LOPE Explanation (Don't Panic) five.

Another day in the world of transit. Wouldn't I like to have a little something to break up the monotony? Unfortunately, I got my wish, even though that did not cause it, and remorse would not do anything for me, as it got no one else anywhere either.

I hadn't counted on a life and world changing experience, like, at all. Yet on our way to Vancouver, BC, the landscape suddenly turned into a very large desert, and the shrubs and trees and weeds vanished. Polished steel rapidly accumulated rust before my eyes in an instant. All waves had vanished except one from an eccentric sounding woman with a silly name composed of common words. She repeatedly said, "Is there anyone out there? Come to ----- if you can hear me, and we'll give you instructions."

Needless to say, I hit the brakes at once. I could hear countless bodies hit the floor. That's to be expected. What's not to be expected was the sight of everybody in the aisle down on all fours. Eww... that floor had only been swept this morning... or the morning twenty years ago... this is confusing, I just don't get it.

Anyway, that was five days ago. After some horse person named Monica Hadley recently told us about how the world allegedly ended and was revived, we were all naturally skeptical. Buying a lucid dream is one thing. Finding yourself in a strange body is quite another. People disappearing just like that is one thing too far.

When I looked down upon my hands on that day, what I saw would be the shock of my life, yet I adjusted to them quickly enough. After I sent a message to Sarah Charendoff downstairs, she took a minute to respond. I responded to her immediately. She said she didn't know what had happened. She said her hands were now encased in some kind of hardened ivory like cylinders, that she could still feel her hands within them, still feel things by pressure like having thick leather gloves on that partially hinder dexterity. But they were permanently stuck in there, and the fleshy bit inside only accessed the surface through the base, the center of the discs on the bottom of these things attached to the ends of her forelimbs. She said she had upturned them and the bottom was hollow. It was like an ice cream scoop, bowl shaped, and when she flexed, her "hands", or rather it's substitute, a crude thumb poked out of it.

I told her my own hands haven't been trapped in hard, cylindrical things at the end of my arms, but they were now four fingered.

After stopping, we got everybody out and counted. No one was missing. Thank goodness. Unfortunately, no sooner had we done this that some creepy humanoid things were there to greet us. It didn't take a full minute to figure out these were humans we were looking at, but in what looked like spacesuits. They told us they needed the suits on, but not why, and that all will be explained in four days when we've all had a chance to calm down and/or recuperate. What mattered is we take the right course of action, get back in the vehicle, and continue our journey north as planned.

Once there, our guides led us on a procession to a local hotel where we were assigned different rooms, most solitary, a few two to three to a room, plus, people already staying there, and even then, the hotel was nowhere near filled to capacity. We were told that in three days time, a guest from out of town would be there in the lecture hall/ballroom to fill us in on the facts. What's more was three other guests were there to get into the specifics that concern us most immediately.

One of those guests was Sudden Storm, the woman on the radio we heard earlier. She's an outright celebrity in this contemporary, decimated world. Everyone knows her, or of her. Most found returnees tend to hear her voice beyond all others first. She lives in a Canadian Rockies town with a former shopping mall where she and four others have made their permanent residence and place of work. She has set up a radio station there and has been broadcasting since day one. She's one of those people who came back in a matter of minutes. Also, only the first two of her four other companions know her birth name. She doesn't give it away to anyone, and that name is a sworn secret only the three of them will ever know. She really doesn't want to go by that name anymore.

The others were the hotel staff. After it was abandoned, two native Vancouverites named Scott Andrews and Jim (or Jessie) Miller took over and set it aside as a residence and encampment for people like us. When we came into the main lobby, the lady at the desk, who has admitted many before looked up and smiled. When she saw me and twenty others come though, with more waiting outside, she smiled, then scowled. She had seen cases like this before, but not often. Mostly isolated people scattered throughout town, and incomers from major highways and answers to radio. Mass returns like this aren't too common. "Oh, it's one of those cases, is it?" She was nothing but sweet to us, though, and quickly made arrangements for us to our rooms.

After the lecture, Sudden told us she wanted everybody with wings to follow her up the fire escape to the roof. Scott and Jim wanted everybody, including that party to come into the open field that was cleared next door to see something amazing we would never forget, specifically relating to the thaumic energy. That's the invisible power all around us, the one that caused all of this. Around a fifth of us have this sensor in our heads that allows us to sense it and measure its potency and concentration by circumstance naturally and directly, and Sarah is one of them. I am merely a humanoid with a dog's face and four fingered hands, little special about that.

When I spoke to James, he told me he and Scott had been a thing well before this had happened, and they were among the lucky few to not lose it all, and keep something. During their demonstrations, their three beautiful fillies all lifted the small plow without touching it, an aura-- a visible aura-- matching their eye colours surrounding the item in question. In our crowd, a volunteer who had seething anger nearly caused a riot after snapping a tool, and huffing away for good reason. I know why, but most of us seem more withdrawn than anything, sobbing or steaming second and third. I feel content and accepting, as I still have Sarah. I am what you might call a filly fiddler. I have been one nearly my whole life, and I still am one. Sarah is my filly, and will always be.

When we came in, the lobby had a smell familiar, yet unfamiliar to us: Hot dogs. When I asked about them, they said they were poultry. Few people eat beef anymore, nor pork. Most people are vegetarian, and get nauseous if they eat meat, and those who do still have it will refrain from consuming beef or pork for ethical reasons. However, animal products aren't out of the question altogether; eggs, dairy, and fish are still a major steeple. I had asked for two, and they said one is enough for me. I said the second wasn't for me, but for Sarah. The vendor then told me the weenies were for the gryphons, humanoids, insectoids, and reptiles. Not for ponies at all. They warned she would get nauseous. We ignored the advice and took it anyway. I didn't get ill, but Sarah began to vomit fifteen minutes after she finished hers, and they managed to get a basin beneath her before she made a mess of the rug. Almost like they knew it would happen to the millisecond, such impeccable timing. Something tells me they see this often. So, unless you're one of the bugs, alien horses don't digest animal flesh well at all. The rest of us do, but only the gryphons are obligatory omnivorous. The rest, like me, can eat vegetarian diets or meat and veggies. The lizard folk can eat raw minerals, the insects, (who have a name that reminds me of a film with Angela what's-her-name, a name that I think is stupid) can read other's emotions like an open book, and sustain themselves by siphoning the feelings out of them, which only requires being in their vicinity.

Even though I can't move things remotely, we were all welcome to attend the "training session". Sarah didn't try anything, but she had fun watching. I can't do it supposedly.

Having had no attachment to my family, I take this all in stride. And my blood never meant anything to me anyway, so losing it doesn't bother me. I think I like this new world somewhat. Salvaging the remains of it all, lower population, bright future, loads of preexisting knowledge from both universes plus new knowledge to scrape up on, fresh air, a new body to navigate, and on. With no loyalty to my bloodline, I feel freer than I have ever felt, and Sarah and I can sleep together as we never could before. I look forward to seeing more of Sudden's friends, and spending more time with Scott and Jim's fillies. *The joy of children* I may even find some tinkering to do here, metal to work with, wood to harvest. There's still no shortage. Will I get bored with it and want my old life back? Only time will tell.

As it is, there is a little insect outside of our room, and s/he wants in. The silly beetle wants a taste of our affection, as everyone else mostly are leaving bitter feelings of despair which are unpleasant tasting, and otherwise inescapable. No wonder s/he wants positive feelings like ours, lucky her and lucky us. S/he can stay in the next room, trade with someone else, as we intend to have this room to ourselves. I hope emotions can seep through open windows, door cracks, or vents.