Origins, interlude 3: Sam

Sometime in 202x

Sam awakens to a message from Sophie. She's kept her word, and delivered a truly daunting list of queers of all stripes, who have speciality knowledge Sophie thinks could be useful to the discussion of 'where to next'.

Reading through the notes Sophie's made next to each name, it's like a who's who of queer STEM types, ethicists, philosophers, psychologists, sociologists, community leaders, and activists. Also some celebrity vloggers, the thoughts of whom makes Sam feel star struck. Yet, they suppose, these are the circles they can move in now, that money can and hopefully will open up to them.

Sam realises with a start that there's some names missing - Priti and Rehema, for instance. And wonders if there's others that should be here, excluded because of the clique-ishness, the subtle barriers between queers of different backgrounds.

Struck by a sudden impulse, Sam realises they need to reach out. They're the privileged one now, they've got the responsibility to break down these barriers, and include everyone. Sophie's talked a lot about radical inclusion, and how you've got to get everyone in the room, so to speak, and listen to them, if you want to be truly fair and equitable. To reach the global optimum, to put it in mathematical terms.

Sam shoots back a quick message to Sophie thanking her for her work and affirming that everything looks good, and to see if there's anyone she can find anyone else from marginalised communities to add here. Not just the minds useful to capitalism, the societally respected and rewarded ones. But the ones with the unique perspectives that white, younger, and relatively sheltered queers like Sam and Sophie might have missed. The artists, the writers, the different.

And, mindful of the impacts of what they're asking, the disruption to lives, the offering of potentially painful experiences - to make an offer to pay those without means to take time out to attend even an online setting. Sam will have the means. Hopefully they all will, soon enough.

Satisfied they're no longer holding up Sophie's new-found mission, Sam continues where their impulse lead. Shaving face, shoulders, chest, back, arms, and legs, a long-practiced habit used to ease dysphoria, now with a renewed energy. Applying a light layer of foundation to their face, with concealer artfully applied to hide any blue of stubble below the skin. Some not-so-subtle eyeliner and eyeshadow, to draw attention away from other trouble areas. Then donning their favourite deep-green, cold-shoulder A-line dress - a lucky second-hand shop find in their size.

And the crowning pieces, a carefully-stored wig hidden away alongside false breasts, beloved hand-me-downs from an online trans swap group, a gift from someone who - happily, thanks to HRT and time - no longer needed them. The travelling siblinghood of the boobs, as they've called the process of receiving the falsies from an elder, and one they can now hope to continue by passing on to another new trans femme. An important thing to pair with the dress and especially the wig. The shoulder-length red hair they've seen in their dreams, in their mind's eye, in the corner of their eye whenever they move past a mirror.

All these arts and artifacts they've carefully horded and practiced using in quiet moments, an artifice to present to the world the truth of who they are - a non-binary femme.

Seeing themselves in the mirror, recognising the person who they're meant to be there brings tears to Sam's eyes, and not for the first time. They carefully dab at them with a tissue, thanking again the wisdom of online trans people in suggesting waterproof eye makeup. They have a mission themselves, they can't afford to get too distracted.

They consider whether to bring their messenger bag or not. Maybe not today. They fish in their storage tubs - furniture is a luxury they previously couldn't afford - for the deep blue handbag they also found in an second-hand shop. They transfer their usual pocket contents to it, and then...

They pause. They've never navigated the city this way. Never dared. Never wanted to take the risk of discovery.

They remember that have the means now - or will shortly. Savings that they'd kept for the too-frequent rainy days between jobs, for moving between sharehouses, for trans health care that was never available? That can now be spent freely. So a ride share is the fastest, safest way to their destination, to navigate the city without using a voice that might fatally give them away as being trans.

So they summon one to go to a familiar location. And hope that Priti will be there today.

--

A initially tense but quiet car ride follows - thankfully, professional drivers have seen it all, and generally care more about the app ratings and getting paid than who's in the back seat. Sam muses again about what it's like to move through the world while perceived as feminine - they know they are, they know they've always been accused of it, often received violence, physical and otherwise, because of it. But now they get to commit to it, to be it, to live it as little or as much as they've want to. And they very much want to.

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It's a daunting prospect, almost as worrying as what to do with their windfall.

But this is not the mission. This is not the battle to fight today - and Sam realises they have many battles ahead to fight. They add self-defence lessons to a growing digital list of things to do to benefit them personally with their windfall. Right below voice lessons and laser hair removal. They suspect there's a large number of skills and services they'll be adding to this list.

The ride share pulls in across the street from Priti's workplace, the convenience store. This is it, the moment of truth.

Sam glides as gracefully as they know how through the entrance to the store, noting how they much prefer their reflection this time. Their smile is warm and genuine as they note - yes, they've timed it right, Priti is here!

They're about to open their mouth to speak when Priti looks up from the counter and sees Sam. A moment of surprise, followed by sudden recognition, and a pure joy crosses Priti's face. Sam lets out a breath they didn't realise they were holding.

"Sam? Sam! Oh my god, Sam! Oh, wow! You're gorgeous!" Priti exclaims.

Sam stumbles over their words as they deal with two unfamiliar things - a compliment, and being perceived, finally, as who they are, by someone important to them. "H-hey Priti" Sam manages to get out.

Priti practically runs around the counter to embrace Sam in a surprise bear hug. "Wow, it is so amazing to see you! And dressed like this! Wow! When you didn't show up at lunch time for the last week, I started to get worried I wouldn't see you again! What happened??" she asks excitedly.

Sam gathers themselves, surprised by the human contact as much as the concern. "... I-I got fired, and then I won the lottery, and then..." they stammer.

"Holy shit! Holy shit! So it was *you* who won the $80 million? My boss said we'd had a winner in store, but we didn't know who! Oh my god, I cannot think of a better person to win it! Oh my god, oh my god, what are you going to do now??" Priti spits out, practically at light speed. They release Sam from the hug, and stand back to allow the shocked enby to speak.

Said shocked enby carries on as best as they can. "... I... I was talking to my friend Sophie, and we were thinking we were going to get together everyone queer we could, and try to figure out a way to make the world better." they hesitantly reply.

Priti half-not-gently punches Sam's shoulder in excitement - "no way! Damn, you're bold! Ending your boymoding streak *and* trying to change the world too?? Wow, the ovaries on you!"

Sam reels from the affectionate assault, surprised by the enthusiasm as much as the playful familiarity - "... I was thinking I wanted you and Rehema to be a part of it. You're both STEM femmes, and... I'm worried we don't have all the right people in the room, you know?"

Priti gives Sam a thoughtful look, clearly weighing up Sam's trustworthiness, and continues - "huh, you're full of surprises today. Okay, cool. I'll have to talk about it with Rehema, of course. But if you can pay us... well, shit, it's gotta be better than here!" she gestures around at the store.

She continues - "Rehema and I have some ideas about artificial intelligence and automated food production, and I reckon maybe we could get somewhere, if we were given the time and resources to."

It's Sam's turn to look thoughtful - "... that's... yeah, I think that's exactly what we're looking for. I and Sophie."

Sam continues - "I'll need to get in someone to work out how to make this work - I don't want to cause Rehema any visa trouble - but... yeah! Good! Perfect!" Sam lights up as initial ideas about trusts and foundations and administrative teams click into place.

It's now Sam's turn to ask for Priti's number. "... can I get your contact details, so that Sophie and I can include you in this, when it happens?"

Priti chuckles - "hey, look at you, asking for a girl's number! I wondered if you were ever the type to do that. Sure, lemme have your phone for a second?" she asks, holding her hand out expectantly.

Sam obediently hands their phone over, and Priti puts her number, her email, and her chat program details into Sam's contacts. Priti raises a pierced eyebrow at Sam - "now, you do remember I *am* a married woman, right? No lewds, no nudes, yeah?" she says slyly.

Sam blushes furiously - Priti's outrageously forward, and not at all mindful of boundaries, but this lands a huge, huge hit on Sam. Sam stammers out something in the negative, and Priti leans in to say "gotcha" with a smile.

Priti rocks back on her heels, and sighs. "I suppose I'd better get back to work, else I'll get in trouble with the boss" she says gesturing vaguely to the ever-present store cameras. "Until you come through with this, I gotta keep the lights on at home. You keep me in the loop with your plans, yeah? We got a world to save." she concludes.

Sam is still too addled to think, let alone reply - they nod, and make their way out of the store. On the way out, they have a sudden thought.

Sam calls back to Priti - "do you know any good local accountants? Anyone good with trusts, anything like that? And queer friendly?"

Priti, now back behind the counter, thinks, and offers - "one of my aunts knows my deal, and has been cool enough with it. She manages trusts for rich people all the time - family trusts, corporate ones, that sort of thing. Send me a message, and I'll give you her details, and help you set up a meet and greet. I figure you'll need it, she's... a bit intense." Priti cautions.

Sam nods, unsure of what that means, but happy to have one of an ever-expanding list of problems potentially solved. They're going to have to get good at delegating - asking and trusting others to help them. And those mental muscles don't move super easily. Especially not after a lifetime of casual abuse at the hands of strangers, as many queer-read people receive.

Sam smiles gratefully back at Priti, though, says a slightly over-the-top thanks, waves, and leaves the store.

Things are happening. It's exciting and terrifying at the same time. Sam orders another ride share and heads home.