Power Surge
The days passed. Kimberly rarely left her motel room, and felt more and more isolated every day. She had established a solid background for her new self, including a photo borrowed from the computer file of a deceased young woman in the DMV’s records. She now had a driver’s license, Social Security number, birth certificate, and bank accounts--she possessed everything that makes a person real in America, except a body.
Though she told herself over and over that she had adjusted to her invisibility, it wasn’t true. She still twitched every time she walked by the mirror and was prone to occasional crying jags, usually when she wore clothes or showered. She kept up her usual routines like shaving her legs and underarms more out of habit than anything else and brushed her hair daily to prevent painful tangles. But while she clung to the routines of her old, visible self, it wasn’t enough. She needed interaction with other people.
Once in a while, she traded a word or two with a delivery man as they brought her groceries or supplies, but Kimberly knew it had been over a month since she’d had a real conversation with anybody. When she did venture out of the motel, she began to deliberately cough behind people, watching their reactions when they saw that they were alone. She would blow softly into the ears of passengers on the bus (and if they were attractive to her, she’d flick her tongue in and out.) While she waited for an office to close for the night, she’d idly play with herself in front of the entire staff, her quiet moaning almost giving her away. In short, she was getting sloppy, on purpose. The strain of being alone was causing her to go crazy and she knew that unless she had a confidante, it wouldn’t be long before she began to really use her new power for ill.
The question was, who could it be? She wanted a scientist, someone in her field who could understand her condition and work with her to reverse it. However, she knew that most of the people she worked with were tied to defense contracts and government programs. They couldn’t be trusted to keep her secret. No, she wanted somebody who was outside the system and proud of it. In her mind, she flashed to all the people she had worked with, or for, or near. None of them would do. They were all government drones or assholes, or both. Then she remembered a man she met at a conference in Virginia once, Dr. Peter Bennett. Was that his name? She had had drinks with him one night after a symposium on laser guidance systems for smart bombs and his attitude toward "the man" was admirably distrustful. He hadn’t taken government funding and seemed like a nice guy to hang around with at the time.
It took quite a few calls to find him, but she did. He was in Denver, working at a private lab. Kimberly thought about calling Bennett first, but she didn’t think she could adequately explain things over the phone and even if she could, how could he believe her? No, it would be better to just show up and see what would happen. She called the airlines and found a flight that was more than half empty going to Denver at six o’clock the next morning. Leaving the motel, she realized, meant leaving everything. The veils she had bought simply weren’t opaque enough to use in a close environment like an airplane, and using a scarf or bandages to hide her face would be uncomfortable. They would also raise suspicion. She’d have to leave it all behind and go invisible.
She left an envelope with some cash in it by the manager’s office to prepay a few more weeks on the room. Once, she had walked in on him while she was undressed and heard him talking about her with another guest. Apparently, he thought Kimberly was a hooker using the room for her "clients." He didn’t want anything to do with her, and that suited Kimberly just fine. She felt like her things would be safe in her room until she found out if Peter Bennett could be trusted.
She had a large meal the night before her flight in order to give her food time to vanish from sight (previous experimentation put the length of the visible digestive process at a few hours). She went to bed ready to travel, excited for the first time in a long time at the prospect of possible visibility and friendship.
Air travel proved to be much easier than Kimberly had expected. She used bandages, gloves and sunglasses to get to the airport by taxi, getting the requisite stare as she stepped into the back seat. The cab got her to the terminal a hour before takeoff. Walking straight to the bathroom, Kimberly checked the other stalls to make sure they were empty and barred the door. The gloves came off, and the sunglasses next. The dark cavities in the bandages were among the more gruesome facets of invisibility, and she quickly unraveled the gauze. From there, it was only a few seconds before she stood in front of the mirror, naked and completely invisible.
The idea of traveling while invisible excited her. There was the danger of being caught, the idea of being in an unfamiliar city, not to mention being the only one on the airplane who was really getting a good price to fly. Her clothes lifted themselves off the floor and floated to the trash bin. There was no going back now. She pinched one her nipples gently and felt the blood rush into it.
Invisibility had caused a sort of sexual revolution within Kimberly. It didn’t take long to realize that when people thought no one was looking, they were always on the make, hitting on each other, flirting with each other. They were always looking for some glimmer of attraction, and soon Kimberly found herself going along, rooting for the players. She saw everyone else’s lust and longing and felt, oddly enough, more normal as an invisible woman than she had as a visible one.
Not surprisingly, walking around naked in a crowded airport was a source of great arousal for Kimberly. She had gotten used to being nude, used to the air currents moving through her pubic hair, used to the, well...jiggling. It felt free, and that freedom was arousing.
The ticket agent had been correct, and the flight to Denver was far less than half full. The entire back third of the airplane was empty, but the passengers took a long time getting settled. Kimberly stood outside the door in the jetway until the moment before it closed, then hopped inside and quickly shuffled down the aisle to the empty back row that had caught her eye. While a sudden deep impression in the window seat might attract less attention, Kimberly thought, it would be much more confining if she were to be discovered, so she gambled with an aisle seat. It was scratchy and rough against her bare skin, but that was soon forgotten as the plane taxied from the gate and took off.
The flight was uneventful--Kimberly had to use the bathroom, but nobody noticed the door quietly sliding open and closed. In fact, it was much like any other flight she had ever been on, except that she was nude and terrified of being accidentally touched. The last one off the plane (of course), Kimberly made her way to one of the new airport’s surprisingly numerous clothing stores and waited for it to close for the night.
A few weeks ago, the idea of going a full day without food or water would have been extremely distasteful to her, but she had gone through the experience enough times now to ignore any discomfort. Without having to step on a scale, Kimberly could feel that she had lost some weight since becoming invisible. It wasn’t totally unwelcome, but she knew that she needed a more regular eating schedule to stave off malnutrition.
The gate in front of the store closed, and Kimberly went to work, disconnecting the security camera and putting together a stash of clothing under a desk in the office that she could put on in back when the store filled up again in the morning. Using the clothes and few opaque scarves with a new pair of sunglasses (along with some cash borrowed from the safe) she quick-stepped out of the store at a particularly busy time for the sole overwhelmed clerk, who was too occupied to notice some of his merchandise walking out of the office and out the door.
A cab ride later and she was in front of Peter Bennett’s building. It was a typical condo unit, mid-eighties design with some mid-nineties improvements like the security door that blocked her way now. Kimberly pushed the button for his apartment, 3D, and waited for response. After a minute without a reply, she pushed some of the other buttons. Without comment, one of the tenants buzzed the front door open and she slipped inside. She noticed a workout room with some exercise equipment and made a beeline for it, closing and locking the door behind her. Again checking for security cameras, she removed the grate from an air vent near the ceiling and peeled off her clothes before stuffing them inside. She replaced the grate and slowly opened the door again. Invisible again, Kimberly went to the manager’s office (unlocked, thank heaven) and pulled the key for 3D out of the desk.
With no way to hide the key suspended in midair, Kimberly decided to sprint for it, running as fast as she could to the stairwell--futilely holding the key against her body to cover it. The stairwell was empty, as was Bennett’s hallway--she jammed the key into the lock as fast as possible and a second later, she was inside.
Peter Bennett’s apartment was pretty much as she imagined, covered with dirty laundry and science journals. It did have one thing she wasn’t expecting, however--it had Dr. Peter Bennett in the bedroom. He heard the door slam and ran into the living room just in time to see the key to his apartment drop out of space onto the hardwood floor.
"Hello?"
Kimberly stayed silent, instead taking the moment to get as far away from him as possible. She studied Bennett as she hopped across the room--he hadn’t changed much from her memory of him, still handsome with brown hair and what she remembered thinking were rugged good looks. Bennett picked his key off the floor and examined it.
"Mr. Clark? You in here?"
She was resolute--Kimberly was not going to speak until she knew Bennett could be trusted. She reminded herself of this over and over in her mind, which is why even she was surprised to hear own voice.
"P...Peter?"
Bennett’s head whipped around as he tried to look toward where the voice had come from.
"Who is it?" he asked, his eyes still tracking the sound.
"It’s...Kimberly Harlow. We met last year."
"Where are you?"
His eyes were registering massive confusion as he looked for her in the small living room. He couldn’t think where she might be hiding--there just wasn’t any space. He was about to move in the direction of the voice when he heard it from right next him.
"I’m right here."
His surprise threw him to the ground, falling away from Kimberly, scrambling to get to his feet. The voice followed him as he clawed his way up the wall to his full height.
"There was an accident at my lab. I’m invisible."
He shook his head violently.
"No. That isn’t even possible."
"Look!"
A pillow from the couch floated a few feet in the air and moved toward Bennett. His eyes were huge as he watched the palm print of a woman’s hand form on it and squeeze. The fabric bunched up and then released, an instant before the pillow flew across the room back onto the couch.
Bennett ran over to the pillow and inspected it, checking for any wires or circuitry. Kimberly kept talking as he paced the room.
"I was working on a new laser when a power surge hit my lab. I blacked out and when I woke up, I was...like this."
"No, no, no. The power to do something like you...there isn’t enough power in the state. In any state..."
He began to calm down and his pacing slowed down. Finally, he stopped and talked toward the front door.
"When--"
"I’m over here."
The voice came from his right. He quickly redirected his gaze. Suddenly, with Bennett looking through her, Kimberly felt incredibly self-conscious about her nudity. With strangers, it seemed like if she didn’t exist to them, she didn’t need to worry about clothing. But with someone she knew, someone who was talking to her like a regular person...
Bennett pressed on:
"When...did this happen?"
"A month ago. Listen, I know how strange this is. Trust me: I know how strange it is. But I left some clothes and some money in the air vent of your workout room. Could you get them for me?"
"You’re not...wearing anything?
"No. It’s the only way I can be totally invisible. It shows when I eat, too, so you might not want to stick around for that."
He seemed to be on the verge of some sort of calm breakdown. His hands were trembling a bit, but instead of lashing out, he just gripped the doorknob.
"I’ll be right back."
She worried that he was going to call someone, but who would he call on half a moment’s notice? Sure enough, it was less than a minute before he returned with her clothes. He twitched when they floated out of his arms.
"It’s okay," she said, "I’m only invisible. That’s it. I’m not poisonous or anything. I think."
She reached out and touched his arm. He pulled it back like a reflex at first, but then stared at the impressions her fingers made on his sleeve. The sensation was like nothing he’d ever felt.
"See?" she reassured.
The clothes flew across the room and he watched the elastic band on a hovering pair of panties stretch and the fabric tighten into a curvaceous female form. When Kimberly bent over to pick up her shirt, Bennett gaped in amazement at the hollowed-out interior of the underwear, staring through the empty leg holes at the couch behind. The blouse flew into the air and buttoned it self around an ample chest, followed by a long skirt, shoes, and gloves. Finally, she completed her disguise with the scarves and sunglasses, and for the first time Bennett took a long look at her. After a deep, deep breath, he spoke:
"So...what can I do for you?"
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