Mallu Girl- Part I

The relative quiet left behind astheir fans stopped reminded her of the hospital they tookher to when, still outwardly male but feeling woozy, shecollapsed at work as the change got visibly underway.'Imagine if I hadn't been at work when I went into acoma... I spent a week in that coma while my guts wererearranged. Then recovery: that was three weeks in ahospital, with people in dark suits coming by to ask me_everything_... but they saw me change. Imagine if ithappened at home, how hard it would be to prove I was me...assuming I survived, that is.'And then, of course, there were the months afterward whilethe biological changes were propagated outward into thedocuments that cluttered this civilization, and onward intosociety itself. The ripples were reflected back as more'suits' visiting haphazardly to ask just one more question,scrutinize her setup and her movements from just one moreangle, and negotiate just one more tweak of theirnoninvasive but pervasive monitoring of her. That peculiar attraction was always on hand, whether it was convenient or not. And while it was rarely convenient, it was always entertaining, and had been since we were teenagers. Riding on German autobahns after having not ridden at all for twenty years was an eye opener, too. Usually three lanes wide, the outside lane for trucks and cautious drivers only, the inside lane was a land unto itself, the prowling ground of hypersonic Porsches and S-Klass MBs. That left the middle lane for our group, and though we were rolling along at a constant 120 KPH we were being passed regularly by missiles to our left. The border crossing was a non-event and we were into Austria before our coffee had time to make it through the system. As we approached Salzburg, Gunther signaled and our group tightened formation, then we were on surface streets headed into a little village called Grödig. The village was on the outskirts of Salzburg and we’d be there for one night only, and after Sam and I got to.
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