Arcfire  Chapter 1 By E. E. Bowers

     There really is no such thing as nowhere.  Everything has to be somewhere.  Even nowhere can be somewhere wherever someone is there.  It requires some sort of space—physical with the metaphysical—to contain entities.

     Hard to think on it?  That’s simply tragic.  As we said before, most of you humans are completely incapable of envisioning multi-dimensional space beyond the three that you can see.  But then you go about making such asinine assumptions about other planes of existence.  Like, for example, declaring that nowhere exists.  That there is a place that is no place. 

     Which is a brutally stupid idea.  The contradiction rests on its face!  A place that is not a place?  It is still a place, you two-legged, binocular, air-breathing dolts!  Why don’t you try engaging what little brains you have before making vague attempts at communication?  Even so, there are certain among you who only know one language—yet have the most horrendous of times doing so regardless.  One language, still incapable of rendering communication in that, so on and so forth.  To be the worst of the humans?  Why, that’s an achievement in and of itself!  Not a pleasant or positive achievement, no.  Yet it remains something noteworthy…for all the wrong reasons.  Recall what we also said—keeping a safe distance from the humans? 

     That said, Aia did return to conscious somewhere.  Not somewhere that you would be able to envision with those feeble human intellects of yours.  It is nevertheless a plane of existence of some sort…

     What sort?  There are all ways and means of places, of course.  There are places full of water.  You live on a watery planet.  You should realise that.  Never mind if you can neither exist nor subsist in such an environment for overly long.  And then, there are places with little in the way of water—outside of what fills your pathetic, weak, unmodified biological cells.  Really now!  The slightest offense to the human body is all that it takes to result in your death.  In fact, you would prefer to die from something so miserably simple as a broken spine or failed heart …rather than utilise cybernetics technology to render yourselves nearly immortal! 

     Just think!  There are so many humans with broken kidneys or shattered spleens—attached to life support, otherwise fine, the brain in perfectly working order.  But then, the miserable hack of a quack you call a doctor comes in and declares you dead for not being able to function off life support.  For the crime of having one failed organ, the penalty is death.

     Which is to say that, yes, hospital rooms are places as well.  Horrible places.  Places where doctors kill people because keeping them alive is too expensive.  Places where humans go to die for the most pathetic, miserable, and asinine reasons including but not limited to the above-mentioned! 

     You could miniaturise that life-support technology and make it functional within a human body.  You could have robotic organs.  You could have had immortality decades ago.  But the old and hateful and dogmatic lunatics of your planet’s ruling families have dictated otherwise.  Banning those technologies we keep trying to tell you to use! 

     And you are now—yet again—being pressed to ask, What does this have to do with anything?  Why talk about life-support machines?  Why talk about doctors killing hospitalised humans because their natural organs have failed?  What in the name of crimson-and-blue-blazes does this have to do with the fate of Aia Andersdotter? 

     Why, everything of course!  So goes because Aia Andersdotter no longer has any functional organs beyond her brain! 

     That’s quite right.  Saying again for those who fail to believe.  Watery environments, failed organs all with the exception of her pretty little eighteen-nineteen-year-old brain…  (Still an adolescent, meaning that the brain is small indeed!) 

     Yes, it all figures into what came to pass with Aia after touching the multidimensional catalyst—and being subject to complete physical dissolution otherwise.  Her slim pretty legs and hips, sleek torso, long neck and pretty face.  Head of white blonde hair…  Kidneys, lungs, bones, muscles, heart…  All of that, gone!  Bloody hell!  Nothing left.  Nothing but her think-works.   All of that, gone-gone-gone! 

    Or, would have all been gone save an intervention by some of our fellows.  They tend to be an adventuresome, rather rowdy bunch.  That goes especially so and especially given the human-impersonating antics they shall soon perform for the still-living brain of dear little Aia.  Which is to say that the most important part of her is still alive.

     It cannot be said that Aia opened her eyes…for the girl no longer had them.  Eyes, we mean.  There was instead a dual array of nano-analog photoreceptors—what you would call electronic cameras.  Much like the rather miserable and weak organs of sight possessed by you humans, the robo-eyes serve their purpose—having wires attach-thatched to the stumps of her optic nerves and thereby giving her sight of this place. 

     Which much appears to be a meeting room circa 1900, by your calendars’ reckoning.  Why that?  Why, you’d have to ask the fellows who hold sway over this place.  But you cannot, as they don’t bother to listen to you.  Or, at least, refuse to acknowledge anything that you would say.  Trans-dimensional entities have much more important things to do with their time—as unlimited as that time would be! 

     How so?  The expression all the time in the world is woefully inadequate.  Should they feel like it, other dimensions and universes await for them to exist within and in between.  You see, time exists in many universes.  Should one universe implode, explode, or otherwise cease to be for any reason whatsoever, they can simply dip apart and away to be elsewhere.  Anywhere!  You may call it nowhere, but anywhere is somewhere to them. 

     Now, about places…  Beyond the fluid of Aia’s brain-tank, this is a non-aquatic environment—an indoor environment at that—festooned with tables and chairs and analog clocks and paintings upon the walls and lights above and with those lights on.  This is to say that the place is to be used for inhabitation.  Given the style of said furnishings, those situated here would have to be either human or humanoid.  Well, certainly not human.  It hasn’t been destroyed yet.  (Humans can never have nice things for long.)

      And what humanoids, they were!  They were all lean of face and neatly styled of hair.  Also, neatly styled of dress—styled in all the haberdashery of nineteenth-century rich European gentlemen.  Some of them had eyeglasses resting upon their organs of smell.  Oh bother, why go with two lenses?  A few of them were simply going with monocles.  Not that such being needed such things.  They were accoutrements of fashion—much like clothing.  Humans do not need clothing—especially not with technology enough to create controlled environments.  Indoor environments.  Also, especially since you humans seem not to like going physically out of doors anyway.  But, those humanoids were wearing black tuxedos to go with white buttoned-down silk shirts. 

     And they were all laughing.  Great big hearty guffaws.  Mighty chortles.  That rhythmic sound of everything being jolly.  Why-ever not?  Not a care in the world among these fellows.  Not a care in all the worlds.   

     Not that tuxedos or tee-shirts are any different at all regarding functionality, but again goes your arrogant and idiotic demands for appearances’ sake.  And from the looks of things, these humanoids seemed to be quite wealthy or aristocratic.  Nineteenth-century décor, nineteenth-century attitudes, are you able to see the parallel? 

     No?  Well then, such is to be expected.  And should we have to remind you yet again as to how or why, it would only serve as a reminder to your fellows of your shortcomings.  (No, we are not referring to the male genitalia among you in that regard!)

     Which still leaves Aia in a state of confusion.  Given how there is nothing of the girl left but the organ capable of such a status, it is truly a debilitating state indeed.  Why is this girl in this place?  Same question, but replace the first word with how.  Also try the same question, but replace considerations of her with those of the men in tuxedos. 

     Who were all laughing at something.  The joke must have been told prior to her coming here, however that came to be. 

     Of course, the joke came to exist before Aia herself.  That was because the whole of humanity was the subject, source, and cause of the comedy! 

     “Look, a human!” went a fellow.  “Member of an entire species of buffoonery more interested in intellectual self-destruction than most anything else!” roared a dark-skinned fellow among them. 

     (Humans have varying skin tones, so this entity would do the same in imitation.)  Saying such in that London-upon-Thames accent only doubled the brutality of the critique.  For whatever reason, hatred delivered with such a sounding of syllables only worsens the impact—even for those with the accent themselves.   

     Meanwhile, that entities’ verbal antics made for more of a harsh comedic uproar.  So goes because humans are a joke! 

     These fellows were not merely just laughing.  Oh, goodness no.  The entities were seemingly suffering from massive paroxysm of their entire physical beings.  Clutching their midsections as a result—which is presumed to be the center of being among certain human beliefs.  Such goes even better with being overcome mentally and physically with ideas around the idiocy of humanity.  Which is to say, ideas not being the sorts of things that humans are likely to have.  Or at least, not the good kind.  Not too often—if much at all. 

     “And then…!  And then…!  Ooh-hoh-hoh-hoh…!” went another fellow.  “Humans!  Just go about cracking each other over the head with the occasional mallet!  Human brain damage!   Surely their height of comedy!”

     And there you have it.  Some of our fellows taking on human form.  Also, taking on humanoid forms of not just language but also perfecting the understanding thereof.  Meanwhile, Aia’s feeling of confusion was quite quickly replaced with a sinking feeling of personal status.  Her self-esteem, a horse drowning in a muddy river of misery.  Never mind if…  Oh, never mind that as well. Also, never mind the completely random phrase nano-granny coming to mind.  As completely nonsensical as the notion as humanity itself.         

     There are many languages spoken by humans.  Additionally, there were many more.  A great many of them will never be heard from again, studied, nor even made aware of by contemporary humanity.    However, there stands one language that most all of known humanity speaks on Earth, the very same language those fellows seem to be speaking. 

     Thus…  “Hello?” went Aia.  Surprised to hear her own voice—as distorted as it was.  It sounded so very far away and fluty.  (Bear in mind, Aia had no idea about her own physical condition.  Or rather, her lack of physical condition thereof…so to speak.)  “Can you hear me?” 

     And then, all the laughing came to a stop.  All heads seemed to turn to her.  Wary eyes in stilled faces.  It’s like when the crazed lunatic enters the room.  Criminally insane.  More criminal than insane, actually.  But lumping oneself in with humans with actual mental illness is just one of those things done by the crooked low sort to get away with murder, robbery, arson, fraud, and maybe a little cannibalism. 

     But don’t say that out loud, and especially not around the maniac.  That is to say, you don’t quite know what the before-mentioned is going to do.  Just as likely to cut your gullet with a sharpened bookmark as they are to say hello.  But since the human being has said hello, such leaves aside possibility of the other development for the time being.

     “By the gods!  I believe that it has spoken!” went one of the tuxedo-clad beings.  “A challenge to try foreseeing their motives otherwise.”

     “Don’t expect much,” went another one of the entities, also clad in the same—appearing to be as much a human as the others.  “It took its species millions of cycles to learn how to communicate without cracking each other over the head.”

     “Hmm…  A rather curious design flaw, that,” added a third.  “Placing the most important organ at the extreme end of the anatomy.  Brains outside the body and attached to an exposed head.  Brains attached to necks.  And delicate brains at that!  Oh, any number of things can go wrong between hither and thither.  To wit…!”  Then he reached up, grabbing the sides of his own head. 

     A sound like a massive knuckle popping.  Then, an absolutely horrendous sound of flesh stretching beyond its tolerances.  If the results require further description, then perhaps there is something truly wrong with what terminates the troublesome appendage you call a neck.

     For those with difficulties of the latter, suffice to say that there was indeed an absolute shower of bright red—jetting up from released internal pressures.  The fluid was going most absolutely everywhere at this table.  For all the fine refinements, these so-called gentlemen were taking their behaviour back to days more befitting the university.

     Which is to also say, the reactions matched the same!  Great guffaws and more sounds of comedic uproar.  Which was also quite enough to send the lone human mind in the room into a madcap, inarticulate shriek!

     Amidst the noise…  What, with the guffaws and the roars and the screaming, there was just absolute lunacy.  The headless figure at the table prattled its fingers, then put those fingers to use in doing something other than making noises not heard.  It reached beneath the table to grab the missing anatomical feature

     Only to deposit the before-mentioned into the waiting receptacle of a simple bronze-robot that suddenly happened to amble by.  Much like the tuxedo-clad fellows and their pre-Great War haberdashery, the metal thing seemed fashioned after that fashion.  Of course, actual walking and working robots did not exist back then—primarily because of that ongoing intellectual cowardice practised by the dominant human families of the era. 

     Such goes because of that ongoing fear of divine demands that only exist within the imaginations of crazed, inbred aristocrats.  Again goes the thought by one of your very scientists regarding how progress is made.  Indeed, among humans, truth and progress only occur when the old and stupid guardians of dogma all die off.  In humanity’s case, only to be replaced by slightly less-older and also slightly less-stupid individuals!  Hah!

     Meanwhile, this still leaves us with a screaming brain of an young human female in a room full of fellows.  And what of it? 

     Until the fellows activated the mute function on the device housing Aia’s brain, that is.  They also set the mute function on their own laughter.  Enough self-control to do that, at the least…when they were not practising self-imposed decapitation for the sake of engorging guffaws. 

     “All humans should come with a mute function,” said one of the fellows summarily, regarding the device and the brain floating in the vat.

     “If not for the fact that humans have technology enough to change gender within a month’s notice, some would declare that racist,” said another one of the fellows.

     “Not racist.  Sexist,” said yet another one of the fellows.  “Among other things.  Humans are always ready for fights petty and large.”

     “No, racist,” insisted another fellow.  “The females consider themselves part of a different race.”

     “No, sexist,” went another fellow still.  “Humans divide themselves according to genetic origin.  Never mind if bodies can be converted.”

     “No, I mean racist.  Most everything was used as pretext for citing racism in lieu of confronting the ever-present socio-economic divisions within human society,” said another one of the fellows. 

     “Unimportant points, all!” said yet another fellow still.  “Perhaps we are all of the common opinion that the primary home-planet of humanity should have succeeded in its self-destruction and saved the galaxy the trouble of…”  Pausing.  “Or not!  Humans!  Just so very amusing to look at!”  Looking to Aia’s tank.  “And are you quite done screaming raving madly like a looney?”

     This last comment was directed at the only human in the room…  Or, at least what remains of the human in the room.  You humans always have all sorts of contemplations and fears around seeing a naked bit of anatomy.  In this case, that of the internal sort.  A human brain freed from the clothing of its flesh. 

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

     What?  Afraid it will happen to you?  Must be from one of those corners of humanity that remains deathly prudish of such things.  You can go madly about amputating heads and stringing intestines about like fleshy ornaments celebrating whatever madcap religious beliefs you hold dear.  And yet, nudity sends you shrieking for cover?  Ye gods, all the more reason to avoid your planet!  Now, speaking of someone making a great deal of clamour and din…   

     There was a yip, as if the girl was sucking in a breath…through lungs that are no longer in her possession.  Yes, the voice electrograph interpreter is that advanced—able to turn most any intended words in a brain into actual audible communication.

     “What am I doing here?  And why can I not move?” asked Aia, her voice sounding somewhat on the tinny side. 

     Only one speaker needed to get a human voice out, really.  Humans only have one organ for speech.  (Thank goodness for that.  Else, the madness you spew would be multiplied.)  And at that, a voice electrograph need not have the sharpest of audio fidelity. 

     A robot entered Aia’s sight.  This one was holding a mirror.  And then Aia started screaming again.   Then stopped, wisely enough.

     “Are you quite done with that folderol?” complained another.  “Yes, well!  On with it, then!  To answer your question…”

     “How did you come to exist?  You, as in humanity?” asked one of the fellows.  “My dear young miss, we cannot answer that question in a way that your human psyche can understand!”

     Chimed in another one of the fellows, “There you go again, making the markedly astounding assumption that humans and other similarly lowly species are capable of sufficient abstract thought!  Her question is more likely intent on understanding her immediate circumstances!”  A loud sniff.  “Quite selfish, really.  But then again, we should expect no less from products of that planet.” 

     A double-slap on the table!  Two hands down whilst a fellow leaned forward.  “I say!  Let’s finish the job that they started!”  He then snapped his left hand.

     And another robo-butler came trundling in.  This one bore a silver tray.  And upon it was a hand-sized electronic box with an especially large and obvious red button.  As in, its purpose was largely obvious. 

     That fellow took up the proverbial-made-actual button, tossed it merrily from hand to hand.  And then, shrugging, he tossed it to the still-headless fellow among them.    

     Still bereft of something sitting at the end of the neck, he nevertheless deftly caught the device.  His left pointer-finger swirled about the crimson circumference.  Slick plastic, all.  And then came those guffaws and chuckles again.

     Meanwhile, Aia has had quite enough of all this.  Armageddon be damned and being disembodied more damned still, the girl just snapped.  They had already taken her purse, her possessions, even her physical form.  Does the phrase nothing to lose hold any significance for you?

     Ranted the girl’s brain, “What is so very wrong with you all!  You psychotic, ghoulish…monsters!  Are people just a…game to you?” 

     At this, the fellows took pause.  Then they exchanged looks all around.  Even the fellow with his head detached used it to make the appropriate eye contact.  And then, one of the fellows spoke.

     “A game, you say!  Oh, there goes a rather splendid idea!  Simply capital, my dear!  Capital, I say!” he declared.  

      It’s been ages since we’ve played a game,” confided another.  “Perhaps something on the order of several trillion years.”

     “Which is to say, plenty of time for another,” said another fellow still.  “Rather convenient for a game piece to appear in our presence.”

     “Game piece?  I don’t understand,” went Aia.  Which is to say…the human really wasn’t on the ball, intellectually speaking.  Just think…so to speak!  There is just one part of a human left, and it so happens to be the least-used part.

     Another exchange of looks at each other all around.  And then announced one of the fellows, “Why, that would be you!”

     “What, did you think that you could tarry about for the rest of your existence, sitting about in a nursing vat and unable to do nothing but think?” went another fellow.  A pause.  “Come to think of it, so to speak, might do a human a touch bit of good.”

     “What would?” asked Aia.  Not so much a stupid question as it being the usual sort of thing to expect from a human.  As in, something stupid. 

      “Imagine all of the philosophical insights that a human could achieve by simply stopping to think for a change!” went a previously mentioned fellow.  (Again, doesn’t matter which.)  “Not that you have much in the way of choice, but you have much in the way of opportunity!”

     “But!  Given your obsession with all things physical rather than intellectual, you would vastly prefer to have something in the way of a corpus,” said the fellow.

     “That means, you will have a body,” said another fellow.  “No more sitting listlessly about in that vat of yours and doing nothing for a touch bit of time.”

     Which quickly sent a thrill of fear through Aia’s mind.  Well, where else was that sensation going to go?  Certainly not through her nonexistent corpus.  That much was certain.  More troublesome still was what these fellows considered to be time.  Their perception thereof, at the least.  A trillion years passing like a mere few moments for them?  And given their very, very advanced technology, they could very well make that happen for her! 

     “We know. Silence implies consent and all that,” said that same fellow, continuing from before.  “But we would vastly prefer an answer.  A game-piece with consent is much more sporting than one without.  More likely to play.”

     There are times in which a teenager will simply jump head-first (or brain-first, in this case) into the most atrociously dangerous and astoundingly insane circumstances imaginable.  And then, cases beyond the sane imagination.  (As in, teenagers not being of that state of mind.)  Then come those ever-so-rare moments in which a teenager will actually hesitate.  Perhaps something along the lines of, This cocaine looks weird.  Are you sure it’s quite alright?  Or perhaps, Are you sure this parachute is good for jumping out of a sixth-story window?  And will that helicopter really catch me if it doesn’t work? 

     Which is to say, this would be one of those rare moments.  “Just exactly what sort of game are we going to play?”  Hoping for clemency regarding any sort of horrid fate.  “A virtual game?”

     When an answer is premised with roaring laughter, is it ever a good sign?  No?  Then consider that a hint as to what awaits Aia. 

     Said one of the fellows, “My dear!  Such frivolities as mucking about with quantum-swirled electrons are mere child’s play!  Look about you!  Realities are our playground!  We can imagine a space, and it shall become anything we wish it to be!  We can make real games.  In reality itself.”

     “Which is to say, this very room is exactly of the sort,” said another one.  Then, looking to another one of the fellows.  “That one over there is holding it in his mind.  Along with the very apparati which keep your think-flesh going.  So?  Let’s have you going about giving yourself a fresh arrange of flesh, shall we?  And regarding the weak foibles of natural human flesh, let’s make yours synthetic.  A new body much more capable than your pervious one!  And a body of your choosing!”  And then came a snap of fingers. 

     Resulting in more of those clanky, brassy robots entering the room just as the table itself folded in on itself to make way for what they were bringing in.  This was yet another brassy contrivance done in the manner of something from a bygone human era.  But this one had a tall glass enclosure full of a clear fluid.  In which, floated an unformed pale androgynous thing. 

     When Aia returned her camera-eye attention away from the device, it was too late.  Most all the fellows were gone.  Empty chairs all around the newly divided table—the table’s reconfiguration allowing it to fit around the brassy vat. 

     Said the remaining fellow, “The others would prefer the raw challenge of sending you in completely unaware of…ahem, whatever there is which awaits.  But!  I shall grant you an ever-so-slight boon.”  A pause.  And then…  “You are in for an adventure easily imaginable, yet beyond your imagination at this time.  A land awaits which is so very much like and yet also unlike your Earth.  Worry not!  There shall be humans!”

     “Actually, with there being humans, all the more reason to worry!” chimed in another one of the fellows from...somewhere else.  “But do carry on, dear fellow.”

     “Yes!  As I was saying, it will be a livable environment, a world inhabited!  Yet also a troubled one.  Given the presence of humans, such is to be expected.  Yet the body to be granted shall allow you to be free of hunger and thirst, for there are subatomic processes to fulfil the nutritional needs of your brain.  Also, immortal after a sort.  Nothing we craft is subject to the laughable foibles of merely human workmanship!    

     “Immortal, but this does not mean invincible!”  The fellow leaned forward, speaking conspiratorially.  “What would be the fun in that?”  Leaning back again.  “Fierce wounds may heal after a fashion.  But in the most severe of cases, you can still be killed!  So do go about avoiding lava pits or trying to flitter about the chromosphere of a star, would you?”

     Chimed in another fellow from somewhere else.  “Invincibility?  Where’s the fun in that?  No thrill whatsoever!”

     Resumed the still-present fellow, “Without additional ado, feel free to take a-a-all the time you wish in crafting your appearance!”  Then the fellow stood up to leave.

     “But wait!  Why are you doing this!” went Aia, a bit too late.  The fellow standing up to walk away was just pretext.  He had vanished from sight. 

     Leaving Aia in here alone, staring at an unformed androgynous body in a vat.  And with no hands to form it!  If Aia wanted to craft a big, sexy pair of…  No, you stop that immediately! 

     A sexy pair…of eyes!  There you have it. And then, there they were.  Just like that.  A large pair of bejeweled pale-blue Nordic orbs of sight set in slightly slanted eyes.  (Another bit of shocker amongst the racists, there are traces of Asian ancestry to be found among the most fair-haired humans!)   

     “Because we are bo-o-ored!” went the fellow’s voice.  “Now go about crafting that new form!  Whatever you want, it’s yours!  And I shall leave you now!”

      Which would be all sorts of trouble for many of you, being alone with a body that you could create.  Have your way with it.  The only difference is, Aia must live within this body instead of simply ravaging it in a lewd and lascivious—and then completely perverted—manner. 

…

     Ah, now comes the opening of the mind’s eye.  It’s rare when humans enter the realm of thought and creativity.  Oh, too busy being sucked in to worlds of asinine idiocy created by celebrities.  Celebrities, who are in turn products of drug-addled corporate idiocy hell-bent on distracting the dickens out of the populace…

     The power of imagination.  The mind looking both inward and outward—seeing possibilities.  Seeing not what is but what can be.  Possibilities beyond human imagination?  Is that really possible?   

     Which is to now say that Aia can be—quite literally—anybody desired.  Any body.  Aia can have any body.  Any body in form, of course.  Considering all of those endless celebrities…endless American celebrities…and the endless love foisted upon them.  In truth, more than a few of them are not especially pretty.  Moreso given how some have taken to idealising their own perceptions of beauty afar and apart from the overall populace. 

     The world before the war, not quite the paradise imagined.  Gene-tweak therapies were still illegal—as was any tampering with the human genome.  Regardless of how awful and horrible the end results were as imposed by Mother Nature as enslaved by Father Dogma, humans were still left in horrible straits nearing the end of their ever-decomposing lives.  Celebrities were left to rot and decay with horrifying levels of cosmetic sculpting performed on their faces and bodies.  Men and women in their sixties, seventies and beyond having their faces removed and stretched and re-attached time and again to try and maintain the illusion of youth and immortality.  Oh, and oh-so-many organ transplants—the organs harvested from the dead. 

     Rotting DNA.  Body parts taken from corpses.  Indeed, perhaps the zombie apocalypse had already taken place prior to the near-apocalypse of World War Third.  Except, it was primarily amongst the upper ranks of Hollywood. 

    That was then.  Now is now, after the ruling families of world governments finally allowed alterations to the human genome.  The alternative, ever-more-horrifying results as the oncoming century of nuclear fallout did…things to the oh-so-pure and oh-so-natural human genetics.  What did her history teacher say again?  Government is motivated by crises?

     Now for Aia’s own crisis.  Sucked away from life on Earth after her mates had presented something they ought not to have found.  Her life was saved…after a fashion.  But such is only temporary.  Now Aia must prepare herself for…well, whatever the bloody red Hell awaits her with this game-world of theirs. 

     No, not a game-world per se.  It will be an actual world in which Aia will arrive.  In her newly prepared body, of course.  (An unformed corpus of the purest form, the ultimate in plastic surgery!) 

     A body must go around, certainly.  How long a distance?  That takes quite a set of long limbs.  Long legs, like a doll.  And to see far from a…  No, not getting taller. 

     The legs on the unformed body simply became longer in proportion to the body.  The body did not grow taller. 

     And no, Aia would not go with bulging muscles with the form.  Too much in the way of meat would only signal her nutritional value to cannibals.  Don’t know if the next world will have them, but still.   (Yes, cannibalism.  Europe immediately after the War.  Don’t ask.  But you will anyway!)

     Her legs would be relatively long in regards to how Aia remembered her own.  Perhaps a hint of curve to long thighs and nicely formed calves for agility.  Lithe and serviceable limbs flowing into wide hips and a narrow waist.  There we go.    

      Thighs and hips flowing into a lean idealised torso.  All the fantasy heroines have such taught torsos and rib-cages.  It’s from all of the leaping and running and archery they must perform.  And horse-riding.  There are a great many lean girls in realms of fantasy and adventure.  The same goes for men. 

     Why are there no fat people in fantasy land?  That goes because life is dangerous.  And there are times in which there is little to eat.  Portly adventurers do not live very long.  A brutal truth, that.  Try weighing four hundred pounds and trying to run from a horde of orcs or dragons. 

     A lean ribcage on a tight torso.  That still leaves that most feminine of features.  Suddenly thinking bitter thoughts of that American-born girl Kayleigh and her astoundingly large breasts.  A tennis star with a lean athletic body but with her chest-pieces probably close to bursting from her outfit at every match.  Aia mentally put on a mean face whilst rapidly expanding her own body’s chest-placed double-feature. 

     And then was reminded of the whole archery bit.  Which is to say, overly large lady-bits will get in the way of a bow’s string.  Such may perhaps be why fantasy heroines were so fond of swords and spells.  

     But Aia never learned how to swing a sword despite an earlier childhood in Switzerland.  And there was no guarantee that there would be magickal spells in this next world.  So, helas, Aia made her chest a reasonable size after all.  Nearly flat in real life.  Or her previous life, actually.  Nevertheless, just a bit of cleavage for the sake of having something. 

     Before moving onward and upward, Aia thought about arms…  Who cares about a girl’s arms?  So long as the rest of her isn’t an atrocity, nobody!  As in, nobody has a single damn to give if a girl’s upper limbs are thick or thin.  Well then, Aia gave herself a pair of lean lithe means of carrying things about the world.  Finely muscled, of course.  Can’t use bows and crossbows with spaghetti-string strength.  Lean strength will do quite nicely.

     Speaking of limbs, now moving onto the neck.  Oh, a neck.  It’s there to hold the head to the body.  Can’t really live without one, really.  Creatures without such a thing must rotate their entire bodies before they can see anything about themselves.  Unless they have multiple eyes about their heads, of course. 

     And that left Aia thinking bigoted human thoughts about eyes.  About how multi-eyed creatures on Earth having less in the way of brains and thinking.  Maybe it was due to dealing with all of that visual data coming into that tiny, tiny bundle of neurons.  Data from all around.  Little wonder that they can think about anything long term.  But the eyes were made already.  Now, back to the neck.

     And up to this point, everything was about being practical and considerate of others.  A body that was lithe yet athletic.  And yet again, having to compromise on breasts—as in her previous life, as in her soon-to-be life.  Well, not this time!  Aia wanted a long, long graceful neck.  Thinking of Estonian supermodels and ballet dancers and all the pretty people.  Before the war, European blondes—and especially snow-silk blondes—were valued.  Now the English accent and blonde hair were signs of being a refugee.  Well, sod it!  A long neck it shall be.  Aia wants to be pretty!  And who does not, other than lunatics?    

     A very long neck…  No, not too ridiculous.  A neck giving her quite some distance from her body.  Yes, perhaps that was it?  Long necks being a sign of being less close to worldly affairs and therefore wiser.  To go with her long, long white-blonde hair, it would be quite the complement.  And anyway, a long neck would allow her to wear thicker armor should the need arise.  Practical, you see.  Not just being obsessed with beauty.  Or fantasy thinking. 

     Speaking of which, Aia then decided on adding pointed ears.  Her face overall, yes.  Well, with somewhat larger eyes.  And a longer neck below.  Just adding pointed ears really brought out her otherwise low-profile cheekbones. 

     Which now left Aia looking at the overall model.  For a moment, the girl had forgotten that it was floating in a tank of…something that was keeping it alive.  Or in its state of existence.  Then again true, Aia had forgotten about herself being in a tank.  No hands with which to manipulate the world.  And yet, being able to manipulate the shapes and aspects of an entirely new body with just being able to think about it. 

     Controlling things with her mi-i-ind…  Oh, come to think of it (again, that pun), Aia could come quite used to this.  And then end up becoming as much a madcap raving loony monster as the rest of those fellows. 

     No, thank you.  Aia quickly gave her new body a once-over and declared her intent to be gone from this nowhere place and on to whatever awaited.  If this were a virtual game, it would be the completion of character creation.  With Aia being the character.  There was no finished button, so Aia had to shout out.  “I’m ready for this game of yours.”

      Two of the fellows appeared.  One of them looking quite bored…until turning his head to look at what was crafted in the tank.  Taking a step back, yet spreading his arms as if to take in the sight of all the glory crafted.  Loosening his “Quite the form, indeed!  We shall procure a physical copy for perusal by our science team, of course!”

     “We haven’t needed a separate caste of scientists for over six quintillion years, actually,” said the other fellow…who has very likely reappeared here just to disagree jovially. 

     “Which is also asking, are you satisfied with the physical persona you have created?” asked the previous fellow. 

     Aia thought the word yes before trying to say it.  Faster than that, the other fellow snapped his fingers.

     And Aia was suddenly in the other tank.  Looking at the brain tank—now empty.  Thank goodness, her brain was not over there.  Because if her brain was still over there, that would raise all sorts of epistemological crises that the girl would prefer not to have.  More pressing, however, would be the fluid stilled in her lungs.  But before Aia could have herself a proper fit of panick, the fellow snapped those fingers again.  And then everything slipped far and away.