At the Los Angeles Criminal Affairs Department, a forensic scientist was working on an odd finding from a missing persons case. A ponytailed brunette dressed in a standard labcoat over a green gold-buttoned vest, pink shirt with red tie, and brown capri pants, with pink-lensed glasses propped on her forehead, she read results of a chemical test on evidence, frowning.

"This doesn't make sense," Ema Skye sighed as the results before her simply didn't add up.

The sample report before her was on an unusual gravel found at the apartment of a missing woman, an internet influencer who had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth. But it didn't match anything in the Los Angeles area for many miles. It had also acted oddly...

She decided to take a more direct and simple look under the microscope, taking a small sample to examine, only for a Detective to approach her workspace carrying a case folder.

"Hi, are you Skye, working the Marina Escamilla evidence?"

The detective was a short-haired pale blonde with green eyes,  about Ema's age, wearing a white blouse under a light grey suit jacket, grey suit pants, and what seemed to be black boots rather than shoes.  Her badge and ID card hung off lanyards on her neck, but the card faced the wrong way to give her name.

"Yes, I am. Detective...?"

"Eunice Grant, I work with Captain Stein. She thinks there might be a link between this and a cold case from a while back,"  The detective offered a handshake.

"Well, not sure what she heard but all we have is some gravel that's either from Arizona or Fresno.... And our missing person has no ties to either place so how it got there's not got an explanation yet. On top of that the sample acted weird in the test. It seemed like it was a little too porous for what it should be."

Grant shrugged.

"Sorry, I'm not really the techy-kind of gal, so that's all gonna go over my head. But the Captain wants you to look over this file, see if the reports from there match anything. Long shot, but..."

"I'll take a look..." Ema agreed, looking over the file.

She noted the report was from an examiner whose name she didn't recognise, and the case was about five years old. Probably moved on to another job since. But even a few moments gave some interesting information.

"Huh, says here..." Ema muttered, before returning to her microscope, looking for a few moments.

She checked, referenced the file, and checked again, focused on the work before her.

"Some gravel found back then seems a lot like this sample. It looks more like fibres than rocks up close, like hair. I wonder if there might still be some of it in storage..."

Detective Grant cursed under her breath, getting Ema's attention again.

"Crap, that's what the captain was afraid of. See... No, we can't talk about it here. You smoke or vape or anything?"

Ema shook her head. Other forensics investigators did, but she preferred a Snackoos break over tobacco or nicotine. She said as much.

"Sweet tooth, huh? Well, there's a vending machine by one of the smoking spots... "

"It's as good an excuse as any..." Ema agreed.

The two went outside, local law and police regulations designating smoking spots around the building. Ema acted like she was deciding on the options as Grant inhaled some melon-scented smog from an e-cigarette.

"So, the old case... It was one of the Captain's unsolved files when she was a Lieutenant. Guy missing was a private detective, ex-Beverly Hills cop. He was supposed to have been working on a divorce case but theory was he ran into something else... and then disappeared. And after it, so did a bunch more evidence. The samples got examined, filed, and then they just so happened to be stolen the same day as a bunch of drugs in lockup."

"So... she's worried it might have been an inside job and it could link to this case now?" Ema asked.

"Bingo. Give me your cell number and she'll get in touch, set up a meeting somewhere more discreet. She admits it's paranoid but..."

"...But if it is internal we can't really trust anyone who might have been around back then."

Ema agreed, letting Detective Grant take a post-it note in the file with her number.

***

Ema was pretty sure something sketchy was going on one way or another, but decided to give the Captain the benefit of the doubt. She received a text with a location to head to from an unknown number, probably a burner phone. And so when her shift was over, made her way along to the meeting, walking in the hot early-summer LA evening... And sweating for it.

The location was somewhat cliché, a parking garage a few blocks away. She realised someone was tailing her and started trying to lose them, now feeling very nervous... until her phone buzzed in her pocket from another unknown number.

'Good instincts spotting the black-haired gal in the skirt. She's with us. Say hi.'

Ema debated for a moment before deciding to risk it. The woman in question was indeed still following behind despite her random turns, but now talking on her own phone. She was tall, seemed to be about her early to mid thirties, had an olive or lightly tanned complexion, dark brown eyes, and indeed wore a medium length crimson pleated skirt over mocha pantyhose, blue cardigan, and light grey blouse... and also had a rather considerable bust. Her hair was loose and flowed about halfway down her back. Ema waited, as the woman neared and ended her conversation... and walked past.

"Follow me to the real spot, Skye. I'm Stella Roccia, I work with Grant and Stein," the woman carefully flashed a badge from her pocket.

Ema quietly obeyed, ensuring she didn't seem to now follow the woman.

***

Ema again noted cliché. The real meeting spot was a storage lock-up even further away. Through a side door beside a shutter, the lock-up was... strange. It seemed to be set up like a photo studio, a white background, lights, and tripods, facing a white painted pole in front of the background screen. Another few doors led off into an office or some other space. It was at least cooler than the sweltering outside.

Roccia led her in, as one of the doors opened. Detective Grant and another woman emerged.

This woman was a redhead, hair in a bun, and looked to be in her mid-forties. She wore plain grey slacks and a matching jacket, plus black rimmed glasses over amber eyes... and had her pistol out. Ema cursed herself for her stupidity. Roccia took her phone and bag as she raised her hands, while Grant was carrying a small metal box.

"We can't take chances here, Skye. You weren't followed but did you tell anyone else you came here?"

"No... But you're sure doing a good job making me trust you, Captain," she snarked.

"Because I don't know if you're as clever as you seem. Get over in front of the screen," Stein ordered, and Ema obeyed, hands still raised.

"Grant, check her."

The blonde placed the box down, and neared Ema.

"No funny business... we're all girls here," Grant winked, as she began patting the forensic scientist down.

Ema fought off a blush as the Detective seemed to be very thorough, squeezing her breasts, patting her crotch, and running her hands down her legs, over her rear, and under her arms. She also pulled out what was left in her pockets. Loose change, keys, empty Snackoos packet... And eventually, the blonde stood back, going beside her discarded box-thing.

"Hmm, flowery deodorant scent? Must be good stuff to overpower your sweaty body..."

Ema blushed with indignation at this comment when the blonde stood back.

"Now, strip."

Ema blinked.

"Sorry, what?"

"Strip. You could still be wired. Take off your clothes, slowly, and pass them to Grant."

Ema sighed, and obeyed despite her blushes.

She took off her lab jacket, and Grant placed it in the box. An electric buzzing sounded, and Ema realised the box was some kind of method to destroy any electronics that could have been sewn into her clothing. Ema knew there were none... but these Detectives clearly weren't about to take her word for it.

She took off her tie next, tossed over her watch and glasses, and unbuttoned her vest. She winced when the machine sparked inside reacting to the metal buttons.

"Keep going," Stein urged, and Ema unbuttoned her pink slightly sweat stained shirt, her face now redder than it as she took it off.

Now just wearing a fairly simple pink bra, damp with perspiration from the walk, she passed over the shirt, and was dismayed to see Roccia dump her bag in the machine too once she'd done rooting through it. But not her phone...

The gun waved to remind her to keep going and she took off her shoes, the black heels also getting zapped, as she undid her belt and began unzipping her pants. She pulled them down, leaving her in pink seamless boyshorts matching her bra. Despite the cooler room, she felt herself sweating again nervously...

"And the underwear," Stein ordered.

"You can't be serious!" Ema protested.

"She's very serious, Skye... as tight as those are, who knows what's sewn into them?" Grant smirked.

Now redder than ever, she took off the damp bra.. And shivered. The room still wasn't very warm, but the shaking was her defiance adrenaline fading away. She was mortified as her breasts were fully exposed, chilly air making sure her nipples began stiffening... Even as she remained damp with sweat that didn't seem to evaporate....

She hoped maybe that would be enough, but Stein simply raised a brow. As cold as the room was and as shaky as she was becoming, she felt boiling hot with rage and embarrassment as she slid the panties down, exposing herself completely. She was clean shaven for bikini season, and tried to cover herself only for Stein to give more orders.

"None of that. Crouch down and pose. "

"So what, you're taking naked photos to blackmail me?"

"Something like that, Skye. But we really did need to be sure there's no bugs or hidden surprises, and all those layers could have blocked our other little security measure... Roccia?"

The black-haired woman rigged up a camera-looking device, while Stein waved the gun again to get Ema posing. The light rigs came on, tinted a bit yellow.

"Kneel down, legs open, and get your hands behind your head, and arch your feet. We need to get your soles with the machine," came the order.

Ema unwillingly did so, leaning back against the pole to hold the awkward pose.

"So... I'm obeying. Want to fill me in?"

Stein smirked now.

"Oh, it's all gonna be clear soon enough, Forensics. But I just want to check something. Your phone. Wonder why we didn't zap it?"

Ema genuinely did, because it was the real security risk. Right now, anyone trying to trace her if she vanished? That phone tied her here. It was such a basic rule of forensics these days there was no way a veteran cop like Stein didn't know...

"Maybe you're stealing it? It's pretty new..." Ema said sarcastically.

"Roccia... start working, please," Stein said, and Roccia looked into the camera.

And then a moment later there was a strange green flash from it, and Ema blinked for a second. It somehow seemed brighter than a normal camera and her eyes watered...

"Basically, your phone... isn't here. As far as the records will be concerned, it's on the MTA taking you home, but it's starting to do laps by now. Any comment?"

Ema was going to say something, but... All that came out was a groan. She was struggling to move... even her throat was locked up, and her eyes sluggish. But her whole body was rigid. Her legs were cramping in the odd pose, but the feeling was going a different kind of numb. A chill spreading, in small spots.

"Aaahhh.. Wha...." She managed to say, the chilly spots spreading even on her torso.

"..Catoblepas got your tongue?" The Captain said.

Fearful, cold... and yet also strangely warm, and she felt herself sweating again even with the cool air on naked skin. She felt like blood should be rushing in her ears, but it seemed like her heartbeat slowed and slowly, all she heard was a faint crackling noise coming from somewhere. Meanwhile the pins and needles of the pose were fading and she felt an odd mix of sensations. Every nerve felt sensitive, like it was both beside a fire and in an icebox.

What she could not see, but the other three women could, was what was truly happening. Where Ema had felt chilly spots, her pale skin had began to darken, and turn grey. Slowly, as she sat giving off pitiful moans from an open mouth, eyes brimming with tears of confused fear, she slowly became more and more grey.

The other women watched in silence, minutes passing and the only sounds heard being Ema's faint moans, mixed with the crackling. They had watched this happen to others, but they still observed with appreciation and rapt interest.

From her perspective now, things were mostly cold, some parts of her body feeling utterly numb, like they weren't there. Her ears felt blocked, but she heard some faint crackles still. She was barely making noise now, just little gasps and gurgles. Tears flowed down her face, streaking down mixed pale skin and grey stone.

And from Ema's view, the chill now was everywhere. Her vision darkened slowly, until.... Her mind also went completely blank too. She was now just a stone statue.

Highly detailed, her nipples still and forever hard. Smooth looking curves of dark but slightly reflective grey (especially the parts still dampened with perspiration), fully naked, stuck in the awkward-in-flesh pose, but held up still by the pole she leant on. Eyes now empty orbs of stone shimmered in the light with a few tears that were starting to dry off. Some of the saliva that formed in her mouth was dripping down from the cavern her petrified mouth had become, her tongue a large stalagmite, and teeth tiny slabs set into rigid gums.

She was no longer a forensic scientist. She was an artwork.

"Anyway, Ema, now you're done, I'll explain. And I have no idea if you can hear, but hey, it's only fair. What just happened to you? Happened to a lot more people before. But: The first time I used it, I hadn't quite figured it out. Oh, I could bore you with where it came from, but I can tell you're not listening. Your eyes are just empty.... And your ears seem like solid stone," Stein taunted, to the laughs of the others.

"Oh, Grant? Check her... and maybe clean her up?"

The blonde nodded, moving over and carefully running her hands over Ema Skye again. She felt like entirely smooth stone, a few little flecks of fine hair snapping away and turning to dust. She wiped away the tears and drool with a hand across her face.

"Grant... Use this handkerchief from her purse, maybe?" Roccia suggested, tossing over a pink embroidered square.

"Oh, okay... But no cracks I can feel. Machine is working fine again, Captain... and she still smells flowery. Even turning to stone doesn't wreck that perfume of hers," Grant reported, as she began drying off some of the lingering moisture of the statue.

"Well, that's it. Wanna let her know the whole story, Captain?"

Stein shrugged.

"Well, fair enough. Cliff Notes version... I had an ex who was a scientist type, bit like you. Except he was working on methods for suspended animation. This was his end result... and his end, when I caught him in bed with a curvy little brunette... bit like you."

Ema's silent statue had no reply.

"Of course, it's nothing personal against you, just a coincidence. Either way, you were onto a problem, just like that private dick. He'd been snooping around after the little slut I petrified with my ex, her husband called it that she was cheating on him. But he wanted to speak to me. Ex-cop to current. And he was a little too vocal about how he knew the wife was missing..."

"That's when I found the device had some glitches. See, you're a nice solid little thing. But if you use it wrong or the lenses aren't lined up right, the process is a little crumbly in places. Cracks, hair too fragile, that sort of thing. Most of yours has fused to the neighbour a bit so it's pretty sturdy too. Eunice wiped you down, a little gentle wash later will get rid of any awkward hairs too detailed to have been sculpted."

Stein proved the point gently rapping Ema's stone head, the dull thunk of stone the only reply. She rested a hand on the stone shoulder, the stone still a little warm, but cooling off.

"And well, my career wasn't going so great then anyway, felt like I was stuck as Lieutenant forever. So... I got in touch with some guys I was investigating. Decided to earn a little on the side, they helped form a nice supply. See, one can find handsome and beautiful wannabe models, and had a rep for... underpaying amongst other things. The other smuggles art and other things. I helped take any uppity models ... and made nice art for the other guy."

Ema remained as silent as always. The other two women had heard it before.

"So, here we are now. Marina Escamilla wanted a pay raise and threatened to make some crap up about being objectified by my business partner. But the lens was loose. So, she was a little fragile. Dropped some hair that didn't completely dust up, and someone found it suspicious enough again to pick it up. Then poor little you got the case, and I knew you were good. You might have tied it together yourself, so I sent in my girl. Got you curious... and have my back covered now there's not going to be any evidence of what you were doing before you vanished."

Stein walked away from the statue, now cooled quite a bit, and the sweat mostly dried off.

"Well, except for you yourself."

"And either you get sold or kept in our little... private collection," Roccia grinned.

Grant spoke up now.

"Hey, Cap. Something I was wondering. Can they turn back?"

The redhead shrugged.

"Who cares? We sure won't turn her back if we keep her, and if we sell her, they'll never know she's anything but a statue after we get rid of those last few fine hairs. Besides, we have the device. If my ex had a way to reverse it, he never put it in the notes. Why?"

"Just curious I guess. Kinda wonder what it's like but don't wanna be on a pedestal forever if it's one way. But hey, we keeping her or selling her?"

"We can figure it out later. For now, get the trolley, go wash her off - and make sure that perfume smell goes. I'll get rid of the clothes. Oh, wait... Ema, you want to be sold or kept?" Stein laughed, the other two joining in.

The statue being taunted had no answer. She just sat there in her awkward pose, mouth and eyes wide open, frozen in stone....

Ema Skye sits in stone now, and may well do so for lifetimes... but what is to become of her in the near future? Shall she become part of a collection gathered by those who transformed her, or shall she become an object in the collection of someone who bid on her?

Add her to the Collection

The 'Private Collection' of the three women was a small perk of their relationship with the art smuggler. He owned the storage facility, which held a fair few larger empty rooms in the back. Ema's journey therefore wasn't very long.

The petrified scientist was wheeled into the room that held half a dozen other statues. Many held poses that needed support from transparent plastic stands and poles. Ema would soon be one of them.

Six pairs of blank grey orbs did not respond as Ema came in on her trolley. No statue responded as a stand was assembled to keep her propped up. The stone young woman across from Ema did not greet her new neighbour.

Ema, also, did not react.

But this was to be her new home. A few weeks later, she was no longer the newest statue. Her missing persons cases now had her amongst them. And the trail of evidence had turned cold and inflexible shortly after she had done the same.

Her friends and family would not give up... at first. But eventually, as years passed, they would. They would concede she was gone.

But of course, she had merely been collected....

Put her up for Auction

Once properly washed, Ema was put into storage for a few days, until the art smuggler was prepared to carry out an auction. Mounted into a pedestal and supported with perspex rods to ensure her unstable form wouldn't topple (even with her stone feet glued down to the stand), she was driven from the storage facility, and then to another place. An auction house on the other side of LA.

She wasn't the only item that night. Some works that were not once flesh and blood were for sale. One or two that had been, and had waited longer than Ema for their time in the spotlight, were. And of course, there was the statue scientist.

Billed as simply 'Lot 27 Untitled Posing Nude', she nonetheless drew some interest. Bids in person and online began coming in, and soon reached a decent price. Something had drawn interest in her form, though, as there was a small three way bidding war underway. A casino owner from Vegas there in person. An art collector in Tokyo. And an open air gallery in New York...

But which bidder would win...

Going Once... Going Twice... SOLD - to the high bidder in the audience...

Ema's journey continued, and the next day, she was part of a haul heading to Las Vegas. The drive was done in immense heat... but her statue did not protest, nor sweat, nor wish for air conditioning.

And as she arrived in the desert gambling capital, she was taken to a casino off the main strip. Small, but opulently decorated, she was to be just one of many nudes, male and female, decorating the place. She was to be placed on a rotating platform on an arcade floor, spinning around to be viewed by those below. Thousands would admire her. Some would blow her statue a kiss for luck as her form faced them.

If she had been aware, sitting on her new high pedestal, surrounded by slot machines, she would likely have despaired.... For her stone eyes rotating along with her body would have frequently locked eyes with a vending machine, the bright Snackoos logo flashing away, as if to taunt her.

But of course, she was just a decoration. A piece of advertisement herself, in a way...

Going Once... Going Twice... SOLD - to the high bidder from Tokyo!

A long trip was ahead for the statue. Over a month of storage and transport. But she arrived in Japan, and then finished her journey.

The bidder had a large penthouse in the city, another sign of her owner's new wealth. Which, for Ema, was what she was to be.

She would sit facing out of a window, mostly. Her owner showed her off for a few moments at a time, just one of the objects. Just a show of wealth.

She was seen by less eyes, unless one counted that her nude stone form faced out to a city of millions. Her status as a statue in the home of a wealthy owner, who held many a party, did mean that sometimes, drunken party guests would titter and giggle as they ignored instructions not to touch the artwork.

Ema gave no protest. She just sat there, an expensive trinket...

Going Once... Going Twice... SOLD - to the high bidder in New York!

The trip cross country was slow going, part of other fragile artworks being collected. But she arrived in New York, and was installed in an outdoor pedestal at the gallery just in time for the summer season to begin properly.

Art critics gave her appraisals, taking notes, making comments. Less cultured individuals merely commented lewdly. But she sat out in the open, in the Big Apple. A muggy heatwave held, a near drought for the summer. Her stone form baked in sunlight, and cooled overnight. The odd shower sprinkled her with rain, but not for long.

Fall brought a rainstorm in full. The water flowed down her form, from her stone eyes like a waterfall of tears. She dried. It stayed dry. It rained. And so on.

And then winter. The gallery closed when white dust fell in December.

Ema simply sat there, sprinkled in the icy powder. She gave no signs of any discomfort in her subzero position. She simply sat there, awaiting the onset of spring... for it all to begin again.