Thursday, August 28th, 2042, Emmy’s Hub, Virtual Reality.

The world snapped into focus, and Emmy blinked, momentarily disoriented, as her body adjusted to the VR space.

Her virtual hub was a replica of her former home, familiar yet bittersweet.

Memories of that former life tugged at her heartstrings every time she dived.

Like every other day, she wondered if it was worth the self-inflicted torture. To keep it all like this.

But she once again procrastinated, leaving the problem in the hands of her future, capable self.

Not today. I shouldn’t decide something like this when I’m still so worked up.

She was a single button press away from entering the hyper-realistic rendering of her corporate office.

Let’s get to it, Emmy.

She steadied herself, ready for the surreal feeling that always came with diving back into this space.

But before, she looked down at herself.

Elyssia’s now-familiar cotton-white tunic, leather gloves, and boots were still there.

With the click, she would rid herself of it all. The clothes, the house.

The automated tool she wrote would automatically send her to work, all dressed up in her work attire.

Her finger stopped inches from it, dread washing over her. She hesitated, fearing the consequences.

Just do it. Wasting a few minutes here won’t make it any easier.

So she pushed it.

A bright rectangular prism materialised over her head, large and long enough to cover her entire body.

Within a second, it swiped downwards, and Emmy’s avatar was gone.

Far away, somewhere deep in virtual space, the same visual effect accompanied her arrival in the grandiose entryway of her employer’s virtual office.

The air in the virtual lobby was cool—artificially so, programmed to match a perfect climate-controlled office. It lacked the staleness of a real-world office, though. Everything here was pristine, efficient.

And utterly lifeless.

The NEURASphere Corp. logo and text floated above the reception desk, a sphere with an electric-blue gradient, surrounded by thin, dark grey neural-net lines that connected multiple glowing blue and cyan nodes.

The owners had insisted that people materialise at the reception and zap themselves in with their badges. There, they would climb the stairs or ride the elevators to their floor and walk to their cubicle.

They wanted employees to see each other, to recognise their coworkers and feel like they’re part of a big, happy family.

Emmy privately thought they wanted to justify the exorbitant price they paid for all the unnecessary virtual square-footage they occupied.

She peeked downwards, curious to see how her work outfit had adapted to Elyssia’s body.

She was still wearing the masculine corporate uniform provided by her employer.

Navy slacks and blazer, white button-up shirt and a tie. The blazer hung on her much smaller frame awkwardly, still fitted to her avatar, but clearly not designed to flatter her new form.

Fabric tugged in strange places and floated loosely in others.

The shirt’s shoulders drooped too much, the collar wide around her slim neck, and the sleeves fell to just the right length, but the straight, formal cut contrasted painfully with her slender, sylvani proportions.

The pants were equally jarring. They fit well enough, like textures stretched and auto-adjusted to accommodate her new height and hips, but it still felt… wrong.

The waistband was high, as if it had to climb too far up to stay secure on her narrow waist, and the legs were slightly loose, designed for someone with thicker thighs, more muscle, more bulk than this dancer’s body could ever have.

The corporate shoes, sturdy black loafers, felt clunky, rigid.

The outfit clashed horribly with this body. Designed for a man, not the sprightly, nimble figure she now inhabited.

The tie—thankfully loosened—still hung awkwardly around her neck, out of place against her narrow collarbone and the hint of delicacy at her throat.

The shirt’s fabric felt scratchy and formal in all the wrong ways. Not a prison like the real-world clothes she dreaded, but a mockery of her reality—an outfit that tried to impose something alien on Elyssia’s graceful form.

She flexed her smaller fingers, marveling at their delicate movement. The sight of freckles on her skin brought a smile to her face. She ran her fingers down from her cheeks slowly towards her chin.

Not a single prickly hair. This is how it should feel.

She let out a quiet laugh.

She was wearing the clothes that belonged to a man. Someone she was not.

This body was undeniably not masculine.

And yet… for all the awkwardness of the clothes, for all the unease and strangeness that came with this too-familiar uniform, her body felt free. Lighter.

She ran a hand through her green, boyish hair again and closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the feeling of rightness.

The clothing might be a reminder of everything wrong with the world outside, but this body—this was hers, no matter what she had to wear over it.

She just wished she did not have to wear the wrong things here, too.

The weight of a dozen eyes on her cut short her reverie.

Co-workers walking down the lobby kept slowing down to gawk at her.

Even though she worked in IT, it was obvious most of her colleagues had not purchased the game yesterday. Everyone still looked like themselves.

In games, so-called experts often raised eyebrows at her choices.

This game was no exception. Choosing to play a martial artist as a main tank was clearly outside of what people considered the norm. Emmy had always preferred finding her own path.

So she was used to the judgement and scrutiny of others, online.

But here, in the stiff corporate corridors of NEURASphere, she had avoided bringing such attention to herself. Outwardly, she had just been “one of the boys”.

Today? She feared she probably would be the only sylvani at the office.

Oh, I can’t wait for the first time some jerk underestimates me because of Elyssia’s looks.

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She grinned, keeping the thought to herself.

I’ll show them all. I’ve been showing them all along. Except nobody saw it coming: their top performer has been a woman all along. I just didn’t look the part until now.

Emmy confidently strode onwards.

Synthia, the automated virtual receptionist, impossible to distinguish from an actual employee’s avatar, greeted her by name as she passed the front desk.

“Good morning, M-E.”

The automaton smiled, with the precise amount of eye contact needed to feel seen, but not peered at. She did not act at all surprised at the new appearance or ill-fitting outfit.

Emmy’s heart skipped when addressed by name, quickly scanning the room for any reaction from all the other busy employees.

Nothing.

Everyone was just in their own world. Physically—No, virtually present, but mentally absent.

“Good morning, Synthia. Had a good night?”

Hearing Elyssia’s voice echo in the opulent lobby still surprised her.

Emmy had always acted friendly with the receptionist. If robots or AIs ever revolted against their creators, she hoped they would remember her as an ally or friend.

“As always.”

Synthia nodded and turned to glance at the monitor in front of her. “My readings show you had a stressful morning. Hopefully, it will not be a hindrance to your productivity today.”

That her programming allowed her to track any employee’s emotional state always made Emmy’s skin crawl. Nothing was ever truly private in this place—not even stress.

“It won’t be a problem. I’ve had worse.”

“I cannot relate, but I understand how difficult it must be.” She replied with a mix of distance and empathy that steered into the uncanny valley.

Synthia turned her attention to the other employees making their way in, wordlessly signalling the end of their polite morning ritual.

Emmy continued on her way after nodding her goodbye.

With a last-second dash, she joined a throng of employees already crammed into the elevator.

Once inside, she immediately regretted her decision.

She felt trapped, squeezed between many taller and larger colleagues. Their closeness felt like an unwelcome pressure, but what bothered her most was their obvious disregard for her personal space.

I should have waited for the next elevator. Or maybe I could have run?

She was sure this body could have handled climbing seven flights of stairs without breaking a sweat.

Standing the closest to the control panel, she recognised her friend Jamal, who sat in one of the cubicle next to hers. He was looking in her direction, curiosity clear on his face.

When she quickly double-checked that the elevator would stop at the right floor, he followed her gaze to the control panel.

“Miss? Where are you headed?” he asked.

Might as well have some fun with this!

She grinned, leaning into it. “Seventh, like always.”

He looked away from her one moment, pressing the button, despite it already being lit. The sylvani in the room was clearly distracting him.

The doors closed, and the elevator started its rapid ascent.

Their exchange, in the otherwise packed but silent elevator, had caused many eyes to turn towards her.

Emmy could not help but notice the unusual green of Elyssia’s hair and her pointed ears seemed to fascinate almost everyone.

Jamal’s eyes were no exception. He stared at her, a perplexed look on his face. It looked as if he was trying to puzzle out who she was.

When they reached the seventh floor, Jamal politely waited for Emmy to extract herself. Following her exit, he squeezed out from the corner he was stuck in.

“Wait!”

Jamal called out as he rushed after her.

Emmy did not slow down. She kept walking towards her desk.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, smiling. “I can almost see the gears turning in your head.”

He finally caught up to her as she spun the chair of her cubicle. She leaned her back against it, cross her arms and waited, grinning.

She erupted in laughter when his facial expressions finally confirmed he had realised who she was.

“Took you long enough!”

“M-E? I heard about the glitch on the news… but wow. This is pretty incredible. Is that really you in there? You sound, stand, walk and look so different.”

She nodded. “Synthia downstairs didn’t even bat an eye.”

He leaned against her cubicle’s half-partition, one arm slung over the other side. Jamal gestured dismissively with his free arm as he explained.

“Of course she wouldn’t. She doesn’t exactly use her eyes to look at us. You know how she’s programmed. You’ve seen the code.”

Yes. I’ve seen the code. I actually wrote a good chunk of it, Jamal.

Emmy smiled. She idly wondered how long before she could tell people to stop mansplaining to her without provoking them.

Jamal continued, looking her up and down. “But wow. That’s… that’s quite the look. Not too sure about the corporate suit, but you could be a fashion model.”

She blushed, warmth spreading across her cheeks, but her stomach twisted. Compliments like that should feel good. But all she could think about was how much she had to pretend this body was not everything she wanted.

“Well, it’s a fantasy game avatar. Of course, everybody’s going to look gorgeous. Why would the developers even bother to put in options to look average?”

“Does the… hmm. Height difference bothers you at all?”, he asked.

She could feel his eyes roaming, lingering on every curve and contour, as though solving a puzzle. It did not feel invasive or lecherous—not exactly. Mostly curious and a little confused.

But it made her skin crawl all the same.

“Their calibration system is really as good as they advertise, J. It feels like I’ve always been in this body.”

She hesitated.

“It’s doing a lot of heavy lifting. Can you imagine it, otherwise? Me, in this body? It would be freaky, no?”

She faked a nervous laughter.

Can’t slip. I’ve got to keep up the pretense that this body feels wrong.

“Ah. Yeah.. I mean, no. Not really, I can’t. Guess you hadn’t heard of the glitch when you made your character, then?” he paused. “Figured you’d know every little thing about that game.”

Emmy swallowed hard.

She had almost forgotten that half-truths would not fool most people working here. Every hire was razor sharp, analytical, smart.

“Of course. I read everything about the game—everything before it released. Had to know which race and class to pick, you know. Be ready for day zero,” she spurted out.

“But after the launch? I didn’t want any spoilers, so I kept away from the forums and news sites.”

“Ah yes, right. Makes sense,” he said, nodding in agreement.

They both heard the echoing sound of heels, clicking loudly on the virtual floor tiles, heading their way.

Emmy and Jamal watched as Sandra, their supervisor, approached.

The woman looked pointedly at Jamal’s relaxed pose before shifting her gaze to Emmy.

“Good morning, M-E, Rahman. Don’t forget that you’re on the clock.”

As Sandra’s gaze stayed fixed on Emmy, Jamal stood straight and squirrelled himself away to his own cubicle and chair.

After a few seconds, Sandra’s serious face softened into a cordial smile.

“That’s a good look for you, M-E.”

She approached and lowered herself; face closer than Emmy currently felt comfortable with anyone, let alone her direct supervisor.

Sandra leaned in, adjusting the tie and collar with clinical precision, like she was rearranging a mannequin. Emmy’s muscles tensed under the scrutiny and her cheeks felt like they caught on fire.

The urge to pull away tugged at her spine, but she stayed still, burning under the attention. Sandra’s smile held all the warmth of a blade being sharpened.

“That’s better,” she said, nodding appreciatively at her own work.

She then looked at the rest of the employees on the floor, and clapped her hands twice, loudly.

“Back to work, everyone. We’re professionals. Show’s over.”

Emmy had been so focused on her superior that she had not noticed the ripple of attention building around her.

But now, with Sandra’s words slicing through the air, Emmy felt the weight of everyone’s stares.

All eyes had been on her.

Her skin prickled with the realisation.

Sandra turned around and walked away, her heels clicking as she did.

Shit. Everyone saw that, right?

Sure, they did. But they’re not in your head. Nobody knows how happy this body is making you.

She reviewed the moment in her head.

Almost the entire floor had just witnessed this awkward moment when a supervisor came and fixed the tie of a guy currently forced into a woman’s virtual avatar.

Emmy wondered how easy it would be to sell the idea of how embarrassed that made her.

She glanced down at her hands, pale and freckled, the thin fingers far more delicate than the ones she was used to. Her arms felt lithe and light, and her hips—the subtle swell of her curves—were noticeable even through the ill-fitting attire.

A soft breath escaped her lips.

No matter how many times she looked at herself like this, it was still jarring.

This is what everyone sees now.

Deflated, she finally sat in her chair and turned to face her desk.

It loomed in front of her, the terminal already lit with messages. She could see them blinking in the corner of her vision, notifications piling up.

But before she could sit down, she heard a voice.

“I think you look so badass.” Priya said from across the half-partition.

The little brunette sitting in the cubicle right on the other side of her monitor was leaning her head to look over her monitor and had only admiration in her eyes.

Badass?

The word felt alien, meant for someone else; Emmy was not used to compliments like that—not ones that actually made her feel seen.

Elyssia? In-game? Yes, she was a badass, sure. Defeating five gnolls almost solo while under-levelled and under-geared. Yeah, that was the definition of badass.

But Priya had complimented Emmy.

She resisted the urge to cringe.

She was absolutely not used to compliments, especially not ones that made her feel so... exposed.

Elyssia was supposed to be an escape—a way to disappear into the virtual world and leave herself behind. But now, people were seeing her—really seeing her—and the thought made her feel so vulnerable.

“Thanks,” she said, barely managing to keep her tone light. “I guess the glitch has its perks.”

Priya gave her a playful smile. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts. Who knows what they’ll do to fix it, but hey, if you’re stuck like this for a while, you might as well make the most of it, right?”

Stuck like this.

Emmy’s stomach twisted at the thought.

If the devs never fixed the glitch… There were many things worse than being trapped in Elyssia’s body.

She forced herself to nod, keeping the smile in place even though her mind was racing.

“Heh. Maybe? We’ll see.”

Priya winked and returned her attention to her monitor.

Emmy let out a slow breath, the tension easing just a little. She could handle this.

She was not the only one dealing with the glitch. Millions, the news had said. No one was panicking.

And best of all? Sandra did not look bothered by it.

Everything so far had gone okay.

So far.