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After a ten-hour ferry ride, I disembarked in a foul and grumpy mood. I would have preferred to have acquired reserved first-class accommodations, but because of my size, I knew I would not fit comfortably in any of the seats and the cost was twice as much as I willing to spend, figuring I needed to stretch my funds as far as possible. I reluctantly bought a ticket for the general seating on the deck space and did my best to find a place for me and my bag. I was lucky enough to obtain a hard bench; I was surrounded by those who had to sit on the floor, their bags piled on any available patch of floor. I made a deal with the traveler next to me to save each other’s seat when we needed to use the facilities. Despite living on an island known for its water activities, it had been awhile since I last spent time on the open sea. I wisely popped an anti-nausea pill before the journey so there was no sickness to contend with. By the time I reached my final port, I was sore, tired, and hungry.

Fortunately for me, I hadn’t burned all my bridges when I last departed Heraklion, and once I was on solid land, I found a public phone to call an old friend. I was worried that Nessus may have moved away like I did, so I first checked the caduceus for his contact information. To my relief, he was still listed locally, even though his number had changed. I entered the new code and waited in anticipation as the alert melody progressed through its tune. Luckily, Nessus was at home, and he seemed genuinely pleased to hear my voice once again.

“Asterius! It’s been ages. How are the sunny beaches of Mykonos treating you?”

“I’m not on Mykonos anymore. In fact, I’m here where you are, and I’m hoping you can do me a favor.”

There was a pause and I was afraid that he would hang up, but instead, “. . . oh, yes, yes, of course! Where are my manners? What is it you need?”

“Just a place to stay, until I get my footing. I won’t inconvenience you for long, I swear.”

“Um . . . ah . . . okay. I suppose you can surf my couch for a while.”

“Thanks, bud. I owe you. Do you still live . . .?”

He cut me off before I could finish asking the question, “nah, I’ve moved up in the world since you last saw me. Let me give you the address and directions.”

I jotted his instructions down. “Thanks again. I’ll see you soon.”

I hung up and found the nearest bus stop, ignoring the suspicious and sometimes hostile stares that passersby would give me. While on Mykonos I was a harmless curiosity, just one more novelty on an island of wonders, but here I was a reminder of a horrifying past, an abomination to be ignored or treated with visible contempt. Despite the overt hostility, none dared attack me due to my physical size, and so I was mostly left alone on my ride to my friend’s house.

I had last seen Nessus when we had finished spending our year of mandatory military service in the Cretan navy. Back then I was still an ordinary nineteen-year-old, with no hint of what I really was beneath the skin; I was still able to pass. Nessus and I had grown up together in the same neighborhood, attending the same school, and had naturally became the best of friends. I don’t think he ever knew or even suspected my secret, or if he did, he chose to remain oblivious to it out of respect to our friendship. Now I did not know if he now knew, and he certainly had given me no hint during our phone conversation . . . or had he? I suppose I would find out soon enough, as I stepped off the bus and made my way to his address.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he had moved up in the world, as the neighborhood I was now walking through was definitely much nicer than the one we grew up in. While I had been living in the moment on Mykonos from paycheck to paycheck, Nessus had clearly done something with himself in my absence. When I saw the house that had to be his, I let out an involuntary gasp in a mixture of surprise and awe. While not palatial, it was a far cry from the prefabricated government housing of our childhoods. I almost chose to turn away and not bother him, but desperation compelled me forward and I rang the doorbell.

It was now his turn to let out a gasp of surprise as he opened the door and beheld the new me.

“You’ve . . . changed,” he finally uttered as his eyes rose up to meet mine.

He hadn’t known.

“I had heard rumors, of course,” he continued, “but…”

“But it’s still me.”

“Yes, it is.” He dropped his head and shook it in embarrassment. “Why of course, it is. Why don’t you come inside?”

All things considered, it went better than I had expected. While I wasn’t expecting a hug between long-lost brothers, I had feared that he could have simply told me to never darken his threshold ever again. Instead he was showing me around his house.

“I wish I could offer you the use of our guest bedroom, but I don’t have one, well not since the baby arrived.”

“Baby?”

“Yes, I’m married now.”

“Congratulations, although I admit I’m a bit surprised.”

“As am I. Deianira is currently working at the stables, but should be returning shortly.” Noticing my look of concern, he continued, “oh, don’t worry, she’s very progressive and won’t have any problem with you. Heck, that’s why I’m a stay-at-home dad while she wins the bread, or rather hay, if you know what I mean.”

He gave me a soft nudge with his elbow and his smile returned. He motioned to the couch and bade me to sit down.

“You might as well get used to it, for it’s going to be yours until you find your own place.”

He then sat down opposite of me.

“Okay, so I must know . . . why did you decide to become a minotaur?”

You’ve heard the story many times before, so I won’t bore you with the details. All my life, I always felt that I was different, that I had been born into the wrong body. For some, it’s their gender, which is easy enough to alter with the latest advances in retroviral genetic modification. In my case, I felt I was born to the wrong species, and this is where the natural philosophers had to get really creative with their craft, especially in the case of us mythics.

Most transhumans simply wanted to become a different animal already in existence, and were satisfied to grow fur and change the shape of their external features. Some animals were easier to transform into than others, but in most cases, the philosophers could activate dormant genes, suppress others, and graft new strands to accomplish reasonable facsimiles. They called themselves ‘wers’ and most of society was beginning to accept them.

As modifications go, becoming a minotaur wasn’t all that complicated; it was just a matter of finding the right balance of human and bovine genetic expression. There were some mythics that were far more complicated, however, and a few that had yet to be achieved. As for mainstream society accepting us, that’s where the true challenge still lay. Wers were at least familiar animals and could make the claim that they were natural, but mythics were often perceived as monsters. I especially had it hard since I chose to be a minotaur in a city that used to be Knossos, the home of the legendary bestial horror. That’s why I had left before I was changed, else I would be seen either as a mockery of the past, or as a deluded imbecile.

But I could not resist nor deny my true nature. Somewhere along my Cretan bloodline, the soul of a minotaur had been captured and had been biding its time until the day when technology would allow it to reemerge. It had finally escaped its labyrinthine prison, only to find itself hounded by a dark force back to the place of its destruction. Would I be so lucky as to evade its original fate?

I told Nessus everything that had happened to me since we parted ways after serving together in the navy. I had saved up during my enlistment so that I could afford the procedure. I then travelled to Athens to have it done. The benefits of being altered made me the ideal security guard and I had no problem finding work at any bar I wished, until I thought I had finally settled down on Mykonos, where tourists found me fascinating and sometimes desirable. The only thing I withheld was that actual reason why I had returned to Heraklion; he did not need to know about my nightmare, especially if the daimon was indeed a real thing. Fortunately, before I had to make up an explanation, we were interrupted by the arrival of Deianira.

As Nessus had promised, she had no problem with what I was, nor had any problem with me being a temporary houseguest, even though her husband had made the offer without consulting her first. I suspect that he had called her right after I had hung up to explain the predicament of an old friend and get her blessing. She wasted no time in interrogating me about Nessus’s childhood past, seizing upon the opportunity to discover more of his embarrassing secrets. I, of course, succumbed to her inquisitorial methods quite voluntarily.

After being introduced to their daughter, Althaea, who showed no fear of my visage, and sharing in their dinner, the hour had grown late, and it was time for all of us to retire. They to their respective bedrooms, and I to my couch and blankets. Would I be visited by the daimon again tonight? Would the nightmare be assuaged by my return to Heraklion? Or would its power now intensify now that I was closer to its place of origin? Was it a figment born of physiological and psychological stress as the physician claimed? Or was it indeed an extradimensional creature with sinister intent? Was I risking the lives of Nessus, Deianira, and Althaea just by being in their house?

I tried to stay awake as long as I could, but all the events of the day made me easy pickings for ministrations of Hypnos, the god of sleep.