42. Alan
42
ALAN
“ B ernard! You’re looking…the same.”
The agency had given him a nice room with big doors and no furniture. It had artificial turf for carpet, and a big screen TV at one end. It was decorated in tasteful artwork and had a window looking out over the river. The television was dark, and Bernard was looking mournfully out the window when Alan came in.
The brand on his flank looked slightly fainter than it had a month ago, but Bernard was still a definitely a bull.
“Bleep you!” There was a speaker hanging beside the television that came to life with a robotic voice.
“We’ve got him set up with a communications device,” Aiden pointed out. “It’s still pretty rudimentary, and Juliette made me take out the swearing after the first week so we could show it off to the bosses. It’s based on visual cues from cameras there and there, and we’ve trained it based on his whole body language. Bernard twitches his eyes just so, it says one word or phrase, a special jerk of the tail, another. It’s not as sophisticated as Stephen Hawking’s, because there’s a whole lot of extra motion the program has to filter out.”
Bernard was stubbornly still. “The weather is lovely,” the voice said. It was actually gray and sleeting outside the window.
“It’s in progress,” Aiden said with a shrug. His tablet gave an alert. “I gotta go make a meeting. Bernard can go anywhere on the compound, don’t let him convince you that he’s some kind of tortured prisoner.”
“Bleep you!” the speaker said.
Aiden gave Bernard a pat on the nose that the bull tolerated with an eye roll. “I am frustrated. You are a bleep.”
Aiden shut the door behind him and Alan noticed that it had a push bar on the inside so that Bernard could presumably leave at will.
“No luck with the scar removal?”
“The weather is lovely. No,” Bernard’s communicator said.
“I’ve…got a thing we might try before you go for a full skin graft, if you’re game.”
“Yes. Bleep you!”
“This is classified information, do you agree to keep it private?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” That was based on nodding; the translator was redundant.
Alan pulled a carved raven from his pocket. “I’m kind of a one-trick pony with magic. These are the only things I can actually make work. I’ve tried modifying the design, but if any little thing is different, it’s just a chunk of bone and some lines.”
“Query? Query? Bleep you.”
“I’m going to take that in the best possible way,” Alan said wryly, pocketing the token. “The…person who taught me this said this glyph means connection , and that’s all these have ever done. I didn’t see how that could possibly help you, until Kendra suggested that it might help you connect with your human form.”
On cue, there was a rap at the door and Kendra came in without waiting for a response. “Bernard! Aiden told me where to find you! I just finished the handgun class, wait until you see my target! They said I did great!” She was shouting.
“Bleep you,” Bernard greeted.
Kendra looked at the speaker, around at the room, and then at Bernard. “Oh, they’ve got you fitted up with a communicator system?”
“Were you wearing ear protection?” Alan asked. She was still speaking much louder than usual.
“Yes,” Kendra said more quietly, putting her hand over her mouth apologetically. “Sorry, it was still really loud.”
“The weather is lovely,” Bernard said. “Yes. I am frustrated. Bleep you.”
“Can I look at your leg?” Kendra was back at half-deaf volume.
Bernard rotated so that she could look at the injury and Kendra knelt to inspect it. “Nicely healed!” she said. “Does it give you any trouble?”
“No. No. No. I am hungry. No. Thank you.”
Kendra stood and patted his haunch. “My pleasure,” she said warmly. “Did Alan tell you my idea?”
“No. The weather is lovely. Maybe. Almost. No.”
“I was getting there,” Alan said. “I want to see if I can modify your design. They’ve got some of the lines lightened enough that I might be able to make a new pattern over it. Like a tattoo coverup. Kind of.”
“I think it’s worth a shot,” Kendra said. “I thought we should start with trying just to draw it on, first, nothing permanent like a tattoo.”
“Yes. Yes. Bleep you.” Bernard rotated so that his brand was in easy reach for Alan.
“I brought a couple of things to try,” Alan said. “A permanent marker, a wax pencil, a paint pen, and a wood burner.”
“Bleep you. Query. Query.” Bernard jerked his head towards the cameras.
“No, I haven’t gotten authorization to do this, if that’s what you’re wondering. The agency still has a pretty dim and disbelieving view of magic, and they’re still sure there is a medical answer. But I wasn’t told not to do it.” That was good enough for his raven, and for Alan.
He spread the tools out in his hand and Bernard nosed the wax pencil.
Drawing on textured live cowhide was a very different experience than carving and Alan was keenly aware of his audience. Bernard was watching him with one eye, his neck craned around, and Kendra hovered over him anxiously, occasionally making inane and distracting conversation in entirely too loud a voice.
The wax pencil proved incapable of providing a smooth line, so Alan switched to the marker. If it was marking, it was impossible to see, and he gave up on that almost at once as well. The paint pen, however, laid down a smooth, opaque line. Bull hip was not bare bone, and the size of the brand was almost twice the size of the tokens he made, but Alan could feel the tingle of instinct as the design came to life beneath his fingers. Kendra held her breath, and Bernard was stone still, not even his tail moving.
“Nearly there,” Alan said, but when he connected the final line, nothing happened.
Alan felt a surge of disappointment. He’d been so sure it was going to work when he felt the tingle of magic.
“Bleep you. Sorry. Thank you. No. Sadness detected.”
Kendra squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “What about the outside?”
“Outside?”
“You said it only works on your raven tokens. Maybe it needs the raven shape , too.”
Was it that simple?
Bernard snorted. “Yes. Yes. Thank you.”
Alan uncapped the paint pen. This wasn’t a shape he had drawn before, he’d always applied the glyph to a carving. But it shouldn’t be any different. He went slowly, listening for his raven and the pull of instinct. An upward facing head. A spread wing. A fanned tail. The final wing. It was almost a star, but not quite, touching the edges of the symbol. Alan concentrated his mind on connection .
Bernard’s spoken words were not bleeped out at all by the computer program when he shifted and Kendra turned away with a squeak.
Bernard was stark naked, the brand and the blue paint blazing on the side of his pale, bare buttocks. Alan hadn’t really thought about what part of the bull he was painting until he was in human form.
“We did it!” Kendra squealed, not looking around. “Bernard, you’re back at last!”
Bernard swore even more colorfully, looking at his hands in astonishment. Alan had subconsciously assumed he would be a Spaniard, as a Spanish bull, but he looked more like a Viking, with a short, dark blond beard streaked in gray. He was taller than Alan, and as broad-shouldered as Noah. He touched his face, his chest, and reached somewhat lower while Alan jerked his gaze away.
“ Faen —”
“Bleep?” Alan suggested.
Bernard’s laugh was as rusty as his voice. “Sorry. It’s been a while. I apologize, ma’am. I had forgotten that when I last shifted I was…”
“I started my vet degree in human pre-med,” Kendra reminded him. “I’ve seen naked people.” But she didn’t offer to turn around.
Alan couldn’t exactly give him his pants, and wasn’t sure that Bernard would fit into them if he did, but he took off his jacket so that Bernard could tie it around his waist for basic modesty.
“Thank you.” It didn’t cover much, but it was better than nothing.
“I’ll get Aiden or Noah to bring you some clothing,” Alan said, texting on his phone.
Bernard was twisting to look at the image. “My mormor used to trace symbols on my hand that she believed would protect me from bad dreams. Will this last?”
He answered his own question by smearing the line of paint and suddenly taking up several times the amount of space a massive bull. Alan’s jacket popped off of him like a rubber band.
Bernard bellowed in rage and stomped his feet. “Bleep you!” the translator attempted. “The weather is lovely! Query! Please! The weather is lovely! Anger detected! Bleep! Program error! Program error!”
Kendra turned back to fearlessly calm him and get him to stand still, while Alan found the pen in the pocket of the ejected jacket and redrew the missing part of the glyph.
Bernard was panting like he’d run a marathon, human fists clenched. “It’s okay,” Kendra assured him, snatching her hand back from his nose. “You’re back! You’re not still stuck.” She held her ground and kept her chin lifted and he slowly calmed.
“We can have someone give you a proper tattoo, maybe,” Alan said, capping the pen again. “Something more permanent. I might have to do it myself to make it work, but I’m a quick study.”
Bernard was shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he said tightly. “There are definitely some side effects.”
“What side effects?” Kendra wanted to know, standing on her tiptoes to peer into his eyes. “Are you dizzy? Cold? It could be shock. Or, you know, no clothing.”
“I think that connection was taken a little literally,” Bernard growled. “He is thinking some very impure thoughts about you right now.”
“Sorry,” Alan said, startled and a little embarrassed. “That happens all the time.”
Kendra turned scarlet to the roots of her golden hair.