The Statue

"It is so long... who am I now?" The statue's eyes shifted colors, from the ruby they were in Hannah's memory to purple amethyst, then to a blue aquamarine, then to green emerald.

"Gilira -- a statue of a goddess." Hannah traced a finger on the base of the statue. The woman giggled loudly in Hannah's ears.

"I know my name! I know my name! I remember it." Her exuberance was contagious, Hannah smiled.

"I'm Hannah."

"A strange name! A pretty name!" The statue didn't move, but Hannah could see something inside it -- almost behind it. A ghost? A spirit? Something ethereal, not unlike the statue. It clasped its hands by its cheek, impressed by Hannah's foreign name. It asked another question, "My purpose?"

"You..." Hannah paused, trying to remember what she'd seen on the base. She almost told the statue what was written on the first three -- that she was made to please a king. But she stopped herself, "You were made as a symbol counter to what a man wanted. You were a rebel. You were an idol of women. You were the woman -- the woman who stood for women."

The spirit behind the statue seemed bashful, humble to accept this, "A lot. But I feel memory. It is not too far from memory. It seems... good." She paused, before reaching a ghostly hand down to Hannah's head, "Thank you."

Hannah said, "It's good to talk to you, even if this is just a dream."

The spirit smiled, "I remember good things in dreams."

Hannah snorted a little, "The Elamites wrote a lot about dreams." With that, she began to stir, pulled away from the sanctum, from the statue, from everything, and back to her room. The morning light spilled over her, forcing her awake. Hannah groaned under the weight of her body -- every inch of her felt like it had been beaten. She looked at the clock -- 9:45 AM. She smacked her forehead and pulled herself up. The soreness wasn't entirely uncomfortable, in high school she was a swimmer, and the feeling was familiar, maybe there were still some endorphins running through her muscles.

She thought for a second -- if she could read the clock, that meant she left her contacts in. She sighed and reached for her eyes to remove them, leaving those on overnight was bad enough, but for two days she could do some genuine harm. Yet, as her fingers reached her open eye, she realized immediately that there were no lenses on them. She blinked twice, trying to see if they had just been jiggered around, maybe sliding under her eyelid. But there were no lenses. Just her eyes, plain and simple. Suddenly able to see more than a few feet in front of her.

"How in the..." She got up and walked to the main room. The same story -- everything looked as if she was wearing glasses. She reached up to her face again, sure that somehow she must be wearing something and just forgotten about it. Yet, again, there were no lenses.

She shook her head and decided that she must still be dreaming. She was tired in this dream, though, and returned back to bed. She switched on the AC, shut the window, and let her room cool off to let her sore bones rest longer.

As the fan on her nightstand cooled her skin, she faded into sleep. Again, she returned to the sanctum.

The statue was speechless for a moment, but a faint giggling echoed in the small space. Hannah looked for the ghost, but found it could not be seen, until her vision blurred, followed by loud, childish laughter.

"Found you!" The ghost had wrapped its spectral hands around Hannah's face, and floated over her back to its statue home.

Hannah had had a nasty fever once, and the dreams were weirder, but just as vivid as these. She wanted to speak, but found that in the dream-logic of the place, nothing came out.

The ghost looked at her for a moment, and said -- "Oh! Gifts, gifts gifts gifts!" She repeated multiple times.

It moved its lips up to Hannah's -- pursing them as though to kiss her. Yet, as they touched hers, the ghost exhaled powerfully into her throat, filling her chest with air. Hannah choked on this and struggled to speak again.

"How I do?" The ghost grinned at Hannah, who was now gasping for air on the ground. Hannah, for her part, could feel burning all the way through her chest. It fast subsided, though, and the warmth was almost comforting.

"That hurt -- that hurt a..." Hannah stopped herself. The voice coming through her lips was hers, yes, but it was as if someone had carefully edited out all the harsher tones of it, every odd syllable made to be perfectly sonorous. No more sharp s's, all her taps and stops were softened just a little to be easier on the ears. Her tongue's posture had changed in her mouth, making it easier to speak. She could feel her cheeks and lips held differently on her face -- where once it took a little effort to talk on end, she could tell from those five words alone that something was different. She cleared her throat but spoke no more.

"Do good?" The ghost again asked.

Hannah nodded, afraid to hear her new voice. Something was beginning to click in her mind, but the implications of it were too supernatural for her to accept at their face value. She pointed to her eyes and asked, "Gifts?"

The ghost affirmed, "Gifts!" and asked again, "Do good?" it seemed to be insecure, or at least unsure of whether it had done a decent job with her vocal tract.

Hannah sighed and said, "Very... very good." The ghost squee'd with excitement, and repeated itself from earlier! "More gifts! More gifts!"

Hannah saw a flash of blue-white ectoplasm shoot into her as the ghost entered her body through the chest. And as that flash passed her over, she felt herself pulled forward, outside of her body, and turned to look at it laid down before the statue.

The ghost's words could still be heard, only it spoke Elamite, a tongue Hannah, or anyone alive for that matter, had never heard aloud. Hannah could still feel the body she looked at, and sensed the ghost digging into her nervous system, finding all the clumsy little flaws and pruning them, trimming the synapses and axons to become more fluid in their control of her body.

Hannah knew it was all a dream, but the idea of having a true inventory of herself, and then going and cleaning out what she didn't like -- that made her feel comfortable. Maybe the ghost was harsh, but if it was being honest, then it could help her help herself.

After the nerves were polished, she began to feel a warmth coming from her calves, thighs, and then on every major muscle in her body.

"A good gift for a good woman. Be strong and walk well." The ghost murmured through her body's lungs. She realized the ghost was doing something Hannah hadn't done since high school -- taken proper care to exercise and sculpt her body like a statue. Hannah frowned at that thought. Once upon a time she had the time and energy to swim, hike, and do everything she could to feel her heart beat well.

"But, never too late to feel good." The ghost interrupted the thought, and Hannah could see her well-defined form below. The muscles, however, were soon covered in a layer of plushness. The ghost smiled through Hannah's body, "Good muscles need cushions. And good worshippers love cushions." Hannah was bemused at that thought. She never felt like her body was good enough to be worshipped. Hers was an element of shame in her life.

Yet now, before her, was a statue carved of soft skin and sturdy muscle. One which continued its glow while she watched. Her breasts inflated outwards, her cheeks and lips were repostured to accentuate her eyes and splendid brown hair. Her hands and arms stretched just a little, her fingernails and fingertips were cleaned of all the harsh hangnails she so often had. Her teeth between her lips straightened.

It was still the same her below. Simply the her she wished she could be. A her which had been esteemed to take care of itself, to carve from the flesh it was given a statue for the ages. A true object worthy of worship.

Hannah looked down, and saw the ghost emerge from her mouth. It kissed her forehead, and complimented its own work -- "Perfect"

It kissed her chest, poking slightly into her heart, "Perfect"

And finally, it pointed to her crotch, and joked, "Perfect -- I can't do any better than we come made with" it grinned, and threw Hannah back down into her body. The force of repossession shook her awake, and Hannah opened her eyes to once again see perfectly.

The soreness she had gone to sleep with was gone, replaced by a warmth, and one final voice from within -- "Look!"

She threw herself out of bed and ran to the mirror.

She was statuesque, she was perfect.

Hannah reached up to her face with her new, old fingers. Her cheeks were the same as they'd always been, only now just a little bit more... precise? Sharp, yes, but only insofar as she could see the edges more clearly. They weren't sharp in the sense that they looked like you could hurt yourself on them, just defined. Soft edges and clean shapes.

She stepped back from the mirror in terror and awe. Her feverishness was gone, but the dreams -- the statue, the magic, everything -- it was all real. Real as rain. She noticed immediately that her tank-top was bulging out far more than usual, and as she reached down and hefted a breast up, it was more than apparent those changes were equally real. She reached lower to her belly, only to find that it had been pushed back, slightly. She still had some weight on her, but nothing to be at all upset by.

She felt her ass, which had always been relatively flat -- now muscled and plush, just the same as her thighs. Her legs, everything all the way down -- it was all just perfect.

And there was nothing to evidence the change, no scars, no marks, no bruises or scrapes or cuts. All as she slept, as though nothing had ever changed -- as if she had simply always been like this. She looked in the mirror at the new, soft, almost maternal, strong, plush, figure looking back at her -- and she almost seemed to glow under the rising sun.

"What. The. Actual. Fuck." She didn't know if she could do anything else today but stare, and perhaps explore. But work needed her, and she needed to leave.

She put on a now tight sports bra, tossed on her drab clothes -- she wondered if they had always looked this drab, if she had been using a quiet professionalism to hide behind. Tossing the clothes on in a hurry, she headed downstairs to her car -- only to be stopped by her neighbor, Claire.

The woman was an undergraduate student who had just stepped out to walk her dog. Hannah tried to be as close to her neighbors as possible, but she stopped herself before speaking, fearing that the woman wouldn't recognize her. Despite this, she spoke up, "Hi Hannah! You're up a little late."

Hannah didn't say a word and simply continued walking past her, blushing. She heard Claire yelling down the hallway, "That's alright, we can talk later if you're in a rush!" That imposition of a conversation made Hannah turn and ask, "Is something up, Claire?"

"Nope! Just wanted to say hi -- you're all good!" She walked the opposite way with her chihuahua tugging along.

Hannah shook her head, she'd have to come back to Claire and explain that bout of rudeness. She continued to blush at the thought that people wouldn't recognize her, but at the same time, perhaps she wanted to not be recognized now? If they still saw her as the same, then that'd mean these changes must all be in her head.

She arrived down at her car, and grabbed it open, swinging it far more violently than she intended to -- the car door nearly scratched the paint on the car next to hers. The explosive force she could muster now shocked her, she needed to be more careful with what she did with her body. She genuinely didn't know her own strength.

The drive back to campus also proved shocking. The world seemed to be in higher definition, colors popped more, contrasted better. She no longer had to rely on contacts or glasses -- the effect made everything almost seem brighter.

As she pulled up to the museum, she noticed that the university had already started putting up signs for the new exhibition: "OPENING IN 2 WEEKS -- BEAUTY THROUGH THE AGES." She still didn't like that title. It felt so objectifying, and as much as that was the case (historical perspectives on women tended to be objectifying, after all) she didn't want to feed into that. Something better, maybe "Perspectives on woman's appearance" -- no that didn't have any sort of ring to it. Regardless, she'd bring it up with the others when she got back inside.

As she swung open the glass doors, she was greeted by the whole place in shambles -- police had apparently parked on the other side, and several were inside the building. Davis ran up to her.

"Hannah! Christ all Friday, where have you been?! We called you like five times -- there's been a break in!" Hannah's jaw fell down and she babbled for a second trying to make up some excuse for where she had been the night before -- but Davis didn't demand any alibis. Before either of them could speak though, Jane caught up to form the trio.

"They can't identify anyone from the security footage, but the good news is there's no evidence of tampering with anything, nothing's stolen!" She sounded incredibly relieved, but added, "That does mean, though, that they're gonna amp up security around here for a while, at least until they get some leads."

Hannah finally caught herself, "Wait, back up, what happened?" Apparently the statue had bolstered her ability to make bald-faced lies, because the two bought that she had no idea about anything that had gone on.

Davis cleared his throat, "Well, last night, someone tripped a power breaker in the museum -- when maintenance got here, they found that the door had been left open, and one of our exhibits had been left partway open. They called the police, and when we got here they told us what was going on."

Hannah looked over to Jane, "Well, what about the security tapes?"

Jane shook her head, "Well, the bad news is that the power outage corrupted most of their drives -- except for the battery powered ones. Of course, those are only the interior cameras, and those couldn't see the person's face. And with the lighting as bad as it was, we don't have any way of knowing who did it."

Hannah nodded, piecing together what information she'd been given. For the moment, no one knew about her involvement, and if they found out she could explain it away as a midnight investigation of the statue. She didn't steal anything, really it was just trespassing. And would it be trespassing if she had a key? Probably not, but every moment she wasted not telling anyone would make her case seem shakier and shakier.

She briefly considered admitting it was her, when the question of the power outage occurred to her. How was she going to explain that? She decided that it was best just to let things play out for right now, and maybe speak up in a short bit if it looked like they'd realize it was her.

Hannah told the two, "Well, thank god nothing's damaged." She started to walk towards their exhibit, amid the yellow police tape and investigators looking around the place. Davis and Jane followed behind her.

Hannah wondered how the two of them didn't notice the changes -- maybe they weren't talking about it? Before she could get to the exhibit, she looked back over her shoulder at Davis. Davis smiled and nodded, before asking, "Is there something on your mind, Hannah?"

She shook her head, "No... I mean, do I look," She paused, gulped and finished the thought, "different today?"

Davis snickered, "Nah, I mean..." he took a moment to make sure he wasn't brushing over something she wanted him to notice, "Oh! You're not wearing makeup?"

Hannah wasn't, but again she didn't normally. But she didn't want to embarrass him, "I hoped someone would notice."

"Well, I think you look wonderful natural." Jane cut in, as they reached the archway to their exhibit.

Hannah gasped as they looked at the statue surrounded by investigators. Just last night it had been Gilira. Now, she looked upon the Alabaster and Algorite statue of her. It was her statue. Hannah looked at Davis and Jane and said, "Jesus, it's -- it's different now."

Jane shrugged, "I mean, it will be with security here. But I'm sure we'll be fine." She was amused at Hannah's sheer shock.

Hannah said back, "No -- like that statue, it was of Gilira, now it's... it's me!"

Jane looked back between the two, before commenting, "Well yes, I mean, you two look a lot alike, but that's how it's always been? I mean, I never really had any pictures of it before, but I remember it always looked like you. Back me up on this, Davis."

Davis nodded, but said nothing.

"See -- maybe it's just now that we're all looking at it you've noticed it." She leaned in to Hannah's ear, "What did you mean earlier by that to Davis? Is everything alright?"

Hannah stepped aside, collecting herself. They had noticed it was different. But they had never, never ­ mentioned that it looked like her. These changes were real. Somehow, though, they had all been mentally affected to not remember anything of it. Just as if it had always been this way. She had always looked like Gilira, and Gilira had always looked like her.

The officers began to disperse after a couple hours of investigating the scene. There were no questions for Hannah, nor any of the other students. They were notified that they would be contacted later if the department needed to speak with them.

Hannah was mortified at the thought that she would be held responsible if there were damages. But, even to her, it seemed that the statue had no scratches on it. She had heard one of the investigators walking out and rumbling that it was probably just a homeless person who spent the night there -- and that they really just needed to keep the doors locked at night. The officers had insisted to Curator Oka that the door hadn't been tampered with -- whoever got in had walked into an open door. The Curator, naturally, was infuriated by the suggestion that his staff had left it unlocked so wantonly.

But, the morning's events aside, the day passed by normally. Due to the events of the morning, the three students agreed it would be best for them to stay into the night -- normally their work would be done before six, but considering the disruption eight or nine would be needed to get everything done in a timely manner.

The three weren't the closest before being assigned the project, but ever since it had been assigned to them, they made sure to have lunch together on the days they worked. Jane had brought herself a homemade pasta -- small shells mixed with chipotle pepper and chickpeas and onion, in a thick, spicy marinara. Davis and Hannah both ordered from the restaurants on campus -- with Davis enjoying a chicken sandwich and Hannah picking at a plate of waffle fries and tri-tip. Jane took her slow eating to be a sign of melancholy -- she usually ate the fastest of the three.

"Hey! You know what we can all do tonight? They're closing the museum early, so we get to work out of the lobby tonight!" The lobby was a massive atrium built to house the museum's largest artifact -- a temple bell the size of a truck. All around it, they had themed the place to the village which it had been originally housed in. It gave the place a sort of kitschy, but playful and fun feeling of being in a place that almost never really existed. All the signs were painted in Tocharian, which served greatly to emphasize the immersive feeling of the exhibition.

Hannah nodded at that suggestion, but didn't say anything else. While she chomped down on a fry, Jane gave Davis the, "Help me, dammit -- something's up with her!" Eyes. Davis (with a mouth still full of partly chewed chicken, lettuce, and bread) asked, "What's wrong with Hannah?" Jane smacked her forehead and said, "Dude. I'm trying to cheer her up, not make her feel like something's wrong."