Explorations of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Reality

Bio-Lab--Alternative Centaurization Processes:

Ms. Dee's Centaurization Journal: April 25, 1998

Day 3 as a Centaur

WARNING: The following is for informational purposes only.

New Frontiers does not claim responsibility for the actions affecting Ms. Dee and others. Any claims that contradict this will be investigated by the legal staff.

WWWCentaur Board Posting # 1111

The following posting was made on April 25, 1998.

I'm tired and wired.

Last night at around nine o'clock I was in the barn with 'George,' 'Arnold' and 'Anita.' We were testing a possible disguise that would let me go out in public without people realizing that I'm a centaur. 'Myke' was elsewhere, getting the medical scanning equipment ready for the evening. We figured that the rest of the E-team would insist on a full examination the moment they learned of my current condition.

I was in full disguise when I heard the rumble of our pickup truck and the thump-rattle-clank of the horse trailer it pulled.

"Let's see if we can fool your wife," 'Anita' suggested.

"Sure," I agreed, wanting to postpone the inevitable.

"Let's go," 'Anita' said as she picked up her end of the box that hid my hindquarters.

I braced myself and picked up my end of the box. The two of us then struggled down the aisle toward the big double doors where the truck would be parked.

One of the doors opened and my wife came through at a run. "Hi love. Bye love," she said as she made a mad dash for the toilet.

"Let's rest," I said, dropping my end of the box and leaning back.

"It's about time," replied 'Anita.'

We were faking our exhaustion. While sturdy enough to lean and sit on, the box wasn't that heavy. It was part of an act to explain why I was walking so awkwardly. Equine legs in human boots aren't conducive to free flowing motion.

The double door opened again and my son cam through hauling a load of camping gear. "Hi Dad," he said as he went by on his way to the storage room.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"Pretty good," he replied. "We missed you though."

"I kept busy," I answered while he shoved the wooden box into its custom sized storage rack.

He made five more trips before my wife returned from the bathroom. He gave me a very sketchy overview of what happened in the foothills.

"How are you doing love?" my wife asked as my son headed back to the truck for another load.

"I'm surviving," I said. "Want a kiss?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied. (Pause for a minute and a half of lip lock.)

My son came by with another load of camping gear. "Somebody forgot to cap the syrup Mom," he said. "What should I do with the box?"

"Put it here," 'Anita' suggested, patting the box that covered my hindquarters.

"Thanks," my son said as he put the box down.

My wife stepped back so she could look at me without having to crane her neck back. "I like your outfit," she said. "Are you going to wear that tomorrow?"

"I'm thinking about it," I answered. "How do I look?"

"Good," she replied. "What's with the box?"

"We're practicing for when Misty becomes a centaur," 'Anita' offered. "If Misty's equine body is as small as 'George' predicts, we could hide it in a box like this. Let's show her how it works Misty."

I sighed and picked up my end of the box. "Imagine that my hindquarters are in this box and my forelegs are wearing boots," I began. "My partner and I act like we're putting a lot of effort into moving a box that is almost too heavy to move. We stagger a lot since my forelegs don't bend the right way to wear boots. We also make lots of thumping noises because the box is heavy and my rear hooves aren't quiet."

'Anita' and I demonstrated what I just described. The leaking food box my son put on my hindquarter box made the act even better. We had a reason to rattle the hindquarter box even more.

"I like it," my wife said. "But what are you going to do if a couple of hunks decide to help?"

"We'll have additional E-team members carrying other boxes that can be given to the volunteers," I explained. "Our people can then help with the big box while I rest my hind legs on a platform inside."

My son came by with a bulky bundle of sleeping bags. "It's starting to rain again," he said as he walked past.

"I better get busy," my wife said, heading back outside. My son followed a few moments later.

"That worked," commented 'Anita.'

"For now at least," I replied. "Let's go back to my stall."

"Let me put this box on the floor," 'Anita' said as she attempted to pick it up.

"It's heavy," I warned. "And watch out for..."

CRASH!

'Anita' shouted when the side of the wooden box opened up and the contents fell out.

'...the latch," I finished.

"I think I hurt something," she said, pain in her voice.

"Need some help?" I asked.

"I think s..." she began. Then she fainted.

I smelled the blood before I saw it. The body box got the first 'real world' quick release test as I ripped my way out of it and scrambled to 'Anita.' I screamed for help and knelt down to put pressure on the leg that was bleeding. It was awkward but necessary. I had a bad feeling that she had somehow nicked an artery.

'Arnold' and 'George' were the first to arrive. As a veterinarian, 'Arnold' was our second best medical doctor. He took one look at the situation and made a mad dash for his truck.

'George' turned green and ran for the house. I learned later that he called 911 before he fainted.

My wife was the third person to arrive. Her eyes widened when she saw me sprawled on the floor. Then she ran for the first aid kit we keep in the feed room.

(To make a long story short, we managed to save 'Anita' from a very nasty gash caused by an unsheathed knife in the kitchen box. One of the college students on KP duty hadn't followed the packing directions posted on the box. If he or she had, then only loose things like chocolate mix would have fallen out.)

I slipped away when 'Arnold' and my wife started working on 'Anita's' injury. Like 'George' I don't like the sight of blood. I was also worried that I might infect 'Anita' if the infection vector involved blood. And I didn't want to be seen by the EMTs.

When I turned the corner to the stable area I literally ran into my eldest daughter. Having four legs I was able to stay up. She, on the other hand, fell down.

"Sorry," I said.

"All right!" she replied, looking up at me. "When did it happen?"

"Wednesday," I admitted.

"Why didn't you contact us?" she asked as she scrambled back to her feet and stepped back to look at me.

"I couldn't get to a phone while I was changing and it seemed a shame to interrupt things after the changes were complete."

"You look cute," she commented. "Taller than Pearl."

There were noises at the far entrance of the stable area. My son and youngest daughter came in with the last of the horses. They appeared to be in a hurry.

"Look what happened to Dad," called my eldest daughter. She stepped back so they could see me.

"Oh how cute!" my youngest daughter said while she put one of the pack horses in her stall.

"Mom wants you and I to help her," my son said. "'Anita' is hurt bad and 'Arnold' is patching her up while the ambulance comes."

"I better get the gate," said my youngest daughter. She was the one that usually locked and unlocked it. She ran out the stable door.

Once my son and eldest daughter left, I went into the birthing stall where we had set up my computer. There I waited for the excitement to die down.

A short while after the ambulance left my wife entered the birthing stall.

"How's 'Anita' ?" I asked.

"Conscious and disappointed that she won't be able to participate in the testing," my wife answered. "The EMTs think she'll pull through."

"Good," I said, sighing.

She sighed too. It was now the moment of truth.

"When and how did it happen?" she asked.

I gave her the abbreviated version of the story. To her credit, she listened without making any comments.

"How do you feel?" she asked when I finished.

"Uncoordinated," I replied. I then described what I could and couldn't do. To lighten things up, I told her about my 'mud-monster' experience.

"Does Arnold have the tapes here?" she asked, obviously interested.

"He should," I said, hoping that I could divert her. "We could check if he hasn't left."

"He's still here," my wife said. "I think he's checking on 'George.'"

"Shall we go?" I asked.

"Okay," she said, turning to head out of the stall. "But I have one minor question."

"What?" I asked.

"Why didn't you contact us as soon as you realized you were changing?"

More than a little embarrassed, I explained that I had only been carrying a cell phone when I went into convulsions. The water proof pager and the emergency beeper I had insisted on buying had been left in the house when I went to feed the 'zoo.' When I fell, Murphy's Law determined that the cell phone would be broken and shorted out.

She sighed but generously didn't make any comments about my mental lapse.

We walked hand-in-hand to the house.

A couple of hours later the rest of the E-team and my family escorted me to where I could be scanned and tested. The body box worked fine.

I think that things will work out now.

Ms. Dee

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