Origin

Chapter 2:  Experiments

I had the most peculiar dream last night. Events were vivid as though it had happened in the real world. I savored the fresh memories as I climbed out of unconsciousness, my eyes still closed. Was I ever going to have a dream like that again? Because that was a pretty cool dream, minus the part when I almost died in space. 

Back to reality. I silently moaned to myself as I shifted my position in the sand. Wait...SAND!?

My eyes snapped open. A scaly tail lied an inch in front of my nose on the sand. I jumped in surprise, sending myself 20 feet into the air before landing softly on all fours. I glanced around me, still processing what just happened. Apparently, I had curled up while I was asleep, and my own tail gave me a jump scare when I woke up.

I stood and shook the sand out of my mane, pulling myself back to my current situation. What did all this mean? The dream wasn't a dream, so consequences were going to be significant. Questions bombarded my brain. Why was I abducted and transformed into a dragon? The reasoning there couldn't have been well-meaning. And where is the rest of my family? I dreaded the idea they were abducted as well. Who knows what they went through! As if I wasn't worried enough, an even more unsettling thought came across my mind:

How am I supposed to live the rest of my life? Preferring this was a dream was tempting.

However, reality does not bend to preference, which meant I had to figure out what to do next. Judging by the position of the sun the time was 10:00 in the morning. I had slept well. My first thought was to continue my journey eastward, though I would be putting myself at risk of being seen during the day, because I would likely be flying over cities. I would have to travel during the night and even then, it would be hard to conceal myself in the dark sky with my white scales and all. That gave me several hours to do whatever I wanted on this puny uninhabited island.

I was curious as to whether talking was possible. All this time I had assumed I couldn't talk because of the muzzle. Something piqued my curiosity.

"Can I talk?" I asked myself, words slurring together. The answer was self-evident. I wasn't surprised my voice was 2 octaves lower, and rougher than normal. Movements of my new lips and tongue were foreign, which would take some time to get used to.

"Looks like I'll think out loud for practice, then."

I wanted to experiment with my new body, but just then my stomach grumbled. Not surprising, considering I went the whole day yesterday without eating. I considered eating leaves sprouting from the foliage on the island, but they wouldn't be filling enough. Also, I was curious about the difficulty of hunting in the ocean. I'd never hunted before but who knows? It might be fun!

The ocean pounded its waves into the shore, as if it were trying to protect itself from me. I sighed to myself, which came out more bestial than I was used to. "Here goes nothing."

I waded into the waves, at which point I took my deepest breath and dove into the water, propelling myself along the ocean floor at a healthy clip. The surface of the water receded away above me as I descended with the ocean floor, until faint sunbeams came far and few between. My eyes adjusted to the darkness well. They even managed to keep a visual clarity that rivaled the above-water quality, as opposed to the fuzziness any human would get without goggles underwater.

Being far underwater was a bit unnerving. My imagination scared me with possibilities of what could go wrong. What if I can't find any food? What if a shark attacks me? What if I can't get to the surface in time when I run out of air? That last thought was enough to scare me to return to the surface immediately. I pushed off the ocean floor with haste, and in a matter of seconds I was at the surface. My lungs still had minutes of air left in them. Worries from a minute ago were dashed as I reminded myself what I was, and I had no reason to be afraid anymore. Being afraid was okay, if it didn't keep you from achieving your goals.

With another deep breath, I went back under, this time a little more determined. After a few more minutes of swimming I came upon a coral reef that sat upon the edge of an enormous drop-off that went miles deeper than I wanted to go. It teemed with thousands of different species of fish of all colors on the rainbow, all going about their business. Fortunately, no sharks were in sight. Numerous schools of fish moved in unison, as if they were all miniature fish armies preparing for battle. They might as well have been, as they were about to be terrorized by a certain beast called Connor. Me.

I hesitated. I was about to end some innocent lives, and that didn't sit well with me. I wouldn't hurt a fly. It took a couple minutes for me to convince myself I had to do it for survival, which was nothing to be ashamed of. I figured the guilt would never fully go away, so I'd have to live with it, because as far as I'm concerned, you only live once.

After another refill of air from the surface, I sprang into action. As one would expect, fish avoided me like the plague, darting back into their little nooks and crannies where I couldn't fit. On top of that, they were more agile than I was due to their size. They made acutely tight turns while I floundered in my chase. It frustrated me to no end, but my body handled the strain like a walk in the park.

After maybe an hour and a half of my ever-losing game of Tag with fish, I snagged a certain swordfish who wasn't quite fast enough for me. Using my special north/south sense, I pulled the dead swordfish back to my island by its sword. I flopped it down on the sand and shook some of the excess water off me. I dealt with the cold ocean water fine but the wind chill made it too uncomfortable for me.

My meal was unappetizing at best. If only I found a way to cook it, it would taste better. I almost facepalmed. You could cook it with your fire, you idiot!

I hadn't tried it yet but I was certain I could breathe fire. I concentrated on my throat in an attempt to find a fire-breathing flap or pouch, and I was unsuccessful.

"Maybe I'll feel it when I actually try to breathe fire," I hoped.

Aiming in no particular direction, I opened my mouth and imagined the searing heat that accompanied fire. I exhaled forcefully, willing fire to come forth, but all that came out was "hhhhhhhhhhh".

Still determined, I tried again, this time aiming at the swordfish. The back of my throat warmed a little, but it only amounted to my imagination.

I tried a third time, channeling all my willpower.

Brisingr! Nope, still nothing. Not even smoke.

I huffed in frustration, disappointed I wasn't able to breathe fire, as I had looked forward to the perk as a dragon.

"Looks like I have to eat it raw," I looked at the swordfish unenthusiastically, shaking my head. "Oh boy."

I picked up my meal. The thought of eating raw meat killed my appetite and the nasty wound in its midsection made it even harder to convince myself to eat. But eating was necessary if I wanted to stay alive.

Hoping for the best, I dug into the underside, trying to get as much as I could in one bite. It lacked flavor because the fish was still cold from the ocean. The texture, however, was almost unbearable. The meat was so slimy I had to fight the urge to throw up. I tried to chew it, but since I didn't have any cheeks it spilled out of my mouth and onto the sand.

Disgusted, I hurriedly picked up the excess meat from the sand and shoved it back in my mouth, forcing myself to swallow. I shivered as the meat oozed down my elongated throat.

In my uncivilized manner of eating, fish guts had poured out onto the sand. I'd had enough. I grabbed the swordfish by the nose and flung it out into the ocean in a hurry to get it out of my sight. As it turned out, I had grossly underestimated my strength and hurled it several hundred feet into the water. Curiosity restored itself over my disgust.

I gathered a few rocks in a pile next to me. For my first experiment, I was going to test my throwing distance. I picked up a baseball-sized rock, tossing it a few times in the air. The rock was as light as cotton. I aimed at a spot on the horizon, drew my arm back, and flung it forward, doing my best to emulate a baseball pitch. I missed way left of my target but it flew for a good 5 seconds before making a splash in the ocean 500 feet away. I threw the next rock harder, this time at a 45-degree angle for maximum distance. I was incredulous of the distance it flew; it must've been a couple thousand feet.

Excited, I picked up a third rock. This time, I was not going to hold back. I wound up for the pitch again, my arm going back until it touched my right wing. I whipped my arm forward as fast as it would go and a whip-like SNAP emanated from my hand, momentarily vibrating it.

//*What Are You Going to do When You Are Not Saving The World? – Hans Zimmer:  YT Link*//

Oblivious as to how far the rock went, I frantically examined my right hand, worried I had broken something. It moved perfectly fine without any pain. Nothing in my hand was out of place either.

"So where did that noise come from then?"

After a few seconds of not finding the answer, I tried throwing another rock at maximum force, hoping results repeated themselves. Again, the whip snapped. I found the answer this time: When I released the rock, my hand must have moved faster than the speed of sound, making a sonic boom!

With this realization and an evil grin on my muzzle, I threw another rock as I had done the previous two times. It went so far away I trouble seeing it even with my eagle-like eyes. It must've flown at least a mile.

For 45 minutes, I had a blast skipping supersonic rocks on the ocean before I went to try out my other abilities. I was curious about my running and flying abilities. I made two ruts in the sand 100 feet apart. My plan was to count the seconds it took for me to get from one rut to the other. It took a few tries for me to even reach the end as I kept face-planting into the sand because of my unfamiliarity with my new body. Once I got the hang of running, I counted just over 1 second from one end to the other. After some quick calculations, I concluded I ran roughly 60 miles per hour, or 97 km/h, and that was on sand which undoubtedly slowed me down.

I did the same test for flying. The minimum gliding speed was about 40 miles per hour, while the fastest I flew propelling myself with my wings was 100 miles per hour. This knowledge didn't have much use right now, but it may be helpful in the future.

Next was finding out how high I jumped. After making sure the sky was free of planes, I started small. With minimal effort, I jumped 10 feet into the air. I bumped up the effort on the next jump, rising at least 100 feet in the air. I landed with a dull thump in the sand and looked down at my legs, amazed at how easily they took the strain. Fatigue had no place in my legs.

The next jump was 50% effort, which sent me so high I got vertigo. I used my wings to safely glide back down for fear of breaking something when I landed.

Finally, my true jumping capabilities were to be tested. I squatted as I had done before and took a deep breath, focusing.

//*2:34*//

3...2...1... MAXIMUM EFFORT!

Just like in the spaceship earlier, an enormous surge of energy exploded in my thighs as I pushed off. I shot skyward with an incredible speed and streamlined myself, surpassing a few lower clouds within seconds. The wind was deafening in my ears as it worked hard with gravity to slow my ascent. A white haze occupied my peripheral vision for a few seconds. It dissipated as I continued to slow down, and that's when I got the clue: I had generated a vapor cone. I had moved faster than the speed of sound!

The sky whirled around me as I gave my wings a slight tilt in opposing directions.

"Wooohooo!" The howling wind drowned out my voice, but I didn't care. The experience was exhilarating. I was a superhero. I was invincible.

I wished the moment would last forever, but of course it didn't. As I hit the apex of my jump, I flapped vigorously to stay level, fighting the strong air current that tried to toss me every which way. The ground was miles below me, which caused me to nearly have a panic attack. My wings almost locked up, but I managed to keep them pumping. I shut my eyes, concentrating on my breathing. I told myself I was alright; I had wings and nothing bad was going to happen to me. As my anxiety went away, I opened my eyes.

The view from up here was like nothing I'd ever seen before. The vast ocean was a plane of a billion blue diamonds, stretching out in every direction uninterrupted. The island was an insignificant dot against the great blue expanse. A magnificent cumulonimbus cloud formation sat upon the northern horizon, towering miles into the air like it was the king of the sky. If I had a camera, I would've saved this as my wallpaper for my PC.

After another minute of admiring the view, the horizon glinted with light. I squinted, mentally zooming in on the object. A commercial plane approached me from miles away. The sky immediately around me had no clouds, which meant I had to get back to the island before it saw me. The only way to do that was to dive-bomb. Great.

Count this as another experiment I guess. I had survived a space fall into water, so how hard would it be to survive landing on sand from a few miles above the ground? The question was insane, but I was also convinced at this point I had superpowers, so surviving was likely a trivial matter.

Without wasting anymore time, I pulled my wings tight against my back, letting myself fall into a steep dive. As I directed myself to land on the island, panic took hold. My human instincts told me my life was in danger, despite the fact I could pull out of the dive at any moment. I gritted my teeth, my body was stiff as a board, and my vision tunneled.

I willed myself to stay in the dive, attempting to calm myself down. You will survive. You will survive. You will survive. You will survive. No you won't. No you won't! NOYOUWON'T! OH SH**!!!

I chickened out. My wings snapped open and I pulled out of the dive just in time. Waves sprayed me with saltwater as I zoomed above the surface. I banked to the right, my wing skimming the water. Confidence and control replaced fear. My natural grace returned as I relaxed, relieved the experience was over. I let a clawed hand graze the surface, creating a massive wake behind me, and gazed at my distorted reflection in the water.

I'll have to get used to that. I may have to do it again in the future.

I circled the island a few times as my speed continued to decrease. I pulled up and stalled midair, dropping the last 20 feet to the sand.

Remembering why I came back down, I hid behind a palm tree until the plane was out of sight.

//*Iris – The Goo Goo Dolls:  YT Link*//

Without anything else to do until dusk, I refined my flying skills, teaching myself how to do tricks and aerial acrobatics.  I was never a fan of rollercoasters (I had never gone on a single inversion in my entire life), but being able to control the ups and downs was the most fun I had ever had. 

I spent the next few hours enjoying the moment, as I was sure few people got to experience what I did. 

With about an hour of sunlight left, I prepared to continue my journey home.  I pointed myself east and got a running start, performing another Supersonic Jump to get me on my way.

I hastily climbed high into the air, high enough to avoid any aircraft encounters.  Hello, stratosphere.  Up here, the powerful jet stream gave me a nice boost, as though nature knew I was in a hurry. 

The peach-colored backdrop behind me eventually gave way to stars as night took over.  As I often did when I was outside on a cloudless night, I stared into space as the immensity of the universe mesmerized me.  At moments like these, all my life problems were insignificant.  Stargazing never made me shameful of my comparatively microscopic size.  Rather, I acknowledged the privilege of being part of a universe as amazing and beautiful as this.  Like all other moments, I lamented people waged war here on this minuscule mote of dust we were forced to share.  If only they had their heads on straight and recognized their place in the universe, things would be much different.

The Milky Way faded into existence the longer I looked, presenting a mysterious red glow I had never seen before.  Stars were tinted red in conjunction with their usual white light.  Why was that?  Was I colorblind?  No, my eyesight was fine during the day.  I likely had infrared vision, or heat vision, whenever visible light wasn’t overwhelming.

After an hour of flight, new stars spawned on the horizon, city lights.  I was relieved at first because I was getting closer to home, but I grew anxious about what would happen when I arrived home.  In fact, would it even be smarter to find a place far from civilization?  I still had to consider the rest of my family might still be there, worrying about me, and it would be wise to get some supplies from my house anyway if I did end up running (or flying) away.

I pondered the idea as intricate city streets spun a web miles below.  City features were tiny from my perspective, as though the city was a miniature model of the real thing.  This particular city surrounded a large kidney-shaped bay, a network of bridges connecting different parts of the city.  At the bottleneck of the bay was a familiar shape:  the Golden Gate Bridge. 

A light bulb went off above my head.  This was San Francisco!  That meant I was on the right track for home across the valley. 

Acknowledging I had subconsciously made my decision to find home, I scanned the land for any highways I would recognize.  From this altitude, highways were unfamiliar, so I settled for following a random road eastward.

Given all the time in the world to think, I imagined all possible scenarios I could encounter when I arrived home.  How would my family react?  I was sure I would convince them I was me through personal information.  But what if they still wouldn’t believe me?  Or thought this was a dream?  Or went insane?  My chest sank as I was bombarded with uncertainty and doubt.  It worsened as it dawned upon me they might not even be there to greet me, because they were probably abducted along with me.

“Only one way to find out,” I mumbled.

By this time, the sun had long since set.  Infrared light glimmered with incredible detail in the poorly lit landscape.  The brilliant red glare from a house would indicate a fire in its chimney.  Subtle color differences in air currents surrounding me told me the location of updrafts and downdrafts.  From my lofty vantage point, pedestrians were little points of red light, like the sidewalks crawled with fire sparks. 

My mind wandered, engrossed in the newfound ability yet again, until a familiar pattern of highways showed me the way home.  In a way, I was lucky to be this close to home by now.  I might have just as easily landed on the other side of the globe, having to travel unfamiliar lands without the use of a GPS.  I missed my phone.  You never know what you have until you lose it, right?

As I neared my hometown, the shred of anxiety in the back of my mind grew.  Doubts and concerns pervaded my mind.  I kept telling myself I’d get answers eventually, but I remained unconvinced.

You can’t stop worrying, can you? I scolded myself.

Unfortunately, my house was located in a dense part of town, in the middle of a bunch of neighborhoods.  Landing without being seen would be tricky, given my all-white body.  I would have to dive bomb again.  For the first time, I wished my scales were black.  Black looks cooler anyway.

I hovered directly above my house, still miles in the air, waiting until it appeared no cars would be around during my descent.  I let myself fall into a steep dive, this time being more cautious about my speed.  As the ground rushed up at me, fear gripped me, but I refused to panic this time.  Halfway down, I got into proper skydiving form, spreading out all my limbs except for my wings—they would make me more visible—to maximize drag and slow my fall.

Every second took years in the terror and anticipation of my fall.  I didn’t need to do this to myself, to terrorize myself again, but I had to avoid the public eye, or I would cause a panic. 

Finally, only a few hundred feet from the ground, I flared my wings to their maximum extent.  Their membranes bulged considerably as they caught the full force of the wind, the dramatic deceleration jarring me.  I used the remaining time I had to course-correct so I’d land on the lawn in my backyard.  After a few forceful strokes to further slow my descent, I landed elegantly on the grass on all fours.

I stood on two legs, shaking my hands free of dirt.

Home, sweet home.