The changes happened gradually, over years, and thus we learned that the Mayans had been right. It just wasn’t a fast or sudden thing, and it wasn’t the end of the world in the way so many doom-sayers would have you believe. It was just the end of that world, and the birth of a new world, with new rules.
Morphs they call us, from a book that I forget the title of.
At first we were put in camps, isolated, quarantined, as if we were contagious. That’s where we met, our relationship doubly taboo, morphs and both male. Thing was, it wasn’t anything we contracted, if anything, we were stronger, faster, healthier, and more human than those that didn’t change, and as our numbers grew, that became all too clear. Those that changed were more ′human′ than those that didn’t, and those that didn’t, although certainly not all, just most, were clearly the monsters they accused us of being.
So many died early on, experimented on, or simply killed outright. If it wasn’t for him, we would have probably been exterminated. He organized us in the camps, created and led the rebellion in the fight against the authorities. He helped us fight back, and we reclaimed our humanity.
We have advanced so much since that war. The Morph war. Now he captains a ship plying the stars, carrying cargo to the colonies and as one of the few authorized to contact the other species we have now encounter out there.
I watch as the ships reenter the atmosphere and wonder if that streak or the other might be him finally returning home. Married 120 years, we live so much longer now, and still, it feel like it’s the first time, every time he comes home to me.