Chapter 13: 5:00. Facing The Music (pt. 2)

"So she knows you're a guy, so what?" Emma watched from the bed while her body hefted a box of textbooks onto the rickety handcart we'd brought from the maintenance room. Her roommate sat on the other end of the bed, still in a daze.^*

^* (She'd taken it better than I expected; no screaming, just silence and a thousand-yard stare. She'd be alright in a few hours, I thought. Probably. It's not every day you see your roommate with her head off.)

"So...how!?" I sputtered. "Was I wearing a sign?" I pondered how to fold a stack of dresses without wrinkling them, gave up, and settled for carrying them by the hanger, my arms held high enough that they cleared the floor. It wasn't like I had muscles to strain.

"Honestly, kind of," Tammy said, wrapping up the last of the cables for Emma's personal electronics. "You do realize that your body language is like 90% the same?"

I frowned. "Huh? I was just acting like...normal..."

"Exactly." She shrugged. "I guess it might seem subtle to you; you're not the type to sprawl your legs out on the bus or scratch your junk in public. But, y'know, stuff like how, when you're upset with someone, you go all square-shouldered and try to loom over them like you're still six-foot-plus, or the way you power-walk all lunged forward and stiff-limbed. Things like that."

"That's not even tomboy stuff," Emma said. "Heck, the closest thing to 'girly' you've been so far was when you were a total bundle of nerves Friday night; that was some real Shelley Duvall energy. But I'm more curious about the part where you're upset. You want people thinking you've always been a girl?"

"No!" I yelped, my mind in a jumble, my brain clattering. Was it really that simple? Do this, and not that, and people will see you one way and not another? It felt like some kind of secret handshake or "tribal knowledge" - stuff you're supposed to "just know" without anyone ever telling you. (Like what to do with your life...) "It's..." I stammered, "I just..."

But what did I even want here? Why did it bother me? And once again, why did nobody ever tell me, if I was really this transparent? I thought about it for a moment, and sighed. "If...if they know what happened to me, they'll think I either wanted this, or I'm careless and stupid." I pointedly didn't think about what my own assessment would be.

Tammy gave me a sympathetic smile as she wheeled out into the hall. "Stu, I hate to break it to you, but this is gonna be weird and awkward no matter how you slice it."

"Well, yeah, but..." I trailed off; I couldn't think of what followed the but... there. She wasn't wrong; the coming weeks were going to be confusing, awkward, and uncomfortable in any case. "...you know. It'd just be easier if people weren't hassling me about it."

That wasn't the truth, and she probably knew it. I didn't want people to know because it would remind me that I was a screw-up; if I weren't, I wouldn't be in this mess. If I'd listened to my better judgement, if I'd refused to go along with Emma's plan, if...

"Oh come, now," Tammy said, halting my train of thought. "Look, I'm not thrilled about this either, but there's no point obsessing over what they might think, or what might've happened. We've got enough on our plates without piling on a bunch of hypotheticals."

"Anyway," Emma said with a grin, "if it really bugs you, we could always teach you to 'pass' better."

"Emma...!" Tammy groaned, exasperated. "That's not a solution. They'd know anyway, as soon as we go back to class. Hell, even if we didn't, you and I are still recognizable; they'd notice us hanging out and do the math."

I frowned. "Wait, people notice us hanging out together?" I'd always figured I just faded into the background.

"Well, yeah," she laughed, glancing back at me as we walked to the elevator. "Alicia keeps asking if we're-" She stopped, suddenly flustered for some reason. "A-anyway, listen, Stu. Point is, worrying about what people think or who did or didn't make which mistakes helps nobody. We are where we are, now; all we can do about it is deal, until we figure out some way to fix it."

"And it's all in your own head, anyway," Emma chided, picking hers up off the cart and holding it out as if to illustrate. "Honestly, who sees a demi-human these days and thinks 'ha ha, look what that loser did to themselves?' The vast majority were born that way, and most of the experimental subjects are north of fifty. If it weren't for the boyish vibes, nobody would even give you...well, a third look."

I wanted to retort that not worrying about it was easier said than done, but they were trying to make me feel better, and that did help a little. And again, it was harder to be overtaken by my emotions in this form; brood as I might, I wasn't getting trapped in the usual feedback loop that ended with me spiraling into a funk. I smiled, slightly. "I, um...thanks, guys."

---

We finished with Emma's stuff by lunchtime; she and Tammy got delivery and we all took a break. I made tea; if I needed water anyway, I might as well see if I could enjoy it. I did have a sense of smell, yes - but could it still give pleasure? I wasn't tantalized by Emma's pizza; the smell of garlic was interesting, and had pleasant associations in my memories, but since I didn't need to eat, it didn't make me hungry or set my mouth watering.

But I was pleasantly surprised to find that I still liked tea. I didn't taste it as such, but the smell filled...whatever handled this now...as I sipped. The aroma was pleasing, the sensation soothing. It was a jasmine blend that Katie had happened to leave lying around; I usually went for black teas, but the floral scents were nice. It didn't sate a physical craving, but it felt nice, and the quiet ritual was calming; I could feel my mechanisms ease up, the tempo of the constant chatter dropping.

Which I sorely needed; once my brain wasn't occupied with Emma's move, it immediately started worrying about the next part. Gil usually spent Sundays in our room tinkering with his old machines, and it was almost inevitable that we'd run into him when we went for my things. What would he think? How would he see me? As a girl? A machine? A guy in robot drag? I dreaded finding out.

I tried to concoct some excuse to put it off or not bother, but I couldn't come up with anything plausible. As my classmates finished their lunch and Emma got up to toss the trash, I started to say something, but I realized there was nothing to say. We'd decided - others had decided - that were going to do this, and it would be weird and awkward and uncomfortable and horribly embarrassing, and that was all there was to it.

But I wasn't capable of full-fledged panic like this; I only felt a basic, abstract dread, instead of being consumed by it. It was both freeing and unnerving; I didn't want to panic, but wasn't that the normal reaction here...? But Tammy came over and wound me up, and before I could get too lost in thought, we were out the door and underway.

We definitely attracted more attention now. Saturday was cold, damp, and quiet as everyone finished weathering Friday's storm, but Sunday morning the sun had broken through the clouds, and by midday it was almost warm (for early November.) People were out and about as if nothing had happened over the weekend; some of them were clearly surprised at the sight of us, while others took no real notice. Demi-humans weren't that uncommon these days, but Emma and I were highly unusual, if not completely unique. In any case, we got to the men's dorm without anything worse than stares and excited whispers.

Unlike the women's dorm, there was no divide between the public lobby and the hallways; we just went inside, took the elevator up to the third floor, and headed down to my room. I paused and fidgeted nervously at the door; there was no good reason for me to worry about what my roommate thought of me (it wasn't like he was family,) but I wasn't looking forward to this. But there I was, surrounded by people who expected me to go through with it - so I did.

I found Gil hunched over one of his computers. He didn't even look up, just motioned me over. "Hey, check this out!" he said excitedly. I walked over, wondering if he didn't hear the persistent ticking and chattering that emanated from my body, or if he really was that wrapped up in...whatever this was. I glanced at the screen; it was a grid of letters and punctuation forming what looked like a map, clearly some kind of game, but that was all I could say for sure.

"That's, uh, that's great," I said, wondering how long it would be before he noticed. The font was fairly hideous, but that was probably the fault of whoever designed the machine, if the ugly gunmetal-grey "metallic" finish of the plastic was any indication of taste.

"Heh, isn't it?" he said proudly, still fixated on the screen. "Been working on this for weeks. The whole thing fits in four K-"

He stopped short, finally realizing that something was up. I stood there waiting as he turned and stared, first in confusion, then in surprise, then in amazement. At last, he spoke.

"Freeman!?"

I stared back, dumbfounded. "Huh? Uh, yea-wait, what? What!?" It was one thing for Alicia to suss out that I wasn't a real girl, but being recognized as myself in this state was deeply awkward; I felt almost naked, and I found myself cringing and shrinking away almost instinctively. Stop looking at me, damn it; don't see me like this...

Gil continued to stare, slack-jawed, as he rose from his chair and approached me. There was nothing menacing in his manner, but I felt like a butterfly about to be pinned to a display board, and realized once again how much smaller I was like this. "You," he said, "you're...uh, holy shit." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This...this is real, right? I'm not hallucinating? Is that, uh, are you...you know, is it all clockwork inside, or...?"

I was at a loss for words. This happens to me, and that's what he wants to talk about? "I, uh, don't know..." I said, dazedly.

We stood there in awkward silence for a long moment. "Whew," he said, finally. "Um...so, how...?"

"We commandeered the new lab equipment Friday night," Emma said, stepping into the room and holding her head out. "It, uh, didn't go according to plan."

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He turned to her, and his eyes went wide. "Wow. I'm really not imagining this? I mean, I know there's some pretty wild types of demi-humans out there, but...wow."

Emma chuckled. "Tell me about it."

For some reason, I felt annoyed at her barging into our conversation, even if it was also a bit of a relief from the awkwardness. "Wait," I said, "how did you know it was me?"

Gil thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I dunno; I wasn't really paying attention, it just felt like you coming in the door. After that...I guess I figured since you had your key, you must be you." He paused. "Not to get all paranoid, but you are you, right? I mean, you've kinda got your face, still."

"Yes, I'm me," I groaned. "And wait, what? I do?"

Emma nodded; Gil seemed as bemused by her hand-powered gestures as I'd been. "You still look like a girl, obvs.," she said, "but you could pretty much be your own sister, if your sister was a wind-up robot thing. Which...I'm assuming she isn't?"

"Automaton," Gil corrected. "For what it's worth..."

"I don't have a sister!" I said, exasperated. The situation was getting so out-of-hand...it wasn't what I'd been dreading, but it was mutating into some kind of weird vaudeville routine instead. It felt silly instead of stressful, and that in itself flustered me, somehow. I was prepared for awkwardness and rejection; not for this. I could feel my brain grinding into high gear trying to process it.

"Well, there you go, then," Emma replied with a smirk, but she was promptly shoved aside by Tammy, who barged into the room with a no-more-nonsense expression on her face.

"Anyway," my mermaid classmate announced, her pectoral fins raised in apparent exasperation, "we're here to move Stu's stuff over to the w-the other dorm. Hope we're not a bother."

"Uh, no," Gil said, the surprise wearing off with the introduction of yet another transformee into the equation. "D'you guys need help with anything, or...? I mean, wait, you're moving?"

How was I supposed to answer that? "Yes, I'm moving to another dorm because my classmates decided I belong there now that I look like a girl, despite being a sexless doll-thing?" It wasn't like this was my idea, but if it wasn't, why was I agreeing to it? Well, I knew the answer to that - it was what I always did - but Gil didn't; he'd assume that I wanted-

My train of thought derailed when I noticed Emma about to speak. "I, uh, well," I stammered, in a hurry to cut her off, "it's..."

"We figured we all might need help while we're like this," Tammy said, elbowing Emma in the ribs. "With all three of us in the same suite, it's easier for one of us to be on hand when Stu needs winding, and so on."

"Ah, gotcha," he replied. "Makes sense, I guess." He paused for a moment. "Wait, 'winding?' What...what happens when you run down?"

I cringed; it was weird enough being like this, but having him ask me about it directly...

"Time dilation," Emma said, deftly dodging an elbow. "She hasn't run down completely yet, so we don't know what happens then."

Gil stared at me in fascination; I nodded silently, feeling like I should be blushing madly, if only I had the capacity. "Wow," he said. "Man, Bitterman's gonna be so jealous; that's steampunk as hell." He frowned. "'...Clockpunk?' 'Watchpunk?'"

"You can't tell people!" I protested, trying to remember who "Bitterman" was; probably one of the other CS geeks. "Geez!"

"Oh, uh, right," he said, taken aback. "Um, sorry, I didn't think...sorry. You, uh, can I help...?"

I nodded, eager to move on. We spent the next little while packing up my stuff; there wasn't much, aside from clothes and textbooks. Gil took the cart, leaving Emma free to carry her head herself. It was nice of him to help, but I kept feeling like he was staring at me. I could hardly blame him, I thought, not as weird as this all was; but it was still a strange and slightly uncomfortable feeling.

"But, y'know," Emma said, as we took the elevator down to the ground floor, "it's not like you can hide this. We've been over that; people are gonna figure it out."

"I mean, you and Bitterman are in Calc together, aren't you?" Gil chimed in. "Even if you don't hang out or anything..."

For a moment, I was silent, listening to the rumble of the elevator against the surging chatter of my own mechanisms, the rise and fall reflecting the fluctuations in my own emotional state. "Yeah, I...I know," I said, at last. "But...we can't stop it, but that doesn't mean I want to go announcing it to people."

"I guess," he said. "I mean, it seems like kind of a waste to try and downplay something like this, but I suppose I'd feel differently if I were in your shoes."

I bristled at hearing that again, but at least he had the decency to acknowledge that he didn't really know what he was talking about. More than I can say for some people. I held my tongue, and we travelled the rest of the way to the women's dorm in silence.

Gil followed us in and helped unload my things in Alicia's old space. "Well," he said, "I guess I'll leave you to it. Um, look, if you ever want to talk or anything, well, you have my number."

"Uh, th-thanks," I said. I actually did feel a little comforted; somewhere inside me, there was a release of tension as something unwound. I wasn't sure how he thought he could help, but it was nice of him to offer, at least.

He paused at the door, taking a last look back, with a strange expression on his face, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. "Uh, right," he said, after a moment. "Um, take care of yourself, Freeman."

I nodded, and he left. I spent a minute wondering what that was all about, then set to unpacking my things.

---

Monday came, and we went to meet our fate. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it was really a bit anticlimactic. Unsurprisingly, it'd all been caught on camera, up until the accident; the discharge fried the sensors in the cameras, along with the computers, but the storage server for the CCTV system was in another building. It was definitely enough to identify us as the culprits.

In the end, after leaving us to wait in the dean's office for nearly three hours, the administration offered not to press charges over the damage or what was technically a malicious entry into the college's network if we would sign an agreement not to sue them over the accident. It made me feel a little dirty, but it was our own fault; it would've been hard to make a case anyway.

Once that unpleasantness was over with, they were pretty reasonable about the rest. We were, of course, banned from touching the thing without faculty supervision again, but they felt that our changes were punishment enough. Tammy got all-hours access to the freshwater pool that the college maintained for merfolk, and they were quite happy to switch my residence over to the women's dorm - even offering counseling on my "transition," which I turned down with a cringe; it might be fine for some people, but that definitely wasn't me.

The only thing that felt a little foreboding was one more stipulation - not in the waiver, but which they made plenty clear - that Emma and I would cooperate with any faculty or alumni who wanted to do research on our unusual new forms, within reason. I was not thrilled with that prospect, but we could worry about it another day.

For now, all my spare dread was allotted to the campus debut of Stuart J. Freeman the weird clockwork automaton doll girl thing.

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