by Amy Casseaux
“Randi, Dr. Ross will see you now. Will you take my arm?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I stood and pulled at my skirt to
straighten it, then I reached out. The receptionist took my hand and placed it
on her arm. It was soft, but cool to the touch. “Oh, my! Are you a droid?”
“Yes, ma’am. I am a Series two
thousand. I am called Sheila Four Six.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sheila Four Six.
Your dermal layer is very soft, but cool. I wouldn’t have known otherwise.”
“Thank you, ma’am. The twenty-one
Hundreds have a thermal generator to simulate body heat.”
Together we walked across the waiting area and I was led down
a hallway to an office. Once there, I heard, “Randi, this is Dr. Ross.”
I held out my hand and received a brief
shake before the receptionist led me to a couch. I sat down and turned a little,
crossing my legs at the ankle. Then I made sure my hem was below my knee and I
discreetly smoothed my hose. My hands went into my lap, and I tried to relax and
not wring them or tap my fingers. I smelled pipe tobacco, but not strongly, as
if someone had been smoking in here. I suspect he had a bowl of tobacco and that
he loaded his pipe before going outside.
“Thank you, Sheila.” I heard, then,
“Well, Randi! Nice to meet you finally. I’ve been over your file and I see
that you’ve surprised a few people by making it this far in the program. Your
genetics are very clean and you’ve passed all the standard psychiatric tests.
All that left is an interview with me and then your file goes to the board for
final decision. Having said that, I should let you know that they will probably
go with my recommendation.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ross.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. We still
have some ground to cover. I see two major issues, here. Let me start with the
larger one. Why do you want to be blind?”
From his voice, Dr. Ross sounded like he
was in his fifties and from the east. Not nasal, but slick, as if he’d been
ivy league educated. His words were carefully enunciated, but warm in tone. I
heard the sound that a leather chair makes as someone shifts. “Because I like
being blind better than seeing. It alters my perceptions and the data I collect
from my other senses usually tells me more without the distraction of sight.”
“Interesting answer. How long have you
been... blindsimming, I believe is the term?”
“Yes. Since I was fifteen. I had a
classmate who was blind. She was mainstreamed into the school system. We got a
long quite well.”
“She impressed you.”
“Yes. She picked up on so many things
that others did not.”
Silence and then, “Well, that was
nice. I have more than enough fertilizer for by begonias now. Let’s try again,
and the truth this time. Why do you want to be blind?”
I hung my head. “Because life is
easier that way. Because no one expects as much from a blind person and whatever
I do seems like more.”
“That’s better. How often do you
blind sim?”
“Almost all the time now. It used to
be a weekend thing, then a vacation thing. It’s all but full time now.”
“How often do you use your sight?”
“I remove the contacts at night. I
remove them to pay bills and read my mail.”
“What’s the longest you’ve gone
continuously without sight? “
“Twenty two days. It was after I won
the lottery and resigned from my job. I flew to Orlando and visited Disney
World, then I took a GravTram and went to Miami where I took a seven day cruise
in the Caribbean. When that was done, I flew to Colorado and went on a guided
hiking tour though the Rocky Mountains. The primitive area, where you have to
backpack and you can’t have any technology with you. That was four days. The
rest was spent in New York, where I just stayed in a hotel and toured the
city.”
“Did you tour the city alone?”
“No. The first day, I hired an escort
to take me shopping and then out to dinner. The next day, I met Jeff. He was on
a business trip and very lonely. He didn’t want to cheat on his wife, he just
wanted to talk to a woman about something other than laundry and bills and the
kids dental work.”
“We’ll come back to that, but first
this: when you were on this trip, what did you do most of the day?”
“After the first day of being led by a
crew member, I could find my way to the pool and the bar. I knew where the
dining room was and the dance floor. I gambled some at the crap table in the
casino.”
“How often were you alone on the ship?
“About half of the time. I took some
Braille books to read by the pool. I walked along the circumference of the ship
a lot. When I took the tours at each stop, a crew member would offer to stay
with me and describe things. I like that - seeing the world through words and
feelings. On the hike, I was always with the group, except when I had to answer
nature’s call. They’d step away and let me have some privacy, then.”
“When you blindsim, are you more
comfortable with people, or alone?”
“With people mostly, but I like a
little time to myself.”
“All right. Lets move on to the second
issue. Why do you want to be a woman.”
My heart skipped a beat then. It hurt. I
had known this question would come. I gave the simplest answer I had. “Because
I identify more with that gender than with the one was born to.”
I could tell that he leaned forward by
the sound of his chair and because his voice was both closer and louder.
“Randi, the next time you lie to me, I’ll wash you out of the program. I can
see your face, I can see your body language, and I know how to catch lies.
Answer the question.”
I blurted out the answer. “Because I
want to be beautiful. I want it to be natural and not a facade.”
“That’s better. How long have you
been cross dressing?”
“Full time for the last year. Before
that, I just wore dresses and skirts at home. I went out on the weekends for a
few minutes.”
“Were you cross dressing on the trip
you mentioned?”
“Yes. Before the trip, I had my body
waxed and my face depilated. I had my nails done. I’ve kept my hair long
enough to style it. Other times, I put it in a pony tail. My hands and feet are
small - well, all of me is. I was the proverbial runt of the litter. I’ve
never been very athletic.”
“How did you dress yourself on the
ship. Surely you didn’t wear a dress and hose all that time.”
“No, I wore a one piece swimsuit with
shorts over it at the pool. I wore a unitard at the gym with shorts. I use
prosthetic breastforms in my clothes. I can fake a B or a C cup easily. When I
went ashore, I’d wear a gauzy sundress and a hat...strappy sandals that showed
off pretty panted toes. On the hike everyone was instructed to wear thermal
underwear, jeans and a heavy shirt and undershirt. Hiking boots. I wasn’t as
feminine there, that was more for the blind experience. I like being led and
having things described to me.”
“How did Jeff react to the revelation
that you had a penis?”
“He never found out. I told you, it
wasn’t sexual. He just wanted company.”
“Why do you perceive yourself as not
beautiful?”
“Because I’m not naturally
beautiful. It’s an illusion. As a man, I’m just short and puny. Any attempt
at macho behavior or dress gets laughed at. When I go out in men’s clothing,
I’m either beneath notice or I just get a sneer from men and women alike. When
I go out in drag, people want to know me. Also, let me clarify something: I do
identify with the female gender. All of the psychological tests so far have
confirmed that.
“Women are by their very nature,
beautiful. Men are just... well, men. Good looking at times, attractive at
times, but beautiful? Rarely ever.”
A scratching sound, then he said,
“Okay. That’s an aesthetic judgment, but I‘ll allow it. Tell me, what do
you know about the procedure?”
“I know it takes ten supercomputers in
series to do all the calculations. I’m told that I lay on the matrix table and
that it analyzes every cell in my body down to the DNA and RNA. It tracks
exactly how my body developed. Once that is done, it rebuilds my body to a new
matrix.”
“That’s close. Prior to the
procedure, we download all of your memories and knowledge and experiences to a
Browning-Ash Mark Nine computer. Once your body has been completely analyzed, it
is devolved down to a puddle of jelly. From that, we re-evolve you using the new
matrix. The process takes four days. It takes another day to upload your
memories from the BAM9 and integrate them to your new neural pathways. Day six,
you are awakened the first time and put through several tests. Mild seizures are
normal, but they don’t always happen. There is sometimes a palsy effect that
goes away in hours. You will need a some speech therapy and some physical
therapy.
“Day seven through ten is used to get
you fully functional in your new body. You’ll have to relearn some things and
you’ll have to build up some muscle tone. On the afternoon of day ten, you go
home and start your new life.”
I imagined waking up as a woman and
blind. It filled me with such joy. I wouldn’t have to be a fake anymore. Dr.
Ross must have read my mind. he asked, “That makes you happy?”
“Yes!”
“Well, that’s why you’re in the
program. You know originally, the procedure was designed for accident victims -
paraplegics, quadriplegics, and amputees. Even people who had lost their vision.
We also envisioned it for undoing genetic birth defects and treating extreme
morbid obesity. We were surprised when the research showed that transgender was
possible.”
“It’s a dream come true.”
“Which? Being a woman or being
blind?”
“Both.”
“What if you had to choose? What if we
could only do one, but not both? Would you live your life as a sighted woman or
as a blind man?”
“Do I really have to choose?”
“Actually, yes. The board isn’t
comfortable trying to rewrite two different areas of code.”
“I can only have one?”
“Yes.”
“Then I choose to be female.”
“Why, is it more important than being
blind?”
“Yes. Oh, I know I could get breast
implants, I could continue with the waxing and the depilatory and take hormones.
I could have the traditional trans-sex surgery. I could have my phallus and
testicles removed and a vagina of sorts installed, but I’d never be able to
bear children. I’d just be a faux female, not a functional one.”
“And becoming blind?”
“I could have done that already if I
weren’t such a coward. Actually, if I keep using these zero vision lenses,
I’ll go blind on my own. This is my eighth pair so far. My corneas will get
scratched, the macula will erode, and my vision will go away forever..”
“So you are comfortable with the idea
of being a sighted woman?”
“Yes, if that’s the best I can
get.”
“Would you continue to blindsim?”
“Probably.“
“Bullshit answer, Randi. That’s the
last lie. You’re done!”
“Wait! I wasn’t lying or even trying
to evade. I mean that yes, I probably will. Almost certainly, I will
continue.”
I heard him ease back into that chair
and I relaxed as well. ”I’m sorry for being ambiguous. There was no intent
to lie.”
“Very well.”
I heard him stand. His knees or his back
popped and he groaned softly. “Sorry, I have to walk around a little or I get
stiff.“
I heard him move around and I shifted in
my seat, then re-crossed my legs. I had good legs, in or out of hose. My feet
were small enough to wear a size eight shoe. Walking in heels and using a cane
wasn’t easy, but I had learned how. It just made me more feminine, I think,
walking with those slow graceful steps. Right now, I wanted to run a brush
through my hair and smooth my hose. That was how I burned off excess energy,
with little grooming movements.
Finally, I heard a scratchy noise that I
associated with writing with a pencil. ”Randi, I’m approving you for the
transgender. Make sure no one expects to see you for the ten day period and
bring appropriate clothing, toiletries and I suppose, some cosmetics. Be here at
Six AM a week from today.“
I sat back and let out a sigh. I had
made it. Then he said, “Give me your cane, you’ll leave here without it.”
“Without my cane? But...”
“The lenses, too. Take them out
now.”
I did as I was told, wanting to cry. I
removed one lens, then the other, blinking in the light. I looked around and was
surprised to see that Dr. Ross was a black man. Not that it mattered - being
blind allows me to avoid a lot of visual prejudices - but I usually detected an
accent. I stood and passed my lenses to him. He put them in the trash. Then he
took my cane and tossed it, too. He picked up a pouch and said, “Come with me.
There is one more thing to do.”
I put my arm out to take his, but pulled
it back. I was so accustomed to being blind that I wasn’t sure how to function
anymore with vision. He led me down a corridor to a dressing room. “Go inside,
please.”
I went inside. The room had mirrors on
every wall, even the ceiling and floor. “Take of your dress. In fact take
everything off.”
“My dress?”
“Yes. This isn’t sexual, it’s
clinical. I’m a doctor. I’ve seen people undress before.”
I reached behind and unzipped, then
pulled off my dress as I stepped out of my shoes. Next, my slip and my bra. My
panty hose and panties came last.
He handed me a wet cloth. It was warm.
“Remove all your make up. All of it.”
Once I was barefaced, he said, “Look
at yourself from every angle.”
I obeyed him, wanting to cry. With all
my facades removed, I hated what I saw and I closed my eyes.
“I said, look!” his tone was sharp,
like a slap in the face.
Once again, I obeyed, crying as I looked
at those images. Dr. Ross removed a remote CommPadd from his pouch and pressed a
button. A mirror panel slid a way, revealing a holo projector. He pressed
another button and a hologram appeared. It was me, but as a female. I was curvy,
with medium breasts, and dynamite legs. My skin was a creamy white and had no
blemishes anywhere. Red hair cascaded down to my shoulders and I had a beautiful
smile - an orthodontic masterpiece. A Celtic beauty. That was the body I had
wanted for so long. In the hologram, I had beautiful blue eyes.
Then the image changed. I reappeared as
myself, just as I looked now, but a second glance showed one difference. The
skin around my eyes was perfectly smooth and my eyelids were slack over empty
sockets. I could see a little pink where the upper and lower lids gapped. Dr.
Ross pressed another button and the hologram appeared to be walking - nude, but
with a cane and one hand out.
The first hologram reappeared along the
second. The sexy female body walked seductively next to the blind one. I was
torn and I began to cry. Why did I have to choose?
“Randi, are you certain of your
choice?”
I took a ragged breath and sobbed yes.
The images disappeared.
“Get dressed, please.”
Still crying, I pulled my panties on,
and my bra. I slid my hose over my legs and smoothed it, then stepped into my
shoes. Slip and dress came next. As I zipped up, Dr. Ross said, “This was the
final test. We had to be certain. This room is fitted with scanning devices that
measure your brain waves and you vital signs. We scanned you as you watched both
images. You wanted the female more. Also, you had more anxiety about undressing
than you did about taking your lenses out.”
I looked at him. He nodded. “My office
is equipped also.”
He said, “Go home and take off all
your clothes. Re-dress as a man. Do not cover your eyes at all, even for a few
minutes. Do not reapply make up. Spend the next week functioning as a man,
dressing as man, and looking carefully at everything you see. If you show up
here in one week, we’ll know that there were no second thoughts.”
“There won’t be.”
“Still, it’s part of the
protocol.”
“I understand.” I turned to go and
he said, “Randi, take a look at one more thing.”
I turned and saw the hologram. Curves,
legs, hair, kissable lips and white teeth - walking
with a cane! Her eyesockets were empty.
I thought I saw a beatific smile on her
face, but that was my face in the mirrored wall. My groin stirred and my heart
practically leapt out of my chest.
Dr. Ross referred to the readout on his
remote. He nodded and smiled. “The board concurs. This will be your new
body.”