Maria is scared and sad. She has come here to see old friends and to seek the peace of the ocean. The emergency felt like prison to her. Being forced to live with her brother and his wife, who was furloughed at home, her job as a flight attendant suspended during the cessation of most flights, drove her up the walls. Things would have ended badly, had it gone on for much longer.
Do her friends believe in her? Hard to say, but they do support her. They do understand that some people subordinate practicality to another calling. They may not consider it feasible, but they support her.
She feels trapped by something undefined, perhaps even unidentifiable. It does not matter. She has to leave. Fortunately she had unpacked only her acoustic guitar and a bit of clothing, that easily fits into a small bag. A few people, mainly those who look like Stjepan are out in the streets. She is reminded that something has tried to press her into the role of the alien. That is unacceptable. She has to be free. The first step is leaving this place.
Her car has been changed. Looking at the key she has expected that. Having a sharp eye she has no problem finding the keyhole. Finding her musical equipment neatly arranged in the back of the car is a considerable relief. She gets in into the comfortable seat on the driver’s side. There is a split bidirectional switch. Returning the frontal part to the other setting closes the door. The seatbelt is conventional.
How did Stjepan do this? She puts both hands on the misty orb. Nothing happens. Maria is a woman of culture. She tries multiple languages. Nothing. She tries closing her eyes and listening for a connection. Nothing. She tries breathing techniques. Nothing. She tries meditation techniques. Nothing. Finally even a yoga pose. Still nothing.
She shrieks and hammers on the orb. Nothing. She starts sobbing.
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Stjepan loves his mother and worries about her. As they had eaten their noodles, he wanted to help and put the used dishes onto the cleaning block, which swallowed them up like the house told him to do. At that time his mother kind of squealed, sat down at the table and sort of buried her head in her hands and kept murmuring „why“. All his attempts to comfort her did nothing.
Now he is wondering whom he should call to get help. He has put his little sister in front of the giant wall screen. Somehow they have gotten satellite TV on multiple satellites. The neighbours perhaps? Some instincts warn him. Would they be mean to him because he has been changed? The house cannot help him. It does not understand him. It only tells him where the emergency medical supplies are. The house is not clever. He still likes it. It reminds him of his late grandparents who had lived here and were proud of the modern house they got after the big fire. He only dimly remembers them, but his grandfather showing him the thickness of the walls was imprinted on his memory.
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He starts pacing through the building, vaguely looking for a solution in the new floors.
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Maria has stopped beating the misty orb. Her fists hurt.
She looks at her cell phone. She does have internet. The news say that international forces are investigating the zone of transformation after the dome has vanished, while traffic to the island is limited to essential services only.
Anybody to call? Zora’s and her mutual friend, whom Zora has sent away? He cannot have gotten far. In fact he is probably at the port waiting for the ferries to resume operation. Granted he was really ugly now, but he is available. And of course he was not responsible for this. No man who cares enough for a woman to return after a decade and two children and just has scored willingly turns himself into a man-scorpion. Zora is just paranoid concerning men.
But she needs to talk to Zora. She reverses the switch again. The side of the car opens. The rod her key has turned into emerges from the side of the car. She sighs, grabs her guitar bag, disembarks and ulls the key rod out of the car. The car closes.
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Natalija is playing with the sphinges in the garden. Her annoying brother thinks that she would watch a rerun on TV while she can can play with two fantastic cats, who can operate the doors just as he can. That she cannot operate the doors is a hassle.
Mommy is sad. She is often sad when she looks at old pictures. She hides it from her brother, but not her, thinking her to small to notice. She does not understand why mommy looks at those pictures although they make her sad. She would like to comfort mommy, but nothing helps at those times. Perhaps they could go to the beach later. Her new body should allow her to swim much better.
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Zora hates herself and her life. She could trust nobody. Well maybe her relatives, but they did not understand her. They did not understand why she had to leave her husband at 8 months pregnant. No, not with her. If he has to fuck that Asian girl, he can have that slut and that’s it.
Now she needs her son to operate a dishwasher. Yet another humiliation. Nobody is reliable.
To wake up at this sight and in that form was too much. The emergency had not been that bad. In fact she had been temporarily responsible for scheduling evacuation busses, hence it was not even boring like some of her friends complained. But it was just work. She had come here to see new sights to find beauty. Instead she has found a bug in her bed and does no longer dare look into a mirror.
And that is a serious issue. Her bladder is full, but there is a mirror in the bathroom.