A security guard held a box of Murphy's desk contents. The boss said, "Cutbacks; sorry." Meanwhile a bright-eyed gal with a sticker labeled "Intern" had just entered.

The guard shooed him out. Murphy had gotten no warning, and he'd been counting on this week's paycheck. On his drive home he fumed, not knowing if he'd done something wrong.

He bounced back quickly. At home he found a want ad labeled "urgent", for a lab assistant with no experience needed but "patience, literacy preferred". Sounded like they'd been burned by dumb applicants. He tossed a resume their way and kept searching.

Within hours he'd gotten a reply. The office was an hour away; could he visit ASAP?

He wasn't eager for a commute that long, so the job wasn't his first choice, but he could bear it. After lunch he drove out to a warehouse and frowned, unimpressed. No other cars, though it was Friday afternoon. The door clicked open at a touch of the buzzer.

Silver fog whooshed out and engulfed him.

Murphy coughed and reeled. He crashed into a wooden wall in a room smelling of flowers. Two men in ornate robes chanted while a third pair of eyes flashed in the fog, drawing closer. The air swirled and cleared, revealing a shapely figure with tall black ears and long leather sleeves. No, they were more like wings with bones. The glow at Murphy's feet was a circular design on the floor.

The bat lady said, "Great. Magically null! Step out quickly."

Murphy stepped out of the circle just as it swirled away, twisting space. "What?"

The chanting men stopped. The bat told him, "Welcome. We needed an un-exposed human, and you look like you've never even seen magic."

"I've watched a magician perform."

"Must've been pretty far away; not a trace of it on you. See, a typical aura has --"

One man said, "Zija, you're getting ahead of yourself."

She'd also gotten up in Murphy's face, her little snout sniffing at him. "Sorry. We have a little problem, human --"

"His name?" said the assistants.

"I'm Murphy."

Zija clapped. "Anyway! The Thunder River is probably going to flood and kill everyone if we don't get lots of geomantic charms installed in a hurry. I run the biggest manufactory within a hundred miles, so I got asked for a way to speed production at any cost. I said, I need a contract, a bottle of good wine, and a ritual to bring someone from a world with zero magic."

Murphy leaned back from her. "You summoned me to be some kind of hero?"

"Nope! A catalyst. Because of the purity problem."

One of the assistants said, "He has no idea what you mean."

She turned aside and scratched one ear. "Oh. Normally, let's say, you get bits of a dozen spells on you just walking through the market, and a hundred from living here. Doesn't do much, but it adjusts you equally to most types of magic. Kinda. And that's not what we want today. If in theory you'd never been exposed, then worked with one narrow spell, you'd be a channel to help do that one thing very well. So basically we need you to be in the factory and look pretty, while we cast one spell a lot."

Murphy felt he was barely keeping pace with the explanation. "In some other world."

"No, in this one."

"And there's a flood coming?"

"When the dam upstream breaks, yes. It's cracking already, rainfall is extra heavy this year, and there's a skeleton army."

"Skeletons!"

"Not our problem. We just need to fortify here, downstream, as much as possible."

Murray got taken to a three-story mansion that'd been converted to a factory. A crowd of workers stood at long tables. Human, batfolk like the boss, and several varieties of fox and rodent and cat people. All were working with trapezoidal wooden carvings, either making rough cuts or etching intricate runes or waving their hands uselessly.

"That doesn't look effective," he said.

Zija said, "That's the main enchantment step. You probably can't see it."

"But I'm being exposed?"

"You'll be fine." She clapped and screeched for attention. The room stilled. "Meet our new employee, Murphy! We're going to be channeling with him, on the second floor. All primary enchanters please come up and greet him."

A succession of a dozen wizards shook his hand and muttered greetings. Then Zija sat him down in a nice chair and said, "That's it. Relax. Did I mention you're hired?"

"No. What's the pay?"

"I can only do an ounce of gold per week plus food. And I owe you lodging what with the relocation."

Murphy estimated the value. "All right."

"What is that outfit, anyway? Looks fancy."

He laughed. "I was dressed for an employer interview." He had slacks, a buttoned shirt, and a necktie with gold square patterns.

So began his employment. He sat near the middle of the second floor, for hours, watching people work. He had no idea how the trapezoids worked but they were the only product right now. For flood control, huh?

When Zija's assistants suggested he get dinner, he said, "Sure; and how about something to read? Basic magic theory, maybe?"

They got him a key to a walk-in closet from the mansion's older days, where there was now a bed and a dangling glow-crystal. The man who opened the door startled and shoved Murphy back. "Wait!"

Murphy reeled. "What?"

"Don't want to expose you to other magic. Bad enough that some of the workers probably have spell traces on them." The man chucked the crystal to an underling who ran off. The factory floor had been lit only by windows and lamps. "Make yourself at home. We'll get you food and test how well we can keep pushing spells past you while you're in here."

It wasn't quite like being imprisoned. There was a platter of something like grilled plantains with rice, and an expensive book they didn't want him reading with dirty hands. When he washed, he froze. His right hand had a thin layer of grey hair that wouldn't come off.

Zija answered his yelling first. "What? Oh, that's nothing to worry about. First point of contact with heavy magic users."

"I thought you cared about contamination."

"By too-varied spells. This shows you're affected cleanly by just one; the fur is uniform."

"Fur! And what if those handshakes had been from a mix of spellcasters?"

"It's fine. Most likely you're becoming one of our catfolk."

"You call that fine?" said Murphy.

"Not so impressive as bat, but yes. Our world's magic is streaming around you and adapting you to it like a fresh stone cast into a river. You're not being harmed, just... smoothed out."

"Then can you fix it?"

"Not really. I'd expected you to stay human, but eh, the currents vary by person and you're not from around here."

Murphy fumed, but Zija stood with her wing-arms wide like a cape. "Sorry, but we've got a disaster on our hands. I would let you get turned into a bug if I thought it'd increase our production and save ten thousand lives. Since your fate is just kitty, I'm not too concerned."

Though it wasn't right or fair, Murphy could understand. "You do mean the cat people with thumbs and speech, right?"

"Definitely. The, ah... You don't know the technical terms. It's obvious to a pro."

"Then I want to see this dam, and learn magic."

"I can only let you watch and read theory for now, but come on upstairs."

She led him up to the mansion's roof. The sunset pointed the way to a cliff hundreds of feet high, with a trio of waterfalls crashing from the mouths of stone dragon heads. These topped a wall of white stone with branching designs like lightning. All around, the land was a valley of fields sliced by the river and a city of wooden pagodas.

"I like the designs on the dam wall."

"Those are cracks. We can't spare many bigshot wizards to fix those."

"Because of a skeleton army."

"Just upriver, yes."

He whistled. "I guess you'd better sit me down somewhere useful and get back to work."

"Yep."

Over the next few days they at least showed him what they were doing. The trapezoid widgets flared with light when anyone brought water nearby. Nobody could have a drink within reach; someone demonstrated and the cup got slammed into the nearest wall by the repulsion spell. He was told there were bigger, better models, but these cheap ones could be mass-produced. No special ingredients.

Murphy's right arm itched as fur continued to spread from his hand. The changes weren't even. Two fingers had shrunken and had claws for nails, now, while the others were just discolored. Zija assured him that'd even out. He also felt splattered by random bits of magic. The first night he discovered a tuft of grey fur on his neck and another on one leg.

On his second morning he woke up sore. His right arm was all cat now, sporting dark spots suggesting a snow leopard. Other points of magic contact had gradually spread. In particular, the right side of his chest was sore, down to his hip. Walking felt odd as he returned to his chair in the workshop's center.

By now he could see flickers of indigo sparks from the crafters' hand-waving. His theory reading said this was normal. The way the spells bent around him was new to everyone. Several times, experts paused to watch how they were using him to conduct the energy.

His patchy fur drew stares. He couldn't get comfortable all through breakfast. When they let him leave his appointed spot for lunch, he staggered. His right hip felt dislocated, too swingy, and claws on his left foot distracted him with each step. His shirt had stretched on the right from swelling.

"Can we fix this or hurry it along?" he asked Zija's assistants. "Cats are built weird."

He devoured a big lunch, got dizzy, and spent the day being sore and confused. More of the sparks must've hit him in the gut, because he was sick for hours. The afternoon was miserable; he had to take frequent breaks.

By the third time he ran off to vomit, his stomach was empty. He stood up, panting, and scratched his chest. It bounced. He peered down through his collar and saw he hadn't imagined the achy swelling; he'd been growing a pair of fuzz-covered breasts.

Zija answered his panicked yelping first. "What? Oh. That's unexpected."

"Not just a cat but a girl?!"

"Seems so." The bat shuffled her wings awkwardly, squeaking and seeming to listen to the echoes. "Yeah. Looking a bit different inside, too."

Murphy felt naked under the sonar probing. "Why this?"

"That's how the magic happened to shape you. Sorry, Murphy; I can't control it."

He fumed, and his left ear (more changed that the right, for now) blushed and flicked. "Great. Am I supposed to sit back down and pretend this isn't happening?"

"Yes."

He wanted to argue, but the bat was right. There was fighting going on upstream. Getting stabbed by the undead had to be worse than this transformation. "Yeah. Fine. Help me walk." He'd started wiggling with each step and his muscles weren't used to it yet.

He woke up with a tail the next sunrise. He'd fallen asleep in his chair, and some of the enchanters were still at work by candlelight when he awoke. His chest bounced when he stretched and all his muscles twitched in weird ways. Groaning, he said, "I need a break."

An assistant helped him up and warned everybody that their catalyst was moving. Murphy staggered toward the bathroom, saying, "Is it going well, at least? Are the widgets getting installed?"

"Thanks to you, yes. All along the riverbank. Once it's done we can take you out and show you."

Murphy brushed his patchy fur. An assistant brought him a bundle of clothes, saying, "These are brand-new. The boss said she'll get you something better later when we know your size."

He unrolled the gift. "This is a dress." Plain grey linen, knee length, coarsely woven.

The fox lady blushed. "I had to guess at what would work for you, and buy something made without any magic. Those pants can't be comfortable."

He didn't want to think about it, but he was already straining them in back, and his tail hurt in places he shouldn't even have. The dress had a flap for that along with some... looser fit where he apparently needed it. "Thank you," he said, and ducked back into privacy to pull it on. It didn't fit well either, but at least he sort of fit, no longer clothed like an alien from another world.

Back at work, such as it was, he sat in place and felt antsy and useless. He tried to understand how it was all being done. The spell patterns stood out somewhat brighter now. He kind of sensed a different color or shape along a warehouse across the street. "Oh, that?" said a technician. "Anti-fire enchantment."

There was a boom of thunder. The workers all stopped. Murphy stood, and several people raced for the roof while others crowded the windows.

Zija screeched for people to calm down. But then someone shouted from the rooftop, "It's cracking!"

She swore. "Evacuate! Come back in an hour if it's a false alarm!"

The workmen were already fleeing. Murphy turned to her, saying, "Where do I go?!" Even now, a wall of water might be rushing in.

The bat lady covered her face and muttered, "Think, think!" She surfaced. "I need your help. Willing to rush toward danger to save a lot of people?"

He gulped. After days of sitting passively, he felt he owed it to these hard-working enchanters to do something. "Lead on," he said.

Bells rang in the city. People had begun to panic and flee. Murphy said, "I thought you had to keep me away from all the spells."

"No time to care!" she said. She found a man trying to steal a horse hitched to the building, and casually slammed him aside with a burst of green energy. Murphy's eyes widened. She climbed onto the horse and said, "Up!"

He tried, but struggled with his unfamiliar muscles. The sight of so many people running away motivated him. He was up on the saddle behind Zija and they were racing in the opposite direction, toward the river.

The river was coming to them, too. It wound through the city and beyond, and had already risen. Murphy finally saw the workshop's results: spots of light beginning to stretch and flicker on the banks. Upstream, the dam stood out. Its spiderweb crack pattern looked larger... and a stream poured from it between the statue heads. The bat cursed at high pitch while riding along, surveying. "It's working for now, but any minute...!"

Murphy gulped. "What can I do?"

She jumped down. "I'm an enchanter. I can't hold back the tide. But I can make sure my gadgets are at their best. Around here will the the worst point." This bend in the river had low banks and tall, fragile wooden buildings. "Walk with me and let me conduct the spell past you."

She began waving her hands, creating the spark patterns that he'd begun to see clearly. Not quite the same style; lines of light whipped out and touched the nearest water trapezoid, doing something that made Murphy's oddly sharp teeth rattle. She tugged him along to visit the next widget planted along the bank. She had to be desperate considering she was willing to spoil him somewhat for future "pure" spellcrafting. He was probably tainted just from traveling out here.

"Can I do more?" he asked.

"No, it's complicated." Zija worked on the third repeller. Then she glanced up at the dam, where a statue head had toppled. "The magic would hit you hard."

"Do it."

Zija nodded, and pulled him farther along the bank. "Remember that big showy part of the crafting?"

Murphy spread his hands in a gesture he'd thought silly, a step of the production process.

"Yes, that. Don't have time to teach you, but repeat it like so" -- she did it slightly differently -- "ignore my wings I mean; left hand up like this. I'll conduct it past you. Brace yourself."

When she cast the spell, it struck him like a mild shock. He saw the spell energy course along his skin, making his fur prickle... and spread. Zija's energy flared between the nearest two trapezoids and made a faint wall in the air between them. "Good!" she said, and hurried him along to the next area. She worked quickly. Even he could sense sloppy urgency to her work, using him as a buffer or sponge. Excess power heated him and he felt his chest swelling, his jaws pushing forward. With no time to reflect he got pulled to the next site and the next...

A boulder tumbled from the dam, and another. The double thunder hit a moment later. Zija stood with wide eyes, saying, "We have to..."

"Next!" shouted Murphy. He didn't want to think about fleeing. His new fur felt weighed down by buckets of rain.

Snapping out of her shock, the boss rushed along the bank to yet another spot between buried repellers. They repeated the spell, and his tail snaked out to tickle his legs while his ankles crackled with the energy flowing down through them, and pushed him onto his toes. One more spell. Ten thousand tons of excess water crashed ahead. At the river's first bend light flared from the ground like walls. The flood split and crashed as though indecisive, some of it ripping around the barrier points and all the sandbags and other mundane defenses. Not all. Many houses there. Those points weren't reinforced by this last-ditch personal attention.

Zija screeched defiance in a pitch that made Murphy's ears swivel back. "It only has to hold for minutes! Come on." So they did one more spot, at a bend. Just then the rampaging wave came straight at them. Murphy imitated the boss' gestures, though he trembled, and only the magic seemed to keep him rooted in place instead of high-tailing it to the dense buildings behind him. This spell had extra motivation to it. The flood leaped at Murphy and Zija, roaring, foaming.

A wall of light surged between the planted barriers, bright and thick. The impact cracked it. Jets of water stabbed through. The flood slashed along it, some leaping over the barrier or sneaking through below. Murphy got drenched, driven a step backward and another. More of the spell splintered. Then the roaring mass veered to one side, seeking other prey, other weak points. The height of it gradually dropped.

"Back!" shouted Zija, and they retraced their steps to corral the flow farther downstream. They'd already reinforced that spot, though, and the wall was flaring up on its own. Poorly enough that tons of water smashed over and around it -- but not thousands of tons.

Then another chunk of the dam fell, releasing another surge upstream, and they had to do it again. The falling lake ripped through the city, but at every turn it got thwarted, shoved back into its banks and wasting its energy.

Murphy fell to his knees, exhausted. Zija looked equally bad. They both dripped with muddy water. "Rest of the dam?" said Murphy. His voice had a warm purring tone not matching how he felt.

"That's the worst," Zija said. "Should've made the apprentices join in. We'll grab them. Reinforce everything."

Cityfolk were watching from the rooftops, those who hadn't fled. Murphy could barely raise one of his clawed, furred hands to wave.

Back in the workshop, a team of wizards conferred and came back to Murphy. Their leader, a bearded man in tattered robes, bowed to him. "It looks like Lady Zija's team had things well under control here, downstream."

"Lady!" said Zija.

"You're not getting out of this without a title, Lady. Most likely not you either, Murphy. Anyway, this... I'd call it an abuse of magic under most circumstances. This creative use of summoning caused Murphy to be highly exposed to a narrow range of spells before any others. Our analysis shows she's going to be biased toward wards and water magic, limited in potential breadth but talented within that range. Worth training as a highly paid specialist who's already proven brave and useful."

Murphy blushed. He'd been poked and prodded by mundane and magical techniques for an hour even beyond medical treatment for exhaustion and mana burnout. He'd been used as a cog in an enchantment system so far. "I could be a spellcaster on my own?"

"Certainly, with practice. The undead threat upstream isn't over; you'd be welcome joining my team for that."

Zija added, "Or a guaranteed job at my company, if you can forgive me for using you."

Murphy sighed. "I avoided asking you if I can go home. Imagined taking my gold coins and heading back."

"Not likely, sorry."

He looked himself over. The heavy spellwork had turned his whole body feline and left him as curvy as the river, with surprising strength to his worn-out muscles. Light grey with dark spots, a snow leopard's pelt that'd be good in the winter. "I don't mind too much, especially since you were desperate. I turned out well, huh?"

One of the wizards was a catfolk himself. He smiled, saying, "I would be honored to help you shop for a new outfit."

The leader of his group rolled his eyes. "You'll find no shortage of would-be trainers. You can afford to be picky."

As soon as the formal meeting ended, the other employees cheered him and Zija. A few of them hadn't just run away but had been active in other parts of the city, to evacuate people and reinforce their defenses. A pair of the staff were catfolk women and one was the fox who'd given him the plain dress. They took him aside and gave him a box with a few ribbons. "What're these for?" asked Murphy.

"These are for your tail. Don't have to worry about total spell cleanliness now, so we got you a sparkly one, see?" The fox held up a blue ribbon that left twinkling light behind it when it moved.

Murphy looked at his fluffy tail, wriggling uncertainly. "You really think it'd look good?"

"It would! And this here, ah, it's for your chest." There was a plain white wrap in the box.

Murphy blushed at that. "Er..."

"Yes, you need it. Those look a bit heavy, and if you're going to be running around playing hero you'll get sore."

He looked down at his full chest, with a tuft of white fur at his throat. He was achy all over, still, but had started to learn what they meant. "All right; thanks." He accepted a hug from each of his co-workers. "I might need advice on this stuff."

"Anytime!"

Murphy went up to the factory roof and the others followed. He looked out at the city and farms. The flood had savaged bits and pieces of the place, eating buildings and killing people. But the city survived and everyone could see where the barrier spells had proved especially strong. Murphy nodded in satisfaction. "It's been a good first week on the job."