incredulous look. "No, of course not. Look, just give me some time to make some calls. I'll let you know what I find and we can go from there."

He disappeared back into the house before she could make any other accusatory inferences.

[Tess Abrahams]

It turned out, Aidan had this friend.

Well, actually, Anna had this friend who Aidan knew about, a farmer outside Montecito who had a small family-run operation that was rare nowadays, amidst the commercial press of traditional wholesalers. As it turned out he thought he might be able to help them and save himself a little trouble in the process.

A litter of piglets had been born a few months prior and, in the natural way of things, one of them had suffered a torsion last night. They'd tried just about every fix in the book but eventually kindness dictated the little thing be put out of it's misery; they'd euthanized it just this morning. Still too small to meet market requirements for slaughter, the family had started preparing for the arduous task of disposing of the pig themselves when Aidan called.

Two hours and some change later found Tess and Aidan cruising along roads that were a strange blend of urban sprawl and country wild, long grass swaying at the base of peeling eucalyptus trees while in the distance housing subdivisions dotted the hillsides, little white pillows of civilization. The truck thrummed along happily, windows cranked down to let in the sugar sweet air; it was amazing how much a difference getting out of the heart of the city made.

For the tenth time in as many minutes, Tess twisted around in the passenger seat to look out the rear window at a blue tarp-wrapped package lying in the bed. It slid forward a few inches as the pickup wound left, making a rough scuffing sound.

"Poor little thing," Tess said sadly. Little wouldn't normally be used to describe a fifty-pound carcass but in the world of swine, where a good hog generally weighed in at upwards of 180, it was perfectly appropriate.

Their porcine acquisition started sliding again and thunked against the tailgate. "At least nobody'll be eating him. Him? Her? I forgot to ask."

[Aidan Fox]

"I'm not sure they know the difference," Aidan said. "Anyway... we're making sure the little guy didn't die in vain, right?"

He found their way onto a dirt access road out into a fallow field the farmer had recommended to them - far enough away from any houses and all but the most dedicated of foot traffic that they shouldn't have much in the way of uninvited attention. There was even a well-placed tree to give a little shade from the heat of the afternoon. Aidan parked the truck and circled around the back to heft their bundle out of the truck bed.

[Tess Abrahams]

What a sad excuse for a life. Tess's heart gave a little lurch of sympathy and she quickly slid out of her seat, shoes kicking up dust as she went to unhinge the tailgate for Aidan. Imagine not having a single person care enough about you to know whether or not you had an innie or an outie.

"Wait, wait, don't just thwump him down," she called out in warning to Aidan's shoulders as he prepared to drop their patient in a patch of shade beneath the arching branches of the tree - some kind of gnarled fir, Tess was pretty sure. She brushed past, dropping to her knees and sweeping her hands out, clearing away stones and knobbled bits of broken branches until there was nothing but a soft blanket of dried grass and sand and brown needles.

"There," Tess smiled and stood, looping her arms under Aidan's from the opposite side of the pig. "Gently, now."

[Aidan Fox]

They laid down the pig, gently, into the clearing Tess had made and then peeled away the layers of tarp covering the animal. The pig's eyes were closed so peacefully it might have been asleep, and its pink, fuzz-covered skin was warm from the beating of the sun into the truck bed.

"Is that good?" Aidan asked, eyes flicking from the pig to Tess.

[Tess Abrahams]

"Uh-huh," Tess said absently, her lips pursed as she studied the wee snout and comically large ears, so thin they were like tissue paper. For a moment she thought she might actually cry which was retarded and something that totally fell under the 'you will never, ever redeem yourself from this' category. It was just... it was so sad.

"Can we... would it be weird if we named him?" Tess glanced at Aidan. "I think he deserves a name."

[Aidan Fox]

"You... you want to name the pig."

Aidan half-expected her to laugh it off, but she looked so earnest and a little self-conscious that he felt guilty on her behalf.

"Sure, we can name it if it helps. What do you want to call it?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"What about Wilbur?"

It was distinctively piggy name and the first that came to mind but the moment the moniker left her lips, Tess wanted to retract it. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out when you were being humored. Cheeks pinking a bit, she looked off into a copse of trees in growing in an angled line off the side of a cresting cliff face.

"Okay, I know this is probably really irrational and something that you and Jake and the cast of Saturday Night Live get a kick out of but my parents took me to a slaughterhouse for my sixth birthday and I've never really gotten over it and oh God just look at him," Tess gestured at the pink face, the mouth open just slightly and curled in such a way that it could almost be interpreted as a smile. She shook her head. "Wilbur's all wrong, isn't it? It's too Mayberry."

[Aidan Fox]

Aidan was still trying to comprehend the logic in holding a birthday party for a six-year-old girl at a slaughterhouse.

"Um... I don't know, I've never named a pig before," he confessed.

[Tess Abrahams]

"Seriously? Never?" Tess looked at him like he'd just announced he had no idea what paper was. "Oh, Aidan. It's awesome - I mean, it's better if they're alive, of course, but still. You have to do this. Just think like a pig and see what comes to you."

[Aidan Fox]

"What - I don't--"

Now he was really beginning to wonder if she was pulling his leg. He looked askance at Tess and then down at the serene little porcine and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Oink."

He caught an incredulous look from Tess, and he spread his hands helplessly. "You said to think like a pig!"

[Tess Abrahams]

"No, no, it's good!" Tess assured him with a helplessly wide grin. True, it was on the literal side of the scale but he was genuinely trying and it was sort of adorable. Besides, it was a decent first attempt. Her little brother's first pet had been a black cat named, wait for it, Black Kitty. Aidan was a veritable poet by comparison.

Tugging back a corner of the tarp that had blown back to reveal a plump, slightly stiff shoulder, Tess tested out the name. "Oink. What do you think of that, fella?" she waited a moment, as if for a reply, and then nodded and winked at Aidan. "I think it's a keeper."

[Aidan Fox]

Oh, hell. There was nothing to do about it now. Aidan eased back where he knelt and gave a sigh of resignation. "Okay, Oink it is..."

Babe. Curly. Snowball. Heck, even Piglet probably would've worked, unless it was too mainstream. But, no, Aidan had panicked, and now when the little guy waddled up to the porky gates to give his name and claim his reward, they'd think he had a stutter.

"So," Aidan said, perhaps a little too forcefully, "how do you want to do this? Do you want me to leave you alone again?"

[Tess Abrahams]

"That wouldn't really be fair - you named him after all, he's practically your progeny," Tess's cheeks were starting to hurt and she had to stare very hard at Oink to keep from falling into laughter. Aidan didn't need to feel made fun of, especially when that wasn't what was happening.

Tess cleared her throat. "Unless you don't want to watch, I mean. It might be difficult."

[Aidan Fox]

"No, it's fine. I mean, I'm here to help you."

He looked back down at the pig and brushed away a cheeky fly that had come to investigate. "Remember, we're in no rush. This is all about exploration and discovery. It's up to you to set the pace."

[Tess Abrahams]

Exploration and discovery, just like in science class. Except that instead of desks and textbooks they had sun-kissed hills and the nattering of blackbirds dropping from the branches of the tree and Oink. Poor, unsuspecting Oink.

His skin was stiff when she placed a cursory hand on the mound of his belly and a bit hard, washed over by rigor that even the heat couldn't soften. Translucent, rough hairs brushed against her palm like frayed rope ends.

"This is so sad," Tess said again. She put her other hand over Oink's closed eyelids and blew out a slow breath.

Reluctance slowed things and several minutes passed with nothing but the flurry of flapping wings from above and the drone of winding insects to break the pause. Then like a half-muttered phrase that didn't quite carry in a room full of people, something bumped against Tess's hands - but not against them, no, in them and on them and through them.

Trying to stay objective was key. But it was easier to get a little distance when it didn't feel like you were standing in the center of a tornado, fragmented bits of genetic dust whipping around you. Tess winced and made a quiet noise of discomfort.

Slow down, she thought, and nearly laughed because how exactly did you hit the brakes when you didn't know where they were?

"I don't know what to do!" she said. It came out louder than she'd intended, less calm. Oink was around her and in her and she could see him in dusty repose, all bits and pieces, rosy chaff hanging in the air.

[Aidan Fox]

"Don't do anything, then," Aidan said. "Close your eyes. Focus on the sensation. Let your mind get used to it."

Something was happening with the pig, a slight rippling just underneath the skin as if something was crawling there, but Aidan knew that was just the visible side effects of whatever was going on in Tess's body. Her tension and apprehension was palpable, and it probably wasn't doing Oink any good.

"Try to relax. Describe to me what you're feeling."

[Tess Abrahams]

The sensation was one that instinctively made her draw away but Tess pushed that aside, vaulting Aidan's voice to the top of the priority list. Concentrating on it gave her a center, a weighted pole to grip as she wavered on the tightwire. Tess closed her eyes, nostrils flaring as she drew a deep breath.

The twisting Oink storm raged on around her and she wanted nothing more than to push it far, far away but instead she embraced it, poked at it, ran her fingers through it's metaphorical hair.

Tess shook her head. "It's... it's like... I'm him but I'm not, like when you're you but not you in a dream? He's all broken apart though, like dust."

[Aidan Fox]

It was hard for Aidan to visualize, but then, this was like uncovering a whole new sense you didn't know you had. They were both in uncertain territory now.

"Okay, so if our theory's right, the dust must be his cells. They're dead, so they might be less volatile than the tomato was. See if you can... I don't know, manipulate them somehow. Play with them. Don't be afraid to experiment."

[Tess Abrahams]

She was afraid to experiment. So she did it anyway.

Right in the center of the pale storm was a cyclone, a spinning clump of rosy air that made Tess flinch as if a door had slammed disruptively. That was the spot to start. It was wrong.

She reached out with not-hands and gently prodded at the tightly wound knot. It was resistant, starched iron shut, and it wasn't until the buzzing feeling sparking over her skin grew to a hot flush that it gave at all, unraveling in a sudden rush like a loosed spool of thread. Oink's stomach suddenly inflated grossly, an audible rumbling sounding in the summer air.

"Too bad we weren't around earlier," Tess managed in a gasping breath. "Oh crap, nonono..."

Her concentration wavered and immediately a cloud of Oink shattered and disappeared. Cracking an eye open, Tess glanced down to see a cloven hoof disintegrating into an inky black pool.

[Aidan Fox]

"Okay... it's okay, relax." Aidan put out his hands just before realizing that touching Tess right now was not a good idea, but the calming sentiment was there. He could see one of the pig's feet withering away like some sort of premature decomposition. There was no blood, as far as he could tell.

"So what's happening? Talk me through it."

Even if he couldn't understand what Tess was seeing, just the act of trying to describe it might help her understand.

[Tess Abrahams]

"It slipped, I-I... let go," Tess stammered. Rushing underneath was a wild river and if the paddle dropped again then it was a one-way ticket down the rapids. "Lost concentration."

Which meant that shutting up was a good idea. Tess clamped her lips shut, eyes scrunching closed, too. She tried to focus her attention on Oink, gather the shrouded haze of him in close but the tighter she closed in on it, the more slippery it became. Dandelion puffs of pig were blowing away randomly, airy drifts of destruction, and she just wanted it to stop -

In mid-pop, a clump paused. A muscle in Tess's jaw jumped and she locked in on the sensation, felt for the thin thread that still remained and oh-so-gently began pulling on it, pulling it back from the empty space that was too far for her to follow. Too afraid that it would break if it picked up any speed at all, the woman took her time in rebuilding the fog, shaking from the effort of clamping back the reservoir of energy that wanted to let loose.

Oink's jaw, once a slack memory of itself, began to solidify in slightly-crooked restoration.

With agonizing graduality the hovering cloud reappeared, mostly intact, and as soon as she was sure it wouldn't bounce away when she let go Tess yanked her hands away from the pig. She gasped at the sudden break. It was very bright for an excruciating second and then the world snapped into focus.


"Holy cow," Tess swayed on her knees, dizzy. "Just... need a break."

[Aidan Fox]

"No problem. Just stay put, let me get you some water."

Aidan jogged off to the truck and grabbed the little bag on the floor space of the passenger side. Inside was Tess's reusable water bottle, cold and sweaty from the heat of the day.

Aidan jogged back and handed the bottle off to Tess. "So how's it going? Things making any more sense?"

[Tess Abrahams]

Tess bobbed her head in what she hoped came across as a nod. The water bottle slipped a bit in her grip as she pressed it against her neck, not up to tackling the tight screwtop just yet.

"It's hard to stay on top of it," she said. "But it's getting clearer. Oh my God, my head feels like a piñata at a birthday party."

[Aidan Fox]

"Take your time."

As with any emergent talent, there was no telling where this was heading. You could make comparisons to other cases, but the only way to tell if those comparisons were legit was to try things out. That was always difficult when you'd already witnessed the heavy price of failure, whether it was a burned-down garage or a mess of melted body tissue in the kitchen.

"So we've established you have some kind of sense and control at the cellular level," he said. "What, um... what were you saying a minute ago? You seemed to be working on something, when you said it was too bad we weren't around earlier?"

[Tess Abrahams]

Kicking out her feet so that her butt was planted firmly in the dirt, Tess nodded and gestured at Oink's stomach with a pointed toe.

"His stomach was twisted - that's what they said was wrong, wasn't it? Torsion?" gripping the ridged plastic top of her water bottle, she gave it a good yank and unscrewed it. Tess took a long sip, water trickling out from the corner of her mouth and down her chin, before offering it to Aidan. "I think I fixed it."

[Aidan Fox]

"Fixed it?"

Aidan straightened up, eyes locked on Tess.

"Tess... that's incredible!"

[Tess Abrahams]

Tess laughed. "I may - or may not - have untwirled the intestines of a dead pig, Aidan. Incredible might be overdoing it."

Oink's possibly-solved gastrointestinal distress aside, the feeling of actually making headway toward control was deeply satisfying, richly coloured in shades of hope and tentative promise. There was nothing worse than feeling like a pawn within the bounds of one's own life story, limited by a version of yourself that was a complete stranger. And, like that first good day after a hard flu, the act of taking back the board was liberating.

[Aidan Fox]

"Tess, you looked into another body, found a serious health problem, and fixed it using your mutation," Aidan replied. "I'd call that pretty extraordinary, even if he is already dead. No question there's a lot of work to be done, but this is a huge step forward."

He looked down at their test partner, minus one hoof, but otherwise looking as serene and transported as when they'd first uncovered him.

"So, what do you think? You're looking pretty exhausted."

[Tess Abrahams]

"I think if I try any more I might end up like Oink," Tess agreed wearily. Speaking of which...

"What are we gonna do with him? We can' t leave him out in the open and if we try and cart him back..." Tess trailed off. Another couple hours riding in the back of the truck with the sun shining down would render their friend into something really unpleasant.

[Aidan Fox]

"Well... I thought of that."

Aidan got up off the ground and walked back to the truck. He pulled up the canvas tarp from the bed and retrieved a pair of shovels.

Probably best not to mention he'd thought they might be shoveling pig instead of soil.

[Tess Abrahams]

Tess looked at Aidan like she wanted to say something. In the end, it was easier just to smile and take one of the shovels he held out.

In the movies it always seemed to take about half-an-hour to dig a decent grave, earth giving away generously as though wanting to spare any more feelings of hardship to those having to lay to rest a loved one. The reality was a lot less romantic. Aidan and Tess had to ram the shovels into stone-laced soil that was hard-packed and dry from a long summer with little rain, metal pinging and bouncing back almost as often as it pierced through. By the time they'd gone down far enough to ensure Oink would fit, Tess was sure her elbows were going to permanently rattle.

And then they had to cover him up. No wonder so many people payed out the ear to have a vet cremate their pets.

At last the final shovelful of earth was tossed onto the freshly-turned mound. Tess leaned on her shovel, panting, and watched as Aidan used the flat side of his to pat down the dirt.

"That'll do, pig," she breathed solemnly in her best Farmer Hogget voice. "That'll do."