How to be Megnificent – book 2 of girldragongizzard

Something I hear, first thing in the morning, before sunrise, before the morning roll call, is a person saying to another person, “It would all just be so much easier if they could all change back to human again.”

I close my eyes to try to sleep just a little bit more, thinking, we never were.

But then I wonder.

I’m aware of a conversation that’s been going on in the transgender and gay communities, the queer community, since forever. Whether the whole “born this way” argument is any good. People tend to fall entirely on one side or the other, being unreasonably dismissive of the other perspective. But what seems to be true, when it comes to queer identities is that they can be innate in some people, but that they can also be fluid, that they can change over time. But also, very importantly, that they can’t be coerced. Gender and orientation can change but can’t be coerced.

And, though the overall point that in order for the fight for human rights to have a chance of securing autonomy for all means that we should focus on the right to make choices and less on the innate nature of gender or orientation has in some people, it doesn’t mean that gender and orientation are fake, nor that they aren’t innate in some people.

And I’m aware enough of the online therian and otherkin communities, slightly less so of the alterhuman group, to know that these arguments have carried over to there as well.

Some people are born knowing from the beginning that they are not human, and they discover what they are fairly early. Others have very different experiences. Others go from being human to being non-human. Yet others go from being a dog to a cat, identity wise. Some may go through several identities in their lifetime. And that shouldn’t invalidate them in any way, the argument goes.

And I do agree with that.

In fact, I agree with it enough that I believe, should the means be available, if a human who identifies as human decides that they need to be a dragon, they should be able to undergo dracomorphosis.

I also can see clearly that if the global dracomorphosis hadn’t happened, a lot of the status quo would have been more easily maintained. There’d be fewer problems in the world. Our existence is a problem.

Or, rather, certain people’s resistance to our existence is a problem.

The thing is, I do not want to go back to hiding as human. And I do not want to be thoroughly transformed into a human who accepts being human. I like who and what I am. And now I wonder whether if we find the source of our transformation, the power that caused it, will it be used against us?

But, if we don’t find it, then what happens to all those people who yet still need it, like Molly?

And with that verbalized sentiment from that jerk down on the street rattling through my head, I begin to feel like it’s me against the whole world again. The feeling I had all day yesterday.

And for this one person on the street, it’s pretty clear that, though it seems to have stabilized the city, if not the county, by pacifying the local dragons and settling the violence that was breaking out, my demonstration yesterday was not an entirely positive thing.

I hate that.

I hate to think that I irritated anyone.

I hate to think that anyone now hates me for it, and for being myself, because it means that they’ll eventually come after me.

Attempting to calm myself down, I turn my mind to another question. A daydream of my own, to counter the prejudice I heard come up from the street.

Would it be bad in any way if eventually all of humanity were transformed into other things? What if every human were really something else? A mythical being of some sort? Or, on occasion, just a poodle? Different for every individual. What if we could all be what we really were, and that just happened to mean there were no humans at all?

What would happen to the world then?

Would it be sad?

I don’t know. I like my humans. 

But learning that Kimberly thinks of herself as a werepoodle didn’t bother me, and if she were suddenly able to change into a poodle on occasion, I don’t see how that would change how I value her presence in the world.

She’d still be a person.

Still, humans a species, with their myriad cultures and their curiosity and diverse concepts of family and community, are pretty stinking cool. When I eliminate the violence of the world from the equation, I’m comforted by them. And even with the violence, I still am. I’m just also in danger, along with a lot of various humans and other animals.

I suspect my privileged white upbringing is influencing my emotions regarding that, and I don’t fully know what false assumptions I’m making. I can only seek to keep myself open to learning, when and where I can.

But I also know that we dragons aren’t any more peaceful than humans. Holy shit.

If everyone in the world became dragons, that would not be good.

In any case, the dracomorphosis happened, and we’re here. And some people love it. And others don’t. It’s just how it is.

And the sun’s coming up.

Time to sing again.

It’s Friday, September 20. I’m clinging to dates for some reason, checking my tablet frequently to make sure I know them. I didn’t used to do that before. I used to have trouble knowing what day it was.

But now, I don’t really have much of anything to play with besides my tablet most of the time. And I feel like knowing the date kind of grounds me.

Anyway, this means that the Kims are opening the shop again, and that Chapman should have work.

When I crawl into the shop, Ptarmigan is already there, sitting in the far chair that used to be my favorite. 

But I barely make note of her, because there is a customer in line in front of me who looks over their shoulder as I come in. And their expression matters to me.

It’s not someone I recognize, which isn’t saying much. I only recognize a rare few people, and then usually only if they don’t get new haircuts, change their clothes, and I see them in their usual context. But I feel that this isn’t a regular. And even though I can’t really read this person’s expression, it hits me pretty hard.

They looked at me.

What are they thinking?

Are they annoyed I was so loud yesterday and then this morning, too? Are they scared that I’m a dragon? Are they simply concerned? Are they hiding it well? Am I reading too much into a simple glance?

I watch their posture for clues, and they do seem a little tense, but I could be wrong.

The expressions on Kim and Kimberly do not seem particularly relaxed or cheerful. They seem tired. Like they’re fighting to focus on work. A little slow. A little quiet.

I’m now worried about how Rhoda is doing and what she’s thinking, because I haven’t heard from her since before I started singing yesterday. Maybe it was too much for her, too.

Maybe things have changed.

“Meghan,” Ptarmigan says loud enough for me to hear clearly. “When you’ve got your drink, let’s go outside to talk.”

I glance at her, but she’s relaxed and not moving. I see no eagerness or urgency to match her words.

My first reaction is that I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t really want to talk to anybody, though I do feel the need to check in on the Kims and make sure they’re all right. And maybe apologize to them for being so present.

But, I also really do need to know what’s been going on, and whether or not any new opportunities to fix things have arisen. And I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at the news. So Ptarmigan is probably my best bet for quality information and scheming right now.

I don’t want to scheme. But I need to.

“Okay,” I say back to her.

She nods, then gets up to head to my favorite outside table, taking her tea with her.

As she passes me, she says, “Good work yesterday, by the way.”

It’s such a business-like statement, and delivery, it reminds me of having a boss, the few times I did try to hold down a job. Not a pleasant memory, really. But I’m pretty sure I know she doesn’t mean it that way.

“Thanks,” I say, and then simultaneously watch her go outside and sit down while keeping an eye on the counter to see when it’s my turn.

When I do get up to the counter, Kimberly comes over from the bar back position to lean over and talk to me, while Kim nods.

“Hey, Meghan, we just want you to know that we’re proud of you, and that we’ve all pitched together to cover the cost of repairing the floor,” she says in a lower tone. “We’ve got your back. But it would be really good if you didn’t do that again, though.”

“Yes,” I say, lowering my head. “Okay. Thanks.”

“How are you doing though?” Kim asks.

I pop my head up and look around. It’s only me and the other customer, and Ptarmigan waiting outside. It’s a slow morning for just after opening. I’d expect at least three other customers at this time. But maybe the rush has yet to come.

I feel responsible.

“Okay,” I say. Then, “No.” I huff, pull out my tablet and put it on the counter and start to type more.

“The yooj?” Kim asks.

“Yes,” I say, relieved that she’s offering that to me despite everything. Then I hit talk, “I am scared. Worried. Am I too much?”

“So dragons get anxiety, too?” Kimberly asks, heading back to the espresso machine to start on my drink.

“Yes,” I say. Because apparently we do.

“What a shit world,” she concludes.

“You’re fine,” Kim says. “Things suck right now. But it’s not you. Got it?”

I knuckle out a couple more words, “Slow day.”

She points at me and says, “That’s not on you.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Any progress on making me a werepoodle?” Kimberly asks, switching on the steam to clean the wand.

I tilt my head.

“You’re getting a mocha, Meghan. You need it,” Kimberly says, then starts prepping the machine. “So, any progress?”

I huff. I haven’t learned “maybe”, so I have to type something out. “Maybe some. Slow.”

“Yeah, figures,” she says. “But some is good!”

I want to tell her more, but I think I need to talk to Ptarmigan first, to get any possible updates.

“Hey,” the other customer say from the main room, trying to get our attentions. “Did you all hear the latest news? I think it’s relevant to what you’re talking about. Sorry I overheard.”

“No, that’s fine, Gary,” Kimberly says, pausing in her work. She’s got great hearing. “You’re family here, too. What’s the scoop?”

“Ah, well,” Gary says, getting up and coming back into the lobby to talk in more reasonable tones. “So, in Ohio, there’s this guy that went out for a hike in the Shawnee state forest yesterday. Only he came back as a dragon. Big komodo-like thing, but with webbed feet and a blowhole instead of a nose. And everyone still recognized him, of course.”

“Really?”

My head snaps to look at Gary, spearing him with both my eyes, but at his midsection, and he jumps a little and steps back. 

What he said excites me, and I couldn’t help myself, but I didn’t mean to scare him.

“Peace,” I say with my syrinx, then type out, “That’s interesting.” Typing allows me to look away from him again, which calms him down.

“I thought so, too,” he says.

Kim turns to her coworker and suggests eagerly, a bit of a smirk on her face, “Maybe you just need to take a hike, Kimberly!”

“I just might,” Kimberly responds, like it’s a threat. Then she says, “I wonder if it only works for dragons. There’ve gotta been other people who’re other kinds of animals and things who’ve gone on hikes already. You know, since this started. I’m kinda surprised this hasn’t happened before with more dragons, to be honest.”

“I think it might have,” Gary says. “And this is just the first story that’s hit the news. But, it’s been just less than a month, you know.”

“If it’s true, it’s a big clue, isn’t it, Meg?” Kimberly says.

“Yes,” I say. 

I must look antsy or anxious or uncomfortable or something, though, because then Kim speaks up.

“Hey, Meghan. Your order is all taken care of, unless you want something more. We can bring it out to you when it’s done,” she says.

There are no other customers coming in, or in line behind me. So it’s clearly just a gentle opportunity for me to excuse myself if I want to. And I do appreciate it.

Gary’s got information I’d love to hear more about, but I feel like I’m making him nervous and I don’t want to.

So I bow my head, take my tablet, and turn to leave.

“Hey, Meghan?” Gary says as I start to go. “We don’t know each other, but I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

“Yes,” I say, looking back at him with my right eye.

“Ever since you set up your home on the roof of this building, I’ve felt safer here. This shop has always been a safe place for me, for people like us, you know,” he explains. “I’ve always seemed to miss you, too. Come in on different hours. But, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a certain kind of customer that hasn’t been showing up as much lately. Or even hanging out on the block. And I think you might be why. Just thought you might like to know that.”

“Ah, yeah. Fewer assholes,” Kimberly agrees.

Kim nods.

Gary smiles, gives me a little wave, and moves to go sit down again, saying, “Anyway, enjoy your coffee. And thank you.”

I don’t really know how to process this, but I want to let it make me feel better.

Definitely going to talk to my counselor about it next week, because it’ll be something she can talk about. It might please her.

“Thanks,” I say, once again resolving to work on “thankyou” for sounding more sincere.

Multisyllable words are so much harder for me, but I’ve shown myself I can do them when I really care. It’s fascinating that I can read them, hear them, understand them, write them, and think them just fine. And I can imitate all sorts of really strange noises. But, while I can talk a little bit, it doesn’t feel like talking, actually. It feels like making gestures with my voice that I know mean things but that aren’t actually words to me. And the more complex they are, the harder it is to remember them when I need them.

I just must not have the structure in my brain needed to use my syrinx that way. Or, it’s vestigial, or underdeveloped. And most other dragons seem to be even more impaired. Except Wentin.

Wow. Imagine Wentin being the spokesmonster for all of dragon kind.

I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well.

“Hey,” Ptarmigan says. “Meghan Estragon Draconis. Congratulations on the name change. Please join me at your table.” She sort of smirks.

I amble around to my spot and lay out my tablet, turning it on again.

“There’s probably news or something, or clues from yesterday to talk about,” she interrupts any thought I was having of saying anything to her. “But, I wanted to talk to you about something else first. If that’s OK with you.”

I tilt my head.

“Do you have any memories from before your current life?” she asks.

“No,” I say.

She nods, and says, “That’s very common.”

“What mean?” I ask her with my tablet.

“Well,” she says. “I now know for a fact that Wentin is older than England. As a spirit, I mean. A thing that’s haunted dreams for ages. Like I said, I’ve talked to it. And now it seems to have some memories of before. But maybe not many. I’d have to talk to it some more, if it’ll be friendly with me.”

“Yes,” I say.

“I kind of expect the same to be true for most other dragons,” she says. “Maybe not that you’re all that old. But that you’re capable of it. And Chapman agrees. I talked to hir about it. Sie’s skipping work again today to come defrief you, by the way.”

“Okay.”

“But you,” she says. “Since you’re the center of this dracomorphosis, or the beginning of it at least, I’m still thinking you’re pretty important. So it’s probably very true of you, even if you don’t remember anything.”

I feel like I’m watching the train of my thoughts slowly derail with every word she says.

“There’s probably nothing significant about the amnesia. That’s just a side effect of jumping from system to system, whether it’s reincarnation, astral projection, possession, or any of the other words humans have come up with that badly describe it,” she rambles on. “It’s just going to happen on occasion, at least until you return to a previous system and reconnect with what you’ve left there. We’ve all experienced it.”

I’m baffled, and I don’t know where to start. I need something to cling to in order to catch up to her line of thought.

“Am I Artist?” I ask.

“No, you’re a dragon,” Ptarmigan says. “Learning about Wentin cleared that up for me. Divining it cleared it up more. Just, I’ve got a better idea of what dragons are now, and Chapman’s weirdness about them makes more sense to me, too.”

I tap my tablet screen, “Oh.”

“Anyway. Loneliness sucks,” she says.

Boom. One new train of thought hits the other new train of thought, and it’s all obliterated.

I stare at her, mind blank.

“The cool thing about the amnesia is that it helps you forget people you might otherwise miss,” she says. “But if this body of yours – which is unprecedented in this epoch as far as I know – if it’s reflective of any sort of immortality you might have, you might not be experiencing that amnesia much in the future. And you look like one of the kinds of dragons that humans describe as being very long lived, if you’re not slain.”

I mean, I’ve been thinking similar things myself a lot lately. That’s the only thought that appears in my head. I’m understanding her, but I’m not really processing what she’s saying or why she’s saying it. Besides to think, this is not new.

“Anyway, if Rhoda and the Kims and most of the rest of the people around here remain what they are, they’re going to be like pets to you,” Ptarmigan says. “But what I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t let that stop you from caring for them with all of your being. It’s worth it to care and to love them.”

Ah. Hm. I bob my head a few times. Mostly avoiding any further thought, and soothing my emotions by stimming. But also looking like I’ve been paying attention.

“Anyway, what was this about the new dragon in Ohio?” she asks.

I tilt my head the other way.

I’m not sure how she heard that while sitting out here.

And I see Chapman walking down the street to meet us here.

I kind of wish I only had Rhoda to talk to this morning, but she’s sleeping in or something.

I’m also starting to wish that I could be tranqed, tagged, and put out in the wilderness again. That was a simpler problem to solve. While I was out there, there was only one problem. Or so it felt like.