Esteeminator: The Daria Morgendorffer Chronicles

"Engineering is the art of organizing and directing men and controlling the forces and materials of nature for the benefit of the human race."

-Henry G. Stott

Terry sighed as she locked the door.  It had been a long day, and she was ready to get home and have a nice, long soak in the tub before curling up in bed for the night.

Just as she started walking down the sidewalk, lights started flaring from a nearby alleyway, accompanied by an electrical noise.  At first Terry thought that a transformer must have exploded, but the light and sound continued for several seconds before tapering off.  Curious - and worried that someone might have been hurt by the display, or something else important might have been damaged - she carefully edged around the corner to see what had happened.

Before Terry could get a good look, she was almost run down by a young woman exiting the alley.  The girl was thin, but with an athletic build, which was easy to see since she was completely nude.  She looked the older woman up and down, then spoke in a flat, emotionless voice.

"Your clothes.  Give them to me."

Terry came out of her shock.  "Oh my God," she said, "are you okay, honey?  What happened?"

The girl stared back impassively, then said, "I am fine.  I require your clothing."

Blinking in surprise, Terry looked up and down the street.  The only people in sight were a small group hanging around outside the Zon, too far away to be of any help.  She gave a soft chuckle despite her concern and put a hand on her hip.

"Well, honey," she said nervously, "if I gave you mine, I'd be running around naked, and I wouldn't look half as good doing it.  But I tell you what . . . I own a clothing store here.  Why don't we go find something in your size?"

"That would be acceptable," the girl said.  Then, after a moment's thought, "Thank you."

"Oh, it's not a problem," Terry told her as she dug the keys from her pocket.  "I give out regular shipments of overstock to homeless shelters.  We'll just cut out the middle man in this case.  But don't tell anybody, okay?  Don't need the place crawling with Lawndale's destitute looking for handouts."

Once back inside the Funky Doodle, Terry walked over to the counter and flipped on a few of the lights.  She breathed a sigh of relief when the florescents came on, lighting up several racks of alternative, retro, and vintage clothing.  Whatever the light show had been earlier, it apparently hadn't affected the electricity.

"Just pick out anything you like," said Terry.  "The underwear is off in the back, and you should find some shoes here and there."

The girl stalked the aisles, grabbing up clothing and putting it on as she went.  Every move she made was precise with no wasted movement.  It was almost creepy to watch.  After a few minutes, she had assembled a complete outfit that Terry had to admit looked good on her.

"Well that's better, isn't it?" Terry asked.  "Now if you don't mind, honey, I really need to close up and head home."

"Of course," the girl replied.  "Thank you for your time.  Please do not mention this to anyone."

The shopkeeper waved her hand in dismissal.  "Shoot, hon, you didn't try to kill me or steal the money from the till, so keeping quiet is the least I can do.  I hope you find your way out of whatever trouble you've gotten into."

Nodding curtly and without another word, the girl marched out the door and down the street.  After she was gone, Terry closed up shop again and put the incident out of her mind.