Angie and Doctor Grace talked as everyone walked, while Allison kept looking at the art on the walls and enjoying the fresher air on the hospital level. She was feeling trepidation with all that was happening to her, but Angie, and Doctor Grace, had just treated everything with normality. And Allison couldn’t understand how.

They arrived to what looked to be quite a nice restaurant. There was a serving area but it was tasteful, attractive, really. Inviting. “Does Allison need nourishment?” Angie asked.

“I think she does,” Doctor Grace said. “And you’re looking a little peaky too, Angie. I know it’s a hardship but I think I’ll have to force a pizza on you. Chicken and red pepper isn’t it? I hope you can struggle through.” Doctor Grace looked genuinely downcast as she shook her head.

Angie broke out into a big smile. “This is why everyone loves you, Doctor Grace.”

“Enjoy your day, girls. Angie, keep an eye on her for the next 48 hours or so. And Allison, enjoy your life. I’ll update your calendar with your next appointment. Any concerns message me. Get the special!”

And with that Doctor Grace was gone, and somehow Allison was getting even further from the man, Patryk, she used to be. She even thought the name ‘Patryk’ in her mind but it didn’t feel like her name, not any more; it wasn’t right. She was becoming a woman, physically, except for the vagina part. She was legally a woman. She was wearing a skirt. She was going to be eating lunch, with her friend, as two female friends chatting.

Angie ordered her pizza with the woman behind the counter, as well as the special for Allison. The woman serving was a citizen, from her dress at least, and she said, “It’s a Saturday, dear, no waiter, but I can drop them down to you. Take any table.”

They took a two person table nearby. There was an actual tablecloth on it, a thick tablecloth, with an array of glasses, and cutlery, even cloth napkins. There was a flower in a small glass vase between the two of them that Angie leant in to sniff. “Plastic,” she said.

Allison placed her boots next to her, on the ground, and as she sat up she felt a wave of dizziness.

Allison must have made a noise with the dizziness’s onset because Angie said, “Is everything OK? Do you want me to call Doctor Grace back?”

“No. It’s fine,” Allison said. “It’s what the doctor warned me about. Just give me a minute.”

Allison closed her eyes and tried to breathe steadily, in the quiet of an empty restaurant, waiting for the ill ease to settle.

She was starting to feel better, or was at least getting used to it, when the woman from the serving area came towards them. “The doctor prescribed this. ‘For the heaviness,’” she said, placing a carafe of red wine down along with another, larger carafe of water with ice in it. “She also said the patient’s friend was to check the wine to make sure no evil voters were poisoning citizens. Said she might have to check it repeatedly as some poisons are subtle. And if you ladies want any soft drinks just let me know, I can arrange that. You’re not on sugar free for the moment.”

Angie smiled a big smile at the older woman as she walked away. “I think this is actually how voters live,” she said. “Can you imagine?”

“I couldn’t imagine any of this even yesterday,” Allison said, as Angie poured the wine.

“How are you feeling?” Angie asked.

“A bit better, still heavy.”

“I think I have some helpers if it’s bad,” Angie said.

“No, it’s not pain,” Allison said. “I don’t need anything for pain.”

Angie nodded, took a sip of the wine and said, “I don’t think it’s poisonous but we’ll have to drink the lot to be sure.” Allison laughed. It was a genuine laugh. She felt it through her entire torso. It was a real feeling, and a pleasurable one. She wanted to melt into her chair.

As Allison took a sip of the wine, the first wine she’d had in a year, she realised she felt good. Happy. Like never before. When she smoked what One had given her she saw who she was supposed to be, she believed in who she was supposed to be. Now it was like she was who she was supposed to be. She felt normal, or was beginning to. She was beginning to feel like who she was supposed to be.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Allison said, not out of annoyance, or worry, rather disbelief.

“Neither do I,” Angie said.

“It almost feels wrong to say this... But I’m happy. I’ve never felt so comfortable.” Allison sighed. Was that it? Was it that complex and that simple? Was there some massive fuck up somewhere, somehow, in something, that meant she was a woman, deep down? How? She had no clue but she was — she didn’t know — excited? Energised? She looked at her new, old friend and realised it was part Angie, too. This was what they didn’t have before; what they couldn’t have and Allison could never even have begun to fathom the reason why, not without what One had given her.

“What’s it like being a woman, Angie?” Allison asked.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Angie began to talk, with a smile, as Allison closed and opened her eyes slowly, looking onto a fresh, new world, smiling back at her friend.

***

Allison and Angie were almost all the way through their meals when Angie poured them both a last half glass of the red wine. Allison didn’t know if it was the food, or the wine, or simply being and chatting with Angie that stopped the dizziness. It could have just been the passing of time.

Whatever Doctor Grace had injected Allison with she knew it was working; the sudden onset of effects told her that, something Doctor Grace did warn her about. What she was feeling wasn’t just medication, though. She’d never felt like she did in that moment; she’d never felt so at peace, and certainly so at peace while with another person; it was easy. It was right, and Allison didn’t understand why it was that way but she was sure in the feeling of it.

“Do you want to cuddle?” Angie asked, with a hint of curiosity to her tone but more of simplicity, of plain inquiry. “With someone? You know...”

Allison’s mouth twisted as her thinking of why this all made sense was interrupted. “I think so. It’d be nice,” she said.

“With a man?” Angie asked.

“I’ve never thought about men like that, but, yes, I guess, maybe? I don’t know. It’d be nice, I think. I guess if I’m a woman isn’t that what women do? Isn’t that what women are supposed to do? Even if I can’t get pregnant? There’s a lot of things I don’t know at the minute. Women enjoy being with men, right? And I’m...” Confusion raced around Allison’s mind at these thoughts, thoughts she didn’t know she could or should have.

Angie put her last slice of pizza back on her plate. “When you were you, before... Did a man ever ask you to help with something in his apartment?”

“Yeah, of course. Loads of times,” Allison said.

“Did you?”

“I said it’d be no problem. I’d be happy to apply for the permits to go in there but they usually just said there was no rush, or it could wait. Why?”

Angie dabbed at her mouth with the cloth napkin. “Why did you give women beer?” Angie asked.

“It didn’t seem fair they couldn’t have any. And I like women.”

“Like now?”

“Yeah, but this is easier. I feel happier.” The conversation went quiet for a couple of minutes, Allison just thinking, Angie eating.

“Can I taste your pasta?” Angie asked, her pizza finished, with her unused fork already reaching towards Allison’s plate and twirling some of the remaining carbonara up.

Angie rested the pasta laden fork on her own plate then ground far too much black pepper on top of it before stuffing it into her mouth.

“This is fucking delicious!” Angie said. She made noises of pleasure before reaching over towards Allison’s plate, again, so Allison lifted it, moved the vase with the flower out of the way and placed the remaining pasta and the plate in the centre of the table. “You won’t regret this.” Angie’s forked twisted up pasta again.

“No, I’m full. You might regret it, though,” Allison said, watching Angie be an obvious glutton.

“I mean what you’re doing. What you’ve done. Being a woman. There’s times you’ll hate it but in times like this, the good moments? You’re fucking thriving! It’s beautiful,” Angie said, mouth full.

Allison furrowed her brow. She wanted to acknowledge the intensity of what she was feeling with a physical action, to hold it back and store it, to keep onto it. Someone else — Angie — had seen in her exactly what she was feeling; her friend Angie could see her. “I...”

“I have never seen you like this. We’ve met up a few times and it was easy, a little strange, but mostly easy. Just reading your encyclopedia, and laughing. But this? I’ve never met a woman like you. And I don’t mean your particular situation, I mean what we’re doing.”

“We’re just eating, aren’t we?” Allison said.

“Yes? But no!” Angie said, with joy. “I’m not at all attracted to women. I’ve tried a few things with them and—”

“What!? Tried what with them?”

Angie laughed as she shovelled the last of Allison’s pasta into her mouth. When she finished chewing she looked at Allison as she swallowed. “Those men asking for help in their apartment? Well, they wanted to be with you like men and women are with each other, but with two men. And women do it with women too. And people do it in groups. And, and...”

“That’s illegal!”

“You gave me beer! That’s illegal!”

“That’s a stupid law!” Allison said.

“Yes, and so are lots of them. Men care about the beer thing because they feel it gives them power. Something just for them. You didn’t, for reasons that are obvious now.

“If there was someone else like you and the court didn’t approve, for whatever reason, how would you feel? A woman who wasn’t let be a woman?”

“Yeah, OK...” Allison said.

“This whole station is lies, and mysteries, and codes and secrets, behaviour, and no-one understands why. We just get on with things and sometimes figure out a little more while trying to enjoy ourselves along the way. I don’t think anyone actually understands all of it. Not even the voters. It just goes on and on. And we all play along because mostly it’s worth it... I wish there was more pasta,” Angie said, staring at Allison’s plate as though she was about to drag her finger through the traces of sauce left over and stick it in her mouth.

“What now?” Allison asked.

“We get you shoes.”

“No, I mean in general. What now in general?”

“Yeah, we get you shoes. In general.”

Allison’s conn beeped with a sound she’d never heard before, as the watch on her wrist vibrated and beeped at the same time. “You should check that,” Angie said. “Voter message.”

“Voter message? I’ve never had—”

“Just check it!” Angie said, her stare boring holes through Allison.

Allison looked at her conn. There was a message from Doctor Grace. “You might not realise but you’re entitled to wear white. Now get out of the restaurant.”

Allison showed her conn, with the message, to Angie. “I don’t get it.”

Angie chuckled. “I guess that makes sense,” she said. “Have you had vaginal sex?”

“Yes,” Allison said. “Of course. Once, anyway.”

“With your own vagina?” Angie said, now laughing properly, and repeatedly, with snorts.

“I don’t have a va... NO! That’s not right. That’s not fair! I’m not wearing white!”

Angie shrugged and said, “Now I know what shoes to get you. You said there was quite a bit of denim in that blessing of an apartment you inherited? I’m going to make you look like such a twenty year old, and we’re going to get you white stockings. And you’re going to send the men wild! You said you wanted to try cuddling. Now, let’s go. Doctor’s orders!”