Screams don’t normally drown out the noise from heavy industrial shredders. Today was different. Charles Ahjex made sure of that when he fell into the hopper of Ol’ Grim. The spinning blades grabbed his feet within seconds. Pain emptied all thoughts from his head. Primal screams burst from him out of instinct. Shock hit him when the blades chewed above his ankles. The pain subsided, and his thoughts turned into panic. His screams formed into guttural pleas for help. A chill spread through his body, followed by a tingling sensation. His body spasmed when the tingle exploded into an electrical bolt. The last thing Chuck saw was his crimson blood flowing down the grey hopper wall

###

Confusion reigned while Chuck regained his ability to process thought bit by bit. He relived the last few seconds he could remember, allowing dread and panic to battle with confusion. The mental wrestling match only took a few seconds before he could form coherent questions. I survived? How? Why can’t I see anything? Am I at a hospital? Why can’t I hear anything? Chuck lay still, working hard at stilling his thoughts and breath. Which set off a fresh round of panic. I’m not breathing? What is going on?

All of Chuck's effort poured into sensing the surrounding area. The more he tried, the odder he felt. Muscles wouldn’t respond to orders. He couldn’t tell if he could speak or not—he had no awareness of his mouth. Something surrounded him, but he couldn’t determine if it was water, air, or something different. Don’t panic. Keep it together. Maybe I’m still in shock. I wish I could figure something out. He focused on trying to find any sound. A few seconds into this attempt, something scratched at the edge of his awareness. Grab it, don’t let it get away. Are my shouts being heard? Am I shouting at all?

“Can you hear my thoughts?” Chuck focused on connecting with whatever was out there. It responded by growing stronger. Chuck wanted to shout and dance for joy. He failed at both. His failure didn’t stop him from trying again when a raspy whisper echoed in his mind.

“Mmrga whiyrak tobarn.”

“What?” He thought back. Great, I get someone, and they don’t speak, or think, English.

“Wukng un rit grafinor.”

Chuck quelled his growing frustration, focusing on the positive result of making some sort of connection. “I’m Chuck; I mean, that’s my name. Right now, I’m more confused and scared than I am anything else. Not even sure I’m Chuck anymore. Where am I? What happened to me? How did I survive the shredder? Did I survive the shredder? Who are you? I'm asking too many questions, but I have a lot of them at the moment. Did I fall into Ol’ Grim? Maybe I imagined or dreamt that. Is that what happened? Any answer will do, even if I don’t understand what you're saying. Is it saying if we’re just thinking? Why can’t I talk? Or hear? Or…”

“Stop thinking!”

“I understood that!” Chuck jumped mentally. He’d given up on attempting to jump.

“It took me a few minutes to find the right mental paths to connect with you. This isn’t easy for me. You’re not the result I expected.”

“Result?” Chuck froze, wondering what the voice meant.

A mental sigh washed over Chuck, the only response to his question.

“What do you mean—result?”

A shrill, whiny voice filled Chuck's head. “What level do you cast spells at?”

“Two of you? Spells?”

The silence stretched into minutes before Chuck reached out again. “Anyone there?”

The second voice answered. “Of course, we’re here. Can’t you hear us arguing?”

"I only hear this thought talking thi….” Chuck’s mental scream ripped through the conversation. Sharp stabs of pain radiated through him. The pace of the piercing pain sped up. Each spike sent a fresh wave of flame through him. His screams drowned out the voices, shouting words he couldn't understand. Shock fought with the pain—I can hear? The thought filled in the seconds of pause between strikes. His brain struggled with the excitement and joy he felt during the immense suffering he faced.

Chuck held his breath when the sharp pains turned to deep, constant internal pressure. He tried to twist, but he still had no awareness of his body. Something inside him burned with an icy chill. Snaps of electrical shock danced through him. His cries still mingled with the other voices, though his joy had faded. A wet ripping noise filled his ears, followed by shouts of shock and amazement.

"What are you doing?" Voice one asked him.

Chuck managed a garbled groan.

"Seems to be painful. Give him a few minutes." The shrill voice responded.

Voice one spoke again, "Is he changing to a reppah?"

In clipped words, Chuck asked. "What is a reppah and what do you mean changing?" He finished with a low moan.

"Reppah is a—uh—hold on." Voice one paused for a moment, "Bird or at least that is the closest thing to it you'd know."

How does he know what I know?

"Are you done shifting around?" The shrill voice broke in.

Chuck paused. "I have no idea. I don't know what happened this time. A lot of pain, then it stopped. Now I can hear, talk, and move a little." Chuck twirled what he believed were his arms.

"I don't think those wings are big enough for you to fly with." Shrill voice commented.

"Wings? I don't have—or at least I didn't have wings before. And for the record, what are your names—I'd like to identify you by some way other than your voices."

Shrill voice jumped in first. "I'm Marlivan—most call me Marl. As far as wings, when you shifted from being a blob to this new sort of reppah-looking thing. You now have stubby wings, a sort of beak with flexible lips, and huge black circles for eyes."

"I shifted? A blob? I have eyes? I can't see a thing."

Voice one spoke up. "You showed up as a pink, meaty blob. When the reppah landed and started pecking on you, you started shifting. Oh, and I'm Whyth."

"With who?" Chuck asked.

Whyth sighed, "Really? Whyth is my name, W-H-Y-T-H."

Chuck nodded; he hoped. "Oh, sorry. Now, can someone tell me what is going on?"

Whyth cleared his throat. "I pulled you here. I was looking for a magic user, and you flashed bright and strong. We need your help."

"Hold up, my help? Magic? And I was mostly asking about not being able to see—for starters."

"Does this hurt?" Marl poked Chuck's side.

"No, barely feel anything."

"Hmm, what class are you?" Marl asked.

"I pulled for a magic-user, so that's what he is," Whyth replied with an edge to his voice.

"Magic-user? Class?" Chuck's confusion infused his questions.

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Marl seemed to ignore Chuck's questions. "I'm not sure you got the right class, Whyth. May be some magic involved, but not what we were hoping for."

"Will someone start answering me!"

"No need to shout, Chuck, and we're working on answering you." Marl softened his tone.

Chuck let out a long sigh. " Sorry for shouting, but right now, I can't follow all the jumping around. And that just adds to the growing list of things upsetting me. I can't see. I think I should be dead. You keep asking me questions that make no sense. Magic? Class, what type of class?"

<>

Chuck screamed out the word that flashed in his mind. "What...where...what? Brain damage? Has to be. I got words flashing in my mind now."

"Duplicemist?" Whyth repeated the word Chuck screamed. "What is a duplicemist?"

"How the hell should I know?" Chuck's reply took on an edge of brittleness.

Marl quieted Whyth and then spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper. "Chuck, I believe I now have a better understanding of what might be happening. It's not the full picture, but it's enough to start. I'm going to ask you some simple, probably stupid questions. I'm not trying to upset you. Just wanting to get all of us together in understanding some things. Is it okay for me to start asking?"

The silence lasted for a few moments before Chuck answered in a muted voice. "Slow and simple sounds like a brilliant plan."

"Whyth, I may have you fill in some gaps, but unless I ask you to speak—just stand by and listen for now. Chuck, I'm sure I'll cause you to think of more questions, but let’s work through my first few before we jump and chase down any side questions, okay?"

Chuck nodded, paused, and then asked. "Did you see me nod—my body still feels weird enough. I don't know if I nodded or not."

"Your head nodded. Before we get to your body, though—what is the name of the world you come from, and does magic exist there?" Marl kept his voice calm.

"Nam..." Chuck caught himself, "Sorry, I forgot to stick with answers only. Earth and there are magic tricks, but no real magic on my world—some might disagree, but overall, let’s say no."

Marl continued. "So, you don't have classes, levels, or statistics that you work on improving?"

"Umm, those words have meanings—but I'm thinking they don't mean the same to me as they do to you. Are you talking like in a game where you level up in your class by earning points?"

The silence lingered a moment before Marl replied. "That is close to what I mean, yes. Except not in a game, but for your life."

Chuck snorted, "We could argue semantics about occupations and promotions, but to answer in the spirit of your question. No, we don't have those things for our life."

Marl took a deep breath. "We do here. Here being Crawtna. It sounds like things are a lot different here than they are where you're from. Whyth, since you could cast something to translate for us, I'm assuming you knew Chuck is from Earth?"

"Yes," Whyth paused a beat, "tracked that when we first started sharing thoughts. The Structure has information on Earth, so he's not the first one from there encountered. I pulled from the archives to get the information and find a language."

Chuck tried to bite his bottom lip. His inability to find a bottom lip proved just as effective in keeping him from asking a bunch of questions.

"Thought so, thanks," Marl said. "Back to you, Chuck, this will get more confusing and unbelievable for you as we go on. Before we go down that path, would you like to work on being able to see?"

"Yes!" Chuck barked, then lowered his volume. "Sorry, didn't mean to be so loud."

Marl chuckled. "No need to apologize. Umm, you've figured out you may not look like you used to, haven't you?"

Chuck caught the tension in Marl's question. How bad off am I? Do they even know what I used to look like? "I have tried not to think about it much, but yeah, I doubt I look the same as I did the last time I looked in a mirror. If I fell into a shredder, I've got some mangled-up legs—and the way I feel, it may be worse than that."

"Mmhmm. Not trying to scare you, just prepare you, but it is on the worse side. Whyth, I doubt Chuck knows what a kuwwan is, so what animal would be something close enough to a kuwwan that he'd be able to picture it."

"Cattle from the archive, either steer or beef, would best fit the situation," Whyth answered.

"Steer?" Chuck let a question slip.

Marl ignored Chuck. "Before we work on you being able to see. I need to let you know you look like mangled beef. Mangled beef, but surprisingly little blood."

It took a few seconds for Chuck's world to stop spinning. Mangled beef? How? He forced a sound to come out of his mouth. It started as a groan and then became words. "How? What do I look like? Am I alive? I don't think I'm breathing."

Marl cleared his throat. "I can't answer the how. As far as what you look like, you started as a mound of meat, and then when the reppah attacked, you altered your shape to have a vague resemblance of the reppah. Anything to add, Whyth?"

"Not much. I have been kicking around the Duplicemist word. I wonder if it's Chuck's class? It isn't in the archive but flashed in his mind when you asked about class. If it is his class, could it be some sort of duplication, which is why he started to take on the form of the reppah?"

Chuck found it difficult to understand the quick conversation about magic concepts, including duplication, absorption, mimicry, contact, consumption, and many unfamiliar terms. In minutes, he felt more lost than he had since this all started, and the panic rose again. Deep breaths. Calm the thinking. Deep breaths—how can I if I don’t breathe? Panic will not help you now. Keep it together now—fall apart later. Keep it together. Think calm. Calm. Calm.

"Hold on, please." He interrupted. "I'm not following most of what you're saying—but I think I have the basic idea. I, somehow, can duplicate things I come into contact with? Why did I have words flashing in my mind? This isn't getting me any closer to seeing."

Both Whyth and Marl stumbled over each other's words in apologizing.

Marl continued, "We should've had that discussion later, but yes, it seems likely. We'll have to test it out to determine your abilities. As far as the words in your mind, that would be the Structure, which will take a few hours, or days, to explain. So, let’s work on your sight first."

"That would be a step forward, thanks. What do you need me to do?" Chuck fought to keep the fear out of his voice.

"Let me touch you. If we're right about your ability to duplicate, you should be able to focus on my eyes, and they will form for you. We can't give you many more hints than that, though."

Chuck felt a weight on his right side. He focused on seeing what touched him. A trickle of warmth flowed through his body to where he thought his eyes should be. This must be a nightmare. Play along; nothing else to do except maybe scream. Think calm. He yelped a little when a grey light formed, and in a matter of seconds, he made out shadowy forms.

"I think it's working—I'm beginning to see shapes."

"The things I thought were your eyes are bulging and shifting. I'm going to bring some light in front of you to see if you can tell the difference in brightness." Marl kept his tone soothing.

Chuck's head jerked backward. "Ow, I saw the..."

<>

"What?" Wait, that was in my head again...Control fire? Don’t freak out. I'd like to control fire, sure. A jolt of energy vibrated through Chuck's body, and a slight gasp escaped his lips.

<>

I have no...Chuck grunted as a new round of pain hit when several sharp daggers buried themselves into his body. He saw the light glittering off blue grasshoppery things flying at him, slashing and biting him when they landed on his raw pink skin. Fire and flight—yes, I'll take that. A rush of heat enveloped him. A flickering glow drew his eyes. Wispy, translucent flames fanned out from his stubby, odd-shaped arms. He flapped them. His stomach lurched when his feet jumped off the ground. Fire and flight...I can do both?

The biting continued. He drew his arms around himself, sending waves of warmth over his skin. The fire crackled over the attacking bugs. Each let out a shrill scream and fell to the ground. He waved his arms in front of him, scattering the swarm headed his way. With a slight kick of his legs, he wobbled through the sky after them, throwing his arms out to keep a sense of balance. Flames shot out of both hands. Throwing it? Oh yeah, control fire. Chuck focused on forming a ball of fire in his hands. Flames shifted from his body and began swarming in his right hand.

"Huh?" was all he could utter when the flame flickered out. He groaned in pain as he splatted on the ground.

"Are you okay?"

Chuck looked up at the concerned brown-skinned Whyth. "I think so. Confused, excited, and hurting, but okay."

Marl peeked over Whyth's shoulder. "That was impressive for someone who doesn't cast magic." His grin showed off his sharp yellow teeth, a contrast to his deep green lips. And not freaking out over green lips sort of puts it all in perspective, doesn't it, Chuck?

With a grunt, Chuck pushed himself to his taloned feet. Can I change to get normal feet? He looked over at the squarish green man. "Marl, I'm guessing?"

Marl confirmed with a nod.

"Well, when you touched me, things happened." Chuck shared what had happened with Whyth and Marl.

Whyth rubbed his long-fingered hands together. "That would have been the Structure. Given the name of your class and what happened, I'm guessing you can duplicate things and have some alchemist abilities. Combine those together, and you get..."

"Duplicemist!" Chuck shouted. "Concocting fire and flight gave me those fire-wing things."

"Since you've duplicated some of my shape," Marl pointed out, "technically, you have fire-arms."

Chuck groaned. "Fire-arms, really?"

Whyth coughed, grabbing the other’s attention. "Those bugs attacked Chuck, not us. So, I think it is safe to say the Bythnahr knows where he is, and he could be dangerous. We need to move."

"Me? Dangerous?" Chuck shuffled after Whyth.

"You have a strong magical presence. That must be what they are tracking. We need to find a way to dampen that." Marl fell in beside Chuck as they stepped into a denser part of the woods.

"How do we dampen me?"

Marl looked up at the sky. His green skin took on a yellow cast. "I know someone who can do it, have to go into town to talk to him. I'll need to grovel a little. We didn't part on the best of terms. He and I..."

Whyth's barked laugh drew all the attention to him.

"What?" Marl asked.

"I was looking through the archive to see if I could learn anymore for Chuck. Still had the focus on the part I used to let you know beef was the word to use. I should've read a little further on. According to this one term to use for ground beef is ground chuck..."

Marl and Whyth's laughter lasted well into the woods.