Chapter 2: Head Says You Should Stay, But Your Heart Says to Begin

His first sensations were voices; shouting. They washed over him, filling the heavy darkness with their confusion. The acrid stench of smoke choked him, and his mind clawed for relief.

Then, a sudden chill snapped him awake. The voices were gone. The stench subsided. The milky sky rose above him; he could feel ground, firm and cold, beneath him.

Where was he? Where was the van? His master…?

Throbbing pulsed through his ears, punctuating his agony. He strained against it as he tried to rise, tried to find...

Through vision blurred by red haze, he saw the van on its side, its hood wrenched open, and its windows shattered. Smoke from the engine streamed silently upward.

No…no…his friends…his master…

With an anguished cry, he groped for a hold on the ground. Grass tore as he grasped at it, and he collapsed several times before finally pushing himself upward. He swayed as he stumbled forward, clutching at his head before the touch of warm blood stopped him in his tracks. But it wasn't the sight of blood on his fingers, or the way it trickled down the side of his head. It was the sight of fingers that moved when he willed them, and the realization that he stood on legs that weren't his own. His breathing quickened, and his vision swam.

"Oh, good God! It's another one!"

He glanced up at the new voice, peering forward to see figures scrambling down the ditch towards him. A tow truck was perched at the very edge of the ditch, where workers had been connecting its hitch to the van.

"Mister, can you hear me?" One worker reached had reached him. He could feel gloved hands grabbing him, persuading him to sit. "Someone grab that blanket! He's stark naked!"

"Again? How many of those nudists are out here?"

"Shut up, you dumbass, and call another ambulance! He's in shock!"

Humans…humans…His breath quickened, and the pulse became too much to bear. He wavered for good, falling back into oblivion.


"…No match from the database. No birth records, or fingerprints…"

Toaster roused from sleep as the low words continued. Her eyes tried to open, but her body felt too warm and content nestled in the bed. Even the panic that began nagging her again seemed miniscule compared with her comfort.

"Does the name Masters ring any bells for you?"

"Masters?"

"That's the name she kept telling paramedics. It might not be her name, though."

"No one has called about her?" Toaster's fuzzy mind insisted that she recognized that second voice. Something about cabins and soft white bread and waiting…searching…for the…

"We've checked the police station for missing persons. No one seems to match her description."

"She couldn't just have appeared out of nowhere, no clothes or anything!" That voice was familiar, too. Toaster scrunched her face and blinked a few times. Driving and don't like that music and Robbie…

"Rob, are sure you don't recognize her?"

Rob. Toaster's heart leaped with the name. She willed her eyes to clear as she clutched at the sheets.

There were three people standing near the half drawn curtain. She could see her doctor's broad shoulder and white coat, and beyond him stood the mistress, clear as a bell, clinging to the arm of the…

"Chris, I already said no. I don't even know where she could have come from. I swear, there was no one else on the road."

The Master! Toaster struggled to sit up. The IV tugged cruelly at her arm, but she bit her lip to fight it back.

"It's you!" she cried.

Immediately, the couple's eyes shot to her, and the doctor's arm drew the curtain back completely. For a brief moment, Toaster didn't notice the surprise that crossed her master's face, and barely registered the sling cradling his right arm or the bandages across his head and cheek. She only saw that it was him; he was alive.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed again, tears forming at her eyes. "And you're alright!"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah." The Master hesitantly moved past his wife and the doctor to stand near the bed. "I'm…I'm great. And, um…" He cocked his head to one side and pushed his glasses further up on his nose as he looked down at her. "How…how are you doing?"

Toaster laughed. She couldn't help herself. All her confusion disappeared at once. "I'm great! I don't think I've ever felt better." New energy and excitement bubbled inside her. She was talking to the Master. She was actually talking to him, face to face.

And he was listening to her; answering her. Every single word.

"Well, that's good." He smiled; nervously, but he smiled at her all the same.

"It's wonderful!" she exclaimed.

"Well, she sure seems to know you." The Mistress was at his side again, eyeing Toaster as she clasped the Master's arm.

"Right. But I've never…" The Master hesitated. "Um…they tell me-us-your name is Thea? Thea Masters?"

Thea what? Toaster nodded anyway.

"Thea, I know this might be a strange question: do you remember how you know me?"

Whoops. Toaster's excitement vanished in a cold rush. Oh, no. Her eyes darted from one face to another, each equally suspicious and concerned. Even the doctor, who had slipped in by her side to check her pulse, watched her carefully.

How was she going to explain this to them?

Did she have to?

"I…I…just…well, you have a veterinary clinic…" she tried.

"Oh!" The Master's face cleared. "You know about the clinic."

"Yes!" Toaster clasped her hands together, relieved.

"I don't think I've ever seen you visit before." Toaster was certain she didn't like the way the Mistress glared at her.

"No, I haven't visited, exactly. I've…" Toaster rapidly searched her memory for inspiration. If only Radio were there. He'd think up a good story.

Story. That newspaper clipping the mistress had hung on the fridge… "I've seen you in the newspaper. Last week. I saw you in the newspaper last week!" she exclaimed, triumphantly recalling the words Lampy had read. ' "Veterinarian Rob McGroarty saves life of local seeing eye dog."'

"The paper? Oh! That's right. That headline from June." The Master shared a look with his wife, who turned her glare to him. "She must be local after all."

"The paper. Right." The Mistress said, dryly. "Because our town is the only one that gets that paper."

"Chris…"

"Look, I know she saved your life. I know!" The Mistress threw up one hand before looking at Toaster again. "So, where do you live?"

"Um…" The questioning was making her head spin. The smell and noise of the hospital wasn't helping; she'd never smelled anything so sharp and fierce before. And she was running out of ideas fast. Why was the Mistress being so cruel? "Can I…can I just leave? Please?" Without waiting, she threw back the covers and tried to jump out of the bed. A fierce pain in her arm reminded her of the IV again, and she yelped. Immediately, all three surrounded the bed to help her.

"Why don't I have a nurse take this out, now? Hm? You don't really need it anymore." Toaster only sniffled in response as she realized that the Master and Mistress were standing outside the curtain once again. While the nurse instructed her to make a fist, she strained to hear the heated conversation the two were having.

"…No! A stranger in the house?"

"...Needs help…saved me…"

"…Don't know who…or where…"

"Ow." Toaster lost her concentration as the IV came out. She clutched her arm against her chest.

"Thea." The Master and Mistress returned to the bed. Toaster watched them, both curious and hopeful. The Master was smiling; not as widely as the doctor and nurses, but with a warmth that Toaster would have known anywhere. "Thea, how would you like to get out of here and stay with us for a while? Maybe you'll remember everything in a couple of days."

"With you?" Toaster couldn't hide the relief she felt. She could go home. Finally! "Yes! Please!"

She eagerly seized the hand he offered her, holding it tightly. She smiled at the Mistress. The mistress returned her smile with a lopsided, weak grin, but Toaster didn't care.

She was going home, where everything would make sense.


Cherry. Toaster closed her eyes in ecstasy as she sipped from the straw. The Master called it a cherry limeade slushy. He had handed to her after they left the hospital, laughing as he claimed it was better than hospital food.

She agreed wholeheartedly. The hospital food she'd barely touched after they took out the IV was nothing in comparison to this tart delight. She put her whole effort into gulping it down, only glancing up now and then to look at the world past the rental car window.

"Looks like the Meyer house is for sale again," the Mistress remarked as they bumped down the road.

Toaster leaned forward to glance out the window to watch the buildings and houses speed by, clutching the jumbo size cup in both hands. She'd already spilled slushy down the front of the brown blouse the mistress had given her; the last thing she wanted was to ruin more clothing.

Clothes. She shifted in the seat, still sensitive to the sensation of clothes she wore. She cringed every time the loose blouse flapped, or when the elastic band of the pants stretched as she moved. She wriggled her toes inside the socks, wishing the sneakers didn't cling so tightly to her feet. Even as she thought about them, she stuck a finger in-between the shoe and her foot to relieve the pressure.

The Mistress had presented the clothes to her when she and the master returned to her room after signing release papers.

"You don't want to wear the hospital gown everywhere," she'd stated when Toaster held them out gingerly in front of her.

Toaster almost wished she had. Getting into the clothes was harder than humans made it look. She'd gotten lost inside the blouse, wasn't sure how to hook the brassiere, and kept putting the socks on the wrong way. In the end, a nurse had to help straighten her out. While she was grateful for the mistress' clothes and the sneakers the hospital donated, she couldn't help wondering why humans needed so much padding.

Even with that uncertainty, everything in the world appeared so bright, even the things she had seen before. The house, as it rose up in front of her, though it seemed smaller than she recalled, was still more welcome than any sight in the world.

"Home sweet home," the Master sighed, as the Mistress parked the rental car.

Home sweet home, alright, Toaster silently agreed, sighing. No matter how different she was, she was glad to be in a familiar place.

"You ready to go in?" The Master smiled over the seat at her.

"Mhm!" Toaster struggled with the seatbelt.

"Here, let me get that." The Master opened the passenger door. A struggle ensued in which he tried to unlock her seatbelt with one hand, while she moved and squirmed to help him. They ended up laughing at the efforts.

The Mistress was standing in the doorway, speaking to the teenager who often looked after the little Master. By the time Toaster and the Master came up, the teenager had been paid and was skipping away to her car.

"That girl always charges an arm and a leg," the Mistress muttered, shifting the little Master on her hip.

"She does a good job looking after Robbie," the Master offered.

Even Toaster cringed under the Mistress' withering look.

"Goody too-shoes." The Mistress rolled her eyes. "Get inside and start resting. Doctor's orders."

They headed inside. The door wide open before her, Toaster found her feet cemented to the walkway. Everything looked familiar from the outside. But, inside, her friends were waiting. Her mouth went dry as she realized that she would have to face them-all of them- as a human.

"Hey." The Mistress poked her head out the door. "You coming?"

Toaster nodded slowly and took a breath as she crossed the threshold.

"Welcome to our humble abode," the Mistress said, closing the front door.

"It's wonderful," Toaster replied with as much honesty as she could. In truth, it was as though her eyesight had changed. Colors appeared deeper, warmer. She rested her hand on the back of the sofa, noting the way her shoes scraped across the floor. Even as a toaster she had felt the differences between soft and hard, furry and smooth; but now touching things sent tingles through her nerves. She quivered with the stark difference. Her eyes drifted to the stairs where the master was disappearing, and to the kitchen inhabited by many of her friends.

"Yeah, sure. This is our son, Robbie." The Mistress indicated the baby with a jostle of her hip. "Say hi to Thea, Robbie."

The baby clutched at his mother as his brow furrowed. He pointed a finger at Toaster.

Grateful for the distraction, Toaster bent towards him. "Hi there!" she exclaimed, smiling into his confused face. "It's nice to meet you. Robbie." She tapped his finger, shyly.

The baby's eyes suddenly brightened. His little hand grasped the strand of hair that had fallen over Toaster's eyes.

"Tuh…tuha…stuh."

He recognized her! Toaster burst into a laugh.

"Huh, that's strange." The Mistress untangled the baby's hand from Toaster's hair. "I've never heard him call anyone 'toaster' before." She gave Toaster that same suspicious look again.

Toaster forced a grin as she shrugged, unable to think of an explanation.

"Hm." The Mistress shifted Robbie to her other hip as she turned away. "I'm going to put the guest bedroom together. Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the living room?"

"Oh. Okay. Thank y—" Toaster trailed off as the Mistress all but stormed up the stairs without another word. Left to herself, she stared again at the doorway into the kitchen. More than likely everyone had jumped into their respective places when they heard the rental car pull into the driveway.

"There's no use standing here, then," she told herself. "It's time to face them." On impulse, she tugged off her sneakers and socks, taking a moment to adjust to the hard floor under her feet before stepping into the kitchen.

It was still and quiet. Everything was in its place, clean and sparkling in the afternoon light. The microwave, the faucet, the oven...all were in their reserved places, as still as stone. They might as well have been corpses, toaster realized. She couldn't sense them at all.

"Microwave?" she whispered, approaching that individual. "Microwave? Can you hear me?"

The microwave didn't change. Toaster clasped the cool metallic handle and pulled the door open. Nothing. She took a deep breath. Her own personal friends were not in sight, but that was just as well. Now she knew: the appliance code of secrecy applied to every human, former appliance or not.

Her heat sank as she closed microwave's door. How was she going to handle this, all of this, without her friends?

A scrapping sound caught her attention. She turned to the end of the kitchen, where Ratso was sipping from his water jug.

"Ratso!" she exclaimed, suddenly hopeful. He was a sight for sore eyes, and not just because he was moving around. She hadn't seen him since their vacation. For some reason, the mistress had vetoed bringing him along. A minor point now, Toaster knew.

On hearing his name, the rat went still, watching her with rapt attention. She hurried over to him. Ratso sniffed at her through the bars.

"Ratso, it's me!" She poked a finger through the cage.

Ratso shied away. Then, his eyes narrowed as he locked gazes with her. In his old manner, he straightened up and his eyes bulged.

"Toaster?" he exclaimed in awe.

"Yes!" Toaster laughed, ridiculously glad to understand him. "It's me!"

"How the…? What the…? Are we in an episode of the Twilight Zone?"

"Um." Toaster glanced around the kitchen. "I don't think so."

Ratso flung his arms out. "But you're human!"

"I know!"

"You're…a chick?"

"Yup!"

"How'd you do it? Wish really hard?" Ratso looked her over with a critical eye.

"I don't know how it happened. I'm just…and the van...and I'm here! With hair and clothes and all! Ta da!" Toaster flung her arms out to the sides and spun around.

Ratso frowned and rubbed his chin. "Ain't those the clothes the Mistress was wearing before she had the baby?"

Toaster's enthusiasm deflated. "They were the only things that fit," she admitted. "My body shape is different," she echoed the Mistress' words.

"Yeah, no kidding." Ratso crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "You ain't exactly Marilynne Monroe."

"Oh. Is that bad?" Toaster looked down at her body. In truth, she had been so focused on leaving that hospital and getting home she hadn't even thought about how she looked.

"Well, maybe you just make a bad first impression. For a human, that is. Geez." Ratso shook his head in disbelief. "Wait till the guys hear about this one! No wonder you weren't answering!"

"Answering?"

Ratso thumbed in direction of the driveway. "After the accident. Radio and Lampy kept trying to talk to you, but you wouldn't say nothing. They thought your coils were knocked loose or something."

Toaster felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "But I wasn't in the van. I fell out…with the Master…"

"Oh, you were there, alright," Ratso insisted, scratching his nose. "They told me they kept trying to call you and shake you up until the tow truck cleaned everything away. The Mistress put you out in the shed…" He trailed off, shivering as he looked at her again. "Boy, eerie!"

She knew how he felt. "You mean my body-my toaster body-is out in the shed right now?"

"Yep." Ratso whistled. "Talk about your out of body experience." He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Where you been all this time?"

"In a hospital. They thought I was hurt from the accident."

"Oh." Concern shadowed Ratso's eyes as he put his head between two cage bars to get a closer look at her. "Were you?"

"No…I mean, this body wasn't hurt too much." She pushed the sleeve back from one of her arms, observing the fading bruises from the IV. "But, Ratso, I need to know how this happened. I don't remember changing. I don't remember anything! Do you think you could ask the hearing aids?" she added, inspiration dawning on her as she glanced at the junk drawer.

"Hey, you can count on me!" Ratso saluted her. "I'll let everyone know what happened and see if they got any bright ideas. Boy, they sure aren't going to believe this!"

"Thanks, Ratso." Instinctively, Toaster rubbed his head with one finger and laughed at the look of pleasure on his face. "I've got to go," she whispered, hurriedly, at the sound of the Mistress' voice on the staircase.

"Hey, wait! What happened to Kirby?"

Alarm shot up her spine. "What do you mean what happened to Kirby?"

"They didn't find him in the wreck. The van must have thrown him out like it did you. Tell me when you find him so I can-" Ratso suddenly dove backwards and began kicking up the shredded paper in his cage.

"There you are." Toaster jumped at the sound of the Mistress' voice. She whirled around, plastering a smile on her face. "I wondered where you got to. Um…were you hungry?"

"No, no, I was just…looking around?" Toaster tried a laugh.

"Right." The Mistress crossed her arms. Toaster shifted under her studying look. "Well, I've made up the guest room for you. You'll probably want to shower, too."

"Shower?" Toaster cringed.

"Come on, I'll show you how the handles work." The Mistress turned abruptly and walked off.

With a glance at Ratso, who shrugged at her, Toaster hurried after her.


Toaster breathed heavily as she stood before the shower stall. Steam filled the air, accompanying the sound of streaming water behind the shower curtain. The mistress had tried to explain how to turn on the hot water, then gave up with a sigh and turned them on herself when Toaster wouldn't leave the doorway. In seconds, Toaster found herself alone in the bathroom, her back against the door the mistress had slammed, with only the sound of the streaming water in front of her.

Even with the old fear bubbling up in her throat, she found herself glancing towards the mirror over the sink. Curiosity took over, and she inched forward until she was standing directly in front of the oval frame. The round face that stared back at her reflected awed brown eyes and a small red mouth. Her heart beat as she parted the lips and studied the tongue that stuck out and ran over white teeth. Mousy brown ringlets appeared between waves of frizz across her forehead and shoulders. Whenever she reached up to push them back, she could feel the way they clung to her scalp.

Was that really what she looked like? Was that really what the master and the mistress saw when they looked at her?

Eyes fixed on the stranger, she awkwardly took off the clothes and let them puddle at her feet.

For the first time, she saw her new form in its entirety: the swell of breasts from her chest, the wide hips that curved down into legs and feet. Her fingers drifted toward the veil of dark curls that nestled below her belly, then further until they touched the soft skin between her legs. Watching in the mirror, she traced every contour of the body with her hand.

"This is me," she heard the reflection say as she spoke out loud.

Then, emboldened, she pulled back a corner of the shower curtain and thrust her hand into the stream.

She trembled. She couldn't help it. Visions of electric surges and outages spent years forming their nightmares in her sleep. But the touch of warm water on her skin felt delicious, and roused something sweet in her new form that eased the fear. Bracing a hand against the stall, she stepped over the tub's edge.

Ohh. She released the breath she had been holding and closed her eyes, basking in the warm water as it engulfed her. She rubbed her hands over her arms and shoulders, then tossed her head to throw her soaking hair back. So this was why humans liked water. This was why they weren't afraid.

A tiny little thought crept into her mind; just a notion that seduced her with its earnestness. Almost unbidden, she reached down to twist the knobs off. The water stopped, and a brief chilled caused gooseflesh as she pulled the curtain aside again. She reached for the blue towel the Mistress had set out on the rack and pressed it to her face. It was awkward, but she managed to dry herself. When she stood before the mirror again, she saw the reflection looking back with newfound satisfaction.

Experience. That was the word for the tiny notion that had sprang up during her shower. Until Toaster heard back from the hearing aids, she would take advantage of every experience that her new body had to offer. That meant learning to shower and dress like a human, yes, but also more than that.

She lay down in the bed, enveloped by softness of the plush spread and pillows.

"Yeah," she whispered, as sleep lulled her. "I'm going to do this. I'm going to be human."


"There she is."

"I don't believe it."

Voices tugged at the edge of her awareness. Toaster stirred, but refused to give into wakefulness. Whether it was the effect of her consciousness in a body, or the weariness of the hospital, she felt sleep was the sweetest notion in the world.

"She's so…so…"

"Human."

She rolled over, vaguely aware of the towel slipping from the bed. Her eyelids fluttered at the click of a door closing, and the muffled sobs.

"Knock it off."

"But I want Toaster!" the little voice whined.

"She's right there. Sort of."

"But I want OUR Toaster…" The cries pierced her dreams.

"Blanky," she murmured, responding to the dream. "Don't cry." She let her arm fall from the side of the bed.

Soft cotton stroked her fingers.

"Blanky, don't!" a voice exclaimed.

The sniffles were close by Toaster's ear this time. "But I don't want her to get cold…" in seconds, Toaster was enveloped by a nice warmth. Weariness tugging at her, she drifted back to sleep again as the voices and the heart- aching sobs continued.