- Prologue -
"The Titans of old broke free from Tartarus as prophecised, and I did what we both know was necessary despite the risks."
"Opening a way here, to Olympus, so that their namesake Teen Titans could lead the Amazons in an assault on them and rescue their teammate Donna Troy. But even though they accepted that aid the male gods saw this as an affront. Herakles and Hermes have been muttering darkly about bringing the Amazons to heel, Athena."
"And what of Troy's sister, the Amazon princess? Has she met the fate your plan requires of her?"
"She has, yes. Her youth, her beauty, her very identity have been stolen by another. It remains to be seen if that one can keep them..."
"Let us hope she can, Aphrodite... for all our sakes."
- 1 -
As the door closed behind Princess Diana and Frank Becker, so Burt emerged from the back of the diner. He had taken his chef's hat off, revealing he was completely bald on top.
"Wait, was that Wonder Woman?"
"The very same," I said, watching my former body as Diana walked away in it, relieved to see it go. She had exchanged her body and her identity for mine so I was now Maggie Jones, a 52 year old truck stop waitress, and I was eager to begin my new life.
"Shit, I wish I'd come out to meet her instead of staying in back reading porn mags. What's she like?"
"Very generous. She gave me something wonderful that I hadn't even known I wanted."
"Huh. Guess this must be your lucky day, Maggs." "The luckiest day of my life," I agreed.
"Shame she didn't stick around. We still have another two hours until our shift is over and I'm getting bored."
Right on cue, there came the rumbling sound of a mighty engine from outside as an eighteen wheeler pulled onto our lot.
"Finally, a rig!" said Burt, happily.
As he returned to the kitchen I retrieved the pencil from behind my ear and the pad from my apron pocket, ready to take the meal order of my first customer.
The following hour turned out to be a bit more hectic than expected, with several other rigs turning up. I was kept occupied taking orders and pouring coffee while Burt was busy slinging hash and frying eggs and bacon. Eventually things let up enough for Burt to suggest I take a break.
"I can hold the fort for ten minutes," he said. "Give you time to step out back and grab a smoke."
"Thanks, Burt," I said.
I headed through the kitchen then out through the rear door - and it was as if someone had hit me. As Wonder Woman I hardly felt the cold, but I did now. And it hurt. I quickly stepped back inside, gasping. Burt watched all this wide-eyed.
"Are you nuts, Maggs?" he said. "Why would you go out in this weather without your coat and hat?"
"A moment of absent-mindedness," I said, looking around and spotting the coat hooks from which the one that was obviously mine was hanging.
It was old and shabby and frayed at the bottom, but it was long and looked warm enough. I threw it on, donned the woolen hat and scarf stuffed in the pockets, and stepped through the rear door once more. The cold wind on my exposed face was still unpleasant but at least being outside was now tolerable.
In my hands were the pack of Marlboro cigarettes and the cheap plastic lighter I'd fished out of my apron pouch. It felt strange removing a cigarette from the pack, placing it between my lips, and raising the lighter to it while shielding the flame from the wind with my other hand. But I was Maggie Jones now and I'd been smoking for the past forty years, so I lit it and inhaled, letting my body's muscle memory do the rest. I'd been aware of an unfamiliar craving growing in me for the past half hour or so and now, as I exhaled, I knew why. I was a smoker and I'd needed a cigarette. Satisfying that craving felt *so* good! Having chosen to become Maggie I needed to embrace every last part of her identity, so this was an important little rite of passage for me. I inhaled again, sucking smoke into my lungs and this time exhaling through both my mouth and my nostrils.
My immediate craving satisfied by that first hit, I wandered over to the battered station-wagon parked a few yards away, circling it as I smoked my cigarette. The seats were patched with duck tape and there was a chunk missing from the dashboard moulding, but it was apparently serviceable enough. I had no doubt I could drive the vehicle, but though Diana had given me directions on how to get to the trailer park where I lived I wasn't convinced they would be enough to get me there without mishap.
I didn't want to stay out in that weather too long because I could feel the cold seeping up through the soles of my shoes so, after one last drag, I crushed my cigarette out against the wall, dropped the butt in a garbage can, and gratefully went back inside.
- 2 -
Shortly before 6 a.m. our replacements arrived to take the morning shift. My replacement was a pale, stick-thin, bottle blonde in her early twenties who, thanks to Diana filling me in I knew to be Leona Bunz, a single mother of twin boys who lived at the same trailer park as Burt and me. Burt's replacement was a rotund, taciturn, African-American guy in his late forties named Earl, who was ex-Army. After we handed over to them, we ate breakfast - one of two free meals we took every shift, the other being soon after we arrived at the diner but before our shift started, which helped us make ends meet - then headed out to my station wagon.
"Do you mind driving us, Burt?" I asked him. "Only I'm feeling a little queasy."
"Sure thing, Maggs," he said, taking the driving seat.
Thus did I solve the problem of never having been to the trailer park before, paying close attention on the drive to ensure I knew the route for the next time it was my turn. Burt had no idea I wasn't the same woman who had driven them to the diner last night, but then why would he? If you told him that bodies had been exchanged and who I used to be he'd think you were mad. As far as he would be concerned, he and Maggie Jones had travelled in to work together and now he and Maggie Jones were travelling back home together. And he would be right. I *was* Maggie Jones now, the one and only, and no one could ever make me go back to being Wonder Woman again.
The trailer park was unlit, but Burt made his way through the darkness to where my trailer was located, pulling up outside. Killing the engine he handed the keys to me.
"Sure you don't want me to come inside?" he said, squeezing my thigh. "It's pretty cold and I could help keep you warm."
"Not tonight," I replied. "I'm dog tired and just want to catch up on my sleep."
While Burt headed off to his own trailer I climbed the couple of steps to the door of mine, found the correct key on my keyring after a couple of tries, and went inside. It was small, untidy, and cold, but I hadn't been lying about feeling tired. A great lethargy had suddenly come over me, possibly a delayed effect of the body trade, so I quickly stripped down to my slip, donned the heavy flannel nightdress lying on top of the bed, and climbed gratefully under the blankets. I was asleep the instant my head hit the pillows.
I dreamed I was standing somewhere as a battle between the Justice League and a hulking blue alien was playing out. I was not a participant but an observer, looking up at a large screen and watching as the beast was tackled by Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, the Flash, and their female member. Try as I might I could not remember her name. She was giving as good as the guys, looking amazing in her costume with its red and gold bustier and star-spangled bikini-bottom, her tiara glinting in the sunshine. Her long, dark hair swept around as she threw her golden lasso over the alien's head, pinning his tentacles to his side. Her name was on the tip of my tongue, something as familiar to me as my own. Except I suddenly realised I didn't know that one either. I looked down at myself, hoping my body would supply a clue, but there was nothing there, nothing at all.
When I looked up the screen had gone and I was now staring at a mirrored wall that stretched off to infinity in both directions. This was a mirror in which I cast no reflection. I held my hand up in front of my face but could see nothing. Nor could I feel my body with that hand. Somehow I had become both invisible and intangible, with no idea who I was. Looking into the mirror again I saw a woman in the distance, approaching me from the rear. As she drew nearer so it became easier to make out details.
She was a stout woman, middle-aged, overweight, and wearing a white apron over a knee-length maroon dress with short sleeves, and white collar and cuffs. I sensed this was some sort of uniform, though what it might signify escaped me.
She reached the wall and stood no more than seven or eight feet from me, examining her reflection. While she studied this I studied her. She had brown hair which was pulled back into a tight bun, and cheap-looking button earrings adorned her ears. She had a double chin, the 'crow's feet' around her eyes, and I could see that she dyed her hair in an effort to keep the encroaching grey at bay. Pinned to her dress was a name badge, but for some reason I couldn't make out the name printed on it.
I didn't understand why I was feeling such an odd mixture of hunger and dread in her presence. What could it possibly mean?