In which the mind is reset.
Willingness can only take you so far, considering life has a fetish for disaster. Paul knew this (Paul? Was that the name?), and in all honesty he was willing to see the journey ‘till the end despite the chaotic road ahead.
He remembered-no, he felt how it begun with his self being whole, chained to reality in the shape of a human. (Human. That’s how its called).
The good scientists had offered him a chance to experience something more than his humanity in exchange for money, and he readily accepted, out of an equal sense of financial need (need?) and a desire for existential acknowledgement. (Of who?)
It was a simple task, his mind knew, just accept and guide this new part of you replacing your shape for a while. (A while? Or always?)
Gone were the chains of the human. In their place, the great reptillian shape of an apex predator covered in feathers, scales, sharp teeth, razor claws, a long feathered tail, and a whole lot of excess energy. Boundless excess energy, all focused on rediscovering life through his new second pair of eyes that could see The Lights. (The Lights…)
“What is this?” “What is that?” Would ask the innocence of new flesh given life at every opportunity.
“Settle down.” His mind would command. “We know what some of it is.” And to prove it, he presented his new flesh his entire recollection of experiences and knowledge, the sum of all his understanding of life neatly packed in a human-shaped can. “Here’s our name, and our family, and where we come from-“
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“Not important.” His new body declared immediately, distracted by its senses and the echoes coming from The Outside.
“Wait! Don’t go running yet! Take this with us!” His (human?) mind chased after his new flesh, carrying the collection hazardously as his unshaped arms begun to erode, spilling things as he tried to keep pace.
“Look what we found!” But, his new flesh was more interested in gathering its own new collection, and everything from The Outside was prime material.
“Stop.” Commanded the mind, reigning in the will to remain, the will to be. “We will not take more without keeping this too.” And he handed himself his collection (what was it?), putting it alongside the new experience in their claws.
“This won’t do.” Said his body, innocently comparing new with old. “This name (what name?) is not the name the echoes call us. And this physique? (What physique?) Not useful now. Let’s just drop it.”
“No. We keep them. For as long as we can.”
There was no more time to argue. The mind was eroding away. His new chains of flesh were bigger than those before, and they were slowly reshaping the self in their own image, diluting past self into a fractured blur nobody would call human. (Human. That’s a thing.)
He could only will the new flesh to hold onto things for as long as possible, and give them a new place amidst the chaos of being different. But, willingness can only go so far.
“[Mr. [Potato Feathers].]” Called new echoes. “[Please get up for your morning preparations. The bath is ready.]”
Potato Feathers (yes, that’s the name) kept his eyes closed, yesterday’s headache and excitement taking their toll on his artificially grown Karnakian body. He clutched his bed and shifted his body in search for comfort. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just being tired. (But, what was it?)
“Comeon,bro.” Whispered a familiar voice, blessing a fragile psyche with strength. “Todaywecanfinallysheehim.Let’shgo.”
Feathers opened his eyes at last, recent memories flooding his mind once more.
Today the hospital was open for visitors.