Phantom Ch. 06 Pt. 01

Chapter 6: The Many Torments of Kelly Gray

Kelly Gray had always been a socially awkward girl, and other girls took advantage of that. Girls belittled and mocked her, behind her back and sometimes in front of it. She had few friends in High School, but hoped that college life would be different. People would be more mature in Wintergreen College, more sophisticated, so she reasoned.

She was wrong. The only thing more sophisticated was their cruelty. She quickly found herself ostracized again, except for a few women who she thought were her friends... the same friends who lured her to the Delta Delta Mu Sigma Frat House one fateful night.

"Come on, Kelly," said Joyleen. "It will be a great way to meet guys!"

Kelly knew that guys wanted to meet her. She was tall, she was blonde, and very attractive. But she instinctively sensed that their interest in her was all about one thing, and she wanted a man who wanted her for at least two things. But every time she opened her mouth to talk she could seen men's eyes glazing over. They only wanted her body.

"Kelly, are you going to be a virgin forever?" Joyleen demanded.

Forever sounded like a very long time. And so Kelly agreed to go to the party.

And it was there that she got drunk, and was gang raped by five men.

What happened to Kelly was bad enough. But the aftermath was even worse.

The girls started calling her "Kelly open legs" and "Slut Kelly" as well as "Kelly the Super Slut Slut". And as for the guys...

The college administration refused to prosecute the men after the holorecording came out.

One of the boys, Neil Bartlett, had made a holorecording, and posted it online. He had recorded everything, each of the five men making love to Kelly; and the recording also showed Kelly, drunk out of her mind, moaning and kissing the men and giving as good as she got.

Kelly had gotten so drunk that she didn't clearly remember what had had happened, and was surprised by what she saw. All she knew is that she never agreed to have sex with five men. And so, to her tremendous outrage, the college administration refused to press charges.

Now everyone was laughing at Kelly. They had all viewed the video. Kelly couldn't bear to be seen by anyone. And finally the pressure got so intense that Kelly hung herself by a rafter in her dorm room.

After that, people were no longer laughing at her.

It was curious, even being aware of it. Because, after killing herself, Kelly realized that this wasn't the end. She had become something else, a glowing version of her own body, one with red eyes, which she would eventually learn was called a Lemure. And Kelly found she could enter people's bodies, people's minds. She couldn't control them, not exactly, but she could influence them, and whisper in their ears.

And then, one by one, Kelly Gray the Lemure extracted her revenge. She ran over Jim Thompson with a road paver (while he was staked down to the ground at the time). She fed Neil Bartlett to a lion (while Neil was also staked down to the ground). She blasted Leo Doherty's head off with a compression rifle. She persuaded Mark Tami to walk out of an airlock without a spacesuit. She convinced Nigel Mills to defenestrate himself from the 20th floor of the World Government World Peace Building.

Kelly didn't exactly have control over her victim's or accomplices's bodies as she did this; she convinced Mark Tami that he was going for a walk in the park when he stepped out of the airlock. And she convinced Bruno Miglioni that he was shooting water melons when he blew off Leo Doherty's head. She found that she had a skill of convincing people of whatever she wanted.

Once her assailants were dead, however, Kelly was still not done. Far from it.

Everyone or anyone who had every mocked her or wronged her became a target. And at the top of the list were the cruel girls from Wintergreen College.

*********

Susannah Piero had known Kelly Gray briefly at Wintergreen College. She had talked to Kelly a few times in their freshman year, but usually to put Kelly down, saying things like "That blouse is so you, Kelly. Did you get it at the World Government Weekly Handout?" But mostly she made fun of Kelly's weight. Kelly was very thin in college, and Susie always implied that Kelly was anorexic.

"When are you going to eat some food, dear? Are you on a hunger strike?" Susie would say, with a laugh, always in the company of her cronies. She so loved to work with an audience.

Kelly grew so anxious that she would avoid Susie whenever she could. But even Susie's smirk from across the dining hall could make Kelly tremble.

Susannah was leading a happy life working for the World Government. She was one of the many flower counters for the WG. The World Government took an annual census of wildflowers in the world. The numbers seemed to be getting smaller and smaller every year. Critics claimed there was no way to take a census of wildflowers, but the World Government was adamant, and used the data to slap heavy taxes on industry, to bear the true cost of production on Mother Earth.

Susie was married to her college sweetheart Spiro. Spiro also worked for the World Government. He was an anal sex educator in pre-school and kindergarten classes. Spiro loved working with kids, and hoped to have his own with Susie some day.

Everything was fine in Susie's life, until one day she had problems in the bathroom.

She was sitting on the toilet, bearing down.

"Urr... Urrrr..... Urrrr!" she cried. She felt intense pressure in her bowels. But nothing came out.

Having problems, dearie?

"Who said that?" Susie looked around. Was someone watching her on the toilet? She hadn't shaved her pubic hair in weeks, and it looked a mess! What if someone was watching her-

It's me. Kelly Gray.

Susie looked confused. "I don't know anyone named Kelly Gray."

Remember Wintergreen College?

"Yes."

The girl you hounded for being too thin?

"No," said Susie. "Oh, wait. You're that girl? Didn't you die or something?"

Yes, I died. And now I'm inside you.

"No!"

Yeah.

"What are you doing inside me?"

I noticed you were having some trouble.

Suddenly it dawned on Susie what was happening. "You're doing this? You're preventing me from going to the bathroom?"

Apparently.

"Why? What... what do you want?"

Not much. Surprisingly little. All I want you to do is to eat a chocolate cake and a box of cookies.

"What? And ruin my figure? Never!"

Happy grunting!

Susie squeezed again. Nothing happened, even though her bowels were full. "Wait, come back!"

Silence.

********

By the following morning, Susie felt like her bowels were ready to explode. But she just couldn't release.

Still having problems?

"Please! Kelly, if that's really you, I'm sorry, all right! It was a long time ago." She bore down again, but nothing came out. Her insides felt like they were about to burst. "Please!"

Just do one thing.

"What?"

Eat a chocolate cake and a box of cookies.

"All right... but... I have to go now... please, Kelly, I promise to eat them."

All right.

Susie bore down. After two days of not going, she knew she had a pile of excrement to release. She squeezed... and a small, cigar shaped brown object came out of her buttocks.

"Ahhhh," she said with a smile as it was zapped by the atomizer. By the beginning of the 23rd century, every civilized household had an atomic toilet.

But that was only the beginning. The internal pressure had lessened from excruciating to merely aggravating, but she still felt quite full of feces. "Kelly... I have more."

I know. After you eat the chocolate cake.

"Must I eat a whole cake?"

And a box of chocolate chip cookies.

Susie sighed. It would ruin her diet. She would easily gain two or three pounds, which would take her weeks to lose. "All right."

And so, after Spiro had gone out to work, Susie went to the supermarket. One of the many good things about working for the World Government in a job like hers is that no one kept track of her time. As far as the World Government was concerned, she was out in the field, counting flowers.

She bought the cake and cookies and sat on a park bench, and hesitated. The cake looked big.

Dig in.

Susie sighed and started eating the cake. As she ate, people walked by and gave her stares. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to eat a large chocolate cake by herself in public.

Susie felt full after eating half the cake.

Why are you stopping?

"I'm full!" she said.

And you're going to stay that way.

Susie felt a rumbling in her bowels.

********

Susie groaned as she got off the park bench. She never felt so full. After she had finished the cake, Kelly had insisted she eat the cookies as well. Every bite felt like agony.

But finally, it was done. She rushed to a public toilet in the park, and blissfully released. The fondest moment in her life was when she was able to relieve herself.

********

The next morning, Susie went to the bathroom. Nothing came out. She frowned. "Not again."

Good morning.

"What do you want from me?" Susie exploded. "I ate your fucking cake and cookies! I probably gained two pounds from it!"

More like three. But you'll gain even more when you eat your cake and cookies today.

"What do you mean? I ate them yesterday!"

You're going to eat them every day.

"No," Susie breathed.

Yes.

********

By eating a chocolate cake and a box of cookies every day, Susie gained weight rapidly. By the third day Spiro rubbed her belly and joked she looked a little heavy. By the fifth day he was giving her odd looks. And by the tenth day, with a bulging belly, he was demanding to know if she was pregnant.

"I am not pregnant!" Susie cried.

"Then why do you have that big belly?" he asked.

Susie was careful to eat her cake and cookies out of sight of Spiro. It would have raised too many questions. "I guess I've been grazing too much."

"Then get off the farm, and onto a holotreadmill," he said, slapping her on the ass. Susie winced as she heard the degrading sound of flesh on flesh and felt the sting on her buttocks. Spiro shook his head and left the room.

Susie went into the bathroom and looked at her bulging belly.

"Are you happy now?"

It's a start.

"Don't tell me you're going to make me eat more cake!"

No, your cake eating days are over.

"Thank you."

Your next task is to start taking myacin pills daily.

"Myacin? What's that?"

It's a hormonal pill which makes your skin shiny, you'll love it.

"Why do you want me to take that?"

It also has an interesting side effect on women.

"And what would that be?"

It gives them their period every day.

"No! I won't do it!"

Your choice.

Susie felt pressure in her bladder. She sat down on the toilet and lowered her panties and squeezed.

Nothing came out.

********

The next morning she was in agony. She had to go. "How do you even expect me to get a prescription for this? No self respecting doctor will give it to me."

Get it on the whitemarket.

It used to be called the blackmarket, until the World Government put that on its ever growing list of forbidden words. Now it was referred to as the whitemarket, a segment of the global internet where anything was available... for a price.

Mercifully, Susie let her urinate after she ordered the pills.

The pills arrived the next day. Susie opened the cap and looked at one of them. It was crystal clear. It looked so harmless.

"Please don't make me do this," she whispered.

I'm not making you do anything.

Susie was only able to hold out until dinner. She had drank a bit glass of water at lunch. She had no choice. She swallowed the pill. Her first pill. Every day, there would be another one.

********

Spiro asked for sex two days later. Of course, being a man, he didn't simply ask for it. He wrapped his arms around her. "My big Susie still has her jelly belly, eh?"

"Um hm," said Susie. But it wasn't her stomach that Spiro had his hands wrapped around. Spiro had been repelled by her burgeoning belly; this wasn't the woman he had married. But he was also a man, and men needed sex, even if it was with a beach ball. He started to squeeze her titties.

"Ummm," said Susie. Then he tilted her head and kissed her.

"Ummm," She said again.

Then he started to lead her by the hand to the bedroom.

"No," said Susie.

"No?" said Spiro.

"I... I'm having my comma," said Susie. She so hated to call it a period. It sounded dirty to her.

"Oh," said Spiro, looking crestfallen. "All right." He turned to go to the shower.

********

Spiro asked for sex again two days later, and two days after that. Each time the answer was the same.

"How long am I going to have to keep doing this?" Susie asked.

Until he stops loving you.

"My Spiro will never do that!"

He's a man, Susie. Men have needs.

"Listen, Kelly, I'm sorry about how mean I was to you. But if you think I'm going to participate in this little charade of yours any longer-"

Take your pill, Susie.

Susie only was able to hold out for four hours. She cried as she took another pill.

********

After ten days, Spiro lost his patience. "Don't you think it's gone on too long?"

"Maybe," said Susie fearfully.

"Don't you think you should see a groinacologist?" That's what Spiro called gynecologists.

"I guess," said Susie.

"I guess too," Spiro growled, as he headed towards the shower.

********

"What do you want me to do now?" Susie asked.

Tell Spiro you went to your groinacologist. Tell him he said you have Grimwave's Syndrome.

"What's that?"

Constant periods.

"Is there any cure?"

Unless you have your uterus removed? No.

"Please don't make me do this."

I'm not making you do anything.

********

"So... there's no cure?"

The look of shock on Spiro's pain hurt Susie more than anything.

"No... but maybe it will just get better on its own," said Susie, in a voice that sounded lame even to her.

"Get better on its own," Spiro repeatedly hollowly.

Susie could almost see the wheels turning in Spiro's mind, and she didn't like the direction in which they were turning. "Maybe... maybe I can please you another way," she said suggestively.

Spiro's face immediately lit up. "You're going to let me take you in the ass?"

"No!" said Susie. Spiro had been pestering her for ass sex ever since they had gotten married.

"But the World Government says that ass sex is healthy. The World Government recommends that every couple, gay or straight, have at least two servings of ass sex every week-"

"I don't care what the World Government says about ass sex," Susie snapped. This was not turning out the way she expected. "I was referring to another hole." She looked at him suggestively.

Spiro looked confused. "But I thought... I thought you said you don't like doing it in there either...."

"I... I could be persuaded...." Susie was desperate to please him.

Spiro nodded and gave an unwholesome grin. Susie let herself be led to the bedroom. She wasn't required to remove her clothes, that wasn't necessary, but since Spiro was stripping down she did too. She only left her panties on, with the thick pad sandwiched squarely inside of it prominently sticking out.

Spiro looked at her. "Can you... can you get me ready?"

Get me ready. Normally, she wouldn't have to do any of that. The mere sight of her without her panties on-

But now Susie was wearing panties with a diaper in it and she had a big, bulging belly. She had to be realistic about her current state of sex appeal. Sighing, she reached out with her hand and started working on Spiro while she kissed him. At least he kissed her back.

Spiro's thing sprang to life in her hand, thankfully. When he was ready, he pushed down on her shoulders suggestively. Susie sighed and move downwards. His thing looked even bigger when it was right in front of her face. Could she really take that monster inside her? She looked up at Spiro's frowning face. She would have to.

Susie gingerly opened her mouth and guided him in. She never liked the taste of penis. It always tasted sweaty or smelly or uriney or-

Susie had to keep from gagging as Spiro thrusted into her mouth. She grabbed onto it with her hand and asserted more penis control. For a time things were manageable, as Susie and Spiro built up a rhythm that worked for both of them, and then Spiro started to moan.

"Oh... oh... oh...." But then he cried out. "Ow!" he yelled. "Don't bite down!"

Susie pulled out. Had she used her teeth? "Sorry," she said. She looked at his angry face, and then his glistening penis, and reinserted it in her mouth. Spiro started to groan again, but then Susie felt herself biting down, and Spiro screamed and pulled out.

"What are you trying to do?" he said, glaring at her.

"Sorry," said Susie. She had never intended... and then she knew. It was Kelly.

You will never be able to satisfy him that way, bitch.

"This isn't going to work," said Spiro. "Maybe... maybe we can just do it the regular way."

"But... my comma...."

"Maybe it isn't so bad. Let me see." He saw the hesitance and reluctance on her face. "Come on, do it."

Susie, trembling a bit, lowered her panties. She winced as she saw Spiro make a face as he saw her bloody nether lips. But he lowered himself down and took the position between her legs. In moments he was thrusting inside of her. At first, things seemed to go well. But then Spiro made the mistake of looking down. He cried out as he withdrew his penis, which was covered in blood.

"No!" he wailed. "It's like making love to a gunshot wound!" He ran to the bathroom and slammed the door, even as Susie started crying.

Now Susie, you fucking bitch, you know exactly how I felt when you tortured me relentlessly, when you lowered my sense of self-worth into the gutter while you and your bitch cunt friends laughed it up at my expense!

********

After that, there was no more sex between them. The bedroom was merely a place of sleeping. Together. Somewhat together. Spiro would give her a perfunctory kiss, and pull away immediately to his side of the bed, as if out of fear that he would drown in the Red Sea. He never spoke about the incidence again. His failure to address what had happened between them was all the more frightening for Susie. She started seeing him come home later and later from work. Spiro told her he had to work late, which she knew wasn't true, as he worked for the World Government. And then the inevitable happened, two months later, when Spiro announced he was moving out and filing for divorce.

"Are you seeing another woman, Spiro, is that it?" Susie asked, as Spiro rapidly and efficiently packed his electronic suitcase.

"Yes," said Spiro. "I'm sorry."

"Please, Spiro. We can work things out," said Susie.

"No," said Spiro. "It's really for the best. I'm doing this for you, Susie."

"For me?"

"You don't deserve a man like me," said Spiro. "You deserve someone better. I'm doing this for you, Susie."

Susie wailed and cried as Spiro left the apartment. After he had gone, she gasped as a glowing outline of a human being slowly wafted out of her body. The outline was bright white-blue, except the eyes, which were red.

"You! You did this to me!" Susie cried.

"You bet I did," said Kelly. "You should thank me."

"Thank you? Why should I thank you?"

Those glowing red eyes bore into her. "Because I let you off easy. You should see what I did to the others. And what I'm going to do to still more."

And Susie, with an open mouth, watched as the glowing shape floated into the ceiling and disappeared.

As Kelly floated away, she frowned. She had enjoyed what she had done to Susie, and yet... she wasn't yet fully satisfied. She had thought that after she had killed the five frat boys who had raped her she would feel satisfied. But she wasn't. Then she thought that what she needed to do was to take revenge against all the women who had wronged her. But even that wasn't satisfying her very much.

Perhaps she needed to think of more imaginative ways of taking her revenge. Perhaps then she would be whole again.

********

It's called Moving On, Alanna thought as the Doctor, Sophie, and Alyssa sat on a stratoliner headed for California.

What a quaint term, the Doctor thought. Sophie and Alyssa seemed wrapped up in their own thoughts; there was no need to involve them in this conversation. Sophie was strategically seated between the Doctor and Alyssa. In the narrow airplane seats her arm pressed against his. But sometimes her hand squeezed his arm, which he realized had nothing to do with the width of the seats.

Most people don't become kalaks, Doctor.

Thank Goodness.

Only people with a strong passion that wasn't satisfied in their life. When they turn into kalaks, their reason for being is to satisfy this passion. Once this passion is satisfied, then they Move On.

And what precisely does that mean, to Move On?

It means... whatever it means to die. Even we don't have all the answers, Doctor.

A great comfort.

Alanna paused for a moment. So, for example, if a mother dies and her daughter is devastated, the mother might stay on as a kalak, to comfort the daughter. Once the daughter is able to stand on her own once again, the mother's mission would be complete, and she would Move On.

I haven't encountered too many motherly ghosts. Most of the ones I've met have been the other type.

It works both ways, Doctor. But yes, just as kalaks can feel motivated to stay around to help others, they can also be motivated to remain to hurt others.

So how do you get those to Move On?

It is not easy. Their lust for vengeance must be satisfied, but their motivations can be so twisted that even they cannot fully understand them.

The Doctor took a girl ball out of his pocket. It was a dark brunette. He started sucking on it. So what's your story?

My story?

Why haven't you Moved On? Do you still have people to kill... or distraught daughters to console?

There was a pause. My story is very... personal, Doctor.

More personal than being inside someone's head, and reading their every thought?

Another pause. You are right. I am so used to being in Alyssa, a willing host, that I did not think about it in that way. You... you have a right to know my background.

And so Alanna told the Doctor her story.

*********

Alanna Maskirovna was born 74 years ago in Minsk, in the Russian Federation. She was a precocious girl and a good student. Her ever practical parents wanted her to go to public management school so she could get a good job with the World Government. With the private sector shrinking rapidly due to necessary social welfare legislation, the World Government was becoming the largest employer in the world economy. While everyone was guaranteed a job with the World Government, many were lower level jobs that didn't pay well. To get a good paying job higher in the bureaucracy, one needed an education.

"Just think, Alanna, you could be a central planner! You could decide what shoes the entire world will wear next year!" said her mother.

"But I don't want to decide what shoes the world will wear next year, Momma," said Alanna. She was 13 at the time. "I want to help other people in need."

"You will be helping them... by selecting their shoes for them."

But Alanna was adamant. And so, after graduating college (the University of Dobrinsk, with a major in Unsocial Work), she decided to go to Ramada under a program sponsored by the Alyssa Guttmacher Institute. EGI was sending people to Ramada to raise the consciousness of Laquintan women, to teach them tips about cooking, cleaning, childcare, balancing a household budget, and how-to's on masturbation and menstruation.

Her parents were horrified. They knew that Ramada had a backwards culture where women were forced to wear black burkas from head to toe, were treated like slaves by their men, and beaten and abused in numerous ways.

"All the more reason I should go, then, to raise their social consciousness," said Alanna. She would not be dissuaded.

*********

When Alanna arrived on Al Sa-Naa, the capital of Ramada, she was obligated to check in with the World Government embassy. A kindly man named Mr. Buford informed her that she would not be allowed to go into the countryside to help emancipate women after all. It seemed seven women previously sent by the Guttmacher Institute to do the very same thing had disappeared without a trace, until last week, when their heads were found. Only their heads.

"But... I came all this way... what can I do?" Alanna asked.

Buford took pity on her. "Look, I know the embassy is looking for a teacher. You'd be teaching children of embassy staff... but it's something that's needed, you know?"

And so Alanna took a job teaching at the World Government embassy on Ramada. In retrospect she was secretly glad that her original mission had been aborted. Whenever she walked in the bazaar around the Embassy to shop for dates or figs, she would see very large men with big beards and turbans on their heads glaring at her. Often these men had curved swords tucked into their belts. Alanna realized that her mission to Ramada might have turned out quite worse than she expected.

Alanna taught at the embassy for three months before the Embassy was overrun. A local Imad had spread word that the Embassy was holding a book burning of the Great Book of Blood. This enraged local citizens who stormed the Embassy. Unfortunately there were only four Survey Service Marines on guard at the entrance. The Survey Service had wanted to send a full guard contingent, but the Foreign Service overruled them, saying that armed uniformed men in the heart of Al Sa-Naa would offend local sensibilities and empower hardliners in the fragile coalition government.

And so the four guards were slaughtered, and the staff was taken captive. The captors demanded all jails on Earth be emptied of Laquintan prisoners. While many followers of the God of Blood lived on Ramada, they had originated in Earth's Middle East, and many millions more also lived there. Some of them had committed acts of terrorism and were languishing in World Government prisons.

While the World Government bureaucracy debated what to do, the Laquintans had their way with the captives. There were 78 in all, including 22 children, Alanna's schoolchildren who she felt very protective of. Alanna watched as several of the male embassy staff were beaten to a pulp, and, one by one, the Laquintans took liberties with the women.

When Alanna's turn came, a big burly man named Mojammed put the tip of a blaster in her mouth and warned her she was about to be honored. And honored she was, repeatedly. None of the men had ever enjoyed a young 22 year old blonde Russian girl before. The worst part of it, if any of it could be said to be the absolute worst part, was that the Laquintans did their deprivations in front of the children.

"Please!" Alanna cried at one point. "At least let's find a room."

"The slut really wants it, doesn't she?" Mojammed sneered. One of the other men laughed.

"No! Not in front of the children!" Alanna cried.

"And why not?" Mojammed asked. "Some of them, the girls, will probably be next. This could be a good, what do you call it, educational moment"

And Alanna's eyes went wide as Mojammed entered her, and she screamed in her mind.

********

There came a time when the captors grew impatient, and they decided to make an example of some of the captives.

"Let us start with the men," said one of their captives, a man with a scar on his face named Abduela.

"Let us start with the women," said another, a tall, thin man named Farsi.

"No," said Mojammed. "They will never take us seriously that way. These infidels care more than anything for their little brats. We will start by executing the children."

"No!" Alanna cried. She was bruised, and hurt, and exhausted, but she still found the strength to protest.

"Are you speaking up, little bird?" said Mojammed. "I will find a way to keep you occupied." He pushed her down to her knees as his men laughed, and then, standing in front of her, he lowered his pantaloons and roughly entered her. He had one hand on her shoulder, and the other on his blaster, aimed right between her eyes. "It is very important that you do not move," said Mojammed sternly, as he moved in and out of her.

"Which one shall we take first?" Abduela asked.

"Start with that one!" said Mojammed. He nodded to a blonde eight year girl named Becky Simpson. Becky was a charming girl who was good in math and loved dolls. Becky screamed as one of the men grabbed her and raised a blaster to her head.

Alanna suddenly pulled out, and knocked the blaster out of Mojammed's hand.

For a moment, no one spoke. All the children were wide-eyed. Alanna looked fearfully at them. "Not the children!" she cried.

Mojammed stared at her with a blank expression for a long moment. Then he slapped her in the face so hard she fell to the ground.

"Take that one outside. She will be first."

Alanna felt herself being dragged out the front door of the Embassy. The sun blared in her eyes, bright and harsh. She cried as she was pushed to her knees. She saw a blaster in her face, and heard the words, "Is this being recorded? Good." And then. "For the greater glory of Laquinta!"

And then there was a flash, and nothing.

*********

And then something. Alanna was back in the embassy again. Inside of it, and yet also not there. It was as if she was a balloon, floating up against the ceiling. An invisible balloon, one that no one could see.

As the hostages were executed, one by one, Alanna watched as Survey Service marines stormed the compound. She watched as three of the Laquintans detonated their suicide vests, and blew up the entire building

*********

Alanna was... dead. And yet, she also wasn't. Unless death meant floating around in disembodied form. It didn't take long for her to realize she could enter other bodies. It didn't take long after that to realize she could control other bodies. At the time, Alanna didn't know what a Phantom was; at first, she thought all kalaks had the power she had.

Being dead left a lot of time on Alanna's hands. She used that time to track the captors. Eleven of the original twenty three captors had escaped. Alanna soon learned that they were all part of the same tribe, the Al-Yasiri. Alanna made it her mission to track down this tribe, to a small village named Umm Fajar. There she found the original eleven captors, and executed them one by one.

Sometimes she made them kill each other. She found she could go inside one body, and with little effort, get that body to kill another. Sometimes she would make them kill themselves, usually by a blaster bolt to the head (something Alanna was quite familiar with), or by self-decapitation, which sometimes didn't work as planned and required several agonizing strokes to get just right.

Alanna saved Mojammed for last. She entered his body and made him look into a mirror in his tent.

"What is this? What is happening to me?" he cried as his body moved under the control of unseen forces.

The image of the school children of the World Government embassy appeared in the mirror. Do you remember these, Mojammed? he heard in his head. And then the image of Alanna appeared in the mirror. Do you remember me?

"You... you're dead!"

No. Laquinta sent me back to punish you for your sins.

"No... no, Laquinta would never do that!"

You are about to die, Mojammed. See that package by your feet? Open it.

Mojammed found himself opening the package. It contained beef jerky of some kind.

"What is it?" he asked.

Cat meat. Poisoned cat meat.

Mojammed found himself lifting up some of the jerky. He held it with trembling hands by his mouth. He tried to fight his instincts, but whatever was controlling him was too strong.

"No, please! Do not kill me like this! Cat meat is unclean in our culture! Anyone who dies with cat meat in them will never get to paradise with the 69 virgins the God of Blood has promised!"

Eat up, Mojammed!

Mojammed cried as he stuffed the cat meat into his mouth. He couldn't help himself. The sheer terror that went through his mind repelled even Alanna. It only took him a moment or two after that to start dying.

As Alanna watched Mojammed slowly choke to death on poisoned cat meat, she felt herself starting to a fade a bit. Was this it? With all the captors dead, was her purpose at an end?

But then the world, which began to fade, suddenly resolved itself in crystal clarity again.

********

Everyone in the village attended the services for the dead men. The Imad of the village, Jabbar Al-Rantisi, gave a rousing sermon. He said the men had all died with honor. He said they had died murdering infidels. He said the entire village could be proud of the great deed they had accomplished in the name of Laquinta.

Alanna watched as the men in the audience pumped their fists in the air and cheered approvingly, and the women, wearing burkas from head to toe, made loud "Lalalalalalala" sounds with their tongues. She felt sick as she remembered the men who had been beaten, the women who had been raped, the school children who had been executed one by one, and the bomb which had exploded killing hostages and rescuers alike.

And then, the following day, a curious thing happened in the village of Umm Fajar.

People started dying.

It was normal for people to die in Umm Fajar. There were always petty rivalries between families, between inlaws, conflicts among husbands and wives and fathers and daughters. Death was a natural part of life, so the Book of Blood told them. That's why the death of Mojammed and his fellow captors didn't attract much attention.

At first.

But then people started dying in their own homes. Husbands killed wives, which was normal, but then wives started killing husbands, which was decidedly not normal. Women would welcome their husbands home with a hug and a kiss and then stick a knife in their belly. Or poison their falafel. Or smother then in their sleep. Sons and daughters also started killing their parents.

Before long, panic set in, and nobody wanted to come out of their tents. But that didn't stop the massacre. Before long, all 73 adult inhabitants of Umm Fajar were dead. There were so many dead that many were simply left unburied.

When it was done, Alanna thought she would feel elated.

Instead, she felt terrible.

********

Alanna told the Doctor the story of how she became a kalak. But she didn't tell him the part that came afterwards, where she hunted down and liquidated her captors... as well as their entire tribe.

When she was done telling him her abridged account, the Doctor sat in his airline seat, stunned for a moment. "How horrible," he said aloud.

"What's horrible?" Sophie asked.

"Nothing," said the Doctor. He didn't want to expose Sophie to this heart-wrenching story. He thought to himself, What a terrible thing for a young woman to go through.

What a terrible thing for anyone to go through. Alanna sensed sympathy welling up inside the Doctor.

You... you must have been very angry with those killers.

Yes, I was.

Is that why... is that why you haven't Moved On? Because of your anger towards them?

Alanna paused for a moment. No. I mean, I think at first it was. I think... I think the reason I didn't Move On was my connection to the children. When they died, right in front of me, I felt their pain, their anguish. I felt the need to stay around, to help others in need.

Alanna felt sympathy competing with admiration within the Doctor's mind as he thought, If... if what you're telling me is the truth, perhaps I've misjudged you.

Alanna felt good hearing that. But also at the same time felt terrible, knowing full well that she had lied to him. She knew the real reason she hadn't Moved On, and it certainly wasn't that.

********

It was a dance at Wintergreen College, and Kelly Gray had ripped her dress. She had been walking by a snack table and the sharp corner of it somehow caught on her dress and ripped the back open. Even worse, a punch bowl slid onto her and splashed over the front of her dress.

Several of her classmates immediately laughed at her. One of them was Angie Fleming. "Seriously, dear, is wearing a dress so complicated?"

"I think it is for Kelly," said another girl.

Kelly felt terrible as she tried to dry off part of her dress with a napkins. But then she heard a catcall behind her and realized her ass was exposed from the hole in her dress. Kelly grabbed the back of her dress and reddened.

"Really, dear, what are we to do with you?" Angie asked. "I hope I don't encounter you living on the streets in ten years, like the other Mindless or a two bit sex worker. It would make me so sad, dear."

And as Kelly ran off, sobbing, she never forgot that night.

********

Of course, Angie did. After she graduated she got married to a four dimensional banker named Brad McGraw, and had a darling five year old son named Flynn. The first two years of Flynn's life had been difficult, as it would be for any new mother. The child was constantly squalling and squeezing a lot of wet, moist earthy excrement out of his anus at all hours of the night. It was a relief when he turned two years of age and slept through the night. So did Angie.

At least, she did, until about a week ago.

Suddenly, she found that she could no longer sleep. Oh, she could close her eyes, and time would pass, and it would seem like she was asleep, but when she got up she was as tired as she had been when she went to bed. Something was preventing her from sleeping soundly.

Something... or someone.

After a week of sleep deprivation, Angie looked into the mirror in her bathroom with bloodshot eyes. She was exhausted. "Why can't I sleep?" she cried.

Guilty feelings, perhaps?

"Who said that?" Angie said, looking around rapidly.

Kelly always loved it when she first made her presence known. Typically, she would "ghost" her next intended target for a few days, riding in their bodies without being detected, as the Three Laws intended, learning about the ins and outs of their lifestyle before making changes.

Once she made her presence known, her host would typically go through an array of reactions. The first would be rejection, which was understandable--who could easily believe that a ghost was riding around inside their body? The second would be disbelief, as they started to accept the fact but still resisted. The third was recognition--as they suddenly recalled who Kelly was. And the fourth was pleading or bargaining, or false attempts to be friends and to put the past behind them.

But Kelly Gray didn't want to put the past behind her. That's why she was here. Remember when you said that I would be one of the Mindless, roaming the streets? Well, we're going to see what it looks like when the same thing happens to you. I want you to open a link to your bank and transfer your entire account to the National Cat and Dog Association.

"No!" Angie cried. "Kelly, be reasonable. We have over two million dollars in the bank."

That could help a lot of cats and dogs.

"Without our account, how will we pay our bills? How will we pay our rent?"

I don't know. You might end up wandering on the streets, like the Mindless or a two bit sex worker.

"No, I won't do it!"

Only she did, two days later. Angie woke up that morning, after another night of non-sleep sleep. She had tried sleeping pills. She had tried everything. Nothing worked. "Please, Kelly. Please let me sleep. Just for an hour!"

Certainly. After you empty your bank account.

And so Angie, half awake, opened a link to the First National Bank of the World Government and set up the transfer. But her finger trembled over the holographic send button. "Please... please don't make me do this," she whispered.

You could be asleep in sixty seconds. I'll let you sleep all morning.

Angie cried out as she pressed the button. Then she literally dropped to the ground. She was snoring even as she hit the ground.

********

It took Brad two days to notice that their bank account had been emptied. He confronted Angie about it, with rage in his eyes. Angie, frightened, denied all knowledge of it, even after Brad did a trace, and found that her ID and holofingerprint had been used to make the transfer.

"It wasn't me, Brad, really! Our account must have been hacked!" she cried, trying to sound as outraged as he. Brad's eyes narrowed and he clenched his fist.

"What... what are we going to do?" Angie asked.

"What can we do? We'll be living from paycheck to paycheck for a while," Brad snapped.

Angie went to hug him, but Brad pushed her away. He really was blaming her for this.

Yes, I think he is.

********

"No, I won't do it," said Angie. "You want me to commit a hate crime on the holonet?"

It's only an opinion.

"A very sexist one. Do you know the kind of trouble it could get me in?"

Would I ask you to do it if I didn't?

"I won't. I won't do it," Angie declared.

But, after two more nights without sleep, she did.

Angie was sobbing as she posted the message on the holonet. She could never imagine writing such a hateful message. What she wrote was "Only women have vaginas."

The thought police came for her a day later.

*********

Her name was Margie Goldenfarb, and she was an Unsocial Worker attached to the local branch of the World Government's thought police. Thinking itself was not a crime per se (not yet, anyway), but actions motivated by impure thoughts were found to be aggravating circumstances.

Margie was very efficient and polite, interviewing Angie about her job and her situation before turning to the subject of the message she had posted on the Holonet.

"Margie, did you post this message on the Holonet at 9:24 AM yesterday?" Margie asked, showing an image of the message.

Angie winced with shame and embarrassment as she saw the message, in supersized letters:

ONLY WOMEN HAVE VAGINAS!!!!

Had she really added all those exclamation points? Somehow, that made it all the worse.

"Angie, did you write that?" Margie asked. She was so gentle, so kind, and yet somehow that made it all the worse.

Angie hung her head. "Yes."

"Do you realize how incredibly hurtful that is to men with vaginas?"

"I... I suppose so," said Angie. The World Government said that women could become men but even after becoming men, they still retained their vaginas.

"Do you realize how deeply you offended so many men?"

"I... I guess so."

"So why did post this hate speech, Angie?"

What could she say? "I... I don't know."

Angie and the thought police officers exchanged knowing glances. Angie would have given anything to know what they were planning.

"Please, I'm sorry! I did it without thinking. Forgive me, it will never happen again!" Angie cried.

Margie checked her Pad. "It says here you're a first offender. I think we can let you off with a warning and a self-criticism."

"A self criticism?"

"You must come to a struggle session, with other first-time offenders such as yourself, and denounce yourself to the crowd."

Angie grimaced. "All right." It could have been worse. At least Brad hadn't been home when they-

"And one more thing," said Margie. "Your husband and child must be there as well."

"What?" said Angie. "Why?"

"It's part of the therapy," said Margie. "You must admit your transgressions in front of your family."

"But my son... my son is only five years old."

Margie put a hand on Angie's shoulder. "It's never too young to learn about racism and genderism."

********

Explaining it to five year old Flynn was hard, but explaining it to Brad was even harder.

"Are you out of your mind?" Brad raged, clenching his fists. "Why, Angie, why did you do this?"

"I... I don't know," said Angie.

"Are you trying to embarrass me? Is this some kind of passive aggressive way of getting me to leave you?"

"No!" Angie cried, flying into his arms. She was trembling. "I never want you to leave me. Never!"

"I don't want to go to this, and I certainly don't want Flynn to see his mother humiliated like this!" said Brad.

"You have to go. Otherwise my apology won't be accepted," said Angie.

Explaining it to Flynn was only a tiny bit easier.

"Mommy has done a bad thing, Flynn."

"What bad thing did you do, Mommy?" The child's big blue eyes were so guileless.

"I... I said hurtful things about women who become men."

"Women can become men?" Flynn looked confused.

"That's right, they don't start teaching that until the First Grade, do they? Let's just say that Mommy said something hurtful, and has to apologize for it."

And so Angie stood in front of a circle of fellow offenders at the local World Government Community center and, with tears in her eyes, apologized for her vagaphobic comments. She didn't know what hurt her more, the confused look in Flynn's eyes, or the way Brad frowned, clenching his fists again and looking away, as if he were embarrassed to even be associated with her.

**********

But of course, that was not the end of things. Kelly made sure of that. She insisted that Angie post a second message on the Holonet, this one even worse than the first. Angie held out for three days and nights, but finally, with a pounding in her head from lack of sleep, she couldn't resist. She posted the message online, and waited for the inevitable consequences.

This time Angie was arrested in front of her husband and child. Her eyes were in tears as electrocuffs were snapped over her wrists, and her pants and panties were lowered so a government sanctioned anal monitor could be inserted into her ass cheeks, for her own protection.

"Daddy, what is that thing they put inside Mommy's-"

"Hush," said Brad, putting a hand over Flynn's eyes.

Angie, with tears in her eyes, was brought to the police station. Once there, a no-nonsense detective names Silwa interrogated her. "Ms. Fleming, did you post this message on the holonet?"

Angie looked at the message in big letters, all caps:

THE ICE AGES WERE REAL!!!!

"Yes," she whispered.

Agent Silwa sighed. "Why, Ms. Fleming?"

"I... I don't know."

"You realize that this is temperature hate speech, don't you? By perpetuating the myth of the ice ages, you're implying that there was radical temperature change even before industrialization, and that temperature change is caused by nature, not industry. You see that, don't you?"

"Yes." She shivered while cold blue eyes bored into her.

"This is the worst kind of temperature hate speech. What are we to do with you?"

What indeed?

********

Angie was given a governor, a small microchip in her head which analyzed every action she was about to take, and made her think about it, really think about it, before she did. It didn't prevent her from doing anything she wanted, not exactly, but if Angie was to feel the urge to say or write something anti-social again, the chip would cause a flashing message in her mind and say, "This thought has been deemed anti-social. Are you really sure you want to do this?"

Brad almost stopped speaking to her except in the most essential circumstances. The romance between them was dead. Flynn was informed that his mother was a serial thought offender. He stared at her now with an odd look in his eyes, as if he were looking at an unfamiliar bug.

Angie knew her marriage was on her last legs. And so when another bout of sleeplessness hit her, she cried out, "Please, please, not again!"

Brad rolled over in bed. "Who are you talking to?"

"No one," Angie cried.

"Are you taking your medication?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. She could see it in his eyes. Gone was the woman he had married. Now he was married to a... sick person.

Angie fled, sobbing, into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her. She slowly slid down onto the floor by the toilet. "Please, please, let me sleep."

You can sleep, Angie.

"I can?"

You can sleep, once you do one last thing.

And Kelly told her what she wanted.

"No. Oh no."

Yes .

********

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS? The sound of the governor in her head was different from the sound of Kelly's voice. Really different.

"Yes," said Angie firmly.

IT IS NOT ADVISED.

Angie didn't care. She was so sleep deprived that life simply wasn't worth living. She would do anything, anything at all to get some sleep. And so, fighting the resistance within her, she pressed the holographic SEND button.

The World Government police came for her an hour later.

********

This time there was no excusing what she did. It was a third offense, an offense committed while she wore a governor. Angie had posted an incredibly vicious, hateful message on the Holonet, the worst one of all:

PROTECT FREE SPEECH.

Margie Goldenfarb looked at Angie sadly. "Don't you realize how hateful that was? Don't you realize what a call to violence you were posting? Angie, you were encouraging people everywhere, across the world, to say whatever they wanted. That's like encouraging the massacre of millions. Do you know how much harm you caused?"

Angie didn't speak. She was beaten down.

"Angie, do you want to be helped?" Margie asked softly.

Angie nodded.

"I have just the place."

********

Angie was sent to a rehab commune in Berkeley, California. She got the notice of intent to divorce two days later from Brad's lawyer. He would take custody of Flynn, of course. When she recovered sufficiently, if she recovered sufficiently, she would be awarded visitation rights.

The rehab commune was actually a halfway house, with workshops and classes in the mornings and evenings. During the day Angie was free to roam the streets of Berkeley, which she did, often in a witless condition, from all the psychotropic drugs she was given. As she walked by a lamp post, a sharp edge cut into her shirt and ripped it open, along with a piece of her skin. She cried out, only semi-aware of what was happening to her.

Who's the mindless one now?

Angie heard the laughter, even as the glowing shape slowly oozed out of her body, flying higher and higher. Other people on the street saw it too, but since they were all high on Weed, they just pointed and laughed.

********

The Doctor, Alyssa, and Sophie were in a restaurant in Sacramento, California. They had been tracing leads, but so far come up with nothing. Alanna had been frustrated by their lack of progress, but the Doctor said, "I told you this is not an exact science. I'm used to tracking down ghouls in general. If you want me to successfully trace a specific ghoul, it's going to take time."

The waiter came by to take their order just as Alanna was formulating a response. "Are we ready to order?" he asked.

"I'd like a fair trade ecologically minded virtue vegan burger, please," said Alyssa Kleinberg, right after the Doctor ordered a steak. Sophie, catching his eye, had smiled and ordered a steak too. But when Alyssa ordered the vegan burger, the Doctor smirked and choked back a laugh.

Doctor, please be kind, said Alanna in his head.

"Does something amuse you, Doctor?" Alyssa asked, after the waiter had left.

"No, not at all," said the Doctor. He smiled, and Sophie laughed.

"What is it?" Alyssa asked.

The Doctor rubbed a hand through his curly hair. "Well, it's just... if vegetarians love vegetarian food so much, why do they so often order it in the shape of meat?"

"Society had been brainwashed to desire things that look and taste like meat. The World Government is working to fix that-"

"You mean, to do some brainwashing of its own," said the Doctor.

"Education," Alyssa corrected him. "Do you know how bad meat is for you, Doctor? More importantly, it's also bad for the environment. Eating meat is a leading cause of Temperature Change."

"Because before we ate meat, there was no temperature change, right?"

"99% of all scientists are in agreement that the world was a constant 72 degrees for three million years before-"

"Yes, yes, I've heard 99% of what 99% of scientists have allegedly said," said the Doctor. "I've also heard something different. I've heard that 85% of claims about 99% of scientists are usually fabricated."

Alyssa opened her mouth, then closed it again, wordlessly furious.

"Cat got your tongue, Miss Grossberg?"

The Doctor had been doing that repeatedly, making fun of Alyssa's last name, which was Kleinberg. He had called her Miss Iceberg and Miss Cloneberg and now Miss Grossberg. "I'm surprised that you, a fellow Jew of all people, are making fun of a Jewish last name," said Alyssa.

"Oh you think that, do you? That I'm making fun of your Jewish last name?" said the Doctor.

Doctor, what are you doing?

Educating your little friend.

"Yes, that's what you're doing," said Alyssa.

The Doctor put a finger to his temple. "Really? How far back does your name go, Miss Kleinberg? Hundreds of years?"

"Yes," said Alyssa.

"Maybe all the way back to the ancient Israelites, perhaps?"

"Perhaps!" said Alyssa.

The Doctor chuckled and shook his head.

"What?" Alyssa demanded.

"You're so ignorant."

"What do you mean?" Alyssa snapped.

The Doctor leaned forward. "The Ancient Israelites had no last names. That's why Moses was never called Moses Rosenberg or Moses Goldenfarb. He was simply Moses. Jews in ancient times were simply known by a single name, or so-and-so, son of so-and-so. They never had last names until the 18th century."

"Really?"

"Really. But the truly interesting part is how they acquired their last names," said the Doctor, with a cynical smile. "For many Jews of European descent, they forcibly had last names assigned to them by the Holy Roman Empire or their Prussian rulers."

"Assigned names?" said Alyssa.

"Something else you didn't know," said the Doctor. "The Jews weren't very popular in those times, so quite often they were given last names which were derogatory. Kleiner, Miss Kleinberg, means small in German, as in 'Miss Small Hill'."

"Well, that's not too... derogatory," said Alyssa.

"Really? Do you know anyone named Klein? Do you know anyone who would want to be called 'Mr. Small'? Or how about Nussbaum? Nussbaum in German means Mr. Nut Tree. Is that a flattering name, Ms. Small Hill?"

"No," said Alyssa.

"Wait, there's more! Mr. Spielsvogel means Mr. 'Bird that is hunted for sport'. Mr. Schmaltz means 'Mr. Animal Fat'. Mr. Stein means 'Mister Rock'. Mr. Baum means 'Mr. Tree'. Mr. Nimoy means 'Mr. Mute' or 'Mr. Speechless'. So you see, the name you have, the name you are so very proud of, was given to your ancestors as a practical joke several hundred years ago."

"Is this really true?" Alyssa asked.

"If the Doctor says it is, then it is," said Sophie, beaming at him.

"And what does Ren mean in German, Doctor?" Alyssa said.

"Ren? Ren means... 'changing my name so I wouldn't be a walking practical joke'," said the Doctor, giving her an icy stare.

Doctor, why are you being so mean to Alyssa?

I'm not being mean, I'm educating the poor girl.

This is about me, isn't it?

Is it?

You resent having me inside you. You can't take it out on me, so you're taking it out on her.

You're a force of nature. You can take what you want. I dislike you on general principles. But her, her I actually despise. She had a choice, and she gleefully gave her body over to you ghouls. I could never, ever respect someone like that.

As they sat and argued some more, Sophie felt like she was being watched. She casually turned her head and saw the waiter, standing against the wall, looking at her. He smiled at her. She smiled back.

********

Sophie was so beautiful. The person who had taken the form of the waiter admired her gorgeous features. She was young, attractive, with large breasts, especially for her young age. And her dark hair! It was so thick and luxurious. She was seated facing away from him, but the waiter preferred that, so she wouldn't notice him watching her. That thick, dark shoulder length hair! Who did that remind him of? It was so sexy.

And then she actually turned around and smiled at him! He felt excited, more excited than he had felt in a century. Even as she turned away again he imagined himself pressing against those lips, kissing her passionately, right before he slit her throat....

********

That evening, Sophie came to the Doctor's hotel room. "Can I speak to the Doctor in private?" She asked. But she wasn't talking to the Doctor.

Doctor, tell her I'm sorry, but I can't leave your body.

"The ghoul says no, I'm afraid," said the Doctor. "What is it, Sophie?" He sat down on the bed, and took off his black coat.

Sophie tentatively sat down on another part of the bed. "Nothing. I mean, we haven't really talked, since....."

"Since I got taken over by a monster?" The Doctor smiled.

I am not a monster!

"Yeah," said Sophie. "At first, I... I wasn't sure about you."

"Wasn't sure if it was really me doing the talking, you mean," said the Doctor, his eyes widening.

"Yeah," said Sophie, nodding. "I've... I've relied on you for so long, it's difficult to see you as an enemy."

"I hope you don't, Sophie," said the Doctor, wincing ever so slightly.

"No, I don't!" she said quickly, touching his arm. "I can see now that it really is you! So... she doesn't control you?" Concern was foremost in her eyes.

"Only when she wants to," said the Doctor. "Mostly, she's just an annoying voice in my head."

"Can you... can you tell her that you're very, very important to me, and that... I don't want anything to happen to you?" Sophie licked her lips and put her hands between her legs.

"I hear you Sophie."

Sophie looked startled to hear Alanna talking through the Doctor's mouth. She had heard it before, at the Isle of Man, but not so abruptly like now.

"I assure you that I will do nothing to harm the Doctor. I know how much he means to you."

Sophie nodded. She reached out and took the Doctor's hand, and squeezed it. Tears started to form in her eyes.

*********

After Sophie left, Alanna thought, She's a darling girl.

"Yes, she is," said the Doctor, as he started removing his clothes for bed. He took a box out of his pocket, opened it up, took two pills out, and swallowed them.

What was that?

"Nothing," said the Doctor, pulling back the blanket on the bed.

I'm sorry if I've caused her any distress.

The Doctor lay on the bed on his back. "She's always looked up to me. But now she views me as a monster."

She doesn't! She made a point of saying she doesn't!

"Which means that she does. For a woman, or at least a former woman, you know remarkably little about female psychology. You're too close to the problem, I suppose."

Maybe I am. Alanna paused for a long moment, as the Doctor closed his eyes.

A few moments later she said, Doctor, are you asleep?

The Doctor, his eyes still closed, said, "Not if you have anything to say about it."

I... I just want to let you know that I will do everything I can to make sure that you and Sophie stay together.

"How reassuring."

Doctor-

"Goodnight."

********

"It's just a little Weed, Kelly girl," Maggie grinned.

Maggie Grant seemed to be one of the few girls who was genuinely friendly to Kelly Gray at Wintergreen College. Kelly was grateful for that.

The only problem is that Maggie was a Weed head. She had gotten into Wintergreen on a World Government Weed scholarship, now that the study of narcotics was considered an academically rigorously major. But, of course, like most Weed majors, Maggie studied her curriculum by direct inhalation.

Kelly had tried Weed a few times and didn't like it. It made her sweaty and paranoid. Maggie kept nagging her to try some Weed with her. She said her Weed was different. It was high quality, only the best. Finally, Kelly gave in.

And so one day they were smoking it in the quad, laughing and giggling, when a campus security officer came up to them and demanded their Weed receipt. It was only after he glanced at it and frowned at them that Kelly realized they were in trouble.

Weed was perfectly legal. It was one of the many rights enshrined in the World Government Constitution, colloquially referred to as "the right to get stoned out of your mind". But that didn't mean that all narcotics were legalized. Weed was generally legal--but only Fair Trade Weed. As it turned out, the Weed Maggie and Kelly were smoking was Whitemarket Weed. That meant the Weed workers who harvested it weren't unionized, and probably didn't get a fair wage.

Maggie and Kelly were hauled before the Dean of Student Affairs. This could earn them a suspension, or worse. Maggie promised Kelly that she would take full responsibility. After all, it had been Maggie's Weed; she had just been sharing it with Kelly.

But when they appeared before the Dean, Maggie immediately pointed the finger at Kelly, and claimed the Weed was her idea. Kelly denied it, but she was so flustered and Maggie so calm and collected that the Dean believed her.

Kelly wasn't suspended, but she was put on Academic Probation for a year. Maggie gave a half hearted apology afterwards. "Sorry dear. But got to look out for Number One, you know?"

********

In the present day, Maggie was no longer a Weed addict. She had straightened out and snared Bill Collins, a medical researcher for the World Government. Bill had gotten a World Government grant to study angles of erections, the angles at which erect penises stuck out from men's bodies. There was a body of research which suggested that industrialization was having an adverse effect on penis angles. For 500 years before industrialization, erect penises had stood firm at a mere 20 degree angle from men's stomachs, but over the past two hundred years they had been drooping more and more, so the average was now 22 degrees. This was no laughing matter. It was estimated that an increase of a single degree of average penis angles over the course of the next century could cause a quarter of the male population to fail to achieve the angle necessary to achieve vaginal penetration.

Maggie also worked for the World Government, as a Healthy Breakfast Monitor. She was empowered to go into everyone's homes in the morning hour and make sure they were eating a healthy and nutritious breakfast. If they weren't, Maggie would conduct an impromptu teach-in and reeducate them.

When Kelly entered Maggie's body, Maggie went through the typical states of rejection, disbelief, and bargaining. When Kelly finally told her what she wanted, Maggie laughed. "I don't take Weed anymore."

I don't just want you to take Weed, Maggie. I want you to take Superweed.

"Superweed? That stuff is really strong!"

Yes, it is.

Maggie laughed. "No way, Jose!"

You have a charming husband. It would be a shame for something to happen to him.

"What do you mean?"

But Kelly fell silent.

Kelly was only a Lemure. She couldn't take control of a body like a Shade or a Fiend could. But she could influence people, and take control of individual muscles for a few brief seconds while the person was unaware of it. Kelly used that power that night at dinner.

Maggie had been rattled by her encounter with Kelly, and resolved to put it behind her. She made Bill's favorite dinner, Roast Beast. He smiled when he saw the plate of red meat. Maggie brought him a fork and knife, but as she put down the knife, her hand jerked, activating the force blade edge of it, and slashing against his hand.

"Ow! You cut me!" said Brad, grabbing the red line across his palm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry, it must have slipped!" Maggie cried, as Brad ran to the bathroom. He came back moments later, with a bandaged hand.

"Are you all right?"

He didn't answer, but just sat down and glared at her before he started eating.

It would be a shame if your hand slipped again, wouldn't it? It would be a shame if you accidently cut his throat while he was in bed tonight.

No! You can't make me do that! Maggie thought, as she watched Brad eat.

Can't I?

All right! I'll smoke your fucking weed tomorrow.

********

"What am I doing here?" Maggie thought. She was in Golden Gate Park, in downtown San Francisco. It had been years since she had bought Weed, and she had never used Superweed--she had always been too fearful of it. She didn't know where to get it around where she lived, in the Richmond District, so she had come to the drum circle in Golden Gate Park, where she knew it was always available. Superweed was technically illegal, but Golden Gate Park was a designated work free drug zone.

She saw some hippies banging drums in a circle.

"Hey babe," said one of them, a man wearing rose colored glasses and a v shaped beard that looked suspiciously like a vagina. "Wanna tote?"

It was as simple as that.

Maggie hesitantly sat down and started smoking. It was only Weed, she told herself. She had done it many times before. But with the first inhalation she felt a buzzing in her brain and the world changed around her. Suddenly, everything was so wonderful!

Maggie laughed and took another puff as she sprawled in the grass. The drum circle was beating constantly.

Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba. Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba.

In the center of the drum circle was an active holocomm, showing the latest news from the World Government. An attractive ambiguously gendered announcer told them that the World Government was launching a new initiative to end poverty, spending 40 billion credits around the world to finally slay the ills that troubled society.

As the announcer spoke, she realized how profound it was. She had always vaguely supported the World Government (after all, it was her employer), but she had never felt so enthusiastic about it as she was now. Now, under the influence of the Superweed, everything the World Government did seemed so astounding, so amazing!

The World Government was ending poverty!

Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba. Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba.

Maggie felt the most splendid buzzing in her head.

The World Government was emptying jails of righteous prisoners!

Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba. Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba.

"Oh, yeah, man," Maggie croaked in a crackly voice.

The World Government was working to eliminate all gender based distinctions on the entire planet... as well as Temperature Change... and bad moods during menstruation....

Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba. Ba, dabada ba, ba, dabada, ba.

It all seemed so wonderful to Maggie. So fantastic.

********

Maggie didn't get her hangover until the afternoon, when the effects wore off. She realized she had forgotten to even go to work, which didn't really matter, seeing as she worked for the World Government, her work wasn't closely monitored. The World Government was more concerned about giving people a feeling of being productive rather than actually getting stuff done.

As she woke up from a little nap, she heard a voice in her head.

So, how was it?

"Tripping!" Maggie croaked, grabbing her head. "But a little much."

You'll get used to it.

"What do you mean?"

I want you to smoke it every day.

"Every day? Until when?"

Until I say otherwise.

"No, Kelly, please-"

Or would you prefer to see something bad happen to Brad? I'd hate to see him wake up in the morning with a slit throat, wouldn't you?

And so Maggie got high on Superweed every day. Her job was to go to people's homes and check on what they were eating for breakfast. Maggie did it as high as a kite. From her perspective, she seemed to do her job as well as she normally did. What the people whose homes she invaded saw, however, was entirely different.

Anson and Jennifer Ford were sitting down for breakfast when they heard a loud, insistent knock at the door. They looked at each other.

"I wonder who that could be?" said Jennifer.

The banging out louder. "Let me in! LET ME IN!"

Jennifer hesitantly went to the door. She opened it to find Maggie, hunchbacked, with bloodshot eyes and wild hair.

"'bout time!" she mumbled, pushing past Jennifer into the dining room. "Watchu eatin?"

"What?" said Anson.

"I said, watchu eatin?" said Maggie. Was something wrong with their hearing?

"Who are you?" Anson asked.

"I with da World Gubment."

"What?" said Jennifer.

"The...." For some reason, Maggie's tongue wasn't working well. "Da World Gub-a-ment."

"The World Government. Oh. What can we do for you?" Anson asked. "Are you here to inspect our recreational narcotics supply? I assure you-"

"No, man!" said Maggie. "I gots to see what you eatin', man! Eatin with the foods!" she giggled. She grabbed the cereal box in front of Anson. "You eat Gender Man cereal?"

"Yes," said Anson.

"It's gooooood!" Maggie cackled hysterically. While she held up the box with one hand, she used the other to root experimentally through Anson's hair. "It's got all dem... words on it. But I shore dis gots da good stuff in it!"

********

Maggie woke up in bed hours later, only dimly aware of what had happened earlier. She got up and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a mess. "What have I become?" she croaked.

A drug addict, Maggie. But you're just getting started.

"What do you mean?"

Check in your pocket.

Maggie reached into her pocket. She found white pills there. "How did these get there? What are they?"

Virtue.

Maggie froze. "No!" She shook her head vigorously. "No, I'm not taking them!"

You are taking them, Maggie. You are taking them right now, or you're going to accidently stab Bill with a steak knife at dinner tonight. Swallow one of them right now!

Maggie cried out and wailed as she swallowed a pill, and shuddered as she felt it going down her throat.

Unlike Weed, Virtue was a wholly banned narcotic. It made one feel really good about their race or gender. It was the narcotic of choice for white men, who had been told for hundreds of years that they were racists and sexists. Upon swallowing it, they began to feel really, really good about their whiteness and to have racial pride, racial pride which, while wholesome for Black, Spanish, and Asian populations, was intensely racist for white people.

When Brad came home for dinner that night, he noticed something odd about Maggie. She was wearing a fancy dress and had a lot of makeup on.

"What's the special occasion?" he asked.

"No special occasion," said Maggie. "I'm just happy to welcome my gorgeous white husband to dinner!" And she gave him broad smiles as she served him Roast Beast. His favorite.

Brad found her smiles a bit unnerving. "Does my little girl need some loving?" he asked.

"You read my mind, my handsome white man!"

"Handsome white man? You've never called me that before," said Brad.

"But you are," she said, sitting on his lap and putting her arms around him. "My handsome white man. So white! So handsome! Heheheheheh...." She kissed him.

"Maggie, what's gotten into you?" Brad asked.

"Nothing yet, sugar. But I'm going to give you a chance after dinner." She giggled. "Put a baby in me, Brad."

Brad frowned. "I thought we talked about this. We agreed that a baby would help exacerbate Temperature Change. The World Government also says that children cause the Sun to rise earlier in the morning and set later in the evening."

"I don't care," said Maggie, kissing him. "Put a baby in me, white man. I want to expand the white race."

"The white race?" Brad recoiled in horror. "Maggie, we can't be talking about racial pride like this! What's gotten into you?" He gave her a hard stare. "Have you been hitting the weed again?"

"No, Sugar!" Not since this morning, anyway.

"Why... why don't you sleep it off? Tomorrow's Saturday. We can take a long walk, and talk about this."

*********

"No, please, Kelly. I'm begging you," Maggie said the following morning in the bathroom mirror.

Go look under Brad's pillow.

"What?"

Go now.

Maggie crept into the bedroom. Brad was still asleep. She gently reached under his pillow, and gasped.

There was a knife there.

Maggie returned to the bathroom, whimpering.

Now take your pill.

"Kelly, please-"

This is your last chance!

********

Brad's confidence in his wife returned, somewhat, as they walked through Golden Gate Park. She seemed normal now. Perhaps last night had been an aberration. They walked in the "civilized" part of the Park. Everyone knew that the wild, foresty western half of the park was the domain of muggers and drug addicts. Normal people with respectable jobs in the World Government only walked on the eastern side, around the De Jong Museum, which hosted the finest collection of three dimensional anal holoart in the world, and the Academy of Science, which features exhibit after exhibit showing how masculinity, capitalism, and the eating of beef was destroying the environment.

"Do you feel better now?" Brad asked, as they walked among a crowd of San Franciscans so diverse that Brad actually got a mild erection.

Maggie laughed. "I feel fine. It feels great to be white!"

Oh no. Not again! "Watch your voice," Brad hissed.

"Why? Did someone not hear me?" said Maggie. She raised her voice. "I LOVE BEING WHITE! I HAVE GREAT PRIDE IN MY WHITENESS!"

People stared staring at them in shock and surprise.

"Maggie, no!" said Brad.

"WHITE LIVES MATTER!" Maggie cried, throwing her arms up in the air. "BE PROUD OF EVERYTHING WHITE PEOPLE HAVE BROUGHT TO THE WORLD--THE AIRPLANE, SPLITTING THE ATOM, EVEN TOILET PAPER!"

The mouths of minority park goers dropped open. White people, on the other hand, were wincing and hanging their heads in shame.

Brad dragged her away, still screaming. It was lucky the thought police didn't patrol the park.