Thursday, August 28th, 2042, Capitol Hill, Seattle, Washington.

The soft hum of the FullDive rig faded into silence as Emmy blinked, her surroundings dissolving from the vibrant bustle of Luminara to the dim, cramped familiarity of her apartment. The transition from the immersive game world to the muted reality of her tiny space always felt jarring.

Her chair adjusted itself back into its upright position with a soft whirr, and she reached up, unhooking the neural interface from the port at the base of her neck. The slight tug of disconnection always left her feeling exposed, like peeling off a second skin.

She sat still for a moment, staring at the far wall lit up by the glow of one of the rig's tiny screens. The rig constantly monitored her vitals, and the touch-screen interface allowed her to review any anomalies if necessary. She checked, but as usual, there were no warning signs requiring her immediate attention.

The faint scent of lavender from an essential oil diffuser in the corner mingled with the distant, comforting sound of rain tapping against the window. It was quiet—too quiet compared to the laughter and chaos of Elyssia's day in the game.

Emmy rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in. The hours spent as her character were thrilling, invigorating, even liberating. But they were also draining. It was not just the gameplay—it was the emotional intensity of stepping into a world where she could truly be herself. The stark contrast between the freedom of Elyssia's life and the constraints of Emmy's reality weighed heavily on her shoulders.

She glanced around the room. Her tiny apartment was neat, almost to a fault. Her kitchenette gleamed with spotless counters, her few dishes drying on a rack by the sink. The table in the corner held her collection of books and notes—mostly work-related, though a few personal projects peeked out from beneath the piles. Her VR rig dominated the room, sleek and modern, a silent reminder of the life she wanted but couldn't quite reach.

The LED lights of the clock on the wall blinked softly: 10:47 PM. Earlier than she had intended to log out, but both Vaelith and Kaelyn had disconnected suddenly. At least they had managed two runs of the Coralshade Cove Caverns' dungeon.

The first run had gone predictably. Not bad, by any means—just rote and uninspired. Emmy had wanted to know how her party members could do on their own. She had a fair idea of what Vaelith could do—what Jason could do—as she had seen it in other games. He was fine with following others—true. He often tried to take up as little space as possible and bent over backwards to make everyone comfortable. But he was also a far better gamer than he gave himself credit for. He had a sharp mind and could optimise his rotation with minimal input.

So it almost physically hurt Emmy to see how just one day of playing with others had clipped Jason's wings. Vaelith had been hesitant to use the abilities she had, mostly because players considered them disruptive. She could tell someone had trained her in the typical MMO player mindset. People were risk averse and stuck to simple strategies. Brain-dead strategies, the ones anyone could pull off. And it made sense when playing with strangers. You never knew how good or not the people who would join up with you were.

So when a party leader had to choose between two healers, two tanks, or two damage dealers? The vast majority of the players would pick the safer bet; priests, guardians, elementalists and rangers. Or at least, that's how it went with the beginning classes in this game. Brutes, martial artists, mages and druids were not bad classes. They were just more technical, and thus, bigger gambles for party leaders.

As a result, most players built their strategies around the strengths and weaknesses of popular classes. Guardians were slow and disliked repositioning. They were the proverbial immovable object. As cornerstone members of most groups, players made sure to cater to the tank's needs. As a result, the community frowned upon abilities which moved enemies around the battlefield.

That was why Jason had learned to avoid using some of Vaelith's strongest spells. But Elyssia had corrected the problem swiftly. All she had needed to do was to ask Vaelith to use the spell on cooldown.

Thanks to that, instead of a slow dungeon run with boring, predictable encounters, the second run had felt more like a crazed pinball machine. Kaelyn's Sanctuary, Vaelith's Telekinetic Blast, and Leoric's traps tossed enemies left and right. Elyssia used Dash and Earth Kick to dart between enemy groups and gather them back up. They cleared the dungeon in record time—and not just figuratively. The game actually kept a record of which adventuring parties had cleared any dungeon in the shortest time, and advertised their name at the start of every run.

Kaelyn had recorded both runs and asked for permission to post them on her channel later. Everyone had given their agreement to that. Thanks to her past as a raider, Emmy was used to internet fame. She doubted shattering the record for a level fifteen starter dungeon would attract much attention to begin with.

I wonder how long we'll keep the top position? It'll probably be gone already by morning.

Emmy slid herself off the rig's chair just as a notification pinged softly from her phone. She reached over to the counter, where it lay face down, and flipped it over. A message from an unknown sender lit up the screen: "Em? This is Soraya. Sorry for the out-of-the-blue message—I asked Priya for your number when I heard the news! Are you okay?!"

Her first reaction was to smile at Soraya's continued usage of the nickname Em, but then she frowned at the danger of allowing this behaviour to remain unchecked. It was a slippery slope. She reminded herself of how quickly things could escalate if people found her out… She especially dreaded what would happen, if or when the rumours ever reached Claire.

Should I put an end to this right now? Should I remind Soraya to just call me M-E, like everyone else?

She let out a long sigh, reread the message, and raised a quizzical eyebrow. What could be so urgent to message her this late? She typed a quick reply, asking for an explanation. "Hey Soraya. I am…? What news are you talking about?"

She scrolled through her phone's options and added the number to her contacts. It was unusual for a coworker to message her outside work hours—especially this late. But in this case, it was not this unusual; the two ended up spending most of the evening together, after all.

She probably should think of Soraya as a friend rather than colleague, she realised, as she changed her designation in the contact details.

A friend, huh?

She had precious few of those, these days.

The rain outside grew heavier, tapping against the window with rhythmic insistence. Emmy padded over to the kitchenette, phone in hand. She poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, her thoughts on Soraya's cryptic message. The energy of the game was still coursing through her, but the quiet solitude of her apartment was pulling her back to reality.

Her phone beeped again—another message from Soraya. It contained a link to a news article from some Oregon-based outlet. Then another message quickly followed. "You haven't heard, then? Follow the link and ping me back after you're done. Quickly, please!"

Emmy opened the link. It sent her to some article with a terribly click-baity title. Something something, some famous player suddenly turning into their video-game character? As expected, there was a video link to the news flash—but thankfully, they also included a written summary. Emmy skipped past the video and started skimming through the article. She hated how videos had taken over everything lately.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Anyway, what's this article about?

She scrolled furiously, going past the slew of advertisement and pictures, scanning the body of the article, passing over several pictures of Kaelyn. She had heard how the felinae had become synonymous with the avatar glitch.

But why is her picture plastered all over this story?

When she finally reached the relevant information, her mind froze up. She reread the statement once, twice, then a third time. "Analysts suspect Ryan Porter's appearance is transforming to match his in-game avatar, and if the transformation continues at this rate, the change will be complete in three days."

That's got to be a joke, right? It's not even April Fools!

Emmy held her breath as she quickly ran a search on the trustworthiness and reputation of the news outlet. She had never heard of KOIN 6 before, so she wondered if this was a parody website or a reputable one. But everything pointed out to it being a legitimate news station.

Okay, so this is a trustworthy source…

She scanned the article again. In the interest of public safety, the television station had broadcasted their special news bulletin warning viewers of a dangerous health hazard and advising them to take steps to protect themselves. A warning to the world about their suspicions of how multiple players in the game she played were transforming into their avatar.

The fact that this player was on her team had to be some kind of coincidence—or a cruel twist of fate.

So Kaelyn's real identity is some guy from Oregon called Ryan Porter, then? Talk about publicly naming and blaming someone about what they do in their spare time.

Turning into your avatar? Could that really be true? Was it even possible? Emmy wondered what she would do if that happened to her—and smiled at the thought.

Goodbye, AMAB body, you can go now, and trust me, I won't miss you one bit.

But then she remembered her day at work: being stuck in Elyssia's body for a whole day had not been sunshine and rainbows. In a way, it should have been a dream come true to her. If Kaelyn's player's sudden transformation was real… And if it would happen to her? Then that would also be the realisation of one of Emmy's most frequent night-time fantasy.

Not having to go through medical transition. Just waking up one day and bam! Suddenly turned into a woman. Not having the chance to say yes or no, having someone else take the choice away completely? This way, if people asked her, she could simply say she was just trying her best to deal with the situation she was stuck in? This was the dream, was it not?

But then people would expect her to fight it, right? To seek medical help to return to her old self? Masculinizing HRT, top surgery, boyish clothes, short hair?

She shuddered at the idea of trying to undo this gift. To willingly take steps to return to a body like her current one.

But would she have a choice? If she didn't fight it—if she just went along with it—people might start to suspect something. They might realise she was fine with suddenly being in a different body. They might realise she was happy with it.

She let out a long sigh. Even if that was possible, and if it was happening to her, instead of Kaelyn's player… It would not be an easy thing to deal with, would it?

What would Claire say or do? Heck, why would her ex's opinion even matter? What would the government do? Skipping a medical transition was one thing, but she would still need to go through the legal one. And then there was the social transition. Reintroducing herself to friend and family.

Showing the world who and how she truly felt inside?

This was… frightening. Beyond that, even. Terrifying. Horrifying!

But then her thoughts drifted to her children—Ewan and Maya… The faces of her children flashed in her mind. Their expressions during yesterday's virtual call played over in her head, the way Maya's eyes lit up with curiosity, and Ewan's easy grin when he jokingly told her how she looked like a classic video game protagonist. She felt her chest tighten—a bittersweet ache lingering after their calls, as always. They were her anchor, her light in the swirling chaos of everything else. But every time they said goodbye, it reminded her of how far apart they were, how much of their lives she missed.

Would she still be allowed to see them if this happened to her? Would they even recognise her? Claire already limited their contact to VR Chat—even though they lived just minutes apart.

Cold sweat ran down her back as a terrible thought struck her: what if the government started detaining affected players for study? She shook the thought away. Hypotheticals of that nature were a waste of time; she was not one of the victims. The article only confirmed one case, right? Kaelyn was the only one affected, as far as anyone knew.

Emmy's phone buzzing in her hands jolted her from those spiralling thoughts. She looked down at the screen—another message from Soraya. "Em? Are you there? Are you okay? Answer me, please!"

Guilt prickled at her for taking so long to reply. Time to calm her down—nothing was happening to her, after all. Unfortunately, she silently thought. "Sorry—I'm here. I'm okay. Do you actually believe any of that? I'm surprised they even published it. Doesn't it sound too crazy to be true?"

Soraya responded almost immediately. "It sounds surreal, for sure. I went over every inch of my body earlier. Couldn't see any changes here. Le sigh. :("

Emmy blinked at the message, reading it a second time to make sure she had read it properly.

Wait… she wants this?

And she had openly admitted this to her? "Wait a second—are you actually hoping to turn into Kohana? Seriously?"

It took a few seconds for Soraya to reply, but the length of her answer spoke volume about what she thought of the idea. "Of course! Between the choice of being boring old me and being an ice-cool Kindred dracan in real life, there's really no contest! What—are you telling me you wouldn't want to be Elyssia full-time? With the glitch going on, you're already her for most of the day, between work and gaming."

Emmy stared at the message, her mind racing. Did Soraya really mean this? Or was it just a passing thought, something said in jest? The tone seemed lighthearted, but the sheer honesty of it was striking. People did not admit often such a profound yearning for change. And never so casually. It left Emmy wondering if Soraya felt the same itch beneath her skin, the one that whispered in quiet moments. The itch to know what if you could just be?

She tapped out a response, her fingers hesitating for a moment before sending. "It's not that simple. Being Elyssia full-time would be… complicated."

Soraya's reply came back almost instantly. "Complicated how? She's you. Or at least the 'you' you want to be, right? You move, talk, and act like her. You're basically living it."

Emmy's throat tightened. The message was not wrong—but it oversimplified everything. Soraya saw Elyssia as an extension of Emmy's confidence, a seamless bridge between who she was and who she could be. But it was more complicated. The world did not let people like her step into their truth without consequence.

She typed back, choosing her words carefully. "Maybe. But being Elyssia all the time would mean explaining it to people. To my kids. To… everyone. I'm not sure I could."

A moment passed before Soraya responded. "If it comes to that, just rip the band-aid. And if it is happening, Em, it's not like you'll have a choice. Might as well start thinking about what you'd do. Forget the 'what-ifs'—deal with what's in front of you."

The rain outside seemed louder now, filling the silence that hung heavy in the room. Emmy set her phone down and stared at the ceiling. What would she do? She thought about Elyssia, the confident stride, the sharp wit, the sense of purpose that radiated from her every action. Elyssia was not just her character—she was the personification of her aspirations, carefully constructed and nurtured over years. A piece Emmy was not sure she was ready to fully embrace in reality.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her back to the moment. "Hey, didn't mean to get heavy. Just… I dunno, felt like you might need someone to talk to. If this stuff is real, it's huge. For everyone."

Emmy smiled faintly, touched despite herself. Soraya could be blunt, but she cared. And she was right—this was huge. Not just for Kaelyn or the gaming community—but for anyone who had ever dreamed of being something more. "Thanks, Soraya. I'll think about it. And hey, if you wake up tomorrow with scales, let me know."

The reply came with a laughing emoji. "You bet. And same to you, if you wake up with sharp ears and green hair."

Emmy laughed despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. She picked up the glass of water she had poured earlier and took a long sip; the coolness grounding her. Whatever was happening with Kaelyn—or Ryan—was out of her hands. But it was a reminder, stark and undeniable, that the boundary between their worlds was thinner than she had thought.

She put down the empty glass and headed to the tiny bed cramped in the corner of her apartment. Emmy undressed in the darkness, unwilling to look at her dysphoria-inducing body, and slipped under the blankets. She rolled onto her side—she had learned long ago how sleeping this way made it slightly easier to ignore how wrong her body felt.

She wondered if going to sleep wishing really hard for a miracle could help.

Is there even a chance? Could I truly wake up tomorrow in a body I don't hate?

Why did she have to be one of the few whose gender disagreed with the body they were born into? She wiped at the tears forming at the corner of her eyes and chastised herself for daring to hope. For daring to dream.

She picked up her phone and typed one last message. "If anything happens, you'll be the first to know, I promise. G'nite, Soraya. Sleep well."

She closed her eyes and hoped sleep would come soon. But she already knew it would not.

Stupid brain. Always thinking.

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