Second Nature

Chapter 25

25 

Lana had gone to bed thinking she had an unusual flu. She woke up feeling refreshed. She did not open her eyes but let the soft red glow diffuse through her lids.  

This has to be the world's strangest virus, she thought. It produced a mild fever, but it was a fever of good feelings. Even her cells felt happy, like the first warm blush of falling in love. 

She felt a steady hum of pleasure throughout her body. It had started that morning, low and indistinct, like background fizz on a worn audio tape. But the more relaxed she felt, the more melodic the noise seemed. Now, deeply rested and with eyes closed, she was actually enjoying the interior sounds as subtle music: the soft drone of a tamboura, overshot by the mellow trills of a bamboo flute. They should call this bug the Raga Flu. 

As usual, Lana had been dreaming she had legs. Sometimes the dreams were about the simple freedom of walking or running. Other times she'd kick her dream-legs hard in a fast Australian crawl across the swimming hole, or pump a bicycle uphill, standing in the pedals, feeling the burn. 

Most often, her dreams were about dancing; and lately, she dreamed about dancing with Jimi. In her dream just now, she and Jimi danced a flamenco-influenced ballet. Her beautiful long legs moved together with his to the hot and saucy music. Their dancing was as graceful as it was erotic. 

At some point in the dream, her lower legs began to itch intensely; that's what had awakened her from the world's best nap. She occasionally suffered phantom limb sensations, like itching, but in her dream it was the worse attack she'd ever experienced. She still felt the itching now, although it had mostly subsided. 

Weirdly enough, it sometimes helped to pretend to scratch the phantom itch. When she sat up to do so, she saw bulges under the covers where her feet should be. 

What the hell? The artificial limbs, titanium-aluminum alloy and molded nylon, were stacked against the foot of the antique brass bed. She always removed the clunky things when she laid down to sleep.  

Lana yanked off the sheets and let out a shriek. Her hands flew to her lower legs and squeezed. Quick, before the vision disappears! But the flesh felt warm and firm, resilient to her fingers. Very fine, soft hairs covered the rich, brown skin. The feet kicked, the toes wriggled. The legs worked. 

She pulled off her summer dress and stared at her new legs. She couldn't catch her breath. When she finally forced air into her lungs, she let out another scream: "Jimi!" 

When Lana had remodeled the mansion, she had removed all full-length mirrors. But now she leapt to her feet on top of the mattress to gawk at her reflection in the mirror of her dresser. 

The soles of her feet touched the firm mattress, touched ground, touched home. It was the most welcoming sensation she had ever felt. She bounced up and down on the mattress until the slats broke. 

* * * 

Jimi sat at a desk in his cabin behind the Inn, entering notes in his dolphin research journal in a fluid scrawl that mixed printing and cursive. The way the dolphins had escorted Gen in the water fascinated him. He'd spent all morning online and he'd not found a single reference to such behavior. Several famous dolphins had guided ships through channels. Other dolphins reportedly had nudged shipwrecked sailors ashore or helped keep them afloat. But to witness an entire pod of dolphins encircling a human swimmer, apparently accepting the human as a member of their pod, was a unique and important observation. Jimi wanted to learn more about the behavior.  

Who was Gen? The better question might be, What was she?  

Was he the only one who noticed that her conical teeth were distinctly dolphinoid? Hell, her entire skull was dolphin-like. It became increasingly obvious to him the more he studied her features; the bones of her jaw, especially.