Thursday, August 28th, 2042, Home of the Porter family, Maywood Park, Oregon.

"… Is this an isolated phenomenon? Or could it happen to others? Until we know more, we advise everyone to stay away from the game."

On the living room's flat screen TV, Chloe Macintyre had just finished delivering her public safety news bulletin. Eduardo clicked the remote hastily, plunging the room into darkness, the only light coming from the city outside.

Lucia flicked the switch on the tall floor lamp beside her recliner. The soft glow chased away the shadows. Next to her, her parents sat frozen in stunned silence on the loveseat.

"Seriously?" Lucia muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. "She just broadcasted him like that? Freaking Chloe MacIntyre." Her words were sharp, protective, and filled with vitriol. "What a bunch of exploitative jerks! Wasn't this non-consensual exposure? Is it even legal on live TV? Couldn't Ryan sue them?"

Her heart thudded in her chest, the steady rhythm almost loud enough to drown out the silence that had fallen over the living room. But the journalist's voice still lingered in her ears.

She stared at the dark screen. The image of Ryan—no, Kaelyn—still burned into her corneas. Her big brother's face, morphing, shifting into someone else entirely. Into her—the impossible and beautiful catgirl he had created just yesterday.

The very notion was beyond silly. There was no way someone could turn into their video-game character! It was simply not something modern medicine or science could explain. As for magic? Well, everyone knew magic was not real. Except… now she might have to change her mind about this statement... Could it instead be some kind of technology advanced enough to be indistinguishable from magic? Try as she might, Lucia could not explain how it happened, or even why.

She put a stop to this train of thoughts; those questions were the wrong focus. After all, if the reporter was right, the change had already happened. And thus, there was little point in debating whether it could happen or not. Upon seeing the image of her brother's current appearance, side by side with how he had looked just a day ago, the truth had hit her. She knew the changes were real, because she had seen, and dismissed them earlier today.

All those little differences in Ryan's appearance had nagged at her—things she had noticed when he got home. Details she had shrugged off, rationalised as tricks of memory or misunderstandings. After all, it had been a while since she had last seen him in person.

People don't just turn into their game characters. Why would anyone jump to such an unreasonable conclusion?

No, it was more plausible to assume her brain was playing tricks on her. It was how the human mind worked: eyes did not take in a perfect, seamless picture of the world; they focused on a tiny area at a time. The rest—the edges of your vision, the colours, the shapes—was a patchwork of guesses and memory, stitched together by your brain to create the illusion of a complete, unbroken reality. Most of the time, this system worked flawlessly. But when something unexpected happened, something outside of the ordinary, the mind's guesses could falter. Misinterpret.

Maybe this was why she had dismissed the way his jawline seemed sharper now, or how his posture had subtly shifted. Her brain had filled in the gaps with the most likely explanation: bad lighting, old memories, maybe even stress playing tricks on her. But seeing the photographic proof stripped those illusions away. This was not a trick of perception. It was real, and it was happening to her brother, not some nameless stranger on TV.

But what about her parents? Surely either of them noticed something?

"Papá? Didn't you go to Ryan's place yesterday? Did you notice anything weird about him?"

Both of Eduardo's knuckles turned white, one fist clutching the couch's armrest, the other the remote control. His head slowly turned to look at her, and he opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out.

Lucia let out a sigh. She had almost forgotten who she was talking to. Her father was taciturn, at best. As she met his gaze, she searched his eyes intently, hoping to find the meaning concealed by his silence, trying to understand what he would not say. Beneath his current stoicism, she perceived a hint of guilt and considerable anxiety.

Oh. Great job, Lucia. Way to go. You're making Papá feel as if it's all his fault.

She knew he likely could not have prevented any of this from happening. It was water under the bridge. This was not about blame—it was about damage control.

She turned to assess how her mother was handling things. Sarah sat next to Eduardo, both hands clutching her husband's. Her gaze darted all over the room, as though searching for something—anything—that could anchor her to reality. Sarah Porter, the family's bedrock of calm and reason, now seemed adrift, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Lucia felt the weight of the silence again. She tried to summon words—any words—that would break through the suffocating stillness. She had to know for sure how her mother was taking this news.

"Mamá?" she asked, her voice softer now. "What do you think… about all this?"

Sarah faced her daughter, startled, as if pulled from a deep well of thought. For a moment, she said nothing, her brow furrowed. Then she sighed and squeezed Eduardo's hand a little tighter.

"I don't know…" Sarah said, her shaking voice echoing the uncertainty in her eyes. "This can't be really happening, can it, hija?"

Lucia got why her mom was grieving; it was only natural. This was so sudden, unexpected.

So, denial it is. But what about me? How am I feeling about this?

She paused, focusing inwards, trying to sort out her own feelings.

Well, first, she instantly recognised the feeling of anger. But at who, or what, was the question? That journalist? Not only had they doxxed her family's address earlier on the news for everyone to see, but she had blatantly lied to her and Ryan about not recording anything inside the house. The picture they used on the news about how he looked today? She must have taken it during their private meeting in the kitchen, earlier today.

That bitch. Guess I learned never to trust one of those snakes again.

Lucia fumed, feeling the urge to punch the reporter in the teeth if she ever came face to face again. Although the fantasy was entertaining, the risk of arrest for assault—even with the possibility of reduced penalties for a minor—outweighed the potential rewards.

Okay, so she was pissed off. But beyond anger, what was next? How did the news of Ryan turning into Kaelyn make her feel? How would she feel if she was in his shoes, if that was happening to her? Turning into the world's most popular catgirl, the face of the glitch?

On one hand, there was the whole instant fame aspect. Ryan had created this character in order to get into groups easily, did he not? He had wanted to be desired and famous? Maybe even to be seen.

Fame was not something Lucia was interested in. She desired no more than she already had—she was already fairly popular, and she knew the pitfalls of living rent free in everyone's minds. But thanks to this, she could also understand the appeal. Other than his current girlfriend, Megan, Ryan did not have many friends, and spent most of his days in VR. She saw why he valued popularity, imagining the attention and acceptance it might bring.

But back to his transformation. It was not simply turning into a famous person. There was the whole cat-person thing going on. Lucia did not wish for any extra appendage like cat ears or a tail. But if she had to, she assumed she could live with them. It would simply be something to get used to. Maybe she was making it sound a bit too simple, but she doubted it would be so difficult to adapt to.

Our brains and bodies are super flexible—they'll get used to anything.

So, looking at what was literally happening to Ryan? If that exact transformation happened to her, she doubted she would freak out, but she would not celebrate it either. It would bring new challenges, for sure, but once the initial public excitement had worn off, it would just be life, right?

Instead of looking at it that way, she reframed it in her mind. Ryan was turning into his video game character. The one he had created, fashioned into being. Kaelyn was someone he thought was attractive, someone he admired. This part was obvious.

So if Lucia was in his shoes—if she was being transformed into some idealised, fictional character she came up with—how would she feel?

Wouldn't that be thrilling?

To come up with a new identity, and instead of simply being this new person inside a game, to walk around the actual world, wearing their skin?

Lucia considered the hypothetical scenario, and, surprisingly, she felt a sense of excitement at the prospect of it happening to her. However, she was not sure Ryan shared her way of thinking.

Clearly, her mother had her own issues with her son suddenly becoming someone else. But this was simply how parents were supposed to act; always comparing their children to some idealised picture in their head of who they should or could become?

Of course, Lucia had so far chosen not to address one aspect of Ryan's transformation. He was turning into a woman. Like she was, like her mother, and like about half of the population of the planet. Though she anticipated some resistance on his part, Lucia did not believe womanhood was something to be ashamed of. But she did not know just how attached to his sexual characteristics or gender his brother actually was. With six years between them, their conversations rarely touched on such deep topics.

No matter where he stood, the fact remained: Ryan had made a female character. And yesterday, when he was posing in front of the mirror in the VR room, he had looked quite comfortable with it. Lucia understood the difference; the playful confidence Ryan exuded during photoshoots and online gaming was not the same as the demanding 24/7 reality of being a woman.

Lucia's gaze turned back to her mother, whose face was still pale but determined. "We're family. We'll figure this out," she declared confidently, her tone firmer now, not just for her mother's benefit but for herself too.

But her mother's returning gaze bore a hole into her heart. "He's still down there, on that… machine… in the basement? Do you think, if we disconnect it, that it will save him? Stop this?"

Her words make it clear how Mamá views this; to her, this is something we have to save Ryan from.

Sarah started to stand up, but Eduardo gently held her back. Lucia jumped off her seat and gestured for her mother to stay still. Before anything, she had to put a stop to any rash decisions; the last thing they needed right now was to add neural whiplash to Ryan's condition.

"Disconnecting someone who is in a FullDive rig's risky. Let me check up on him first. I'll let him know we'd like to chat."

Lucia hesitated for a moment, glancing back at her parents. The weight of her mother's worried gaze and her father's unspoken guilt pressed heavily on her. It was more than Ryan's change; it was about the pressure on the parents to be in charge. To handle everything.

Taking a deep breath, Lucia headed to the stairs leading to the basement, the sound of her footsteps unusually loud in the quiet living room. Her fingers brushed the wooden handrail, and she paused, her heart pounding in her chest. She did not know what she was walking into down there, or how Ryan might react to everything. But she had to go.

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The basement stairs creaked under her weight as she descended, her hand trailing along the railing for balance. As she opened the door, the faint hum of the FullDive rig grew louder, the mechanical whir a reminder of the technology that had allegedly facilitated all of this. She looked at the device, still not believing how a device hooked to someone's spinal cord, nervous system and digestive track could be responsible for a full-body transformation.

The basement was dimly lit, the glow of the rig casting an eerie, otherworldly light across the room. Ryan laid down in the sleek, futuristic chair, the visor of the FullDive helmet obscuring his face. Now that she knew to look for it, it struck Lucia just how different her brother looked today, his body slender and delicate in ways that did not match the Ryan she had grown up with. The quiet rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of movement.

"Ryan?" she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly despite her effort to keep it steady.

Of course, there was no response. She knew he could not hear her—not while connected to the rig—but saying his name felt like anchoring herself, reminding her of who he was. She stepped closer, the soft hum of the machine filling the silence, and reached out hesitantly to touch his arm.

Before her fingers made contact, the FullDive helmet's visor flickered, and a small notification screen popped up, displaying her brother's serene, almost unrecognisable face. User status: Connected. Do not disturb.

Lucia frowned. She hated the thought of disrupting him, knowing the risks of pulling someone out of a dive improperly. She knew her parents could not just wait for him to emerge on his own. No—they would want to talk to him sooner rather than later.

She was about to use the interface to let him know to log out, but she wondered. Is Ryan even aware of what was going on? He had to, right? Nothing he had said or done today had even hinted at it. Not to her, not to her parents. Does this mean he somehow did not notice all the changes to his own body? She studied his face, his hair, and she was amazed at how she had failed to notice the changes. There was no way he would. Was it even possible to change to this extent, and be unaware of it?

Lucia stopped to think about it. Change blindness. The phenomenon when people fail to notice change when it happens too slowly. It made rational sense—even the person undergoing the change might fail to notice it. For starters, it is tricky to look at one's own body. People cannot even look at their faces without some kind of reflective surface. And assuming Ryan had taken a shower today, looking at yourself in a foggy mirror with wet hair? It was entirely possible he did not notice, or perhaps he simply disregarded his unusual appearance; either way, he may not have paid it any mind.

Looking back at her own life, Lucia's retrospective view of her own puberty revealed a period of considerable transformation which, in her day-to-day life, felt imperceptible. A picture of her today had little in common with the Lucia from three years ago.

So Ryan might not even know he was transforming? Probably not—Lucia imagined he would have panicked or something. He might have reached out to someone, or have stayed in his apartment and isolated himself. With this revelation in mind, Lucia now realised the unenviable position she found herself in: there was a pretty high chance she would be the one breaking the news to his brother that he was transforming. Into his character, Kaelyn.

"How, exactly, am I supposed to do that?!" she said in annoyance, mostly for her own benefit. "Hey bro, so you're turning into the world's first catgirl. Cool, huh?"

She rolled her eyes as she face-palmed at the sheer absurdity of how it sounded.

Okay. We can workshop this. Maybe we can use a bit more tact instead of that approach.

She sat down on the edge of an old, worn couch near the rig, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "Ryan, if you can hear me in there," she said, her voice soft but firm, "we need to talk. We're all worried sick—me included."

The room was still. The only answer was the low hum of the machine and the faint buzz of electricity in the air. Her gaze lingered on the helmet, wondering what he was seeing, what he was feeling in that moment. What was Kaelyn up to?

Her thoughts wandered back to the news broadcast, to the image of Kaelyn plastered across the screen for the world to see. It was not just about Ryan anymore. All these strangers watching, judging, speculating. And she hated how it all happened without his consent, with no control over what was happening to him. There was this huge metaphorical spotlight shining on their house and her brother.

And the worst part? She understood why the news channel aired that news report, despite the ethical concerns. What if Ryan was not the only one this was happening to? What if this news broadcast saved millions of people from a similar fate?

But was it really such a terrible fate? Most of her university friends who had heard about the glitch bought the game and created characters to mess around with different avatars in VR. To experiment with how they presented, and how their friends or the world at large responded to this new version of themselves they showed to others. One they had complete control over. Complete control in a world where most people had to content themselves with virtual lives.

Of course, for some people—who may include Ryan, she had to admit—their reason for picking a specific avatar might not have been to use outside of the game. For anyone who did not choose their character to project a new image… Suddenly becoming someone that you created as an escape or experiment differed totally from becoming someone that represented your true inner self.

"Alright," she said, leaning forward slightly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know what's going on or how this is even possible. But I'm here, bro."

She reached out, her hand accessing the control panel. For a moment, she hesitated, bracing herself for what might come next. But she deftly navigated through the various menus and found the one to alert the user that someone outside wanted to talk to them. Having done so, she sat back, her eyes fixed on the glowing machine, waiting.

Lucia's heart pounded as the FullDive rig emitted a soft chime, signalling it delivered the message. She stared at the machine, waiting for any sign that Ryan was about to log out. The moments stretched endlessly, each second amplifying her nerves. She could hear the faint mechanical whir of the system slowing down, its lights dimming slightly as the user began the disconnection process.

Finally, the visor lifted, and Ryan's eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim light of the basement. Lucia froze, unsure what to say now that she was face-to-face with her brother. Now that she knew what to look out for, she saw that even his eyes had changed colour. The eyes. The window to the soul, as some call them. Lucia could deal with many changes to her brother's appearance, but for a reason she could not quite explain, that one seemed to be where she drew the line.

His longer golden hair fell into his face as he raised himself up. She saw him tuck the hair behind his ears in a motion that seemed so natural to him, but simultaneously felt so alien to the brother she had known. His shoulders were now slightly narrower than they ought to be.

Ryan rubbed at his temples as if waking from a deep sleep. His now mossy green eyes focused on Lucia, narrowing in confusion.

"Lucia?" he asked before clearing his throat. "What… what's going on? Did something happen?"

Lucia swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "Hey, bro. How you doing?" She winced at how awkward that sounded, but pressed on. "We should talk. There's… something going on. Mamá and Papá are upstairs, and they'll want to talk about this."

Ryan frowned, glancing down at himself. He flexed his hands, and a flicker of unease crossed his face. "What's going on? Wait—" He froze, his gaze snapping back to Lucia, then around the room. "Mom and Dad…? Oh right, I almost forgot I was using the basement rig. Sorry for hogging it all afternoon…"

Lucia smiled awkwardly. "Oh, don't fret. You've only been in there for a few hours, but…" She hesitated, searching for the right words. "Ryan, have you noticed anything… different about yourself?"

Ryan stared at her, the confusion deepening into something like dread. "What do you mean, 'different'?"

Lucia bit her lip. She tried to prepare herself for this, but now, under the weight of his wide, anxious eyes, the words felt impossibly heavy. "Come, follow me," she said, gesturing toward a corner of the basement. One where an old mirror rested against the wall, waiting for someone to remember to fasten it properly. She stood up and waited for him.

Ryan hesitated before sliding off the rig, his movements graceful but uncertain, as if his own body felt unfamiliar. Together, they stepped toward the mirror, each step slower than the last. When they finally stood in front of the glass, he raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Lucia stared as Ryan looked at his reflection in the mirror. He turned to her and shrugged. "I don't get it? Is anything wrong?" He brushed some strands of hair that obscured his face. "Is it the hair? I know I haven't gone for a haircut in a while…"

She let out a long sigh. He either was trying to act as if it was no big deal, or he really had not noticed a thing.

"Come here, closer. Take a good, hard look at our eyes."

Ryan leaned forward and squinted hard. He inspected his own face, then his sister's. He shook his head. "What should I be looking at?"

Lucia raised an eyebrow in incredulity. Was change blindness really that powerful? Maybe if she told him what to look for?

"We've always both had the same eye colour. Can't you see the difference? Yours aren't hazel brown anymore, they're turning green."

Ryan went back to staring at the mirror. "Isn't that just because of the light? Eye colour isn't something that changes over life, is it?"

Lucia wondered about that. She recalled some medical conditions or medications could darken or lighten the colour. She also knew hormones in puberty could affect the colour a little. And the most well-known case was children. They usually are born with blue eyes, and the colour develops over the first twelve months. But otherwise, no, they rarely changed. When they did, it was usually a sign of an underlying medical condition.

She shook her head. "No, Ry. Most people's eyes don't just change colour overnight."

He turned to face her and shrugged. "Okay, so my eye colour changed a little, and that's unusual. But what's all the fuss?"

Lucia smiled painfully at her brother. Time to break out the news the hard way, then.

"Well, a few minutes ago, Chloe Macintyre gave this news flash on TV…"

Ryan nodded. "Was it the result of the interview…?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly… But it's related."

How could she tell him? Should she show him the news flash on her phone? Describe it? Or should she simply drop the bomb?

"Look, bro. I will not beat around the bush. She lied to your face and used footage from when she came inside the house. She showed your face to everyone on TV."

Ryan grimaced and rubbed at his temple. "Of course she would… What did she show?"

Lucia gave him a few seconds until he focused on her again before answering.

"She showed your face, and compared it to your government ID picture… and then to Kaelyn's face."

He rolled his eyes. "What, did she just make some breaking news about a guy playing a girl character online? What is this, the nineties?"

Lucia swallowed hard.

This is it: the big reveal.

"No, no. She didn't mock you for playing a girl character. But she showed how… well… how you're turning into her. Into Kaelyn."

Ryan froze, his face a mixture of confusion and incredulity. For a long moment, he just stared at Lucia, as if waiting for her to crack a smile and admit it was all some elaborate joke. When she did not, a bark of laughter escaped him, loud and sharp in the dim basement.

"You're kidding, right?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. He gestured at himself, then at the mirror. "Lucia, come on. I'm not turning into Kaelyn. That's ridiculous. I'd know if something like that was happening."

Lucia's expression remained serious, her arms crossed. "Would you, though? How long have you spent in front of the mirror today? And, I don't know, maybe you haven't looked at yourself closely. But trust me, bro. It's happening."

Ryan looked at her for a moment, his amusement fading. "Wait, you're actually serious?"

Lucia nodded, her eyes softening. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but… it's not just me. Mamá and Papá noticed too. Small things, but your hair, your eyes, your face… even your shoulders."

She took a step back and looked at her brother, putting a hand over her head and then comparing it to her brother's height.

"… You got shorter, too, haven't you?" she asked worriedly.

Ryan staggered away from the mirror and slumped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. "No way. No freaking way."

Lucia sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "I know it's a lot to process, but… you can't just deny it, Ry. It's all over if you look hard enough. Your hair, your eyes, your build—it's all changed. Slowly, maybe, but it's happening. The TV show said you're twenty-five percent of the way there—they estimate three more days…"

He peeked through his fingers, glancing again at his reflection in the mirror. His olive-green eyes lingered on the unfamiliar curve of his cheekbones, the softer angles of his face. His hands fell to his lap, trembling slightly. "But how?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How is this even possible?"

Lucia shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe it's some freak accident with the FullDive tech. Or… I don't know, something to do with the glitch affecting everyone's avatars. But the why or how doesn't matter right now. You've got me. Mamá and Papá are there for you too…"

Ryan laughed again, but this time it was hollow, tinged with desperation. "I've got you three? Lu, if what you say is true, I'm turning into a freaking girl. What can you three do about it? What can I do?"

Lucia squeezed his shoulder. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being a girl, okay? You're still my brother—or sister, if this is who you want to be. You're still Ryan, no matter what you look like. And maybe there's something that can be done? Since we know it's happening?"

Ryan stared at her, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

Lucia smiled softly. "Dead serious. Now come on. Mamá and Papá are waiting upstairs, and they're worried sick."

Ryan hesitated, shaking his head. He glanced at the mirror one last time. This time, something in his expression shifted—like he finally saw it. Maybe he just had to know to look for them, like she did?

He looked upstairs, and he looked frightened now. Frightened of facing their parents. His shoulders slumped, and he picked up a cushion from the couch, squeezing it in his arms. "Do I have to?" he asked, hesitation in his voice. "Can I… I don't know… not deal with this tonight? Push the awkward talk to tomorrow? I… I'd like to sort myself out first. Sleep on it?"

Lucia's heart stung at the sight of her older brother's struggles. She could understand why he would want to be left alone for the time being. She could not imagine the storm raging in his mind right now.

She nodded slowly, moving towards the stairs. "Sure thing, bro. I'll let them know; tell them you're going to be sleeping over. I'll be right back with some bedsheets, a pillow and stuff..."

He did not respond.

She climbed the dimly lit staircase back to the ground floor and headed to the living room, where their parents were waiting. They would probably be okay waiting for tomorrow once she told them he planned to stay the night. She would have to convince them he was doing okay. And as far as she could tell, the change had not progressed at all since lunch.

With luck, this would be as far as it went. She did not like relying on luck. Still, what could they do? What could she do?

She could respect his wish for some time alone. It was a start. So she would make sure he got it, even if it meant shielding him from Mamá's unavoidable anxious outbursts. Hopefully Papá would help her with this.

It was not much—but it was something she could do.

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