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Drawn In

Part 8

During the walk, Candace recounted her plans for the summer. I'd heard them before. There was an "anime" convention in the bottom part of the state. The old sort more than the new sort. "Anime" in the East declined for a time, despite the fact it was where conversion was first seen. In fact, a teen girl living in a ward of Tokyo was the very first, noted case of conversion. Numerous marriage proposals and proposals of other types followed soon after before more cases emerged and she was considered old news.

As for "anime", it rose again when the "live-acted" shows began to appear on TV. However, there were still plenty of purists who didn't consider it "real" anime unless it was actually drawn. Such were the kind of debates that coiled around the fandom. I'd only ever been to one convention and it was early-conversion-era with a friend much more into it than I was. But I could tell that Candace would be a hit. All converted visitors (especially the female ones) were. They didn't even need to cosplay (although many often did, with far more accuracy than could be imagined at any time before).

Candace went on about all the characters she'd considered. I knew most of them she'd just seen in passing and liked because they had red hair like hers. Aunt Karen was willing to make an outfit for free so long as it didn't involve anything too complicated. Of course, Aunt Karen made her own costumes for conventions of all sorts. She's what some call "converted-at-heart", "dream-to-be-two-dee", or by slang "2B2D" in that she pines for the day her hand may start to change style.

She asked for every new photo of mom she could get, like she's collecting screencaps. She begged Candace to send photos and especially pleaded with dad if he could send a capture of a stoic pose or two (he usually only sent them for the holidays). Some consider it strange. I reflected on that, as I noticed there was a non-human awkwardly trying to sit at one of the food court benches. Specifically, a small, lavender unicorn.

I'd seen one before. But it'd been a while since I'd seen one in 'person'. They had a simplified artistic style with sharp lines like my mother's, only these lines were tinted deep lavender. It had huge, light green eyes with massive pupils which rivaled the kind most normal converted received aside from the "Chibis".

It always surprised me that, despite their eyes, most converted see about the same as they did before. Some have said they can see more sharply or like a cat at night but the science is inconclusive. I noticed the unicorn shielded her eyes from a passing ray of light with a lavender hoof. Her mane and tail were a honeybee-like combination of light and dark yellow. The mane looked like a blond, curled hairstyle I'd seen somewhere before and her tail matched with a two-tone, half-arch dangling out the back of the chair. She noticed I was watching and gave a thick-lined smile and black arch of her eyes. I honestly couldn't imagine anything darn cuter.

Candace had to stop and say hi. She quickly learned the unicorn's name was Rachel but she was thinking of changing it. She'd converted a couple months ago. The normal girl sitting across from her was a helper the state provided, since having horse hooves makes many tasks much harder and her horn was just aesthetic. I noticed that most people did stop to take a look at her. I asked her about it, "Do you mind that?"

Rachel gave a little shrug and remarked, "I don't mind. Someone did try to ride me once and that was so not cool. I actually get asked to take photos with people. It was kinda weird at first because I was not anyone famous before in the least. I miss the convenience of hands but nothing I can do about that."

I had a question in my head but Allison, her fingers clenching her bags, asked it first.

"Was this something you wanted?"

Rachel shifted her mouth line but her blush told enough. She explained, "Well, you see there used to be this show…You remember it?" She gave some details. To Candace's surprise, I nodded.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

She continued, "Anyway, just….ugh…it's hard to explain. But it just seemed like a purer, better world. I've always felt that way about animation. It can be the best of what it means to be human. To recreate and change the world, you know?"

We bid her a good day after we got her permission to brush her mane and tail. The girls even got a few pictures on their phones. I insisted we sit far enough away to give her some privacy.

As soon as we were away, I noticed someone else approaching Rachel. I couldn't even imagine a life like that. It occurred to me then that I should probably check how things might've changed since we left the store. I knew that the clothes I was wearing fit comfortably all over. I was almost down to Candace's height, a fact I made pains not to point out to her. I sat down quickly at the nearest seat. The smoothie place was just a few lots away.

Candace gave me a look. I stayed where I was and began sifting through my bags. She sighed and asked what I wanted.

"Just their regular juice blend."

She eyed me again. I tried to look really concerned about other things. She wasn't buying it. I guess my poker face was never all that good either and likely to get worse in the end. She took a step towards me, tapped me on the shoulder, and asked, "Could you stand up?"

Taking as much time as I could to set my bag back down, turn towards her, give a quick nod, and then slowly rise from my seat, I looked her in the eye. Candace smirked and held her hand between the top of my head and the top of hers. She didn't need to lift it that much. Allison gave a gasp.

One of the odder speculations for the conversion postulates that it accelerates when it isn't being witnessed, like an odd sort of big-scale quantum state. I tend to favor it's simply the idea of the watched pot. But it did seem to shift a lot while I was focused on far away conventions and imaginary, equine-filled lands.

Looking over at Allison, I wondered if soon I'd be looking up at her. I tried not to entertain the thought, despite the fact I rationally knew that it would have no connection with how I ended up. There were plenty of impromptu studies of people trying to focus on a particular color of hair or a shape to universally end up with something else. No, what waited for me was probably already decided and all that was left was to, metaphorically and literally, color it in.

I joined the girls over at the smoothie place and made my order. I sipped slowly and glanced around the food court. Aside from Rachel, there was only one other convert aside from Allison and Candace. He was standing at the back of the line at a Greek place. Everyone else in the line gave him a wide berth. I could understand why. His art style was intimidating.

It looked like something from a gothic or noir indie comic I'd seen once. His shading was deep, draped across his brow. Compared to the more wide-eyed styles you usually saw, he had narrow, slit-like eyes that looked almost blank until he turned in your direction. Oddly-enough the size of his eyes was practically "normal" by usual measure. His black hair was an unkempt, jagged shape atop the fault-like aspects of his face. Black shading traced his red shirt and liquid-black pants. He had the pen strikes of stubble.

I alternated between watching him and keeping watch over my pot as Candace and Allison made their orders. I felt sorry for him. That wasn't the most touchy-feely art style to wear for the rest of your life. But he didn't appear sad. The style lent itself to an inherent sense of brooding but he held his head high as he scanned the area.

Then, someone called out to him. I saw an unconverted woman, with hair almost as black as his and wearing a radiant, green dress, wave at him. They embraced and she held him close. The crowd gave them extra space, especially as his touch spread to her. Little dabs of his style brushed against her as they kissed. I looked away and returned my attention all to myself.

I'd probably have to roll the cuffs up soon. They were draped across my shoes and my shoes slipped more as I walked back to our table.