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"We live on the cusp of oblivion! Decisive action must be taken, or all will be lost. You all sit there on your couch and ignore the terrible things happening just outside your window, but how much longer can you stomach it? How much longer until any of us can take this world before we all go mad? Aren't you mad? I certainly am! These abominations of man cannot be allowed to persist any longer."

"That's enough of that I think," a deep voice mutters from behind my seat, as the television shuts off. Turning around I yank the controller from the clutches of my roommate, instantly turning the TV back on. "Why do you watch this crap, Kein?"

"Because, Steven, it's important to know what people think of you; especially the craziest of the bunch."

Walking over to the TV stand Steven switches off the power strip and looks directly into me, "Why bother if they're crazy? Obviously people have more sense than to listen to them."

"Then why do you suppose they are given air time," I yell, slamming the remote onto the table in front of me. "There is more to it than just getting more ratings, okay. People are actually taking it seriously!"

Crossing his arms, Steven slowly walks over and sits on a couch arm. "I don't think it's as bad as you think. I mean if it were they would have stopped all that initial human testing a long time ago, and yet here you sit." Steven reaches out and rubs the back of my ears, his smooth fingertips brushing through my short hair. Calmly continuing his point, "You can't tell me that you ran into that much trouble transitioning species because of zealots and humanity purists."

I bat away his cool hand from my head and walk to turn the strip back on, "I told you to stop petting me, and yes, I did have trouble from zealots and purists!" Sitting back down, slamming my weight into the cushion, I switch the TV back on.

"Oh, come on Kein! A line of protestors kept at bay across the street does not count as active oppression. You had more trouble financing it than anything. You were just lucky they needed volunteers." Sliding down the couch arm and pressing the mute button on the remote, Steven turns my head, looking my face over. "All the same, they did a good job with you: you do resemble a River Otter. Can't wait to see how the Avian tests turn out." His light grip under my chin released, I sternly face the television, keeping a sharp glance to Steven on my right.

Quietly watching the muted screen, I try to imagine what the pundit is prattling on about. After a minute or so the camera cuts back to the round table and commercials start up. Finally unmuting the speakers I set the remote further left on the table so that Steven will not be able to reach it. Suddenly I feel something behind me, just above the top of the back cushion. Steven put his arm behind me! Looking over to him, now lounging rather comfortably, I poke his shoulder. "Why are you sitting so close to me right now?"

"Huh? What's that dude?"

"Why are we sitting so close here, man," I continue to pry. "You were almost too 'manly' to hold a handshake for too long, but now that I don't look human you have been pretty close to me."

"What? Come on Kein, you're imagining things," Steven dismisses, retracting his arms to himself, crossing them tightly.

"No really. You have been following me around the apartment since I got back from the clinic. What's up with that?"

Standing up Steven defensively puts his hands up in the air, "Well, excuse me for keeping an eye on someone that underwent a major procedure. Heaven forbid I'm around to make sure you're okay."

Not quite satisfied with his answer I continue the conversation. "While I appreciate the concern, it isn't necessary."

"Now that's a load of shit. You couldn't even walk straight coming in the door. I'm just keeping an eye on you until you at least balance yourself on your new legs." Conceding the point, I silently nod. "Besides, I am human: there is that curiosity thing, ya now?"

Slowly standing up I straighten out my back, and spread my new digigrade legs a bit to balance myself. "Just what do you mean by 'curiosity thing' anyway?"

Turing his head to the side in disbelief, Steven sighs and motions to me, "Kein, look at yourself. You are an Otter. A walking, talking, man-sized Otter."

"Okay fine. What else is there to be curious about?"

"Tons actually." Steven needlessly looks left and then right before relaxing his stance to a more condescending pose. "Probably the biggest thing is just, why? Don't get me wrong, it's pretty damn cool. Hell, if they figure out how to do dinosaurs I'd even consider it, but still though. That's a huge fucking change."

Failing to think of a good comeback, I sit back down so I can relax while I think of an answer to such a tough question. I knew that it would be asked, but I never did quite come up with a good answer during the post procedure rehabilitation. Now I have to come up with something on the spot or feel awkward for the rest of the day. Staring down at my arms, covered in dark brown hair with bulkier paw-like hands attached to them, I sigh deeply searching for an answer. Finally I manage to say, "I am not entirely sure why. I know I wasn't happy with my life. Even new things felt pretty old to me, and things that didn't are usually things I can't wrap my mind around."

"How do you mean, man?"

"I know how to have relationships with people - friendships, family ties, intimate things - but that is it. I don't have the first clue of any higher trade, and I really don't care about learning anything new, school-wise." Swallowing a heavy breath, I wait a few seconds for my throat to clear and continue explaining. "This wasn't just something new and cool, but it was a history making moment in science. I saw the opportunity to be apart of something really awesome, and I didn't even have to study for it."

Sitting beside me, his arm again comfortably close to me, Steven asks, "And all the social stuff didn't bother you? All the things your family and friends would think, or all the people out there that just live to hate things?"

"Well sure that bothered me. It obviously bothers me if I am watching what they're airing on TV, but I just thought to hell with them. Ya know?"

"I guess I can see that," Steven says, beginning to stroke the side of my head, "in a stretch at least."

Slapping his hand away, I yell, "I told you to stop petting me damn it!"

"I can't help it okay. You're straight, and I'm straight, but damn it you're adorable as an Otter."

"I'm still your roommate; not a friggin' pet! While I am comfortable about personal space that is crossing a line there."

"Fine, I'll leave you to whatever," Steven says, quickly getting up and heading towards the kitchen. "You want a plate of something, or will your stomach do fine?"

"Screw you," I scream, leaping over the couch, more than ready to tackle Steven. Just as I land, somewhat clumsily, the doorbell chimes. Looking to the door and back to Steven who has now run to the far end of the kitchen, I snarl, "We will finish this later!."

"Oh I look forward to it," Steven adds, his voice echoing through the hall as I slowly make my way to the door. Looking in the peep hole I can see a couple of men from the test clinic: one the older man that patented the research, and the other a younger type. I consider yelling to Steven about who it is, but he is making too much noise in the kitchen to hear me, so I just unlock the door.

Steadily opening the door a small ways, I peer out to the two men and ask, "What can I do for you two?" Both men look to each other rather surprised; the young man makes a note in a padfolio while the other asks me how I am doing. Opening the door about halfway I say, "I'm doing fine. My roommate keeps petting me, but aside from that I'm alright."

"May we come in for a follow up with you? Just need to ask some simple questions to see how you're doing now that you are out of rehabilitation."

"Okay, sure," I say, opening the door and waving them inside. The one with the padfolio continues to feverishly make notes, while the scientist ecstatically extends a friendly handshake to me. Meeting his gesture I close the door, "You will have to excuse the noise in the kitchen. My roommate is trying to cook up something."

"Oh that's perfectly fine. I expect we will be out of your way in five minutes or so," the friendly scientist says, sitting in the small arm chair I have in the corner of the room. "Good afternoon sir," he offers to Steven. Steven simply waves and continues attending to his food prepping. "So, to begin, how have you been with walking today? Are you getting acclimated to the new sense of balance?"

"Yeah, it's going a bit slow, but I feel I am getting there. Just before you rang the bell I leapt over this couch and landed on my feet."

"Marvelous," the thin gentleman exclaims, nodding for his assistant to make a quick note. "Now, do you remember anything of the procedure? Any pain, or discomfort?"

"Nope, not at all."

"At no point did the anesthetic wear off, or you become conscious during the major portions of the procedure?"

"No, I was comfortably out of it," I reassure.

Obviously pleased with my answer, the old man smiles and slaps the arms of the chair excitedly. "Excellent! This is great news. Thus far every follow up has been positive, which means we can continue the research we're doing there."

"Oh well, that's great," I say. "I am curious, how many patients did you have for this?"

"We had three hundred patients; you, my friend, are number 262. So far, no major complications with any of our patients. I'm sure you can imagine why this makes me so happy."

"Oh definitely," I say, trying to match his enthusiasm a little bit. "Anything else for me? Like, any minor effects I should be aware of? Anything more serious than shedding?"

The assistant leans over to the old scientist and whispers something, but I can't hear it. The man nods and leans forward to me with a slight smirk on his face. "Just one thing: what is my name?"

Taken back from the question, I look down and try to remember. I can't remember this famous scientists name. After a few seconds, I realize I can't recall anything after checking myself into the clinic and changing for the procedure. "I don't know."

"That's alright," the old man says with a cool tone. My face must be aghast because his expression suddenly changes, as he stands to talk with me. "That is the only side effect from the anesthetic used. We did rather extensive surgery, so it was a bit stronger than what one might expect. It's no worry though: every patient has had the same minor memory loss."

"I suppose that's a bit more of a relief," I trail off.

"But?"

"It's just that I looked you up, and you're all over the news. I don't see how I can't remember your name after seeing it everywhere."

The older man pats my shoulder and waves his assistant to head out. "You probably can't remember it because the memory lapse you have had is strongly associated to it. Some of our patients remember my name, but can't recall where the building is. It is really nothing to worry about. Your memory will come back to you in time... well, at least the parts before your were put under." The two men head up the hallway, the assistant holstering his pen in a pocket. Following them, I open the door and thank them for coming by. The older scientist stops in the doorway and says with his a broad smile, "Don't worry about anything. Aside from that one issue, you have nothing to concern yourself over."

"Well, to be honest, you didn't really ask that many questions," I say rather perplexed, motioning him to look me over. "I would have thought you would be a bit more thorough here. I mean, this is an entirely new thing."

Nodding to me the scientist says, "Most of this was a physical observation. Checking for any probable physical abnormalities and such. You're walking around just fine right now so that alone answered a lot of questions we would have had."

"I see," I murmur, feeling slightly more confident about the visit, but not by much. "Can I expect any future visits?"

"Oh yes! We will be coming by once a month for the next year to follow up on how your new life is progressing. I would expect the next visits to be far more thorough. This first one is just to make certain everyone is physically well; the next will be heavily focused on your mental state."

Shooting him a sharp glance, "You are sure I don't have to worry about anything right?"

"Yes," the old man laughs, "I use 'mental' as a blanket term. A lot of it will be studying how your integration into society is. How do people treat you on the street; how do you treat them? That sort of thing. There's a lot to account for before we can actually move on, you understand?"

"Oh of course. I didn't even consider that," I admit, somewhat embarrassed for myself. With that the old man walks completely out the door. Slowly closing the door and re-latching the lock, I begin to think about what Steven was asking me.

Why did I decide to do this? There are a ton of things to think about. I didn't truly stay on it much before, but what will my family think of the new me? How is my job going to react? Hell, how are people going to treat me in the grocery store? The TV pundit was an extreme example of backlash, but can I actually expect that? I suppose I should at least prepare myself to, right?

"Hey Kein, you doing alright," Steven asks, holding two plates of well-done steak. "You're crying man."

"What," I exclaim in a scratchy voice, wiping my eyes. "I just got a bad headache. My mind started spinning with all the shit I'm gonna have to deal with. It just sorta hit me, ya know?" Looking up at Steven my eyes water even more. "Steven, why did I do this? What the hell was I thinking?"

Steven sighs and walks up to me, slowly placing the plate of food in my hands. "Kein, I don't know. Just chill and eat something."

"Dude, I don't know if I can even."

"Stop it," Steven barks, cutting me off. "I don't know why you decided to change your.. well, your everything.. but you did. I'm sure you at least had an idea that it wasn't going to make anything easier for you, and knowing how passive your are I'm surprised you actually went for it. What I do know is that depressed idiots should eat something, or they'll get sick." Steven puts a hand on my shoulder and offers to guide me to the kitchen table. As we're both walking he gives me a scolding look and says, "Besides, you never turned down my cooking before, and you are not gonna start now, or I will beat your ass!"

Laughing lightly, I tighten my grip on the plate and try my best to think about how good a steak will taste after having weeks of clinic food. A few tears still run down my cheek as we make it to the kitchen table; Steven pulls the chair out for me. Placing the plate on the table, I take a good breath and look at him, "Thanks man. You are a good friend."

"Hey, you know I always got your back," Steven says with a warm smile, his hand resting on my shoulder. Quickly he removes his hand and stuffs it into his pocket. "Sorry, almost forgot there."

"Steven," I say very bluntly.

"What? I didn't do it," he screams defensively. "Just eat your damn food."

"Go ahead and pet me idiot."

Shocked at my response, Steven accusingly points at me, "Hey man, don't be offering that sort of shit! I don't swing like that and neither do you."

"Look, if it's going to be that hard for you not to do then I'll just get used to it, alright?" Looking at Steven as sternly as possible, I continue, "I'm not faggin' up on you, got it! I'm just saying of everything else that I'll have to deal with, I suppose I couldn't give a shit less about you occasionally petting me."

Steven stuffs his hands back into his pockets and quickly sits down in front of his plate. Cutting his steak very purposefully he mutters, "Whatever man. I'm not gonna pet you. If I do, I'll do it when I damn well feel like it."

"That's fine man," I say, starting on my own meal and shrugging. "I was just saying I won't make such a fuss about it is all."

"Good!"

"Great!"

The two of us quietly finish our meal, barely looking up to one another, and making no small talk. I finish the last of my plate and loudly drop the fork and knife onto the plate, looking up frustratingly at Steven; he is giving me the same look. Remembering our rule about cooking, I pick up both plates and head over to the sink to clean up. Steven stands and nods to me, "Thank you Kein."

"Thanks for making it Steve."

"You're welcome."

I turn on the faucet and place the dishes under the stream, and still Steven is standing next to me. Smiling a little, I sigh and say, "Go ahead, damn it."

"You gotta admit, you'd pet me too. I mean this is pretty cool," Steven giddily says, running his hand through the hairs on the back of my neck.

Laughing a little I simply say, "Yeah, I would."