We just stared at each other for about three eternities; the only sound besides steam hissing through the pipes overhead was the erratic surging of my own mechanisms. It felt like the world had dropped out from under me. Had I really just heard what I thought I had? He...he couldn't mean it like that, could he? It was weird enough finding a freakish mechanical simulacrum of a human being "cute" the way one might find a cat or a hamster cute, but maybe, to the kind of people who like Tim Burton movies, that'd make sense. It'd certainly be a hell of a lot less weird than-

"Ah, hell," he said at last, "I didn't mean to drop that on you. But...dammit, I'm not gonna lie. I'm not gonna pretend I didn't say it, or didn't mean it. You're...you're so down on yourself, and so insecure about what you are - uh, what you've become - and you just...shouldn't be, because you're gorram adorable."

There was a rushing in my ears, almost as if I still had blood pounding through them. "G-Gil-" I stammered, half-wanting to head this off, but he was already continuing.

"You're, like...something out of a story," he said, gesticulating randomly as he tried to string his thoughts together, "but...really real. Living and br-well, not breathing, but...you get me? Something I never even thought to imagine until you showed it to me. And all these things you think are weird...the way the shutters in your eyes adjust to the light, the little twitches in your face when your expression changes, that chatter when you're surprised...it's all just cute as hell and I can't get enough of it."

He bit his lip and gave me a weirdly emotional look, drawing himself up to his full height; I'd never seen him like this. "So...so don't talk like you're some grotesque thing, okay? You're way cool. And...I know, this isn't something you're comfortable with, yet, but you shouldn't treat yourself badly just 'cause you haven't figured out how to feel about it. Being something unusual doesn't make you gross or weird; neither does having unusual interests, I...I don't think. You deserve better than to think of yourself like that."

Another brief eternity passed. That was it, then; even I couldn't miss the implications. He really meant it, meant it like that. He really thought of me as...as something desireable, the way a man would with a...with a woman. Was it because I was a "girl," or because I was a machine? Or was it both? Did I represent an ideal he'd never imagined, both a sort of antique computer and a desireable "female" partner? Was he into that...?

"...How long...?" I asked, finally. A drive chain in my lower back rattled softly.

"Since you changed," he said. "That Sunday, in the dorm...I was kinda just floored by it, at first. But after you left..." He sighed. "I couldn't get it outta my head. I liked you as a person before that, but suddenly you weren't just a roommate I got along with, you were also a cute girl, and a super-cool new species I'd never heard or thought of before. But...I didn't say anything, 'cause I knew you were going through a lot just then..."

"Just then!?" I thought incredulously. What'd he imagine I was going through now!? Was he so fixated on how "cool" he found me that he assumed I saw myself the same way? And why did he find this so neat, anyway? An impressionable "child" like Eve was one thing, but a grown man? If they had to deal with what I do... No, I was dodging the question. Whether or not this was "cool" in the abstract, the bigger issue was how he felt about me as...as a girl - and how I felt about it. I really wasn't prepared to consider this in any depth, but given the circumstances I could hardly avoid it...

The idea of someone finding me desireable wasn't totally alien - it wasn't like I was ugly before, and if I never got anywhere, it likely had more to do with my personal issues than my looks - but I'd never imagined that if somebody was attracted to me, it'd be for my pretty eyes or cute mannerisms. And I never expected someone to want to, what, treat me like a lady? Open doors for me, give me flowers, tell me how beautiful I looked in the kind of clothes I only wore at Anne's behest? It was absurd; that wasn't me, was it?

And, well, the notion was a lot more comprehensible when I'd had my own desires for reference... I remembered, of course, what it had felt like, but I could no longer internalize that, summon up the feeling from memory instead of just remembering that there had been a feeling. How could I possibly hope to understand (let alone respond to) feelings I couldn't empathize with...?

While I was grinding through that analysis, Gil mostly stared at the floor and shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I really didn't mean to dump this on you just yet, but...I didn't want to weasel out once I'd said it. And now I've made everything all awkward, dammit..."

Something about the statement struck me funny. "...When did you mean to dump it on me?" I asked, pointedly.

He avoided my gaze for a minute and scuffed his shoe on the tile. "He...uh, the old man...he said that I should give it time and let you adjust before bringing it up. That it might take a long time to figure out how you feel and what you want, and until then you were gonna need friends more than you needed anyone...more. And that was about what I figured anyway, and...it was what I meant to do, honest..." He sighed. "But...I guess my mouth kinda ran away with my brain."

"The old man...?" I stared at him, confused, then felt my systems rev up when I caught on. "Wait, him? I mean, uh, you told people about this!?" How many people were in on this? How many strangers - or friends - were out there silently rooting for me to choose one course or another in a matter where I might not be able to function anyway? I could feel myself starting to shake just thinking about it...

"N-no, no!" he stammered, flinging his hands up in defense. "Just him, I swear. He, uh...he seemed like he might know a thing or two about...this kind of thing, and I...I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Maybe I still don't, I dunno. But...I didn't want to hurt you, and I figured if I just blundered into this like I do with most people stuff, I probably would. 'Cause...because..."

He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "Listen, Freeman. First and foremost, I care for you as a friend. And I want you to be okay - and happy - whatever that means for...for my feelings. But...I just...I don't totally get it myself, but I know what I feel, and...well, I kinda hoped that maybe...maybe you might be, um, open to...to seeing where this goes? I mean, not now, but...someday, when you feel comfortable with it...if you feel comfortable with it, I dunno...?"

He gave me a pleading stare; I almost felt put-off by it, but...I knew what it was like on the other side of that look. I remembered the awkwardness, the uncertainty, the sheer terror of baring your soul to someone, fumbling to put what seem like your very deepest feelings into words, and hoping to God that you don't get shot down so hard that you're forced to forsake ever knowing a lover's touch and flee to a monastery in Siberia to live out your life in utter solitude because you'll never, ever live down the shame of rejection. No matter how confused I was by all this, I absolutely recognized it - the please-please-please-tell-me-I'm-not-insane-for-imagining-this stare that so many have worn over the aeons...

I groaned, burying my face in my hands, gears grinding in my gut. "L-look, Gil, it's..." It's okay? Was that what I wanted to tell him? Did I really believe that? It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong here, but was it okay with me? How did I feel about it? I stood there, brain humming, as I tried to form the words in my head.

"Listen," I sighed, "I...I don't really know what I feel. I don't even know what I want to feel. I'm still trying to figure out what I think of...this, or what I'm going to do when we can finally use the device again. I know I'll never be the old 'me' again, but...what do I want to be, instead? I'm still struggling to even comprehend the question. And if I do change again, who knows what I'd become? So if I...if I..."

"...if you let yourself get too comfortable with this, you're afraid you couldn't bring yourself to do it," he said, voicing what I couldn't bring myself to say. I nodded silently, wishing I could blush. How could he know what I was thinking when I couldn't even admit it to myself? Was I that easy to read...?

"People...keep telling me I have a choice in things," I said, struggling to get the words out. "But...every choice I make closes off other options, and commits me to that one. Was it the right one? Or...if there isn't a 'right' one, the best one? The one I'll regret the least? There's no way to be sure. But if I don't choose, then...then I end up where I've always been, just getting swept along with the current, because stuff won't stop happening whether I choose or not."

I sighed, trembling slightly. "If...if I do nothing, and stay like this for the rest of my life, will I be happy with that? With being a machine, having to rely on others, never being independent? With...with only looking like something that I'm truly not?" I stared up at him, feeling like I wanted to ask something that I couldn't put my finger on. "Or...if I do change again," I said instead, "where do I stop? What's 'close enough' for me to be happy with? How many tries do I gamble on to get it 'right?' What if I choose poorly? What if I screw up...?"

I glanced away, staring at the wall. "You said there's no 'right' or 'wrong' way for me to be - but even if you're right, even if it's only a matter of being more or less comfortable with myself, I still have to live with it. And if...if I get comfortable with this, if I explore this 'me' and the possibilities that come with it, then...it's a form of deciding, or...making it easier for me to decide on this instead of something else. Any step I take towards that is a step away from what I used to be, and that...that scares me."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Is that all?" Gil said, then blinked, shook his head, and stammered, "Uh, I mean, I don't mean that dismissively, I'm legitimately asking. I, uh...I get where you're coming from, I guess, as much as anybody who's not going through that can, but...it's really just fear of departing from how you're used to seeing yourself? You don't, uh...?" He trailed off, but I could tell what he was thinking: You don't hate the idea of being with me...?

I thought back to him winding me, him leaning in close at the computer that first game night, the funny looks I hadn't understood until now...what did I feel when I thought about it? Some part of me found it nice to be wanted, but was that a reciprocation of his feelings, or just my own need to validate myself through others' perception of me? What did I want? What did he want that he thought I could offer him...? I couldn't get over all the things it seemed like I didn't feel, the things I didn't have...

"I'm..." I trailed off before I could even say it; how did you broach that subject? I wasn't even comfortable thinking about it, let alone talking about it, and he hadn't done anything to turn the conversation in that direction. Could I leave it in the subtext? Give him just the more psychological reasons why I didn't know how to answer? Save us the embarrassment...?

...No. I gritted my teeth. Ignoring the elephant wouldn't get it out of the room - and I could hardly pretend to be more concerned with other aspects when I didn't know how I felt about those either. I took a deep breath, wishing it had the same effect as when I had lungs to fill, expand my chest, and make me feel bigger than I knew I really was so I could pretend that I felt more confident than I did. "I'm...not...a real...girl," I said, forcing myself through it a bit at a time, and feeling like my whole head should be turning crimson.

He eyed me curiously as I stood there, mechanisms rattling, wishing I could just crawl into a hole somewhere and fall apart like the car at the end of The Blues Brothers. "I mean, I know," he said, with the deliberation of someone who knows they're not good at being sensitive trying to figure out how to approach a sensitive topic. "But...if it's about that, it doesn't bother me that you were-"

"No!" I snapped, cutting him off. I couldn't stop shaking. "It's not-I'm not...I'm a friggin' doll, okay!? I don't have anything, I just look like I should, God damn it! Everything you're hoping I'd feel for you or want to do with you, it's...it's all just filed under 'N/A' now!"

"...Oh," he said, eyes widening. "I...kinda already figured that was the case. And..." He sighed. "Look, I'm not interested in you just 'cause I want to...to sleep with you. It's you I like, not...what I imagine you could do for me. That's not the kind of relationship I want, honest."

I stared at him, trembling. He looked so earnest when he said it, like he really meant it - and like it actually made things better. But...didn't it? If I felt inadequate because I knew I couldn't do what I thought he expected of me, then if he didn't expect it, did that not make it alright...?

But instead of feeling better, I felt my tempo accelerating. "You...God, you don't understand!" I sputtered, fists clenched and a furious buzzing filling my head. I hardly knew what I was saying, but I couldn't stop myself. "Here I am going crazy trying to figure out how I even feel, but no matter what I feel, I can't do anything about it...!" I stood there, reeling, feeling absolutely mortified. Having that out there helped, a little, but I was still confused and upset; less at him than at my own uncertainty.

As I struggled to get myself back under control, I felt a hand on my shoulder; Gil was doing what he probably thought of as a respectful, man-to-man gesture, but really he was trying to somehow be comforting at arm's length. I shot him a Look, but he was too busy trying to not be awkward to notice; incensed at the density of the notion, I grabbed him and pulled him into a proper hug. He was surprised by that, but gave me a reassuring pat on the back; his touch was firm, friendly, and reliable...and that was all...

We just stood there like that for a minute; finally, I sighed. "I'm...I'm sorry I snapped at you," I said, feeling a little embarrassed at my outburst as my internals slowly settled back into something like their usual rhythm.

He nodded. "Hell, I'm sorry I dropped a bomb on you. I really did mean to keep it to myself until...some more appropriate time, but...I didn't want to lie to you once it slipped out." He shook his head. "Look, if...if you never do have an answer for me, that's okay. I meant what I said, but I don't think you're obligated to respond just because I feel something. If you're not okay with it, then it's...it's okay if you forget about it. But...if you ever do feel comfortable with it...if you want to give it a try..."

I just held onto my friend, unsure of what to say. "I...I don't know if I ever will figure all this out," I said. "And I may not even be anything you like when all's said and done, and who knows how I'll feel about...all this. But...I know you mean it, and I...I'll keep it in mind, I guess." It felt like a weaksauce answer to everything he'd laid bare to me, but I still hardly knew what my feelings were, let alone what I thought of his...

We broke the embrace after a minute and walked silently down the tunnel to the women's dorm. Gil wound me back up; I'd gotten so worked up that I was already running a little slow. I let the sensation of being cared for by someone wash over me, soothing me and calming my jumbled thoughts; then I went to the door. I turned back to him, and spent a long moment trying to think of what to say. "U-um, goodnight," I said, finally.

"Goodnight," he said quietly, smiling gently. I paused in the doorway; for a moment, it almost felt like I was someone else, watching myself go inside and call the elevator. Like there was some other me that stayed back in the tunnel, that went with him, that spent the following years in his company, learning to be something I'd never imagined being, to feel things I never thought I'd feel, finding some way to bring other creatures like myself into the world...

The elevator chimed, and I snapped back to the here and now with a start. I got in and spent the next minute or so standing there in a daze, wondering: if there were many possible paths, and each of them was travelled by a "me" in some other timeline, then...which of those, at the end, was truly the real me?

----------------------------------------

Tammy was still up when I got back; she glanced up at me as I came in the door. "Geez, are you alright?" she asked, speaking softly; Emma was probably already in bed. "You look like hell."

Was I alright? I thought back over everything that'd happened and felt myself getting all worked up again. She wheeled over and put a hand on my arm. "Seriously," she said, "are you okay?"

With a deep sigh, I sank into the couch. Lucky had come over to greet me, and I picked her up and held her while I unloaded on Tammy. She listened intently, but she seemed more taken aback at what Gil told me than I thought she would. Finally, she let out a low whistle. "Whew. Yeah, that's a lot to take in, for sure."

I nodded. "I think he meant well, but...it's already confusing trying to come to terms with what's different about me now, and having to consider how other people feel about...what I am now...was just overwhelming. I'm not sure I even got this stuff when I was a guy, and...and now it's all different on multiple levels..."

"I hear you," she said with a sigh. "I'm still figuring it all out myself, and I haven't changed nearly as much as you."

"You...you are?" I asked, slightly confused; then I realized what she meant. "Oh. I, uh...oh."

She nodded, blushing slightly. "It wasn't like that side of me didn't exist before, but...I'd hardly even started into puberty when the accident happened, and...I just never fully integrated that into my sense of self, I guess. I was aware of it, but it was all weird and awkward so I didn't think about it much. And now, a decade later, I'm suddenly in a body where everything works, and all the stuff I wasn't comfortable thinking about is a lot harder to ignore."

"...Huh," I murmured. I felt a little bad; all this time I'd thought I was the only one grappling with a drastic upset to my sexual identity, but Tammy had been going through her own struggles without a word of complaint, and I'd never noticed. Should I have? Would it've helped?

"I, um..." I hesitated, but she'd done so much to support me... "Um, if...if there's anything I can d-uh, I mean, if you ever want to talk about it..."

I half-wondered if I was making things even more awkward; and when I worked up the nerve to glance back in her direction, she had the strangest look on her face, like she wanted to say something but couldn't. "Uh, really," I said, "if...if you do want to talk..."

She groaned and bit her lip. "It's...um, thanks, but...I don't want to burden you with-"

"I, um...look," I said, "after everything you've done for me, the least I can do is lend an ear..."

Tammy was silent for a long moment. "It's..." she said finally, "it's just..." She sighed heavily. "Look, I...kinda thought I liked you. Um, you know, before the change. I mean, I still like you as a person, but...it felt like more than that, maybe. And...hearing that your friend made a move..."

"...Oh," I said, unsure how to respond. It was less immediately confusing for me than Gil's confession, but no less deeply entangled in the weirdness of figuring out how I saw myself now, what I thought of how other people saw me, and what I felt about them...

She nodded sheepishly. "Like I said, I'm still figuring it out myself. I'm not sure what I feel now. I mean, I'd hate to say that I liked you for who you are, but then feel differently when something changes about your body, especially when I think about the insecurity I felt...but I don't think I was ever into, um, girls, and..." She groaned. "God, and here I thought it was awkward having this conversation with myself."

"You've, uh...thought about this before?" Was everyone harboring a secret crush on me? Okay, so far it was only two people, but out of the set of people I knew, that was statistically significant. Of course, it would've felt more flattering if it didn't intersect with my ongoing identity crisis in weird, awkward ways...

"I've been trying to hash it out ever since the change," she sighed. "How I felt about you, what I'm attracted to in general, and whether that's changed since I became this...it's been confusing. And there was no way I could talk to you about it, not while you were still struggling to come to terms with this yourself..."

"...I guess not," I said. I couldn't really dispute it - this was confusing enough for me now, after a month and a half of acclimation, and after all the really awkward points had already been raised; how badly would it've thrown me if she'd brought this up back then? I still felt a little miffed, but it was already a challenge trying to figure out...tttoo ffigguurrre outttt...

I shook my head. "I, uh, s-s-ssorryy," I said, realizing I was running down again. "Iii, um, I nnneedd to gettt to beddd..."

Tammy nodded; we were both glad for the interruption. "Uh, right. Listen, we...we can talk about it later, if you want. But, well...I appreciate you being willing to listen, but...if it's not something you're comfortable with, we don't have to..."

"Uh, rrrighhtt," I slurred, setting Lucky down as I rose from the couch. "Uuumm, thannkss, Tttammyy." I gave her as much of a smile as I could muster. Would this all make more sense in the morning? I hoped so, but I wasn't confident. I went over to the other side of the suite, shucked off my clothes, laid down on the bed, and dropped into a restless, uneasy sleep.