During our short conversation, I learned that Michael, the other EMT, was something called homosexual or gay. The second appellation confused me since it also appeared to mean happy or excitable, but that usage for the term had fallen into unpopularity. This language was incredibly dense and had enormous contextual drifts, which was likely to lead to misunderstandings, which was something I would have to compensate for.

Since males and females, once I learned to contextualize the cues, were apparently as different as two local planets referred to as Mars and Venus, the idea that some of them would prefer to socialize within their own sex was unremarkable. Because both subspecies were fully sapient, social comfort within your own kind was more convenient and less prone to misunderstandings. Among my own prior species, there was no real social contact between the sexes other than proximity to provoke hormonal egg production, they barely even spoke the same language.

Between aliens, the F’lok’nyran and other species also seldom had social interaction in common beyond trade and mutual defense. Things like species goals and foundational philosophy were often untranslatable. The only thing most civilized races had in common was a desire to excel and expand, without interference or violence. Among the F’lok’nyran, though, even expansion was considered too dangerous, so our expansion was internal and focused on technology and sorcery, which was why we were one of the most well-developed civilizations in the alliance.

The instinct for physical comfort through proximity certainly confused things, however. I took it to understand that usually males and females choose to indulge that instinct with each other rather than among their own gender, which seemed unusual. Michael’s preferences were considered, if not unusual, at least uncommon. I didn’t understand, but maybe I would as I learned more.

I had noticed a remarkably stronger set of instinctive reactions in my own body with Michael rather than Nancy, stronger than could be explained by the fact that he appeared much healthier and more aesthetically pleasing despite his lack of any sort of resemblance to my prior species. My pulse seemed to accelerate at his proximity, my temperature seemed to increase, and I greatly enjoyed the timbre of his voice and his scent, especially when I considered the idea of unclothed physical contact he had mentioned. The instinct for proximity bonding was very strong among humans. Again, I would need to learn more.

They unloaded the bed I was in at a large, square, and impressive-looking edifice. I didn’t understand the strange white paper they tried to have me sign, since the language printed on it was complex and convoluted and seemed to embrace a number of concepts I had no experience with, but I dutifully placed my name, Tracy Nutock, in square, nearly perfect symbols where they indicated.

I was left alone for a while, my bed in a sort of squared-off passageway topped with bright illumination panels, but I was feeling much better. My shoulder no longer hurt, and neither did my head. I practiced moving my arms and fingers for a bit, trying to get a better coordination, and finally unstrapped myself and practiced walking.

F’lok’nyran were very clean creatures, and I was sort of disgusted with all of the dried bodily fluid contaminants. I soon discovered a door that had a symbol of a stylized human on it, so I assumed it was designed for human needs, like my own.

Inside there were a number of odd receptacles, some of them at about waist-height with valves for more water, and some at about thorax-height with mysterious purposes. Perhaps they were for washing the sticky garments? Each of the lower station contained a large, scented pill, which I assumed was some sort of detergent.

There were also stalls that were separated by high, bottomless walls. The pools of water within them as well as a lever I tried that replaced the water and flushed it away, made it obvious based on Nancy’s assistance with elimination that they were waste disposal, for human bodily wastes. There were clearly disposable rolls of fibrous material near each one that were probably for cleaning up the results of such activities, which I approved of. My original species produced considerably less of a mess, but such consideration for a slightly messier system was very thoughtful and well-conceived.

This body was starting to grow on me. Clearly, either Humans or the assistance of the game of war had allowed me to repair my body much more quickly than regrowing a limb would have occurred, and their basic versatility and the sensitive hands, stereoscopic eyesight, and sheer force application ability was remarkable. I would always miss my natural form, especially when balancing bipedally, but I could see and feel the advantages. I was slowly growing used to the artistic creature’s sense of aesthetics, and once my original disgust was overcome I would probably be happy with the result since, by local standards, I was healthy and aesthetically pleasing.

There was a large reflective surface behind the cleaning receptacles that made their purpose even more clear, and I began washing the blood, matter, and other things from me. I was apparently considered rather petite by local standards, as there were not many people other than Nancy that had matched my height. This was not considered an obvious flaw, however.

My hair trailed from my head down below my thorax, and by touch it felt soft, a rich brown color. My features seemed particularly even especially when I remove the upper garment, soaked with dried blood, and began to allow it to be washed in the lower cleaning receptacle. I was also wearing some sort of brace beneath the outer layer that I removed, which seemed to be designed to hold a pair of fat rolls in front of me. Breasts.

My mind identified and supplied an explanation that was highly unusual. Apparently, the females of this mammal classification were expected to regurgitate food for the offspring through the nipple-things that seemed oversensitive to the touch. I was considering if there were a way to remove the inconvenient things but realized that they were probably considered part of an aesthetically pleasing appearance, considering the garment that seemed to be designed to simultaneously support and display them more prominently. Clearly, mine were much less pronounced than those of Nancy, requiring little support, but maybe they were expected to be enhanced more?

My lower garments were only marginally contaminated, and the flecks didn’t seem to touch my skin, so I allowed them to remain without cleansing for the moment. Removing all of the contaminants took some time, so I was slightly surprised when my private ablutions were interrupted by another male… I started to recognize some of the signs of a him instead of a her, stepped in through the door I had entered.

His eyes were immediately drawn to my breast-things, confirming that they were indeed useful for aesthetic purposes, and he coughed and said in a halting voice, “Excuse me ma’am” and started to backpedal through the door, which he opened and looked at the figure on the door before looking at me again, his eyes again drawn to my breasts before he seemed to enact an effort of will to draw them to my face.

“This is the men’s room, ma’am. And you are naked.”

Were waste disposal facilities separated by gender? How odd. I had no indicators that their bodies were designed that differently, except for size, musculature, and these breasts. The size and musculature things strongly suggested that males were designed for more physical labors rather than intellectual or leadership roles, although Michael had not seemed any less skilled in medicine than Nancy.

I shook my head and pointed at my top and support garment, resting in the lower washing bin. “I apologize if I have violated a gender discrimination tradition, I did not know. My garments and my hair and face were unpleasantly contaminated by body fluids. Should I move to a different female facility?”

He looked around, and I was unpleasantly reminded of this body’s reactions. Apparently, him staring at my breasts had caused an instinct that made the nipples flood with blood, making them stiffen and engorge unpleasantly. I didn’t want to wreck my potential as an egg-layer if they were involved, but I could not help but wish there was some way to remove or reduce the effect. The idea of custom-designed offspring that I could choose to raise myself was more appealing than I had expected. Was this a breeding instinct? Males had strong breeding and caretaking instincts among my prior people, but females, unless affected by male pheromones, generally simply ejected the eggs and moved on to more important pursuits. The instincts were very odd.

He shook his head, and grabbed a small yellow sign beside the door. “No, I.. no. You don’t want to go into the men’s room usually, but… just stay here, I’ll get you a shirt.” His voice was oddly stepping, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. I must have truly violated a strong tradition to be having that disorienting of an effect on him.

I removed the bandage on my head, and the wound was completely closed, just a pink line remaining after the male had slipped out to find a shirt. I was pleased, and after my hair was adequately cleaned I tried to make it even with my fingers. In the mirror it looked more or less even and not containing any bits of gore, and my hands were finally clean. My visual sensors were an unusual, crystalline green color, quite eye-catching, and my face had a thin dusting of brown spots over my breathing tubes and under my eyes. Otherwise, I had no standards to judge the shape of my face, as it appeared sort of shaped like an upside-down triangle, and the furry bars over my eyes that were used to communicate emotion seemed fairly even.

It matched the picture on the card in my purse, and I examined that card for comparison. The card stated my name, Tracy Nutock, an unrecognized date of birth in the local standards, a number alongside height which I did not understand, that said 5’5”. below that was weight, which said 116, whatever that meant, and eye and hair color, green and brown respectively.

Under address, it said Addiville, Illinois. I suppose that the Illinois identification card had been generated by the system since I had no idea what an Addiville was. Some of this information would have been useful while signing the papers, but I hadn’t realized it existed until now.

I twisted my mind the way I did for sorcery to visualize my true identity, my Game of War sheet, and was gratified that it still worked, which implied my sorcery still worked.

Name: Tracy Nutock

Profession: none

Class: Magician

Race: Human Hybrid

Age: 17

Faction: Earth

Rank: 1

Advancement: 0%

Strength: 8

Charisma: 19

Durability: 7

Speed: 11

Essence: 12

Empathy: 10

Intellect: 22

Balance: 12

Reaction: 11

Endurance: 10

Health: 10

Dexterity: 14

Sorcery: 5

Technology: 3

Physical: 1

Ranged: 1

Telepresence

Drone Control

Microassembly

Remote Weapons

Aural Strengthening

Communications

Rapid Regeneration

Throwing

Soul Merge

Compression Coding

Grace

Flexible mind*

Technopathy

* Please note that certain abilities may be disabled or proprietary if they do not conform to the Game of War’s internal consistency and balance check.

My sheet had changed appearance considerably. What was strength exactly? Was it because endoskeletal creatures could greatly vary based on muscle mass? Durability might be used to register damage rather than a consistent level between individuals since I had noted Michael’s much more dense and large musculature that probably would have taken less harm from falling. Speed might be movement ability and Charisma, I had no idea. The size of the numbers was staggering, however. This body must have amazing reactions and coordination.

My prior race, aside from our intellect, was actually far simpler than these endoskeletal humans. That might be why we didn’t have the additional attributes, and why our lifespans were dramatically longer. Aside from scent and aura, differences between individuals were vanishingly small. Most other races were not terribly offended at any changes we made to personnel, perhaps because they were incapable of telling us apart, especially if they had no way of meaningfully distinguishing our identifying scent-names.

Of course, males were far more diminutive and had short, stubby legs instead of our long and graceful ones, but here those differences appeared reversed. Males were probably far more useful with a decent level of intelligence and the ability to exceed us in strength and manual labor potential. Fascinating.

I even had new skills. Flexible mind was obvious, and the warning had changed to make it clear that it was proprietary for humans, not disabled. I hadn’t interacted with much technology, and rapid healing was apparently a gift from The Game of War. Grace was an utter mystery, even if I had it, and throwing was apparently the ability to use your hands to launch objects far away. I didn’t know how to use throwing, but if it was a human ranged skill, I should probably learn. It looked like humans tended to default at ten in physical attributes, and by those measurements, I was probably weak and easily injured.

Technopathy, I had no idea what it meant. The implication was that it was a combination of magic and technology, but back home everyone, our entire technological base, was founded on telepresence. How could our clumsy chelate pedipalps create the first integrated circuit without the ability to use telepresence to manipulate the materials? Perhaps humans were not gifted in telepresence, and so a special addition was marked on my sheet to indicate an uncommon skill? With their great physical power and delicate manipulative appendages, I could almost imagine a world where work was all accomplished by hand, but our grand nests were dependent on the ability to even survive, let alone function.

We had some dim records back before telepresence was common. Back then, females were almost identical to males, only their pedipalps and size marking any difference. Our intellectual development stemmed from telepresence which males lacked. It was the Game of War that had made the biggest difference in our development, although it wasn’t until the invasion that its title had become appropriate.

I was feeling out the shape of rapid regeneration in my mind when the male returned. It was similar to healing, but it was much slower. Humans apparently had little innate regeneration ability, so the system had given me this spell as compensation. Given time, it should be able to regenerate nearly any injury, and considering human durability, it could be extraordinarily useful, especially since, by flexing a little of my now enormous essence, it could be used on others. I also imagined that, with telepresence, it should be useful at great distances as well.

He had his eyes turned to one side as he entered, and he had a piece of wire bent into an odd shape over which a blue garment was draped. I gratefully took it, and it appeared to be a sort of wraparound top that was belted in the middle. It was a little large for me, and I had to roll the baggy sleeves up, but with the belt and the rolled sleeves I was dressed again albeit missing the support garment.

He offered me a plastic bag with an old-fashioned zip-seal and a hard plastic handle, that stated ‘patient belongings’ with several lines beneath that. I squeezed some of the excess water out into the sink, and then placed my wet garments inside. I felt a little encumbered with a bag in my hand as well as my purse, but there was no way that the garments would have fit into the small bag, and I had little idea what the acid would do to the possessions I had yet to explore.

“Thank you very much, I am Tracy.”

He nodded, “Michael.” and I was confused. “I met another person called an EMT who was named Michael.”

He stopped looking away from me now that I was apparently no longer violating tradition by being unclothed, and nodded, “Yes, He’s big Mike and I am nurse Michael. He calls himself big gay Mike, but we don’t cause its rude. Are you supposed to be somewhere? That’s a lot of blood and...stuff.” he gestured at the sink which was still a bit messy.

I nodded, “Yes, I was injured when I was brought in, a sprained shoulder and a head wound. But I am healed now. I need to find your nest leaders and explain my position. There is a great and evil enemy invader that is destroying worlds, and I need your help to join the Game of War before they consume everything!”

He looked slightly embarrassed, “Wait, were you the lady that was supposed to be in bed 26? They said you had some memory problems due to cranial damage. Uhh… I think your problems sound serious. I was supposed to escort you to an MRI but you don’t have anything but an identity card, and the police wanted to talk to you.

I shook my head, “MRI is magnetic resonance imaging, right? That doesn’t sound very healthy for me, and I am not sure if allowing a strong magnetic field would interfere with my abilities. No offense, but I must decline your offer of an MRI for now. It is more important that I speak with your nest leader, or Warlord, I guess.”

Michael shook his head, “You can decline an MRI, but there are already cops looking for you. I guess they didn’t think to check the men’s rooms. If you give me a moment, I’d like to check your head wound, but then I have to take you to them, they are very anxious.”

I shrugged and stepped forward into him. He was half a head shorter than the other Michael but still towered over me. He abruptly became professional, but after searching through my wet hair for a few moments, he shrugged. “I can’t find a head wound. I suppose you can talk to the cops, then.”

“What are the cops?” I asked curiously. If it got me closer to their leadership, it might be worth it.

“The police department?” he asked.

I nodded, “Very well. I have already spoken to the police department once. I found out it was filled with males, so I considered it unimportant, but I suppose maintenance is still concerned about my accident.”

He nodded, “Right. The police department is filled with mostly men, I guess.” I ensured I was wearing the wraparound shirt and leg protectors, but I was unhappy about the shoes so I tucked them into the bag with the wet clothing and the tiny bag stuffed with unidentified items.

We left the men’s room and headed back into the hospital hallways. After a moment we were met by another fairly rounded male specimen. Oddly, even though he looked more attractive by F’lok’nyran standards, I didn’t actually find him very appealing. Perhaps it was because he seemed to have breasts like mine, albeit considerably larger. I knew he was male, though, because like some of the others, he had a gray mustache, which was one of the gender indicators according to Nancy.

He nodded, and looked me over. Something about the expression on his face bothered me, even though the half-smile on his face appeared friendly, his lowered eyebrows did not. He cocked his head to one side, and his eyes lingered on my breasts much like Michael’s had. His arms seemed much more bulbous than the other officer’s had, though, and I imagined his body had stored a great deal of extra fats for emergencies, to prevent starvation. I wondered if his job involved exploration, to need that much of a reserve?

“Miss, you are going to have to come with me.” he said, with that odd expression again. I didn’t really know what it meant, but I smiled at Michael. “Thank you so much for your help. Perhaps I will see you again if I have to come back here.”

He nodded, “As much as I’d like to see more of you…. I mean, as much as I would like to see you again, I hope you don’t have to come back soon. I work here Sunday through Friday, afternoon and evening shift. If you had a cell I’d give you my number, but you are umm… welcome to come back and find me except for every third week when I get off. Just ask for Nurse Michael or Nurse Crantz. That’s my last name, I mean, only the ER staff all know I am Michael.”

I was closer to the police officer, and oddly heard him mutter, “I bet you will get off.” but I think Michael didn’t hear him. I didn’t know what he meant, since it seemed odd to wager on something that someone just told you.

I smiled at him again, trying to be as friendly as I could. I was grateful for his help, and based on the off smile the officer had given me, actually feeling the gesture tended to make it more welcoming and genuine. Strangely, he turned even redder than he had when I had been violating the Nudity and Men’s room taboos.