The Swim Team Ch. 03.5

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CHAPTER 31/2

PENIS INSPECTION DAY

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Before she knocked on the bedroom door Dr. Emmerson turned back to Mrs. Sommers and whispered something along the lines of I'll take it from here, with words such as private, delicate situation, gynecological exam or building trust. She wished this mother of two couldn't see through her; as however confused her rambling was (although rehearsed like the rest), this time she was telling the truth. Her long talk with the parents had been mostly downplaying on her part, and she worried that she would sound different now.

In any case, Camille Sommers went back to her mourning with only a ghostly "Fine." But she left hanging an eye on this strange doctor, this intruder, to mark and to promise unfinished thinking.

As a doctor, Emmerson came in, but it was as a worried woman, not wearing her white coat, that she closed the door behind her. Emilia found Gabrielle sitting up wide awake in a pull out sofa. Only her head peeked out from the covers.

Now at least she would tell nothing but the truth. That is until she would have not to lie but to stop talking.

She said, "Hi." Which only got a vague glance in response.

She picked the desk chair and rolled it to the head of the bed. Most of the carpeting had been hastily removed with a boxcutter. Wondering why made her finally notice the faint ammonia scent of precum lingering in the room despite the windows left opened. She took the time to sit, to put her case down at her feet. Got the time to see the girl's expression was steady, and cold, almost. And elsewhere.

"I believe saying it's nice to see you would be in bad taste."

No response. No interest.

"Your mother told me you haven't said a word all day."

Gabrielle confirmed it by not saying a word, looking at the sky outside.

"Me, I have so much to tell I don't really know where to begin."

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow, like she had overheard a lame joke.

"How do you feel?" she was asked, and it made her twitch like someone who had been asked the same question all day. Her brows slumped into a frown. Gabrielle swiveled to a prone position, sighing. To then immediately—as if remembering she had sprained some part of her body—roll back to supine.

The silence had got a little heavier. Emilia almost apologized for it but she assumed it wouldn't reach Gabrielle's hidden mental place.

She opened her mouth but Gabrielle finally spoke:

"I don't want to be examined." Still without looking. And in a voice that was elsewhere too.

"Ok," Emilia replied and unconsciously relaxed in her chair. "We have much to discuss anyway. And it's not that imperative since I know you feel better than you ever felt in your whole life."

Three seconds of disbelief was what it took to Gabrielle to throw her gaze upon Emilia. She then considered remaining silent forever, but instead said, "You think you know how I feel?"

"Um... Yes, I..."

Wrong answer.

Wrong answer until Gabrielle got it wrong. "You mean you're like me?" Her eyes giving out only the possibility of glimmering.

Emilia cursed herself for having entangled things so fast and replied that no she wasn't. She even almost added that she had a vagina. And now it was back to step one. Or minus one.

She said, "Ok um... I suppose I should have introduced myself properly. My name is Emilia Emmerson. I'm twenty-eight. I'm a clinical sexologist from the University of Stanford. I also work for the organization studying and protecting the existence of the Rebz. I've been assigned as your Tutor. It means I'll be your personal physician, if you agree to. But you'll find that it mostly means I'm here to answer your questions."

She held out her hand and waited patiently, but not so long as to look dumb or annoying. And the hand lowered down; and stopped as Gabrielle moved; and then hid when a hand, struggling to come out from under the covers, appeared, holding a huge book, which the girl carelessly put next to her pillow. Gabrielle's face didn't alter but she was thinking, and not just for herself anymore. And her stare was ready for battle:

She asked, "You ever read Lovecraft?" That name was on the book cover.

"It's a romance novel?"

"Ever read the Bible?"

"As a kid."

"'For no man can see my face and live?'"

"Oh... um... I don't think I follow..."

"I hate quoting the Bible..."

"What's Lovecraft then?"

"'I saw tentacles and now I'm insane.'"

"And that's how you would say you feel?"

"No. I don't know. I can't put words on how I feel. Means you can't help me. Means you should leave."

Emilia couldn't conceal a soft sigh. Of empathy. Because she had just understood: "You didn't take the painkillers I gave you."

It wasn't a question.

It got a glance, like a surprise. Therefore a yes. So Emilia went on:

"You won't suffer from PTSD if that's what you're trying to say. Being conscious during your metamorphosis was like a psychedelic trip (or as you implied: a religious experience), and you felt a lot of things, probably even contradictory emotions, like fear and pleasure and shame and pride and now your brain has to adjust. You're not having a mental breakdown—"

"How d'you know that? I am... I..."

"I have my own literary quote."

"Oh please, do we have to—"

"'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.'"

"It's from Assassin's Creed?"

"Nietzsche."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "Big moustache guy? We don't have his books at home. Can we stop the pissing contest?"

Which she had started.

Emilia realized she forgot it was a teenager she was dealing with.

In the meantime, the latter had retreated back to pondering.

Looking around, Emilia saw a small shelf with a few hardcover books, neat and lined up. Next to it, on the desk, was an untidy pile of way more paperbacks and even more mangas. Worn. Dog-eared. Spines creased. Second-hand pricetags on some of them.

Gabrielle caught her looking.

She said, "It's my parents who like to read, I only inherited the gene."

"I haven't read a book that wasn't medical in...ten years, I gue—"

"You should have told me I would destroy my room like that."

"Would you have believed me?"

And then it wasn't silence, it was mild speechlessness. Something that didn't have the same weight and could go on without being awkward. And the longer it went, the more space for appeasement.

Gabrielle moved to her flank, this time eschewing the prone position, and nestled her face into the pillow.

Her voice muffled, she exhaled, "I'm sorry I laughed at you the other day."

"It's all right."

"I still think your story is sus."

"No cap?"

The laugh Gabrielle spat into the pillow was definitely of the same kind as the other day. "Doctor—"

"Emilia."

"Doctor, please don't ever say that again, like, ever. And don't ever try to coax me, or lie to me. Please."

"I won't. I promise. Actually as a Rebz you will have access to information only very few people do."

"Like what? I'm part of the Illuminati now?"

"Well, I must admit our organization has the attributes of a secret society, which is not uncommon in medicine. I mean, I was co-opted, I took an oath..."

Gabrielle blew air out of her nose. "This is insane."

"We're not really centralized though, we don't even have a name, we're Dr. Stewart's team. And I lied to you about that: we don't work with the UN, or with anyone for that matter—"

"So you are a cult. No oversight..."

"We don't have any religious agenda, or ideological for that matter. We don't do it for money either. But there is indeed a part of belief: we believe you are someone worth protecting."

"You don't get anything out of it? no new drugs to sell? no MK-Ultra business?"

"You spend too much time on the internet. But ok fine, we did find some interesting new molecules that could change the course of humanity."

"So you did experiment on us."

She had said us.

"If you call blood samples experimenting, then yea," Emilia said. "But I assure you: we have oversight. By none other than the Rebz themselves. It's been thirty years, they have seats on the Council. And also, precisely like a secret society, we are bound by honor. It's a word I think you understand given your upbringing."

Gabrielle looked like she wanted to reply Fuck you.

"The thing is," Emilia went on, "some aspects of your life will have to remain secret, you do realize it, don't you?"

"And if I refuse to see you again, you will, like, spy on me or something?"

"We do have an intelligence service. But we only monitor some of the people around you. School faculty, mostly. We're really here to protect you."

"From what?"

Poor choice of words. Emilia hesitated. But she did it, she dared to trust her patient's intelligence and brushed off any false threat of proverbial bad guys by nodding toward the obvious fact. This pelvis under the comforter. The thing to be protected.

Gabrielle slouched back into the pillow. "Am I going to be like this forever?"

"Yes. So far it proved to be irreversible."

"No, I mean..." she in turn nodded downward. "Being like this. It's been hours."

"Oh. Yes, the first erection can last up to three weeks."

"Three weeks? I'll be stuck here three weeks? You don't have another magic pill for that?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I can't go to school, I can't see my friends, I have to pee in the tub because of this..."

"...penis?"

"Don't play that game with me!"

"I'm sorry." Emilia paused, to emphasize the words. "Listen. You can use this time to organize your new life. I will help you do that."

"You're just here to study me like a guinea pig. And measure my..." Again the word got stuck. "And tell me how I feel."

"I know how the other Rebz feel. There's thirty years of literature about your condition."

"Do not tell me how I feel!"

"And I'm not here to study you. I don't even have to report to the organization. Everything will stay between us, Gabrielle, just you and I."

"Not creepy at all..."

"No, it means you're an adult."

Gabrielle's eyes went back toward the window. Anger blurred the view; the blue sky, the open space, her old life from three days ago. "I'm more dependent than I've ever been. I'm not an adult."

"No one said you have to go through this alone," Emilia said. "Your family is here for you."

"What do I tell my friends? You will spy on them if I tell them?"

"Don't tell anyone you don't trust with your life." She was serious.

"This is insane."

"All right, this is insane. You grew a penis overnight, your life has become insane."

"Will my sister become like me?"

"No."

"Is my mother like me and never told us?"

"No."

"If I have children, will they be like me?

"No."

"Will I have children anyway?"

"Yes, but—" Emilia thinned her lips. She had been had like a beginner, and now Gabrielle tensed up. Like she wanted to cry but couldn't. Really couldn't.

She said dejectedly, "I don't like girls. This is so stupid."

But it was more than that of course. It was, as a poisoned birthday gift, the confirmation that she would never get pregnant. And it was finally something stronger than brooding stupor. She tried hard to go back to her silent staring but her breathing hinted at her inability to do it any longer.

Emilia refrained to console her with a hand on her shoulder, but gave her all the time she needed.

Until she found back the thread:

"Your personality won't change. You're still you. I mean you will still grow up, you will change, but as we all do. Does that make sense?"

Gabrielle's inability to cry looked physically painful.

Her teeth unclenched when she said, "You're lying. I'm changing. It's not changing, it's like there's another me in my head!"

"Yes, usually changing is a slow process, and seamless. Sometimes people will deny they even did. We don't see ourselves change. But last night you did. So right now it's more like you've gained something, is that right? It's not a part of you. Like you found a treasure—"

"No, I hate it!"

"Then I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry, Gabrielle. There's really nothing I can do."

"Then why are you even here?"

"Actually there is something I can do. I have a message for you."

Emilia took an iPad out of her case. Gabrielle, who had expected something like a syringe, frowned. "What is it?"

Emilia allowed herself a smile. "Tentacles."

She held out the tablet.

Gabrielle knew how to use one obviously, so it wasn't the reason she just looked at it hesitantly.

She asked, "If my brain wants me to change into that state of 'feeling better than ever' like you said, then why am I so scared?"

"Scared of what?"

"I don't know. I just feel scared, it doesn't stop."

"You know I'll only give you "assumptions" as an answer."

"Whatever."

"You're scared because the only thing left is for you to choose to change."

True to her generation, Gabrielle quipped, "Well I fell asleep during The Matrix Reloaded."

"You've made a choice last night. You went without anesthesia, full on and guns blazing. And I'm sure you're ashamed you did. You're ashamed that you wanted to know. And I'm sure you're glad you did. And I'm sure you're terrified of the outcome. Because, as you so inadequately put, you saw the face of God last night. And you're surprised you've survived. I'm sure you're surprised you liked it so much, while it felt like dying. And now you're gun-shy. And you're scared that what's on this iPad will comfort you into a choice. And you know what? this isn't even special. Every human being thinks like this, not just Rebz."

"Don't call me that."

Emilia touched the screen.

The picture of a girl faded in. Same age as Gabrielle. In a field, in the morning sun, cozy in her fall clothes, knit muffler, brown wooly hat, light brown hair peeking from under it, looking blond in the sunrays. She was smiling, looking at the camera. Looking at Gabrielle.

"This is Erin Cassidy."

Gabrielle looked back. It was a beautiful picture. And it was a beautiful girl.

Emilia swiped left and another woman appeared, in the same setup. "Here's Carrie Pham."

She was in her early thirties. A smile photographed right before turning into a laugh.

A swipe. "Rhea Flynn." Twenty, maybe. Making a heart with her hands. (Something which always made Gabrielle cringe.)

Another swipe. "Nat Dencik." Another. "Alex Fletcher ... Maria Hyatt-Patterson ... Rashida Russell ... Izzy Ellenstein ... Emma Cortez."

All quite different women. They had in common an undeniable beauty and a visible excitement in taking part in this simple photoshoot. Emilia swiped one last time and a video filled the screen.

Same field. Same glowing sun in the gentle cold. The nine women were there, gathered and holding each other under a banner that said Welcome Gabrielle. The video started, they jumped, they cheered and chanted. Celebrating her name. And then they began removing their clothes, goofily, screaming as the cold air was biting into their skin. Until they were all naked, their feet in the dewy grass. Some of them were in erection. Enormous penises just like Gabrielle's, and which didn't seem to care about temperature, unlike men's.

Now giggling uncontrollably, puffing steam, pushing, jostling, they ran to a lake nearby, the camera following them, until it couldn't, as they all divebombed into the freezing water. Swans flew away in the distance. Emilia's voice was heard from offscreen, saying, *Great idea being born in winter.*

Right before a devilishly aimed splash of water would reach the camera, the video stopped, a yelp interrupted.

Gabrielle was crying. Gabrielle was laughing.

"This is insane."

She played the video again.

"They're so beautiful."

"They're your sisters."

"And they were all like me at first and they became these crazy streakers? for science?" Gabrielle was laughing. Gabrielle was going insane.

"Of course not. They all lived their transformation differently."

"It doesn't even make sense. I don't even know what to fee— I just... Why am I so..." She shrugged and winced and twisted her hands in frustration. "Why when I think about how I feel it's like there's no word to describe it? Did your secret nudist club make up words for what I feel?"

"No. It's just that you're feeling everything at once."

"Don't tell me how I feel, just tell me what's wrong with me."

"Your brain is processing so much and so opposite at the same time that it stops making sense, there are no words anymore. And what you don't understand yet is that it's normal. Contradiction is normal and you'll find solace in it. You're excited that there is no way back. You're excited that you've lost something. And you're scared to have something for the first time. Something that belongs only to yourself. Because, this penis may be part of your body, it's still something you've received. You died and now you have something."

Gabrielle wheezed a chuckle full of tears. "You call a dick something?"

"Yes and soon this something will simply be you. There's no new words, no safe category to put yourself in. You are different...and so normal simultaneously. Welcome to adulthood."

"You came all the way down here to tell me I'm not special. A Zoom call would have been enough. Can I meet them? these girls?"

"Not before you graduate."

"Oh there are rules now?"

Emilia nodded, impassive.

"Why does this video even exist?" Gabrielle asked. "You planned it out? And where did it happen? And why are they naked? I... just..."

"New York State. Forty-degree temperature. The video is a tradition but they improvised mostly."

"You know a lot of Rebz?"

"I've met a lot of them. It's actually why I took the Oath to become a Tutor."

"Wait, so you have sworn to watch over me?"

"I didn't choose you specifically."

"What did you swear on?"

"My honor, meaning my career..."

"Your life?"

Emilia smiled. "They won't send assassins if that's—"

"You studied other Rebz?"

"I examined a few of them. It was part of my training. I also met Regina White, she's Patient 0, remember?"

"Can I meet her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You just can't. High level clearance." Emilia thought that at least her lie sounded cool.

"These girls, they're your friends?"

"They got a job in the organization. Carrie is an oncologist, Maria works in data wrangling..."

"It's so unfair showing me this. It looks like a perfume commercial. Except it's made by a bunch of...what's the word? voyour?"

"Exhibitionists. From the Latin, um, exhibere: to show."

"Ok, mom"

"Don't call me that."

"So I'm going to be like them?"

"It's part of the nature of the caducean syndrome. It has a lot to do with feeling good. With pleasure."

"Oh my God..." Gabrielle retracted into the bed, sheet over her head.

Emilia waited patiently.

When Gabrielle resurfaced, her face was wet and red. "I'm gonna be some kind of sex maniac?"

"Your sex drive will increase greatly. But you will never lose control of it. And I'll help you create boundaries."

"It's horrible."

"It's not your fault."

"It's not me. It's taking a hold on me. You know what? examine me, do it, tell me why I feel like I downed like fifty million cans of Monster. You know, like putting a flashlight in my eyes, stuff like that?"

"Sure. I already know the answer, though."

"What is it?"

"You're aroused," Emilia announced bluntly.

"Wh..."

"You've been aroused for three days now. And not aroused as a girl but as a Rebz. Which you can't really process yet. As I said, your brain has to adjust."