Essay I Didn 't Ask For Any Of This
—UltraAgent Surefire in a classified report to the DoD
Pax was a floating head detached from his body. At least, that’s what he surmised in his high-as-a-balloon state where he couldn’t feel anything below his neck. He tried not to think what that could mean.
He wriggled his head deeper into what felt like a fluffy feather pillow—a big difference from what he last woke to.
He cracked open his eyes and squinted against the bright sunlight streaming in from a wall of windows to his left. It ricocheted around a white-walled room, making the room glow a warm yellow.
He wanted to close his eyes again, which ached in protest against the brightness. But he couldn’t shut them. Invisible toothpicks held them open.
He was in a big bed covered in gray sheets, overlaid by a white comforter. He felt a familiar soothing warmth envelop him, like a heated towel at a barber’s shop. The same sensation of Oracle’s power as she entered him. But when movement caught his eyes, he saw a petite, shapely woman walking around the bed, not Oracle’s tall, dancer’s body.
The not-Oracle woman leaned over him. Large green eyes with flecks of brown gazed at him from delicate features he was sure would break if he touched them.
The feminine hand traveled to the sheet at his waist. She held it up.
“See, your body is all man.”
Dama X? He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t make a sound.
“Don’t you worry. Your…