Edgar and the Magical 'Puter

 Edgar and the Magical 'Puter

               by Mark Taylor


                 PART 1

  Sheila, in that moment between sleep and awake, vaguely thought of her-
self as unencumbered by a fiance and with two legs. Then shaking off the
last remnants of sleep, she rubbed her eyes, massaged her stump, stood up,
grabbed her crutches and went to the bathroom to get a shower. "Impossible,"
she said to herself. "Bad dream. I haven't had both legs for..." She paused,
"Well, it's been years." and turned on the water. "I think. Yeah, years."

            *******************

  For most of his life, Edgar lived the cyber-life... a programmer by day,
he was a hacker, a cyber-surfer, and an all 'round computer nerd at night.
His social life was a serious drag and Edgar knew it.

  Yes, he had his dreams: the ideal program which would make him wealthy,
the ideal web-site, and --hopefully-- the ideal woman to spend the rest of
his days with. Not the ideal woman by normal standards, but the Edgar's
ideal woman -- a leg amputee who would be vivacious, out-going, computer
literate, a full-time crutch user, and most of all... in serious love with
him.

  At six foot with dark hair and eyes, Edgar was not ugly, nor did he have
any serious personality defects. Au contraire... he was out-going, well-
spoken, and had a marvelous sense of humor. The only defect, such that it
was, was that Edgar had a hard time one-on-one with the ladies. A trait that
when back to grade school when he tried to get Suzie Milkythighs to go to a
Saturday movie with him. Suzie, being your normal cheerleader larva, chose
to humiliate him in front of the rest of his class for not being a jock.
Such was Edgar's self-imposed curse...

  Edgar's current goal was the first... writing the perfect virtual reality
(VR) program. Currently, he was working on the rendering (a paint program to
create the images for the VR) portion. And this was giving him the most pro-
blems... true, the images looked good, but they need something else... He
mentioned this one day to Sheila, the resident babe programmer at work. A
redhead of 5'7", fair of skin, long of legs, and shapely of body. Sheila had
class. And more importantly --to Edgar, anyway-- they got along well. They
had shared dinner several times, got along fairly well, but the spark... that
was all that was missing.  Her response to Edgar's programming quandray was
typical Sheila: "You need a shaman, Edgar. A witchy woman to breathe the
magic into it. Afterall, isn't that what programming is about, magick?"

  Edgar laughed at her joke, but deep down realized she was right.  While his
program was magic, it lacked the magick. Similar to his relationship to
Sheila, it too lacked the magick... that spark.

  That night while web-surfing on the keyword: MAGIC, Edgar stumbled across
the strangest web page he'd ever seen. "Madame Zorba - supreme Mistress of
the MoJo, Queen of the White Arts. She hears, she knows. She can help you",
read the text. The graphics were spectacular, the sound truely amazing,
especially since Edgar hadn't finished installing his new soundcard yet.
And there, flashing Crimson and Black at the bottom of the page: "Click here
for HELP". Edgar, being Edgar duely noted the http address in his notebook
(just in case of a crash) and clicked his mouse in the appropriate spot.

  Nothing happened. His screen went blank, the cursor assumed the familiar
hourglass and the sound went dead. Edgar stared at the screen and listened to
the silence in disbelief. For 30....60...180 seconds the only thing moving
was the blinking cursor on Edgar's screen. Then a blink of pixelated light,
a crash of thunder from the uninstalled soundcard and words began scrolling
across his screen: "Edgar, yes, I know who you are. I have looked into your
soul and it is ok.  I know of your dreams, your wants, your desires. I will
grant you your fondest computer wish at a price to be collected later. It
will be affordable. And only you will know the secret of your success.
  Press <Enter> to accept, or <ESC> to cancel." The words stopped scrolling
and the music stopped. Once again, Edgar stared at the screen. The only
movement in the room for almost five minutes was the blinking of his cursor
while he wondered who... and how... and what... but ultimately being
pragmatic and a bit of a closet gambler, he firmly pressed the <Enter> key.
The screen flashed and went blank and left him staring at DOS prompt and
wondering what the hell had just happened while he got ready for bed.

  The next day, he related the whole experience to Sheila. Sheila listened in
silence and then said: "Edgar, you've been scammed. Someone must right now be
racking up some big charges on your MasterCard number."    She then suggested he
go back to that page and cancel his request and check with his Internet pro-
vider about the page and any credit card charges. He saw the wisdom in this.

  That night, when he tried to access the web-page of Madame Zorba, nothing.
The server claimed no such site, no such page. In a fit of confusion, he went
to his VR program and continued working on a picture of his dream car -- a
Porsche 914. The car was to be the first subject in his virtual reality world
-- driving it would as near to the real thing as one could get on a computer.
Eventually, Edgar shut off the computer and tried to get some sleep.

                ******

  Edgar walked downstairs, still thinking about the non-existant web-site and
about how just a bit more tweaking and cobbling of code might bring about
some improvement in his VR program. Walking to his usual parking spot, he
stuck the key in the door and unlocked it before realizing it wasn't his car.
Someone had parked a bright yellow Porshe where he normally parked his
Escort. He looked at his key ring for the familiar Ford key and found he'd
used one he'd never seen before... a Porshe key.  He dazedly walked to the
front of the car and saw his personalized plate on it: "PROG 1". "Hmmm. It's
my plate alright." He carefully got in and saw his umbrella and the empty
Mickey D's wrappers from yesterday's lunch.

  He sat there, totally transfixed when the key started the engine... did he
really own a Porshe? No, he owned an Escort. Someone's playing a practical
joke. "So, I might as well go along with it and drive it to work."  Just as
he put it into gear, his cell phone rang...

  "Edgar, Sheila here. Glad I got you. John said don't bother coming in
today. The power failed in the building."

  "Ok. Thanks Sheila... uhhh" He quickly thought of a way to enjoy the car
and give whoever did the car joke a bit of revenge...
 
  "Yes, Edgar?"

  "Ahh, how about driving up the coast with me? It's a nice day and we'll
stop for lunch somewhere?"

  "Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to work at home today. Besides, the last time
you embaressed me by trying to outrun that Ferrari."

  "Okay, I'll call tomorrow."  Edgar shut off the car and thought a minute.
True, he had seen a Ferrari the last time they went to lunch. True, he'd
loved to have given that car a run for it, but in an Escort... or was it?

  As Edgar went upstairs he thought about the Porshe and the web page... the
web page!!! That had to be it. Or was it? After all, he was using the VR
program last nite... maybe, just maybe.

  Edgar turned away from the window looking smug. The Porshe in the parking
was a duplicate of the Midnite Black one on his computer screen.

  He thought some more and began downloading some images from various sites.
Two hours later, he turned on the TV and began switching channels and
admiring his handy work... Kathie Lee on crutches with a cute LAK stump
poking from her short skirt as she tugged it down to hide her other parts.
Rikki Lake holding her microphone in her left hand and gesturing with a below
elbow right arm stump. Madonna singing from her wheelchair and making wild
gestures using her double leg stumps for emphasis. There were others... but
Edgar was too excited to think.

  He turned back on the computer and pulled up an image of Sheila from last
year's company picnic and made one small modification... He'd just finished
when the phone rang.

  "Hi my love. I've been thinking... is the offer for lunch still open?"

  "Yes, Sheila, for you, always."

  "Pick me up in half-an-hour and we'll have a picnic at the beach, okay?"

  "Sure. Bye till then." He smiled.

  "Bye." Click.

  He sat there for awhile and then started restoring all the stars he'd
changed, except for Kathie Lee, and as an afterthought, removed one of
Madonna's legs, thinking that it would MTV interesting for awhile. He smiled
in the knowledge that of all the people in the world, he was the only one who
really knew how things were supposed to be.

                ****

  Edgar sat on the blanket while Sheila when on and on about how much her
Mom raved about the diamond ring he gave her last week and how "Mom" thought
Edgar was a nice guy but never thought of him as a future son-in-law.... He
grinned outwardly, but realized that deep down, there still wasn't any real
spark in their relationship. Sheila was beautiful, but... 'Yes, the ring does
look good.' Edgar thought looking at it on her. Very good indeed. Right next
to the missing index finger. He smiled.

  They spent the rest of the day together. And that night, Sheila decided
that since they were going to be married soon, they ought to make love.
They did. It was fantastic, but not quite as fantastic as Edgar thought it
could be. He took Sheila home a little bit later so she could catch a bit of sleep, change clothes and get ready for work. Edgar went home and turned on
the computer.

  Sheila crutched out to the car dressed smartly in a just-above-the-knee skirt and silk blouse. A low pump graced her right foot. She swung herself in
next to Edgar and with practiced ease, slid the crutches into the small
Porsche and closed the door. She gave him a long kiss and then buckled her
belt. "Edgar, I'm so happy. Last evening was wonderful and if it's any
indication...well let's just say, we'll be happy for years to come."

  Edgar reached down and patted her left thigh remnant very gently. "Yes,
my love. We'll be very happy now."


                PART 2

  Edgar dropped the car into gear and then dropped his hand to let it gently
rest on her stump, the end of which protruded slighty below the hem of her
skirt.

  "You know Edgar, I had the strangest nightmare just before I woke up."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, for a second I thought I wasn't engaged and had two legs. But that's
impossible isn't it?"

  "Hmmm. Yes, you've been one-legged as long as I've known you."

  They rode the rest of the way to work in that silence that only lover's
know. In the parking lot, he helped her out of the car, walked her into the
building and watched her crutch away to her desk.  All in all, he was quite
pleased with himself. She had a perfect stump, just the hint of a scar and
the stump itself was nicely shaped and as firm as he imagined it should be.

                ********

  They were married three months to the day from that first love-making
session. Edgar found the joy and the spark that their relationship needed.
Sheila was an enthusiastic lover. Eagerly doing new and different things,
like painting a happy face on her stump (with it's scar being the smile) and
waiting for Edgar to find it. Or stroking him to excitement again and again
with it.

  It wasn't too long before Edgar realized he could have any fantasy he
wanted. Sometimes he'd change the whole company to amputees. He'd give those
with hair a totally bald head and those with bald heads, ponytails. He played
with the amputee aspect continually. Every week at least one celebrity would
be modified to have less than the full complement of limbs. Made for some
interesting viewing of 'old' movies, particularly if it had been one he'd
seen when the female had all her limbs.

  Within a year, he began to play with Sheila's configuration. Sometimes
restoring her leg and removing an arm. Othertimes removing various combi-
nations of each. Always, her world changed with her. If he restored her left
leg and removed the right, all her left shoes disappeared and became right
ones. The jeans she'd carefully sewed the left leg closed on changed to the
right leg. Crutches would disappear and wheelchairs would appear.  Her hair
would change from blonde to brunette to red. From long to short. And always,
it seemed to her and everyone else that this was the way the world had
always been. And always, she was an enthusiastic lover, using her abbrevia-
ted body to pleasure them both. Edgar was in heaven.

  One Monday morning, Edgar got a call on his cellular. The caller, who
sounded ever so sexy, asked him to meet her for lunch. Never mind who she
was, it was time to collect. She'd know him so don't worry about what she
looked like. Just be there. And that was that.

  He told Sheila he had a business appointment for lunch and didn't know how
long it would take. He then went to the appointed place, a nice resturant and
his table was reserved, a booth near the rear in a darkened corner, and quite
deserted.

  After waiting 5 minutes, he saw he most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen
crutching his way. In the shortest skirt, it was obvious she was a hip
disartic.  "Edgar, I'm so happy you'd decided to join me for lunch." She
paused. "What? Is there something wrong with the way I look?" She twirled
about on her one shapely leg. He shook his head. "Good, then I'll join you
for a nice lunch and well do some business.

  She scooted into the booth with her amputated side towards him and after
putting her crutches down, looked at the menu with feigned interest.

  "Do I know you?" he asked after they'd ordered. He also was surprised that
she wasn't a hip dis, but rather had a very short stump indeed. Short and
very animated against his leg.

  "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'm known now as Madame Zorba though I've also been
known as Baba Yaga, the Wicked Witch of the North, and the Bride of Beelzebub
among other things. Not quite what you expected huh?"

  He swallowed hard. "No, not at all. Now tell me, what do you require of me
to pay my debt?"

  "Not so fast, bucko. First things first. I know quite a bit about you.
And," taking his hand down to put it on her stump, "I'm going to know quite
a bit more before this day is through."

  "Ok." He felt it move and then his hand found her Mound of Venus, between
the full thigh and the stub, wet and inviting.

  "We're going to have lunch, go to a nice hotel where I've booked the
bridal suite, and have a wondrus affair. I want to find out if being one-
legged is all you seem to think it's cracked up to be." She squeezed her leg
and stump tighter, trapping his hand. "I think it might be. And yes, we'll
come to terms on the payment of your debt to me."

  Lunch was anything but enjoyable to Edgar though M. Zorba seemed to enjoy
herself. Edgar was alternately sweating, nervous, turned-on, and just plain
scared. At last, she paid the bill and stood up. "Well, come my lover." And
she crutched off with him following close behind and both anticipating and
dreading what was to come next.

  Not in room for more than two minutes and she was nude and sitting on the
bed in front of him. "Well, come on. Have you ever seen a more perfect body?" She moved her hands down the side of her chest, to waist and hips. "A more
perfect pair of breasts?" She cupped them in her hands. "How about a more
perfect stump?" She stroked it and wiggled it in his direction.

  Edgar complied. He kissed her, he worshipped her body. Paying particular
attention to her stump and love mound. When it was all over, and they'ed
laid snuggled, her head on his chest and her stump on his tool, she said,
"Well, I'll say one thing, you're one of the best if not the best. I guess
being minus a leg is a plus in the screwing department."

  He could only moan a "Yeah....If you say so."

  "I do say so and I've had alot of lovers over the centuries." She moved her
stump gently.

  "Okay, I take your word for it. Now tell me what I have to do to pay the
debt?"

  "Well that was part of it. We'll be doing it again occasionally." She moved her stump again and felt him harden. "Like in few minutes. Though, I might
change my configuration. Variety is the spice of life you know.  Besides, I
want to have your child... for my master. That's part of it."

  Edgar thought of Sheila and all the happiness he'd had with her and then
he thought of M. Zorba and the sheer energy and raw sex appeal she exuded.
"Ok, so far. What else?"

  "Your's and Sheila's souls dear boy. Your souls."

  He gasped. "Both of ours? Why not just mine?"

  "Because."

  "Oh." He thought for seemingly an eternity. "Take mine, but leave Sheila
out of this."

  "Nope. Both or else you'll live to regret the consequences."

  "Consequences?"

  "Yep. Consequences. For example, what would happen of Sheila found out from
me that you've been toying with her body? Or that we're having an affair.
Hell on earth if you ask me."

  He got loose from her embrace. "Much as I appreciate the screwing... It's
my soul and I'll give you your son. I'll screw you till the cows come home,
but leave Sheila out of this."

  "That's your decision?"

  "Yes." He began getting dressed.

  "Done. But beware there will still be some consequences since I didn't get
all that I wanted."

  "Go to hell." He stormed out.

                ******

  Over the next year, he heard from Madame Zorba three times. Each time he
had to meet her for lunch and several hours of love-making. Each time, it was
with a seemingly different woman. Once is was a one-armed college girl. Once
it was a double leg amputee matron. The last time it was a leg/arm 'yuppie'
who was the wildest partner yet. And each time he was asked the question
about reconsidering Sheila's soul. Each time, he refused.

  After their last love-making session (and by far the best since she had
several areas of interest) and they were dressed, she stroked his face with
her arm stub.

  "Dear boy, I'm pregnant with our son. Thank you for that. As for Sheila's
soul, she may have it. But you may only have her if you can solve the paradox
you'll find at home. That is your consequence. I, however, am done with you
so there'll be no more of these little tete-a-tetes. And I shall miss them
dearly."

  "Oh yes, your soul is yours to keep. The love you have for Sheila is too
strong for me and my master. Go. And may you solve your paradox. If not, I'll
see you tomorrow. And collect that soul anyway since maybe your love isn't
as strong as I might think."

  "One last thing. The program is still yours. The magick with it. Once I've
given a gift, I can't take it back, so use it wisely."

  When he returned home after the last meeting, he found Sheila sitting at
his computer. "Edgar, can we talk?"

  "Yes dear?"

  "Do you love me?"

  "Yes, more than my own soul."

  "Do you love me as I am?"

  "Yes, you're perfect." She turned slightly and the sewn shut jean's leg
seemed to fit tighter around her stump.

  "Am I?" She scowled slightly. "Then why would you have a picture of me in
your computer with two legs? I lost my leg years before we met."

  "Huh?"

  "Yes. Is this some bizarre fantasy on your part? Give the poor crippled
girl her leg and fantasize about a wife with two legs?"

  "No...."

  "Don't bullshit me Edgar."

  "That's not it. Here do what I tell you and I'll explain later."

  She guardedly nods. And following his direction turns on MTV. She then took
a picture of Mariah Carey and modified it per his directions. "There," he
said when Sheila had finished. "See, she's now got only one leg."

  "I don't know what you're talking about. Mariah lost her leg years ago.
And it certainly doesn't explain this picture of me in the archive
directory, does it?" She glared. "Edgar, your a sick, sick man. To fantasize
that I have two legs."

  "????!!!!????" He suddenly realized, that only he could know the truth.
She was with the rest of the world in believing that Mariah had lost a leg
years ago.

  "Wait!!! I have it." He would have to do something drastic. "Call up that
picture of me."

                 ********

  "And so you see my love, I wondered how both of us would look with both
our legs.... so I modified both pictures."

  "Ok, that makes sense now that I think about it. So why don't you hop
over here and let's let our stubbies get re-acquainted."  Edgar dropped his
crutches and embracing his wife, his right leg stub rubbed gently against her
left one.

  "I'm sorry I doubted you. I guess it's understandable. There've been times
when I wondered how'd I look with two legs and sometimes I've even dreamed
I had both of them." She brushed is manhood with her stump. "Can you forgive
me for being stupid?"

  "Only if you'll join me in the bedroom?"

  She nodded, gave him one last hug and together they hopped to it.


THE END???




Edgar and the Magical 'Puter

                  original by Mark Taylor - additional part by Richard King


                           PART 2

        A few weeks later, Edgar discovered something very interesting about
his 'magick' program ... something he'd never even suspected. He'd been
modifying a picture of Anna Nicole Smith earlier in the afternoon, and had
been thinking of her having chosen to have one leg ... perhaps because she was
so fascinated by how her friend Sharon Stone (whom he'd made one-legged the
previous week) seemed to enjoy having one leg.
        He finished his alterations, and after putting the files away, went to
join Sheila in the sitting room. He found her watching TV - a talk-show. And
(co-incidentally) Anna Nicole Smith was one of the guests. She looked
gorgeous, her one long slender leg stretched out in front of her, and her
elegant black crutches leaning against the chair.
        "Did you know that she had one leg?" Sheila said, pointing at the
screen as Edgar crutched into the room. He'd decided to remain one-legged,
partly because one of the 'side-effects' of his emergency action had been that
Sheila was as turned on and excited by him as an amputee as he was by her, and
he enjoyed her response. The other reason was that he found he enjoyed being
one-legged, himself, which surprised him ...he'd always thought that it was
one-legged women who turned him on.
        "No, I didn't." he said, "That's Anna Nicole Smith, isn't it?"
        "Yes .... listen." Sheila said.
        ".... as you can see, ladies and gentlemen, Anna Nicole Smith has only
one leg." the host, Marty Mullen, said, then turning to her, asked, "So what
happened - how did you lose your leg?"
        Anna Nicole Smith smiled, and waved her hand, "I didn't lose it .... I
mean, I didn't have an accident, or whatever. I had it amputated voluntarily."
        "You mean, you asked for it to be removed?"
        "Yes .... I wanted to be one-legged."
        "That's amazing!" Marty Mullen said, "But - and I guess everyone must
want to know - why?"
        "Well, as everyone knows, since there's now quite a few amputees
around .... Mariah Carey, Kathie Lee, Cher, and Sharon Stone - who is a very
good friend - all have one leg. And they aren't the only ones, of course.
There's quite a few arm-amputees, too - Ivana Trump and Rikki Lake for
example."
        "Yes ... go on."
        "Well, like I say, Sharon's a very good friend of mine, and one day we
were talking and she said that she enjoyed being on one leg, and that she'd
talked to some other amputees and they felt the same way. She made it sound so
good that I wanted to know what it was like, myself."
        "So you went to your doctor?"
        "Pretty much - a private clinic in Switzerland, in fact."
        "Where they amputated your leg. When was that?"
        "About three months ago."
        "And how long were you in this clinic?"
        "Oh, only a couple of weeks."
        "So where have you been doing since then - we've not seen you around?"
        "I've been getting used to having one leg, mostly!" Anna laughed.
        "So it's not what you expected?"
        "I didn't say that!" she said, smiling, "Yes, it's very much what I
expected. But there's also a lot of things to learn. How to use crutches, for
one thing!"
        "You'll have to learn how to use an artificial leg, too, I guess?"
Marty asked.
        "No .... my leg is off at the hip, so I can't." she smiled again,
"Actually, it is possible to use an artificial leg with an amputation as high
as mine, but with no leverage - because my whole leg is gone - it's very slow,
clumsy and uncomfortable. I prefer to use crutches. I think it's a very
graceful way to move - if you're one-legged, of course."
        "So is it anything like you expected?"
        "It's wonderful!" Anna said, happily. "I feel much sexier, and more
'interesting' - I mean, don't you think I look rather exotic, with just one
leg?"
        Turning to the camera, Marty smiled toothily, saying, "Well, we'll
just take a short break, and see you in a moment."
        The ads started, and Sheila turned to look at Edgar, who was standing
with his mind spinning. "Well, well." she said, sounding only slightly
surprised. "Another one with only one leg."
        "Did I just hear what I think I heard?" he asked.
        "Yes ... she said she'd had her leg amputated voluntarily. What's so
surprising about that? ... She looks gorgeous, don't you think?"
        "Well, yes, of course." Edgar replied, trying desperately to work out
what was going on. One thing seemed reasonably sure ... that his idle
daydreaming - about the reason that Anna Nicole Smith had one leg - had
transferred to the reality he had created. What wasn't certain was how
far-reaching or deep the effect was.
       All of his alterations had always had a 'global' effect, in that the
whole world - except for Edgar - had altered to accomodate the changes he
made, even reaching back into the 'past'. Some of his alterations reached
'deeper' than others, though, affecting whole areas of life in some
fundamental way, others seemed merely to cause a minor 'ripple'.
        This change, he had a sneaking suspicion, was one of the real
'biggies'. How to find out, though?
        A copy of Cosmopolitan lay on the table beside, and something about it
caught his eye. On the front cover was a picture of Elle McPherson .... with
one leg and a pair of crutches under her arms. Looking closer, her saw that
the cover-flashes were all about amputees and amputation.
        'The One-legged Sex-godesses' read one, 'How having one leg has
enriched my life' read another. The largest one, covering the bottom of the
page read 'Cosmo's One-legged Issue - who's on one leg and who isn't.' Others
read 'Amputee fashion!', 'Crutches with Style!' and so on.
        "This looks interesting." Edgar said, picking it up.
        "They're all getting in on the act." Sheila said, adding, "Ever since
Princess Diana lost her leg in that skiiing accident all the magazines have
been full of features about how smart and sexy it is to have one leg. Cosmo's
the first to have done a whole issue about it, though."
        'Princess Diana? One one leg? Wow!' thought Edgar, then he remembered
that he'd modified a picture of her months ago.
        "Hush, now ... the program's starting again." she said, adding, "Come
and sit beside me."
        "Welcome back." Marty Mullen said, "We've been talking to Anna Nicole
Smith about her recent amputation. But as I'm sure you know, she's not the
only beautiful blonde who's had a leg off recently."
        He turned to look across the set, to a small dias, with a backlit
archway on it. The band struck up a tune, the lights dimmed slightly and a
small spotlight lit the archway.
        Through it, moving smoothly on a pair of black elbow-crutches came
Pamela Anderson, dressed in an exceedingly tight black dress, under which it
was clear that she was wearing a wasp-waisted corset. Her left leg was
missing, and the skirt of her dress was split on the right side, so that her
thigh showed with each step.
        "Welcome, Pamela." Marty said, standing up and kissing her on the
cheek.
        That formality over, she moved to her seat and sat down, carefully
stacking her crutches beside her, then leaned over and kissed Anna Nicole.
        "You too?" Anna Nicole said, looking down at Pamela's lap.
        "Didn't you know?" Pamela laughed, "Yes, I had my leg off just after
you."
        "We saw you in that double episode of Baywatch ... did you miss that,
Anna?" Marty asked.
        "I was in Italy until last week - and I haven't seen a TV for months!"
        "Why don't you tell her the story, Pamela? I mean, the Baywatch
episode."
        "As Marty says, it was a double episode." Pamela began, "In the first
part, I was attacked by a shark, which bit off my leg. The second part is
about my fight to keep my post as a lifeguard ... with only one leg, that is."
        "It was a special project of yours, wasn't it, Pamela?" Marty asked.
        "Yes .... I'd wanted to do a story about a one-legged lifeguard for a
long time. Finally I persuaded the director to let me .. of course, that meant
I had to have my leg amputated, but I think I look great with only one leg."
        Marty turned to the camera, and said, "During the break we wanted to
know how our audience felt ... so we gave them each a piece of paper with
three questions. They all have a pair of buttons which they can press to
indicate their answers - you all know the kind of thing. Let's find out what
the answers to our questions are."
        He turned back, and looked at a large illuminated panel which had been
lowered from the lighting-gallery.
        "Our first question was: Does having one leg or one arm make a woman
more or less sexy? Press your buttons now."
        Numbers started to change on the panel, eventually settling down to
read 'Yes : 57%, No : 43%"
        "Okay, we seem to think that it's a definite plus. Second question -
and for the women only: would you, or have you ever considered having a leg or
arm amputated? Or, of course, if you have had a leg or arm amputated ... I
know we have several amputees in the audience."
        Again, the numbers swirled, coming to rest at 'Yes : 63%, No : 37%'
        "Even more definite." Marty said, adding to Pamela and Anna, "A lot of
women seem to agree with you." He turned back to the panel, and said, "Okay,
third question - and this one's for the men in the audience: Would you find
your girlfriend or wife more attractive if she had one leg ... or one arm?"
        For the third time the numbers flashed, but rapidly settled down to
read 'Yes : 78%, No : 13%, Don't Know : 9%'
        "Well, that seems pretty conclusive." Marty said. He turned back to
his guests, "Anna, what do you think has caused this. I mean, a few years ago
there was only a couple of one-legged personalities ... Mariah Carey, Kathie
Lee, and a few others. Now, there seem to be dozens?"
        "I think it was when Princess Diana lost her leg ...the way she
carried on, as though being one-legged was perfectly normal." Anna said.
        "You saw the way she didn't try to pretend or hide ... she used
crutches and was quite open and frank about it." Pamela added.
        "Yes, but she lost her leg in that tragic skiing accident."
        "Whereas we - I mean Anna Nicole and I - didn't have an accident, you
mean? That in our cases it was a voluntary decision?"
        "I don't see that that makes any difference." Anna Nicole said, "I
think it's more important how I feel about having one leg than why I have one
leg. And in my case, I prefer it."
        "So do a lot of people." Pamela said. Turning to the audience, she
added, "I guarantee that there's several women in the audience who'd agree
with us. "
        "Well, why don't we find out?" Marty said, and standing, he walked
forwards a little. "Is there anyone in the audience who has one leg?"
        Six or seven hands went up. A pretty brunette girl in the third row
called out "I have one arm!"
        "So do I!" called another woman, further back.
        "Any of you voluntarily so?" Marty asked.
        "Me!" said a smartly-dressed middle-aged woman on the other side of
the audience.
        "Me too!" said the one-armed brunette.
        "Any others?" Marty asked.
        "I lost my leg in a car-accident, but my daughter is going to be
one-legged in a few days - voluntarily, I mean." supplied an elegant-looking
woman in the front row. Marty walked over and helld a microphone in front of
her.
        "I guess growing up with a one-legged mother, she was always
interested in having one leg ... she's been saving her salary, and this week
we're leaving for Switzerland. She's going to have her leg off on Friday."
        "Are you this  lady's daughter?" Marty asked, moving to the young
woman who sat in the next seat.
        "Yes .... but the other one. My Mom's talking about my older sister,
Linda. I'm Fiona."
        "And what do you think about this, Fiona?"
        "I think it's pretty neat. I mean, Linda's always been fascinated by
our Mom, and now she's going to be like her, too."
        "And how about you?"
        "Being one-legged, you mean?" Fiona asked.
        "Yes."
                "I don't know .... I'm only seventeen. Maybe in a few years
I'd like to have one leg. I guess I'll have to see how my sister feels about
being one-legged, first."
        Marty drew back, and addressed the audience again. "Why don't we have
all the amputees up on stage with us?"
        There was a small commotion as the various parts of the audience made
way, and a small procession of one-legged and one-armed women came down the
two aisles and on to the stage, joining Anna Nicole and Pamela, who had picked
up their crutches and stood.
        Deftly, Marty shepherded them into a line, then taking the mike and
addressing the cameras again, said, "Well, there we are, ladies and gentlemen
... amputees are getting more and more common - and with girls as beautiful as
Anna Nicole Smith and Pamela Anderson deciding that one leg is better than
two, it looks like there may be more."
        The band struck up and the credits zoomed up the screen, and Sheila
reached for the remote-control, silencing it before the ads could begin their
bleating.
        "I didn't know Pamela Anderson had had her leg off." Edgar said. He
was telling the truth ... as far as he knew, he hadn't 'altered' her, as yet
.... though he'd often considered it.
        "You missed those episodes of 'Baywatch'." Sheila said, adding, "They
were really good ... my heart was in my mouth when the shark attacked her! You
saw her being dragged back into the inflatable, and though they covered her
hip with a towel, it was all bloody, and you could  see that her leg was gone.
I thought it was just clever special effects, though, until the next weeks
episode. In that one she appeared in a swiimsuit - you know, the orange ones
the lifeguards wear, and you could see that her leg was off almost at the hip
... and she was on crutches, of course. They were really difficult about
letting her continue, with only one leg, and she had to try and persuade them
and so on, and even then they wouldn't let her. Eventually, she was about to
give up, when Mitch took her out in his boat, and they had an accident, and
she rescued him. After that, he had to admit that being one-legged didn't
affect her abilities - at least, not in the water - and she got her job back.
All hokum, of course. She just wanted to be one-legged, and she persuaded them
to incorporate it into the story."
        "You think so?"
        "Of course .... she practically said so, just a minute or two ago. You
heard her." She paused, then went on, pensively, "It's odd, you know ... I
mean, I've always enjoyed having one leg, as you know. But part of that was
knowing that I was 'special' ... unusual. Now, it seems everybody wants to
have one leg. Even my manicurist was talking about having her leg off, last
week!"
        Edgar had the worst case of mixed feelings he'd ever experienced. It
seemed that his daydream had had an almost 'cosmic' effect, and instead of
being an unusual and rare attribute, he'd somehow made being an amputee ...
and a voluntary one, at that .... into 'normality', or something very near to
that.
        On the one hand, he was delighted ... he'd often wondered what it
would be like if there were millions of one-legged women in the world. But on
the other hand ... part of the pleasure he derived from encountering amputees
was their very rarity ... the adrenalin buzz that shot through him when he saw
one. Even Sheila, his wife, had that effect upon him: even though he saw her
every day, she was (or had been) one of a select few.
        "Well, in that case, you'll be the height of fashion .... and you'll
be able to say that you've been one-legged for years, too. It might be fun."
        "True," Sheila agreed. She reached for her crutches and stood up. "I
guess I'd better go look at the dinner."
        She swung gracefully out of the room, leaving Edgar alone with his
thoughts.
        He considered the situation. Somehow, his daydreaming that Anna Nicole
Smith had chosen to have her leg amputated had caused much more effect than
when he'd simply 'altered' a personality, and not thought about the reason.
Yes, that had to be it. And maybe, it suddenly struck him, that had been what
Madame Zorba had meant, when she'd advised him to 'use it wisely'.
        He wondered if he could 'undo' the effect. "I'm just going to do a
quick couple of things on the 'puter." he called to Sheila.
        "Well, don't be too long .... this casserole is about done." she
replied.
        Quickly, Edgar crutched upstairs, and sat down at the console. Calling
up the picture of Anna Nicole Smith, he restored her leg, then went downstairs
again.
        "Mmmm, that smells great!" he said, going into the kitchen.
        "Hungry?" Sheila said, smiling.
        "Starving!"
        She piled his plate with the chicken casserole, giving him two large
pieces of breast and making sure he had plenty of onions, mushrooms and
potatoes, then served herself, slightly more modestly. Sitting down, she
picked up her knife and fork.
        "Pretty amazing interview, wasn't it?" she asked. "D'you think she'll
go through with it?"
        "What? Who?" Edgar asked.
        "Anna Nicole Smith ... we just saw her saying that she's planning to
have her leg amputated." Sheila said, adding with a hint of exasperation,
"Where are you?"
        "Oh, sorry .... I was thinking about that bug I found and just fixed."
he answered, by way of buying time. Evidently his changes had restored Anna
Nicole Smith's leg, but now she was planning on a voluntary amputation,
instead of having just had one.
        "I thought Pamela Anderson looked stunning, didn't you?"
        "Fabulous! But then, she always does."
        "Yes .... but with one leg, she's even more amazing, don't you think?"
        'Whoops!' Edgar thought to himself, 'Something's coming unscrewed,
here. What the Hell do I do about this?' He knew - beyond any shadow of doubt
- that he'd never 'altered' Pamela Anderson, but somehow she'd become 'stuck'
with one leg. Not that he minded, of course .... she was particularly
appealing as an amputee. He wondered who else had been affected, and resolved
to have a careful read of Sheila's copy of Cosmo, to see how that had changed.
        After dinner, Sheila said she wanted to watch a soppy romantic movie
which was scheduled on Channel 7, so Edgar took himself - and the copy of
Cosmo - back to his workroom.
        The cover, he found, had indeed changed ... Elle McPherson wasn't
one-legged anymore ... but there were still a number of cover-flashes
indicating articles about amputees, so it was clear that the situation wasn't
completely cleared up.
        I occurred to him that maybe his 'modification' of Princess Diana had
been the problem, so he called up the picture he'd originally worked on, and
gave her back her leg, then checked the magazine again.
        A couple of the cover-flashes had changed, but there were still a
number of articles about amputees inside, and when he checked in the latest
copy of TV Guide, Pamela Anderson was still one-legged. Somehow, he'd managed
to 'tie a knot in reality' - a knot which meant that Pamela Anderson was
always a voluntary amputee, whatever he did. He wondered who else was the
same. Thinking back, he decided that at the core of the knot probably lay his
thought about voluntary amputation. Once thought, he couldn't 'unthink' it,
with the result that there would always be voluntary amputees, from that point
on.
        Slightly shaken by the dawning realisation of the power he'd
unleashed, he decided he'd better be a lot more careful from that point on.
        All the same, he was quite pleased with the situation ... used wisely,
he thought it might have interesting possibilities, he decided, and picking up
his crutches, went down to join his one-legged wife.

The End ????