Flux

Flux

by

Paul S Edwards

Focus, Sarah, that's what the doctors kept saying. Yet, they didn't have to worry about the mother of all muscle spasms happening at a moment's notice.

The doctors didn't know what to make of it at first. There I was, a frightened five year old kid with a lump on my forehead the size of a fist. They said it was a tumour, but when it disappeared an hour later, another one appeared on my back. It was then that they knew.

Involuntary Molecular Displacement, they called it. That's shape shifting to you and me, though, regrettably, not the cool kind. I couldn't control it. Well, not yet anyway.

There had been instances of it happened before. It was rare, but the numbers were gradually increasing. Some put it down to an evolutionary step, others called it a mutation.

I was prescribed a drug called Flux, to help alleviate the spasm. For thirteen years I took the little blue pills, and then sometime after my eighteenth birthday the doctor gave me the news came that I was cured. No more tablets. No more spasms. No more teasing from kids who kept asking me to make my body change, like I was a sideshow performer. I was normal again. For a while at least.

Seven years later there was an incident. I clocked my reflection in the mirror one morning and noticed that my eyes had changed from baby blues to baby greens.

So, I was back at the surgery I thought I'd never have to visit again. It hadn't changed much in the years. Even the magazines were the same. The doctor not only confirmed that my IMD was back, but that it had evolved during the seven year hiatus. The question that needed to be addressed was why? I read somewhere that cancer sufferers can sometimes have a relapse after apparently beating their disease, but this wasn't cancer. The doctors could go to hell if they thought I was going to be taking Flux for the rest of my life. I needed to know if there was a way to control my disorder.

'There has been some initial research,' the doctor informed me, 'but it's still experimental, and the results have been ... inconclusive.'

'But it's a chance, right?' I replied.

I was referred to a place called Fareview, a converted school building with state of the art facilities and introduced to Professor Fenway, head of the programme.

'Here at Fareview, we intend not to cure, but control your condition.' Fenway told me.

'And if I can't control it?'

'Let's just concentrate on the positives, shall we?' He gave a rye smile.

The first weekend at Fareview was difficult. I always felt awkward sleeping in an unfamiliar place, even if it did have all mod cons.

There were three other patients at Fairview, though on the first weekend I only met two of them. Anna and Steve were in their teens, and both on Flux. Anna was, as yet, unable to have any control over her shape-shifting, while Steve had partial control. He could stretch his body, but couldn't return it back to normal, which explained why his left arm was slightly longer than his right one. The first proper session involved the usual awkward situation where we all talked about how we got here, which everyone goes through at least once in their life. This was followed by a one to one consultation with Fenway.

'What is it you want from Fareview, Miss Charles?' Fenway asked, from behind his office desk.

'Just a chance, I guess... to control this thing I have. Not wanting to be on Flux till I die.'

'Hopefully, when you leave here you'll be able to do almost anything with your ability. That's what we call it here. Not some disease or condition.'

'You mean I could change my eyes back to what they were,' I asked.

'As well as other things.'

The second day was when the real work began. I was in a lab, wired up to all sorts of apparatus. They gave me full physical examination, just to make sure I'm perfectly abnormal, before the tests and the tedium started. I knew they were trying to help, but I never wanted to hear the phrase Focus is the Key, again in my life.

They threw me right in at the deep end, wanting me to make a lump on my arm. I concentrated, staring at it, willing the lump to appear, but all I got was a head full of sweat. I felt such a disappointment, but Fenway said that it was ok. He never expected me to do it straight off the bat.

The second weekend was more of the same. Still a no show from the fourth patient. I started to think he or she didn't exist. We tried again with the whole concentration and focus thing, with no success. Fenway told me that I needed to relax. I'm too tense, he said. Though how I'm supposed to relax and focus at the same time seemed contradictory.

On the third weekend, I ask the question that's the foremost on my mind' Where's the other guy?'

His name was David. He was thirteen, and had been at Fareview at least a year. The reason he was never at the meetings was obvious from the moment I saw him. He was in a hospital bed, his body in a state of constant fluctuation. Lumps appeared and disappeared more times than I could care to count. Fenway later told me that David had been sedated because he kept screaming all the time. 'Have you ever heard the sound of your body growing,' he asked, 'it's a horrible sound.'

'Was he on Flux?' I asked.

'Yes. And like you he was believed cured for a while. And like you he had a relapse. The only difference is that the Flux doesn't work anymore for David. That's why we have to keep him like this.'

'Is there anything you can do for him?' I asked.

Fenway didn't speak, but the look on his face said it all.

Seeing David made me think. I needed to sort this thing out. I wasn't going to end up like that. Helpless, comatose, and better off dead.

On the fourth weekend something happened. As usual I was failing miserably, and was getting extremely frustrated and determined. Fenway watched my progress, and saw that something was amiss.

'Sarah, 'he said, 'it's been five hours. Take a break.'

'I'm fine.'

'Clearly your not,' Fenway replied.

'I said I'm fine!' I shouted.

Then I saw the look on his face. 'What is it?' I asked, my tone slightly calmer.

Fenway passed me a mirror. I looked at my reflection and saw my hair had changed to a rich red. It would have looked nice, except for the lump on the cheek. As soon as I saw it it disappeared. My hair had turned back to blonde as if it were a reflex action.

Fenway said it was a breakthrough. And I agreed with him. All it took was the sight of a messed up kid, and extreme frustration. I would have preferred progress to be a little easier, though. Fenway surmised that the key to controlling my ability was all psychological. It was my emotions that triggered the changes.

'We need to tap into that,' he told me, 'use it as a stepping stone to control.'

'Just promise me you'll not let me end up like David,' I pleaded.

'I can't do that Sarah. But I'll do my best to not let it happen.'

'That'll do, I guess.' It was hard not to feel slightly disappointed. But, hey, progress was progress, right?

Fenway decided that a new direction was necessary. He suggested changing to a less stressful approach.

'If the power is subconscious, we need to tap into that.' Fenway said, 'Relax, reach into your subconscious and...'

'Ok, I got it...' I interrupted. So I tried it. I held out my hand in front of my face, and relaxed. Breathing deeply, I looked at my hand and began visualising what I wanted to do, in my mind. After ten minutes nothing happened. Then I remembered David, and my mind was focused again. It took an hour, but then it happened. I watched as my fingernails grew an inch, all five of them. I heard a hard stretching sound as they grew. I stared at it in amazement.

'Cool,' I smiled.

'Congratulations, Miss Charles,' Fenway said, 'now the hard part. Can you change it back?'

I sighed, and stared at my hand again. I pictured it in my mind, and watched as I forced my nails to return to normal. I cried out as I felt them contract into my hands. God, it was agony, and was almost enough to put me off doing it again.

'How do you feel, Sarah,' Fenway asked, when we were back in his office.

'Ouch doesn't seem to cover it,' I said, scratching my recently altered hand.

'But it's still a step forward. And with continued development, the pain can be controlled.'

It did become less painful. And the more I tried to alter something, the easier it became. It was as if the body became more malleable from continued stretching, like putty, though not right away. One time I tried to gain a few inches in height, and ended up on crutches for a week. It took a few more attempts until the after effects became nothing more than a mild ache, which lasted a minute at the most. The things I could do now are incredible. For one, I've saved money on haircuts, and razors.

After six months of tests I was able to have full control of my ability. During my time at Fareview, when not honing my power, I was trying to help the other kids, or spending time sitting with David, who would be forever locked in a constant state of flux.

So what next for little old me? Well I got a job. Being the first IMD sufferer to gain complete control their ability I was a medical marvel. Fenway asked me to become a councillor. As someone who knew what the patients are going through, I was ideal for the post, he said. And as for the Flux, there's still a bottle of it in my bathroom cabinet, gathering dust. Well, you never know when it may come in handy