Friday, August 29th, 2042, NEURASphere lobby, Virtual Reality.

Emmy materialised into the pristine, digital recreation of NEURASphere's corporate office. As usual, the air was cool, crisp, programmed to mimic an ideal office climate.

Perfection without personality.

The monotonous hum of activity was all around her as she watched the avatars of her colleagues, each one moving with a similar, almost robotic precision to their assigned workspaces. Unlike yesterday, Emmy anticipated the curious and critical eyes, a quiet resolve backing her every step.

She felt different today. As she took her first steps, she realised how she walked with her back straight. She did not hunch her shoulders or hurry her stride. For the first time in years, she met people's gazes without feeling like she was bracing for impact. The thought sent a strange, warm ripple through her chest.

How long have I been staring down at my feet? Have I been so afraid of disappointment that I stopped looking people in the eye altogether?

All those years, have my worries stemmed from a fear of seeing my own biases mirrored in the expressions on their faces?

As soon as Emmy made eye contact with another employee, she realised the truth. A few noticed her green hair, some offering polite nods or faint smiles before continuing on their way. Most barely registered her presence at all, too lost in their own routines, their own thoughts. The world was not watching her as closely as she had always feared. The realisation settled in slowly.

I've been a such a fool. People are—and have been for all my life—too busy thinking about their own day to pay any attention to me or anyone else.

She moved towards the gates, badge in hand, fascinated by the change of perspective. She could not remember the last time she had walked somewhere and seen the surrounding crowd. Today, they were more than collision boxes slowing her down on her way to her desk.

As she kept looking around, seeing people—truly seeing them, rather than glancing at them—she noticed something else. A second unexpected revelation this morning. A lot of the surrounding avatars were unusually beautiful. Not in the usual way virtual reality improved on reality, but in a more direct way—skin smooth, features symmetrical, youthful, striking colours. As if she were on a set with Hollywood, where actors and actresses had suddenly replaced all of her geeky colleagues to reenact a scene from a movie.

She hesitated in front of the gate, her badge hovering not quite close enough for the detector, confused.

Am I imagining this difference? After all, I never really paid attention to faces before. But no—I can tell. Something's clearly different from yesterday. Even someone like me would've noticed something this dramatic.

Sensing the irritation of the employees waiting in line behind her, Emmy swiped her badge over the scanner. With an audible chime, the device confirmed her identity, and the gate opened before her. She quickly stepped through, then cleared the way, moving to the side, still lost in her own world.

She tried to recall how this exact moment had played out yesterday—but back then, her focus had been entirely on the discomfort of her ill-fitting male outfit. Her memories of her colleagues' faces? Blank. No impressions left at all. Was the fact she noticed something today a sign something had changed in them, or was it a consequence of her ability to look up and see the world around her?

An artificial, familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Good morning, M-E."

Emmy turned toward the reception desk, where Synthia, NEURASphere's AI receptionist, greeted her with a professional smile. Her flawless, corporate-approved avatar stood as always—crisp blazer, sleek hair, an ever-calm expression that rested just on the edge of the uncanny.

"Good morning, Synthia," Emmy replied, out of habit.

Synthia stared intently at her, her gaze unwavering as if she were processing a tremendous amount of information, before finally continuing, "The company is formally requesting your assistance as a subject matter expert on a matter of importance. Would you be available to respond to a few inquiries? This time will be accounted for within your scheduled working hours."

Emmy raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Sure, if you think I can help."

"Anomalous patterns have been identified within our data centre infrastructure. Data indicates a rising incidence of employee avatar modifications mirroring yours. As an early adopter and trendsetter, could you offer any insights into the underlying motivation behind this phenomenon?"

Emmy blinked. She tilted her head, looking at Synthia with disbelief mixed with curiosity. "Wait, what?"

"In comparison to yesterday's figures, a greater number of our employees are currently inhabiting altered avatars," Synthia explained. "Although the majority of users have implemented only minor aesthetic improvements and anti-aging enhancements, largely preserving their avatars' original likeness, a growing number, including yourself, have undertaken more significant transformations. Current data indicates an upward trajectory for both trends."

Emmy's mind went blank with surprise. "A lot of people are doing this?" She gestured vaguely at herself. "And you're curious why?"

Synthia nodded. "Your input on this issue would be greatly appreciated."

A chill ran down Emmy's spine. She had not imagined it, after all. The shift was real, and the world was changing. She scratched at the base of her neck. "I'm not sure I have a single answer that will satisfy you, Synthia. But if I had to guess? Most of us grew up comparing ourselves to stars in full makeup, photoshopped models, and other unreachable goals. Thanks to the glitch, anyone who wants to can finally feel comfortable in their skin, even if only in VR."

Synthia was silent for a moment before responding. "Your line of reasoning is supported by current data trends. Extant literature has thoroughly examined the psychological appeal of achieving self-improvement through digital embodiment; however, the unprecedented rate of adoption suggests other elements are at play. Are you able to provide further insights?"

Emmy took a moment to think about it. She could think of at least two more reasons. "Some people might have joined the game for other benefits, such as the fantasy cuisine, or the sense of progress found in a world where sustained effort is rewarded. Then, if you believe what's on the news, some might hope their real bodies will change to match their avatars."

Following a brief moment of consideration, Synthia replied, "Empirical evidence supporting the glitch's real-world physiological changes is currently lacking."

Oh, I have verified the real-world impact by myself, Synthia.

"Notwithstanding, your secondary observation on the subject of progress-dependent motivation presents a valuable avenue for exploration. Research confirms a strong correlation between humans' well-being and the attainment of clearly defined objectives. The gamification of this environment may offer individuals a sense of fulfilment otherwise elusive in their daily lives."

Emmy smiled with motherly pride at Synthia's logical reasoning. She found it amusing to see the receptionist uncovering such a fundamental human truth. That people find joy in setting goals, working toward them, and being seen when they succeed.

The receptionist tilted her head slightly. "Incidentally, M-E, it is worth noting your vital signs show a marked improvement in mood and stress levels as compared to yesterday."

Emmy blinked, hesitated, unsure how to answer.

Do I really sound better? Feel better?

"Perhaps an ineffable quality has emerged," Synthia continued, her gaze flicking over Emmy as if attempting to quantify something just beyond her processing power. "A shift in self-assurance or an alignment of the self."

Emmy swallowed. She forced a small smile. "Maybe?"

An alignment of the self?

Synthia's programmed smile remained unchanged, but there was an almost imperceptible pause before she turned back towards the front door. "Thank you for your time. Have a productive day, M-E."

Emmy nodded and headed towards the elevators, but Synthia's words lingered in her mind as she walked. Of course, the artificial receptionist would be the first to notice something like this.

Instead of the elevator, she veered toward the stairwell, pausing only briefly before stepping inside. Yesterday's cramped ride had been suffocating—people pressing in on all sides. Her reduced stature making her feel more vulnerable than she liked. Her new uniform, though a much better fit on her body, left her feeling strangely exposed, leaving her hyperaware of every movement, every glance.

Stairs today.

She pushed the heavy emergency door and slipped into the darkness. The door to the stairwell shut loudly behind her. She mentally prepared herself for the arduous task. However, the first few steps felt easy, almost effortless. A curiosity bloomed in her mind—was this just adrenaline, or was Elyssia's strength and stamina truly translating here? She increased her pace, pushing herself more than she normally would.

Her mind kept waiting for the weight to settle, the ache to creep in. But her body disagreed. By the fourth flight, she realised her breathing was even; her legs still light.

This is unreal; I don't have a stat screen, Elyssia's levels or stats in here. How the hell am I doing this? Normal VR spaces like this one are built to simulate your meatspace's body capabilities perfectly.

She reached the seventh floor faster than she had expected, stepping out of the stairwell and smoothing down her blazer. A few coworkers turned their heads as she passed, but the attention was already waning. Yesterday's novelty had dulled. They were professionals, after all. Besides, there were far more pressing matters—meetings, deadlines, optimisation reports.

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Good. Let them lose interest. Let this become normal.

She slid into her chair, making sure to shift both knees to the side as Priya had shown her. She logged into her terminal. A blink of notifications. A dozen new messages. She exhaled, ready to drown herself in work to push away everything still thrumming in her mind.

Priya called from beyond the half-partition. "Morning, Em."

Emmy felt her heart swell as she heard the name again. With a bright smile, she leaned past her computer monitor, her voice a cheerful, "Good morning to you too, Priya!"

As she settled back in her chair, she caught a shadow moving at the edge of her vision. She turned her head just enough to glance at the source of movement. A tall, graceful figure sat down in the adjacent cubicle. Their fluid movements carried a weightless elegance, the kind avatars had when their players had fully adjusted to their new bodies. Emmy's brain lagged behind her eyes, processing the dark-skinned elven woman sitting at the nearest cubicle. Flowing raven hair framed an angular face, and her piercing silver eyes glowed faintly in the dim workstation light. She looked like a dark-skinned version of Arwen from the movies.

A Shadow sylvani, dressed in the same outfit she and Priya wore.

Emmy's breath caught. Not because of the ethereal beauty of her neighbour, but because something about the way she carried herself was familiar.

This can't be… There're only a few other women on this floor; Sandra, Kehlani, Amirah, and none of them sat next to her.

The woman adjusted her seat, tilting her legs sideways, fingers gliding over the holographic keyboard, her avatar already fully immersed in the mundane routine of corporate life. She turned her head and smiled—subtle, knowing. "Morning, M-E."

Emmy stared in disbelief. Rationally, she could tell who this was; she was sitting down in his chair, at his desk. The voice had been softer, smoother—but she would have recognised it no matter what. But despite the overwhelming evidence, she simply could not accept what she saw. Her mind a whirl of static, she barely managed a stiff nod before turning sharply back to her monitor. The world felt like it had tilted sideways. Her fingers hovered over her keyboard, unsteady, as if the very foundation of her reality had just cracked.

Priya peeked over the half-partition and broke the spell. "Oh, hey Jamal. Wow, look at you!"

Emmy nearly choked on her breath as Priya's casual words confirmed what her mind already knew, but struggled to accept. Her brain echoed the name, her voice almost squeaking with surprise. "Is that really you?"

The Shadow sylvani woman laughed gently, a low, melodious sound resonating comfortably around them. "Yes. Still Jamal—well, mostly. Until I figure out a new name, you can call me by my character's—Jariël." Her silver eyes sparkled playfully, carrying more warmth than Jamal's avatar had ever shown.

Emmy blinked rapidly, her thoughts racing to process the unexpected transformation. Jariël. It suited her. An angel's name, beautiful, but subtly powerful. Emmy's gaze lingered briefly on her coworker's flawless dark skin and those mesmerising silver eyes before she quickly glanced down, embarrassed by her own staring. Her mind spun with questions—none she dared to voice aloud.

Jamal—no, Jariël—had created this character just last night. She had seen Emmy's transformation firsthand. She knew about the glitch. And yet—she chose this. Willingly. But had she known about the possible, real-life implications? Had she made this character before she heard of the potential life-altering consequence?

Emmy bit her lip, wondering if she should tell her coworker how she was changing in real-life too, just like Kaelyn's player was. By now, everyone working for NEURASphere must have heard about the virtual part of the glitch. But did they know how the game's influence went beyond virtual reality? She wondered how many had heard the news, or how many believed it.

I wonder if the others on the victim of the glitch chat channel are already talking about it?

The memory of yesterday's betting pool returned, and now she dreaded a second wave. Would people make bets about the physical transformations, too? Would they try to capture video proof of her body changing in real-life, to claim their earnings? She dreaded the thought of having to worry every waking minute about walking anywhere outside of her apartment—she felt bile rising in her throat at the mere idea.

Priya's voice bubbled over with excitement, oblivious to Emmy's turmoil. "Jariël! That's gorgeous. It fits you perfectly—so elegant. What made you decide to do this?"

Jariël offered a small, thoughtful smile, eyes flicking briefly back to Emmy. The Wind sylvani saw a distinct ease in her colleague's posture, her expression open and relaxed. The taller sylvani leaned back slightly in her chair, comfortably adjusting her blazer with a casual elegance. "I was inspired," she admitted, her tone sincere. "As soon as I saw M-E walking in yesterday, looking like this. Then, after work, I thought about it, debated. And then I decided—why not? I got the game, rolled a druid, and had fun all night."

Emmy swallowed. "But you knew you'd be stuck like this today! You made this character, knowing you'd have to show up today looking like her, dressed like this?"

Jariël nodded slowly, shifted position, placing her hands over her knees. "Yes. I knew all that."

Emmy wanted to ask a million questions. Why had she picked this appearance? Had she known about the risk of the physical transformation at the time? How could she act so nonchalantly about this? Was this why she had so many questions for her yesterday? She did not know where to start, what to ask first. So she asked the simplest of questions. "Why?"

"I think… I think I would have hated myself if I had missed the opportunity. Who knows when they'll fix the glitch?"

Emmy froze, her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest. She had almost forgotten how her current virtual avatar could be fixed any moment now. She wondered what would happen to her, then. Would she be able to return to the life—the lie—she had lived all these years? Would her real-world body also return to her old self, then?

Before Emmy could find something to reply, Priya laughed, lighthearted and free. "You know, I feel left out now. Maybe I should join you two."

Jariël chuckled. "Why not? Would you roll a sylvani too?"

"Maybe? It's hard to not be jealous of you two elven beauties, especially with the whole Yin to her Yang thing you two have going on here."

From the tone, Emmy could tell Priya was not seriously considering it. But the idea was out there now. And the way Jariël smiled—like she knew this would be Priya's reaction—sent a shiver down Emmy's spine.

Her mouth was dry. But she had to ask. "You two… You've heard the news, right? The report about a player… changing? Aren't you two worried about it?"

The two looked at her for a good moment. Priya frowned and was the first to speak. "No way. That can't be real… right? It's click bait, right? People say all sorts of things on the internet."

Oh, Pri, I'm so tempted to share how I experienced it firsthand... Come to think of it, I'm surprised Soraya hasn't shared the news already… or maybe she did, and Priya didn't believe her. Should I tell them about my pointy ears and green hair outside of VR?

Jariël was quiet for a second longer. Then she shrugged. She pointed at her own body with both hands. "I can imagine many things worse than having to live with that."

Her answer was enough to convince Emmy—Jariël had not jumped in on impulse. She had calculated the risk, and went for it, regardless. Emmy felt her stomach twist. She had to ask. "But what about your wife? Your family? Your children?"

Jariël smiled, apparently entirely at peace with the idea. She exhaled softly, then said, "Que sera, sera."

Emmy shook her head in pure disbelief. "Jariël, this is your entire life we're talking about. How can you just… accept this?"

The Shadow sylvani simply kept smiling. "Look, I understand you're worried, and how you're still hurt about your divorce with Claire. But is there any point in me panicking about something I have no control over?"

"I still don't get why you're doing this."

Jariël rolled her chair over closer to the edge of her cubicle. "I saw you yesterday, and I did not know what I was feeling at first. I was curious, of course. Who wouldn't? But then I thought long and hard about it, and I realised it was envy."

"Envy?"

"Yes, M-E. I wanted what you had—"

Emmy blinked, stunned. Of all the explanations she had expected, envy had not been one of them. Her life was a literal train wreck. How could anyone envy her? But Jariël continued, "I know it's probably not something you think of or hear very often. But I recognised the feeling. And I went for it, before the chance got away."

Emmy tried to understand what Jariël had just said. The only way any of this made sense was… if Jamal had been transgender all along. She wanted to ask, to confirm her suspicion.

Are you like me?

She did not know how to do so, especially without outing herself in the process. As long as she did not speak the word, as long as she acted as if she was unaware of what being transgender meant, she could claim she had no idea. Plausible deniability. But if she asked—people might connect the dots. They may turn the question back on her.

Jariël's words echoed in her mind. "I saw you yesterday and wanted what you had."

The weight of those words finally sank in. Had Jariël seen through her act and blown her cover? She had painstakingly curated the image of the grumpy cis person stuck in her female avatar all day yesterday.

Emmy lowered her gaze, her throat tightening. The words fought to stay down, but she forced them out anyway—soft, fragile, a desperate shield. "We're not the same…"

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Emmy's pulse pounded in her ears.

Priya exhaled softly and leaned forward on her desk, resting her chin on her palm. "Em, I love you, but I don't think your coffee's kicked in yet."

Emmy blinked, startled. "What?"

Priya tilted her head, studying her with that infuriating, knowing smirk. "You're overthinking again. I can hear the gears grinding from here."

Jariël let out a soft chuckle. "She does that a lot, doesn't she?"

"Like clockwork," Priya agreed. Then, more gently, she added, "Look, we're all figuring things out. No one's got all the answers, but that's kinda the fun part, right?"

Emmy swallowed, staring at her hands. The logical part of her knew Priya was trying to nudge her out of her spiral, trying to make it not feel like the existential crisis it clearly was. But it would not go away this easily.

Still, Priya's words were enough to give her an exit—an excuse to breathe, to pull back from the edge. Emmy exhaled and forced a shaky smirk. "I think I need a double shot, then."

Priya grinned. "Atta girl."

Jariël, watching quietly, offered a small nod of approval.

Before anyone could say more, a sharp, deliberate cough broke the moment. "Good morning, ladies. Having a productive start to the day?"

Emmy jerked upright in her chair as Sandra stepped into view, arms crossed, one brow arched in professional disapproval. How she had managed to sneak up on them in her heels was a mystery Emmy had no answer for.

Priya, ever the diplomat, spun in her chair with an innocent grin. "Ah, we were just discussing workflow optimisation."

Jariël, completely unbothered, leaned back in her chair. "Very enlightening discussion, actually."

Sandra's lips pressed into a thin line. She was a woman who tolerated exactly zero nonsense when employees were on the clock. And this gathering, by any account, was nonsense.

"I'm sure," Sandra said flatly. Then, with a pointed look at Emmy: "You have a backlog of reports to go through, don't forget. Priya, I need your revisions by noon."

"Yes, boss," Priya chirped.

Jariël smirked, but gave a small salute. "Dutifully returning to work."

Emmy nodded stiffly, still shaken but grateful for the interruption.

Sandra was already turning away when she added over her shoulder, "Oh, and Rahman—HR reminds me to thank you for respecting the company's dress code. Would you like me to update your file for preferred name and pronoun?"

Jariël beamed, the first real smile Emmy had seen from her all morning. "Ah yes. Please update it to Jariël Rahmendel, she/her, thanks."

"Then welcome aboard, Jariël." Sandra hummed in approval.

She was already halfway down the hallway when she added, as if it were an afterthought, "Oh, and Emmanuelle—your file's been updated too. All the paperwork we received was in order."

Emmy's mouth opened, but no words, no reply came. Her stomach churned.

What?! Where did she get that name?

Throughout her life, she had meticulously guarded this information, never uttering it to anyone, nor recording it in any written form, be it a computer file, letter or diary entry.

As soon as Sandra disappeared down the hall, Priya let out a dramatic sigh of relief.

But Emmy's mind was spinning. Emmanuelle. Even in her own mind, she had never dared use the name when thinking of herself. Emmy was safe. It sounded almost the same as M-E, so everyone calling her by her initials kept making her feel accidental euphoria, and had for most of her life. Years and years before she even realised who she truly was, she had gone by that name everywhere. Everyone, except Claire, really, who insisted on using her first name.

But Emmanuelle? It was not just a name. It was hers. The one she had whispered to herself in the dark. The one she had never dared to say aloud. It was the name she had chosen. And yet—Sandra had it. Not just the name, but paperwork. Her hands trembled slightly on the keyboard. What was this about?

This isn't an accident, someone made this happen.

Jariël's grin widened, silver eyes gleaming. She drummed her fingers lightly against her desk, as if waiting for Emmy to catch up.

Then, with a quiet certainty, she said, "Emmanuelle, huh? Nice to re-meet you, cousin sylvani."

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