Walter spun down the sidewalk pointing a taped-together gadget at everything he saw. Long stretches without results gave him the demeanor of a zombie ballerina. If you ever find something, call me, he says. Big IF, asshole.
Not that calling the old man would be Walter’s first priority, though. Having his mod deleted was a pretty major setback, but not an insurmountable one. He remembered writing the code the first time, so if he could get his hands on another copy of Bod.io it shouldn’t be too hard to start over.
That’s where his makeshift gadget came in. He’d taped the odd lens the old man gave him over his phone camera and written a script to detect any changes in color. In this form his gadget served a double purpose. If it detected the pink of the app then he was back in business. Otherwise, if it detected anything other than the dark red of the world then he may have a whole other business venture on his hands. Worst case, he could just call the old man and get paid that way. Money is money, after all.
The thrill of his ingenuity had worn off, though. Walking through town pointing a weird device at people gets old, even more so after the first few weeks.
He sat on a bench and ruminated. Maybe drugs weren’t the best path after all. Military applications could be good. They’d probably be all for an app that could generate an army of super soldiers. If he could get a check for every Captain America running onto the battlefield… and everyone on the other side too! Walter chuckled to himself imagining it. A monopoly in the middle of an arms race!
His phone buzzed.
But the plan wasn’t perfect. Realistically, he had no connections in the military and no idea who to even begin talking to to make that blood-soaked dream a reality. And beside that, they probably already knew about the app without him.
This turned his mind back to the first choice of investor. Underworld types, now that’s a crowd who could appreciate some muscle.
His phone buzzed again and this time didn’t stop.
It took him a moment to realize what that meant. Walter tore away the tape and held the lens up to his eye. The world was so consistently colored through the lens that one may mistake it for opaque. Or rather, that would be the impression if there was nothing other than the dark red of the background. Walter’s phone hadn’t buzzed for nothing.
Jackpot!
A pink silhouette was walking down the opposite side of the street. Without the lens, it was just as clear that this woman was using the app. Her proportions were technically possible, but the use of a supernatural app explained how she’d won that lottery. Luckily she had made the kinds of changes that turned heads so Walter didn't stand out too much as he began tailing her.
Unluckily, he’d never learned to pickpocket. He knew he had a rare opportunity before him, but how exactly he’d separate this woman from her phone was far from obvious. She eventually landed at a table just outside a small restaurant. Walter hid behind a tree and stayed there through the duration of her lunch. During this he learned that she kept her phone in a purse which was held closed by a zipper. A loud zipper. The situation was hopeless.
That was only for a moment, though, as this happened to be a pay-up-front kind of place. She brought her wallet, but as far as he could tell, not her phone.
Walter pounced on the opportunity like a starved hyena. Here was his salvation at last!
He pulled out the flash drive that he planned to use to take away a copy of the app.
He unzipped the purse, not bothering to check if he was being seen.
He dug through until he found the phone.
The drive plugged in.
The screen lit up.
A box appeared requesting that he enter her password.
Oh. Right.
Walter scratched his head. Ordinarily he’d be kicking himself for missing something that obvious, but the roadblock had deflated him enough to mute such emotion. On the one hand he could just take the phone and try to break in later, but it wasn’t like he knew how to do that. On the other hand if he stopped here then he might never-
“Hey, that’s my phone!”
Walter spent one moment frozen by being caught, another distracted by the fruits of the app, and a third dropping the phone and running. This turned out to be the correct move as worry over the dropped phone prevented her chasing him down.
Once he was sure he’d gotten away, he caught up with himself. Stupid, he thought as he punched a nearby wall. This was not a morale booster.
The nearest bus stop was a bit down the block. He trudged onto it. His tape found its way out of his pocket and reattached the lens to the phone. The bus window was open, so he pointed the gadget out that way, not expecting much.
Not much was about all he got for the first few hours. Walter was just about falling asleep when a brief tremor shook him to attention. For a moment he thought it had just been a text or something, but his script reported a brief sighting just moments ago. The new tape came off again and he looked back through the lens. He saw a pale green blob receding into the distance. Note to self, the weird colors go through transparent glass. He was out at the next stop.
After a bit of running he found himself before the blob. Outside the lens it was just an old wood shack. That is, historically old. A plaque stood announcing this the oldest building in the city, having survived some great fire a century ago. The thing seemed a little shabby, but evidently it was important enough for municipal protection.
Walter spent a few minutes brainstorming before admitting to himself that some publicly owned old building wasn’t likely to turn a profit. Thus he called the old man over. Shockingly, an “I’ll be right there” turned out to be only about a five minute wait.
“How’d you get here so fast?”
The old man shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood. What’s this then?”
“Something that looks different from the background.”
After reading the plaque, the old man stepped forward. “Come.” They approached the building. A water bottle and a lighter came out from his coat. “Now look, I’ve got an idea how this may work. If I’m wrong I want you to use this to fix it.”
Walter took the bottle and opened it.
The old man held the flame up to the wood wall of the building.
Walter tensed and braced himself for this historical artifact to burn. But it didn’t. Instead the flame just flattened and went out.
“Ah, then I was right then. Calm down boy. Watch through the lens, I’ll do it again.”
Walter gave back the bottle and observed. Even the flame matched the dark red of the rest of the world. This was made all the more obvious by the pale green of the building it was approaching. The remarkable thing, however, came when the building was just about to catch. Then the green color bulged forward, away from the building, and contorted itself around the lighter. After a moment surrounded, the flame went out.
“Huh. What’s going on there?”
“It’s a wish, just like the app you found. A power came into the world and someone told it to protect this building. Not much more to it than that.”
“You gonna erase it?”
“No, this one’s neither powerful nor destructive enough to worry about.”
A moment of silence passed with Walter just staring at the old man.
“I assume you want to get paid?”
Walter nodded. While the money changed hands he spoke up. “I’m not complaining or anything, but why are you doing this?”
“Well, I did agree to pay you.”
“Not that, I mean looking for weird stuff. Really roping me into you looking for weird stuff, that’s the part I’m more confused by.”
“I do it because someone needs to, that’s all. As for you, like I said, this is a reparation for what I took. I’m also trying out the theory that work will keep you out of trouble.”
The money in his hand led Walter not to bring up what he thought of that theory. Instead, as the old man left, he made a request.
“Hey, could I borrow that lighter? I want to try out that thing with the building.”
“Sure, just don’t try with any other buildings.”
The old man left and Walter kept poking fire at the building. It was a neat thing, that. Without the lens it seemed like some sort of miracle, like the shack was protected by some sort of angel. The lens only strengthened this impression, like the pale green blob was divine. Either way, the whole thing was oddly satisfying.
Walter was not as careful about it as the old man, though. After a few minutes of repeatedly holding fire up to a historic wooden building, a passerby happened to notice him.
“Hey! An arsonist is attacking this city treasure! Get him!”
This time he had more running to do.
----------------------------------------
Sam was bent over his table in the night, studying. It was late, but the app had a habit of blunting the world around him. If he was underdressed for a cold room, he would just make his body warmer periodically. If he was doused by an unexpected rain, he could dry off without a towel. If he somehow found himself on some high mountain summit, he’d be the one human more reliant on a cell charger than an oxygen tank.
That’s assuming he’d have his phone on hand, though. Sam’s studying stalled slightly with a loud memory from earlier that day. Nature had called during his english class, but his position in the room meant that in order to leave he’d need to cross the entirety of the room via the front while the teacher was talking. It didn’t take long to realize that his body problem could be easily solved with the app. This, however, introduced a new problem when Mrs. Doenitz called him out for being distracted.
“No phones in class, Sam,” she’d said, “you know this.”
He’d made the mistake of being honest. “Sorry, just needed to use the restroom.”
Without mercy, “You had your phone out because you needed to use the restroom?”
He stammered out half a defense and she returned to the lecture. It wasn’t the kind of thing anyone else would remember, but it was the kind of thing he definitely would.
Shaking off the thought, he reached for a water bottle to drink only to find it empty. This offered a distraction from both studying and remembering. The stairs creaked on his way down to the kitchen sink for a refill.
When he turned around, he saw a head poking out from the stairway to the basement.
“Hey Sam,” his mother asked, “what’re you doing up?”
“Oh, I was studying.”
“Sam. It’s 4am. You’ve got classes in just a couple hours.”
“Yeah? I know. But if I’m more prepared then I’ll end up with better grades, right?”
“Generally, but studying won’t do as much if you’re tired.”
“Well, I’m not tired.”
“Sam, it’s 4 in the-”
“It’s 4 and I’m not tired. Okay?” It came out harsher than he intended.
She sighed. “Sam, I-”
“You’re the one who said grades are so important, right?”
She was glaring now. “If you’re not tired now then you’ll be tired tomorrow. Being awake isn’t free and you can’t spend all your hours at night if you need them during the day.”
“But-”
“No buts. It’s four in the morning. If you go to bed, you will sleep. If you sleep now then you’ll at least have some energy left for a day full of classes. So you’re going to go to bed. I’ll check on you in half an hour, understood?”
“Mom, I-”
“Sam!” Her tone was sharp.
He sighed, said “fine,” and went up to his room. Books were closed, his backpack packed back up, the light turned out.
After all that, though, he couldn’t sleep. It didn’t take long to figure out that this was the app’s doing. He’d turned off his tiredness and so he couldn’t sleep. Easy problem, easy solution. Sam pulled out his phone and found the slider in question. His finger was on its way to the “update” button when he thought to set an alarm for the morning. After all, he could hardly rely on a sleep schedule at this point. After that, though, a button sent him out of the waking world.
Unfortunately, when he woke up it wasn’t to the sound of the alarm.
“Sam, could you turn that thing off?” His father was in the doorway. “It’s been beeping for half an hour!”
He dutifully silenced the alarm. Then he went back to bed. The overwhelming bleariness of his mind almost dragged him back to sleep, but he managed to remember enough of his plan to stay awake. His hand fumbled over to his phone, found the intended slider, and woke him up.
Once alert, he was struck by what had just happened. I made myself tired and almost overslept. That could’ve been bad.
Could have been but wasn’t, not only because he caught himself in the morning but also because his first class that day was less consequential than usual. There wasn’t a test, or any of the sort of lecture one could usually expect. Instead they got a substitute.
“Where’s Mr. Stoner?” asked a student at the front of the class.
“Who?”
“The guy who usually teaches this class.”
“Ah,” the substitute nodded. “I don’t… eh… know.”
The substitute was an older woman with a thick but hard to place accent. She gave the impression of someone who hadn’t realized that “done” and “bone” are pronounced differently.
“First I will take roll call.”
While she was looking for the attendance sheet, a cluster of kids snuck out through the door. As names were called out and people “here”d themselves off the list, one particular girl in the back answered to a surprising number of names. The group who’d left never came back, but the class had perfect attendance all the same.
For the rest of class it turned out the sub hadn’t been given any sort of lecture notes so she tried desperately to read and recapitulate the content of the textbook they never used. So it was that she and a couple helpful students at the front attempted to engage in education while the rest of the room took advantage of the opportunity to converse unimpeded.
One group near the side of the room went detective on this case of the vanishing history teacher.
“Where do you think he went?”
“Well, his name is Mr. Stoner.”
“But wasn’t he all ‘don’t do drugs, kids’ on the first day or something?”
“Since when has being anti-drug stopped people from doing drugs?”
Due to a disagreement among the helpful students about where exactly they were in the textbook, the sub didn’t manage to get through a single page before the bell rang.
----------------------------------------
Transporting a lunch tray to a table is a task complicated by reliance on crutches. Indeed, back during middle school Cyborg had gone down the “packed lunch” and “ask a friend to help carry stuff” routes a fair number of times. She was, however, not one to back down from a challenge and once she figured out a way to ease this particular burden she never looked back.
Her strategy was simple: just bring a bag. You buy the food and then put the tray in the bag such that it can be carried upright in one hand. Then, as long as you walk carefully, that bag can be brought whatever you want. It was one of many solutions she prided herself on.
Back in middle school some meathead had come up to her once and threatened to hit the bag. She’d replied by holding up one crutch threateningly and saying “I only need one to stand.” This was, admittedly, a bluff since swinging the fool thing around with violent force would doubtless have knocked her off balance. Worse it may have messed up the food. Regardless, the threat was effective. That was another proud moment for her.
When she got to the table, Sam and Ben were already there and already up to something. Sam, it seemed, was the instigator.
“Press this button,” he said, holding out his phone. “I want to try something.”
Ben poked the phone. Sam fiddled a bit with it. Cyborg started to drink some juice that she’d picked up with lunch, but had to stop when
“Pfft, you’re Ben now! Sam what the hell?”
Sam was smiling with Ben’s mouth. “Am I?” He used the camera to verify and laughed.
The real Ben was scratching his head. “Do I really look like that?”
“Look down,” Cyborg said. “It even copied your clothes! Sam, you didn’t say the app could do that!”
“I didn’t know it could do that. But look, it’s in this save menu. I’ve got saves from earlier here and here, they’re the 3D models. I capture the saves using this button here, but I guess it just takes a copy of whoever pressed the button.”
Ben frowned. “So you tricked me then?”
“Yes, and now that I have your identity I can do this!” He moved a slider and a bushy mustache appeared on his face.
Ben’s eyes widened. “Hey wait, you can’t just deface my face like that!”
“Sure I can,” Sam said while balding the copy of Ben’s head.
Cyborg, meanwhile, had drifted into thought while the other two struggled. It can copy faces. The implications of this gave her an odd feeling. Her mind became occupied by the image of people passing around bodies like they would a phone number or a joke they’d heard. If enough people were using the same body then it’d only be a matter of time before they’re blighted away like all those Irish potatoes.
“Hey Cyborg press here.”
“Hmm?” She did it before she realized what she’d done.
Sam had walked around to her side of the table and was presently standing next to where she was sitting. Within a moment he matched her, and immediately after he had to steady himself on the table.
“Woah, yeah, crutches, right.”
It was weird hearing her own voice from another person.
“Is it always like this?”
“...yeah?”
“Dang, that’s crazy.” He typed a bit until he found the slider he wanted. After a poke he put down the phone and stood up straight. “There we go, much better.”
“What did you just do?”
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“I fixed my legs. Or… your legs? My your legs? I can stand now, I mean.” He put down the phone and walked around a bit to demonstrate.
This development basically wiped away her last concern and left her speechless. She didn’t even go back to eating, she just stared.
“What?”
“Nothing…” She turned to Ben. “You said the app was removed from the store?”
Ben searched his memory from a couple months ago. “I think so. You can check if you want, it’s Bod.io.”
She did, it was gone. “Huh. Well, anyway, could you delete my face please?”
“Sure.” Sam picked up his phone.
Ben was a bit indignant. “Oh, so she just has to ask?”
Sam frowned for a moment and then chuckled. To Cyborg, “Hey, you see this? I’ve got a fingerprint login on this thing and it doesn’t recognize your fingerprints.”
A moment later he’d returned to a save from before he turned into Ben. After a bit of tapping he handed the phone over to Cyborg to verify that he’d deleted the copies of the two of them. She handed the phone over to Ben, who stuck a mustache on Sam’s face the moment he could.
----------------------------------------
Elsewhere, Rex was digging through a dumpster. While he didn’t need to worry about going hungry, he did want to eat. Thus the dumpster was out behind a bakery and he was searching for anything that wasn’t fuzzy.
Once this proved ineffective (this is a bakery in an American city, they know how to not attract the homeless) he climbed out of the dumpster and leaned against the wall.
“This sucks,” he said out loud to nobody.
Once he realized that another spot would probably suck less than a cold alleyway, he got up and wandered away.
If I just had some money, I could buy some food and make a save with the food in my mouth.
The question was how to get money and before too long he happened to pass an answer to that question. A dilapidated figure sat at the side of the street with a tray and some stray cash. They were one arm short and had a sign reading “HELP a VET in NEED”. Rex paused a moment to observe the person and hatch a plan before walking away.
Returning to the dumpsters, Rex located a box and a marker. He tore off a side of the box and began replicating the beggar’s sign, adding pawprints to fill space. Then he ducked into a park restroom, increased his age, and decreased his arm count. Figuring he had to outdo the competition, he removed both arms.
Naturally his phone dropped to the floor when he pressed “update”. Rex was not happy about this. With a bit of effort he managed to flip the phone over, but couldn’t quite lift it with his feet. The grimy restroom floor almost seemed to laugh at him. He stomped on it in frustration.
After removing his socks and shoes, Rex tried imitating his ancient ape ancestors. He had his phone lifted halfway to his leg when the toe-hold failed him, dropping it into a dubious puddle beside the toilet.
Thus Rex sat and attacked the phone from the floor. Like Sam, Rex had a fingerprint login but alas, no fingers. You’re invited to try logging into your smartphone using only feet if you would like a deeper appreciation for your hands.
An eternity of futzing later, Rex had made his way into Bod.io. After trading a leg for an arm, he picked up the phone and hopped his way out of the stall. He removed and washed the phone case at the sink for peace of mind and then hopped out into the world, sign in hand.
The paw prints did him no favors, but he ended the scheme with just enough for a hotdog.
----------------------------------------
Sam filed away a sheet of completed homework and turned his mind toward more important matters: strategy! He tore out a sheet of notebook paper and began his analysis.
Previous failed attempts:
1. asking her out
2. inviting her to a game
I guess neither of these were outright rejections. I don’t think she actually said no that first time. She was the one who brought up that one match but then she couldn’t make it because she got sick.
He cringed a bit at that. The fact that he’d initially doubted her sickness wasn’t something he’d told anyone, but it was something he was stuck remembering anyway.
That isn’t the whole story, though. She didn’t exactly try to get a word in the first time and when asked she specifically said I wasn’t her type. Or… no, that’s not it, she said she wasn’t into athletes and I happened to be an athlete at the time. The result was essentially the same in two very different bodies, so maybe the issue is independent of appearance.
In his chemistry class they were studying independent and dependent variables. This was proving a useful framework for studying other kinds of chemistry.
What else could it be? Maybe something about my personality?
This proved a difficult thing to think concretely about, so he tried to imagine what a date with Helen would look like. They would be seated at a table, out at dinner. Between placing an order and receiving it they would have time to talk.
She would speak first. “So what have you been up to lately?”
“Well, uh, I had that whole basketball thing.”
Problem: she’s not interested in basketball. The most pessimistic part of his imagination had her giving an “oh, right” and shutting down the moment that became the topic. But… that didn’t seem like her, she would at least make an effort to engage, right?
“Oh, right. You still doing that?”
“I’m not, actually.”
“Oh, really? Why?”
Check, mate in two. If he answered truthfully, then would that sound shallow or something? If her next question were something like “you did basketball for months to impress me but didn’t think to just ask a second time?” then he would have no good response. But what were the options for lies?
“Well, when I got shorter I couldn’t play anymore.”
“Didn’t you say an app did that? Wasn’t that on purpose?”
Clearly that wasn’t it.
“Well, I needed to focus on schoolwork.”
This, at least, was half true. But did it make him sound stupid? Or maybe it would sound like he still wanted to play basketball but couldn’t because of circumstance. Then the lie would get caught if he improved his scores but didn’t return to the game.
The hypothetical clarified things in Sam’s mind. He and Helen were two jigsaw pieces and, while he wanted to fit together with her, he couldn’t actually imagine what that would look like. Or, rather, he could imagine them close and happy but couldn’t quite see a way to get there.
It was reassuring, though. Now that he had a better sense of the problem it felt more possible to solve it. Further, if this was anything like basketball then he could do with some practice.
----------------------------------------
Cyborg was standing in front of the mirror in her room. She had one crutch to steady herself, but she dropped it and let it fall to the floor. Having seen what it would look like to stand normally, she wanted to give it a go.
The first few seconds would’ve looked normal on anyone. Then one leg wobbled a bit and she tried stepping a bit to steady herself. This only disrupted the other leg, though, and before she knew it she was on the floor.
Not one to back down, she pulled herself up and tried again but with a different stance. Her legs started further apart, but this didn’t wind up making a difference. A third attempt with heels together didn’t change anything either.
She sighed. Of course. Impossible app can fix whatever but I can’t.
A fourth attempt was going decently well when her phone buzzed and ruined her concentration. Grabbing it, she saw that she had a message. If she’d spent an entire day thinking of things it could’ve been, she wouldn’t have guessed correctly.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: wanna go get lunch this weekend?
Is he asking me out?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: you giving up on Helen then?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: what?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: lol jk
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: no
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: seriously
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: sure, I’m down to eat
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: what’s the occasion?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: I was thinking and I think I need practise
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: practice eating?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: practice dating
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: oh
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: are you actually asking me out
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: I was joking earlier
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: practice
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: practice
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: you still down?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: I dunno, the whole practice date thing is a little weird
She started typing “and I’m hardly one to coach that kinda of thing” when another thought struck her mind.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: I could pay if you want
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: I just had an idea
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: no we can split the bill like normal people
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: I’ll do it but on one condition
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: ?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: condition?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: I’ll tell you later, it’s not a big deal
----------------------------------------
The restaurant they decided on was a hotdog place in a local mall, mostly because they both knew how to get there and the prices were affordable. Also the food was good, this particular place set itself apart by putting peculiarities on its hotdogs like spaghetti or gyro ingredients. Sam picked a booth seat facing the door and waited for Cyborg to arrive. While he was waiting, a bug in the simulation revealed itself to him. He mentioned it when she arrived.
“You don’t think hotdogs would be too, like, phallic or anything, right?”
She laughed. “You’re overthinking things. Though… I guess this place isn’t exactly romantic.”
“Hmm. What would be romantic, do you think?”
“I guess the stereotypical thing would be some expensive candle-lit type place, but if we’re just talking lunch… I guess you’d want something you could both look good eating. Or, how about this, you know that old movie Lady and the Tramp?”
“I don’t think shared spaghetti is an actual thing.”
“Maybe like nachos then?”
They walked over to the front counter, ordered food, and got cups. Cyborg filled hers up and then changed the topic.
“So. Before your whole practice thing… Well, first, this is a Helen thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes, obviously.”
“Right, so how is this gonna work?”
“Uh… you be Helen, I’ll be me. We’ll try talking about stuff and if it doesn’t go well then I’ll know not to bring that up in the actual date. That’s the idea, anyway.”
“So… you just wanted practice with small talk?”
“Not just that, it’s more like… Here’s an example. If one of us brought up the whole basketball thing then I could see that getting awkward.”
“I see how you could avoid bringing that up but what if she does?”
“Hmm, I guess you’re right. I need a response in that case anyway. And actually, now that I think about it, there might be more than one way to bring that up and that may affect the response.”
“Yeah,” Cyborg said while sipping her water, “it’s almost like you can’t plan out an entire conversation in advance.”
This left Sam silent for a bit. He started back up with a “Okay, what if-” before noticing someone outside. It was Rex and he was coming straight toward the restaurant.
Sam hid his face with a menu, pulled out his phone, and slid it over to Cyborg.
“Could you press this button?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Please, quick, I need to hide.”
She heard the urgency in his voice and followed the instruction. A moment later Rex entered the restaurant but didn’t notice Sam on account of him using Cyborg’s face at that moment. He took a seat two booths further in. The connection between the tone change and the entrance was obvious.
Cyborg leaned forward and whispered, “You know that guy?”
“Yeah, he was on the basketball team.”
“What’s his deal?”
“I don’t know, but he attacked me last time I saw him.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“Uh… no, I think we can still do this.” He leaned back and returned to a normal speaking voice. “I’ll be me, you be Helen, and we’ll just see what happens. Ready? Action.”
They sat in silence for a solid minute before Cyborg crumpled.
“I have no idea what she’d say.”
“Aren’t you close with her?”
“As if that would make it easy. You try it, what would Ben say if he were here instead of you?”
Sam thought for a moment. “He’d probably have some thing he’d just found that he’d want to talk about.”
“Huh. Yeah, that tracks actually. Um… I guess Helen would ask you something about yourself. She’s pretty interested in other people, I think. Wait, the waiter’s coming. Change back, he won’t recognize you.”
Sam became himself again just in time to take his food and give a "thanks". Rex happened to recognize the voice. Sam turned back into Cyborg just before Rex walked up.
The standing one frowned with mild confusion. “You two twins or something?”
Sam turned to him and said “yes?” in Cyborg’s voice.
“Hmph,” Rex huffed as he returned to his table.
Whispering again, “Are you sure we need to do this here?”
“We can’t leave now, we’ve got food.”
“Suit yourself, I’m not the one with a psycho after me.” She changed the topic again. “Here’s an idea, instead of a dining date, what if you and Helen did something else?”
“What do you mean?”
“You could see a movie, go to the zoo, long walks on the beach, really anything.”
“I don’t think we have a beach.”
“Walk in the park, whatever.”
“Hmm… I guess you’re right. There’s more options… and if we were at the zoo or something then that’d give us something to talk about.”
The waiter returned to check in on them. Sam became himself just long enough to say “it's good, thanks” before turning back. Unfortunately, this brought Rex back again.
“You two hear a guy somewhere around here?”
The “twins” shook their heads.
“Weird…” he started away, but came back when a thought came to him. He wasn’t sure how you’d match someone like this, but the app could change peoples’ appearances. “Neither of you two are Sam, right?”
“What? No,” said Sam, “Who’s Sam?”
Rex turned to Cyborg, “How about you?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You secretly a dude?”
“Do I look like a dude?”
“I dunno.” He took a step forward. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Sam started moving to stop him. “Back off man, she can’t even play basketball.”
“Oh she can’t, can she?” Rex grabbed Cyborg by the collar. “You little fucker think we’re the same? While you’re out here living it up and I’m in the gutter? HOW COME I’M A FREAK BUT YOU GET OFF SCOT FREE? ANSWER M-”
Sam switched to his athlete body and yanked Rex off of her. Rex took a moment to process that he’d guessed wrong and then swung a fist. Sam started to dodge, but was too slow and got knocked back a bit.
By this point the waiter had noticed. “Hey, what’re you doing?”
Rex took one look in the direction of the approaching man and bolted.
When the waiter arrived, “What happened?”
Cyborg answered, “That guy attacked my friend and ran.”
“I think the security camera probably caught that. I’ll keep his picture in case he ever comes back.” The waiter was about to leave, but then he stopped. “Hey, were you…” He was looking at Sam’s clothes, clearly distracted.
As it happened, Sam had taken this save in bed and was now dressed for the occasion.
The waiter shook his head, said “never mind,” and went to get the image before he forgot.
----------------------------------------
Cyborg’s “one condition” for going on the practice date didn’t come up until the following Monday. Most of Sam’s day had been uneventful until she managed to find him outside after school.
She wore a scheming grin and spoke with excitement, arm outstretched. “Give me your phone.”
“What? No. Why?”
“Lunch this weekend. I did something for you, now you’re gonna do something for me.”
“But I need my phone. Like, more than most people probably.”
“I know, I’ll give it back tomorrow. I don’t need it for long.”
He gave in and handed it over.
It turned out to not be too big of a deal. He didn’t wind up needing it that evening and when the morning came he woke up without setting an alarm. The most that happened was that Cyborg called the landline to ask what the phone password was. He made a mental note to change it, but since he didn’t have anything too important on there he told her anyway.
Then the next day came. For his world history class Mr. Stoner was back so they no longer had to accept a substitute. That is, he was back but he seemed somewhat out of it. During the lecture he trailed off a few times and had to restart sentences. This was hurting comprehension among the students.
One put a hand up and the teacher nodded them to speak.
“So… this war is between the Chinese and… was it the English or the French?”
“The first one is the English.”
The student almost asked what he meant by “first one” but decided to stick to the question they had in mind. “...and you’re saying they were fighting over… poppies?”
“Well, see, this is during a period the Chinese remember as the century of humiliation, during which…”
The teacher rambled on about some details that only served to confuse the class more. His lecture was mostly drawing from a different textbook than the one they were using so the class really had no chance of following along.
At one point toward the middle of the period he trailed off again and stared at the wall clock in silence for a minute. Then he sighed, put down his notes, and leaned against the board.
“Life is short, kids,” the teacher said, dreamily. “Not everything can be learned in school. Some things can only be learned through experience. Sometimes teachers will say things that don’t matter. Don’t let us or anyone control you. Do as thou wilt.”
With that he turned and left. Mr. Stoner never returned to class. This did not help the class understand history, or really anything. It did, however, let them leave considerably early.
Cyborg found Sam waiting outside the boys’ locker room and returned his phone.
“Here you go.”
“Huh. What did you do with it?”
She played up a malicious expression. “I deleted everything.”
He checked. “No you didn’t. Wait, did you charge this?”
“Erm… I guess it charged while I had it plugged into my computer.”
“Looks like you didn’t even delete Bod.io.”
“That was a joke.”
“Yeah, I got that. It’s just, you seemed against the app the other day so if anything was gonna get deleted I figured it would be that.”
“Nothing is deleted, nothing is installed. That device is just as it was when you gave it to me.”
“Then what-”
The bell rang and drained them into the locker rooms to change. When Sam came out to the pool, he was surprised to see Cyborg was already sitting in the stands when he arrived. He asked about it but she gave an evasive “I’ll explain later”. The rest of swimming class was largely uneventful, except for the end where she was somehow already out of the pool when he came over to help steady her. This started the cogs turning in Sam’s head.
He ran into Ben on the way down to the cafeteria. On the way there, Ben was complaining about yard work.
“It’s not just that it’s hard, it’s that it’s outside. That’s, like, all sweat and dirt man. You pull a bunch of weeds but then you feel gross afterward.”
“So… take a shower?”
“Well, yes. But, like, between doing the work and showering I mean.”
“Can’t you take the shower immediately?”
Ben was still pondering this puzzle by the time they arrived at the table where Cyborg was already sitting. They put down their backpacks and turned to go get food, but she stopped them.
“Sit down a moment, I have something to show you.” She scooted to the edge of the seat and stood with her hands to her hips. “Look at this!”
Ben scratched his chin. “Hmm. Have… I seen you in shorts before?”
She shot him a glare.
Sam noticed the point quicker. “You’re… standing?”
Once mentioned it was unmissable. Ben rose from his seat. “Woah, yeah. What happened? Did you, like, get an operation or something?”
“Nope. What I got was Sam’s app.” She was positively beaming.
“But it was removed from the app store.”
“I didn’t get it from the app store, I got it from his phone!”
Sam nodded. “That… explains things.”
Ben pointed. “Then why bring the crutches?”
Cyborg winked. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Now look!” She stood on one leg and spun around. “I am unstoppable! We shall now eat!”
When they got their food, she made a show of carrying all three trays back to the table. It was a bit precarious to watch, but they couldn’t stop her.
“So, you gonna go all sports mode like this guy did?”
“Nah, I only wanted the app for one thing so I’m not planning on using it again.” She thought for a moment. “Though if we’re just talking sports, I do want to try a diving board.”
----------------------------------------
While Cyborg helped take his mind off Helen, the day after that only solidified an impression of stagnancy in Sam’s head. On the one hand, the weekend had given him better ideas for what a date would look like. On the other, he was still no closer to actually doing it. None of the experimentation had brought him any closer to answering the question of what Helen would actually like in a guy. He felt strongly that he could be whatever she wanted him to be, but that wasn’t useful without more information.
A step forward, though, came when his phone buzzed. He had a message. The message was a photo of a screen showing an incoherent mass of numbers. It was Cyborg’s and she followed the image with an explanation:
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: I was able to get the data out of a body save. I’m not sure what means what, but somehow all the information in a body is contained in this data.
She’d sent him the image because she thought it was interesting, but the moment after that she put down her phone and went back to tinkering. Then her phone buzzed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: Could you do me another favor?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: sure
She sent the message partly out of gratitude for the app and partly out of distraction from what he was saying.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: Could you ask Helen why she’s not into me?
This pulled away more of her attention.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: wtf would I do that?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: you have her contact info
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: you’re her friend
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: thats why I could ask but why would I?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: please
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: you’re the only one I know who can
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: do this and I’ll never pull you into this again
She sighed and rolled her eyes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: promise?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: I promise
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: you realize I’m gonna screenshot this and throw it in your face later if you go back on your word?
⠀⠀⠀⠀Sam: fair enough
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: fine then
She pulled up her contacts list and called Helen. A couple ringtones later, she picked up.
“What’s up?”
“Yeah, remember that time when you were sick and you had me send Sam a message?”
“...yes?”
“Well, now he wants me to ask you a question.”
There was silence on the other end.
“You still there?”
“Yeah.”
Cyborg sighed. “It’s a little weird and you don’t have to answer if you don’t wa-”
“No, it’s fine. What’s the question?”
“Well…” Oh fuck this is way more awkward than I expected. “You know he’s got a crush on you?”
“Yeah. He’s basically all but said so. Was that the question?”
“No, no. He… um… Know what? I’ll just read it. Sam says ‘Could you ask Helen why she’s not into me?’”
“Oh, I see.” She was silent for a moment. “Huh, that’s pretty direct isn’t it.”
“Would be more direct without a middle messenger but sure.”
Helen chuckled.
“I’ll warn you now that whatever you say, he’s probably gonna turn into it. He’s got this app that-”
“Is this the one that changes his hair color?”
“Yeah, that sounds like it.”
“He showed me a few days ago. I think he also said it made him shorter?”
“That’s what I’m saying, it can turn him into whatever so if you ask for whatever then he’ll probably become whatever.”
“Hmm… That’s weird, I’m definitely not into that. I feel like if someone just changed into whatever I wanted they’d be… like a doll or something. Like it’d be weird if he treated himself like not a person so to speak.”
Cyborg nodded, recalling her reasons for not using the app too much. “Okay, so I should tell him he’ll have better chances if he just deletes the app.”
“Well…” Helen hesitated. “I only found out about that app thing recently. I don’t think that’s what he’s asking about.”
“But you had an answer,” Cyborg whined.
“I want to be honest.”
“Fine.”
“Right. I… um…” Helen paused to think for a moment. “Remember how in first grade, before I moved away, we’d play house and stuff during recess?”
She accepted the pivot. “Sure, I remember.”
“Remember how we could never find any boys to join so it’d just be you and me?”
“Yeah,” she chuckled, “I think I usually wound up being the dad.”
“Well, I think I may prefer it that way. Not you being a dad but, like… I guess I’m just trying to say I’m into girls.”
“Oh, okay.” Cyborg paused waiting for clarification before continuing. “So… is this still about Sam, because obviously he’s not a girl.”
“Well, he’s a guy.”
“Are you not into guys?”
Flustered, “No, that’s what I just said!”
“Oh, I see. So you’re saying he doesn’t have a chance because you’re not into guys.”
“Yes. Good job.”
“And I should tell him that instead of the app thing.”
“Well… if you could not mention the details that’d be better. I haven’t exactly told that many people about this.”
“Right, so get across that he doesn’t have a chance while not telling him you’re into girls.”
“Exactly.”
“Cool, thanks. That’s all I had.”
“Okay. See you around.”
“You too, bye.”
Well that went smoother than I expected.
Cyborg typed up the answer for Sam and went back to tinkering.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: turns out she’s not into guys
⠀⠀⠀⠀Cyborg: better luck next time