The Transformatron (Hiatus)

Please click "Start Game" because there are variables!

Andrew dumped his backpack on the floor, the thick sound of it traveling through the floor like an echo in the otherwise empty house. The late afternoon sun shined in streaks through the minuscule space between the blinds which made the house seem even darker. He kicked off his shoes before slowly making his way up the stairs toward his bedroom. The house more or less belonged to him, for now, with his father absent and his mom working too much.

Halfway up, Andrew lazily remembered that he was hungry, but the prospect of going back down half a flight of stairs simply to microwave something seemed like too much, so he ignored the rumbling in his stomach. By the time he fell into his desk chair it was forgotten. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, the stress of school slowly melting away, except for the lingering problem of homework due tomorrow. Or was it the next day? Andrew couldn’t remember, and his bag was all the way downstairs so it was another problem to be dealt with in a few hours.

It wasn’t that school was that bad, really. Just another six months or so and Andrew would be done, graduated, and ready for college. He planned to reinvent himself there, but that was the same plan he had coming into high school, and then every year after. He had already given up on making something of himself this year. He was stuck in a rut, innocuous as wallpaper with no way to break out. Sometimes Andrew wished he had some enemies, at least as a diversion from his otherwise uneventful routine. The only relationships he had were with the kids that were friends or enemies with everyone.

With a soft grunt, Andrew sat up and booted up his PC, a reflex more than a desire, and started to whir the mouse around the desktop aimlessly, hoping inspiration would strike.

There was a tremble on the bookshelf.

Andrew perked up, the slightest sound suddenly capturing his full attention. The strangeness of it, so soft, almost imperceptible, was a lighthouse lantern in the middle of the night in such a silent house. He glanced around, stomach in knots, trying to find the mystery intrusion. The source eluded him and the silence sat heavy in the room. Andrew almost gave up, it appeared everything was in its place.

No, wait.

On the bookshelf, nestled among the middle-school chapter books and Lego sets covered in dust was… something.

Andrew scooted the chair over a little, but still couldn’t quite see what it was. He stood, a quizzical look on his face, and found the small object to be a thin, almost flat piece of wood that fit neatly in his palm. Across the front, carved expertly in a fancy script, was written “The Transformatron!” and below, much smaller, “courtesy of Xyxxor”

“What?” Andrew said aloud.

He held the almost weightless thing, puzzled. It was a finely made object, though it’s purpose defied explanation. He ran his thumb over the text he realized it had a bit of give. He pressed down and the object, now appearing to be a very thin box, clicked audibly. It was at that moment that Andrew’s entire body stiffened and his mind was assaulted by understanding. He knew, in that moment, what the object did and how to use it, as if he had always known. Even a single moment he was not familiar with the object became foreign and unknowable. The weight of that knowledge struck him, a physical sensation, and he fell to the floor.

It took a moment for Andrew to recover, and much longer for him to be willing to even sit up. He held out the object again, tempted by the knowledge he had just acquired.

The Transformatron could transform almost anything, but more importantly, almost anyone. Andrew could feed it his desires and transform people. Their bodies. Their minds and opinions. It was all open to manipulation at his direction.

Andrew smiled, so pleased with his luck he didn't even think to question how it ended up in his room or who could have created it in the first place.

And, far away, an old man was chuckling.

Note: All named characters are age 18 or above