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Lying and Cheeting
My holomask flickers as I stand at the bus door, the driver frowns suspiciously at me. Is it through the wonder of seeing someone with the device in the first place? I run my hand across the tag reader, my details and a photo come up on the screen beside him. My mask is displaying the image of my real face as stored on the tag embedded in my right palm. It’s hard to fake tag information; any changes are logged on the tag and if they don't correlate with the information on the government databases the
n you are in trouble.
After what seems like an age the driver gives an understanding nod and lets me on. It seems he has decided why I have a holomask set to display my normal face; most news sources have described how they are used to rehabilitate people who have undergone
major surgery; let them use the mask till their features return to normal so they don’t have to suffer any stigma associated with the scars.
I smile wryly as I take my seat. Major surgery? He hasn’t a fucking clue.
The other passengers haven’t seen the readout on the screen, just the flicker of the holomask (the device is supposed to be pretty reliable, but every now and then, especially during a transition from outdoors to indoors what with the change in air pres
sure…). The standard paranoia of society is to assume the worst. So I’m not an innocent ex-patient who just wants to get on quietly with my own life, but a wealthy weirdo. Rich, because I can afford the mask. Why do I want a mask, though? What am I coveri
ng up? Am I a celebrity - no, if I was a celebrity I would have my own private transport, wouldn’t I? Some major criminal? But even then, if I can afford a holomask shouldn’t I be able to afford my own transport? So what the hell am I?
Nobody looks directly at me, but the suspicion hangs around the interior. It’s like a strong smell, it’s intangible but I can sense very clearly that it is there. I shrug, sit back and decide to be content that at least my own personal space is pretty safe. No-one is going to sit down beside this looney-toon.
I know Brian is going to be annoyed that I’ve taken the day off work for this - or at least he is going to put on a front of being annoyed. But for me not to meet him on the day that he’s finally finished all this surgery…well that is completely ludicrous, isn’t it? No, I think secretly he’s going to be quite pleased.
Until I tell him what I’ve been waiting to say for a long time now. He signed up as a test subject with this research company three months ago, just as I was preparing to tell him. So I didn’t tell him then, decided that he needed my support, I just did
not have it in me to be so mean. Now that he’s finished though…well, I’ll have to judge first whether he’s capable before I drop it on him. And I do mean drop; it is going to hit him like a bomb. I still have my fears, but I simply don’t think we can go
on like this for any longer.
I sigh, lie back on the couch and plot out what I’m going to say. I look at the engagement ring and hold back a tear.
I turn away from the engagement ring and my gaze drifts out of the bus window, taking in little of the surroundings. My eyes are on the street, my mind is somewhere else entirely. This is my absolute last chance with Susan. She has been getting ever distant over the past year or so now. Cooler towards me, less willing to…well, anything with me. She doesn’t talk so much, maybe she thinks I don’t listen, or I don’t sympathise with her. I’ve tried so many gestures to the contrary, but at the end of
the day that’s all they are. Gestures. Not true enough, not convincing. What they say is that I need her, but what I actually need is something which makes her realise she can’t do without me. This has got to work.
She thinks I’m only in this for the money. I showed her the advert, the genetic research company, how they needed subjects for a new type of surgery. True enough, I am getting paid far more with this than I’ve ever earned in an ordinary job, but that’s
not the reason.
All the secrecy, nobody in the outside world is allowed to know exactly what is happening to me. I can tell them that I’m a guinea-pig but that’s all. I have to sleep in the spare bedroom and lock the door to stop Susan touching me when I'm asleep becau
se of the risk that she could touch parts she would be better off not knowing about.
No more.
It’s going to be a shock, I just hope she’s able to handle it.
Soon everyone is going to know about it, I’m pretty certain of that. I’ll be famous, at least until the techniques become commonplace, but truth to tell I don’t really care about the fame either.
Maybe it won’t come as much of a shock to him; it seems to me as if he’s suspected my feelings for a while now. He’s been sleeping in the spare bedroom for the last three months of this surgery, won’t let me touch him at all. Maybe the surgery
is an excuse. Maybe he doesn’t want me to touch him. Maybe he’s ready as I am to make this break…
Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Enough maybes. Very soon everything's going to be in terms of definites.
The bus pulls to a halt, I get out and the whoosh of the exhaust is like a collective sigh of relief from the occupants; the weirdo has left!
Walking over to our house, I put my hand up to the tag reader and fumble in my jacket pocket for…what, an excuse, perhaps?
No more excuses. It's time for explanations now.
Why am I psyching myself up to enter the house? All I need to do is open the door, go in, hang up my jacket and plan out what I’m going to say to her.
I open the door, hang up my jacket, start to plan out what I’m going to say to her. I enter the kitchen, potter about making myself a cup of tea, something to hopefully help me relax…
“Hi.” I hear over my shoulder.
He turns slowly around, cup in hand.
“Oh. Hi.” he mutters. No sudden jump, no shout of surprise. Casual, as if he's been expecting it. “Not at work?”
Instead I give him a weak smile. “Signed in sick.” I add as means of explanation. Just to keep my mouth moving, something to say so I don’t feel so tense and awkward.
“Hmm.” he nods calmly and goes back to his tea, pouring the boiled water languidly into his mug and heaping a couple of spoonfuls of powder in.
I walk right over to him, put my arms around his waist. This causes him to hesitate a moment, but then he pulls my arms away and I let out a little sigh of frustration.
“So…” he starts, walks out of the kitchen and into the lounge. He sits down on the couch, I take the chair opposite.
“So?” I ask. “Are you going to show me all…this?” I motion at his hologram-masked body.
Am I? She wants to see it, I want to show her. Where is the problem?
The problem lies in the fact that not a hundred percent of me wants to show her this. Not all of me is sure how she will react.
I can’t not show her. All these months of her having to live with this, and she is why I’m doing it.
What if she doesn’t like it? Will I be able to get it reversed? It should theoretically be possible, but it's likely to take another three months, maybe even longer. Will they even be willing to reverse it for me? I doubt it, not until they get their fill of publicity anyway, until - if - more people go for it and I slide into obscurity. Whether the reverse surgery ever happens or not, it doesn't look like I'm going to be getting back to normal life anytime in the immediate future. She has
to know.
But right now she’s got something for me to hear; I can tell by the way she leans forwards slightly in her seat.
Now. I’m going to tell him now, there’s no point skulking around any more. Get it out in the open, say it, get it over with.
I sigh, clasp my hands together a few times, fiddle with the sleeves of my sweater. He leans closer in anticipation.
“You know we’ve had our…differences?” God, it comes out much softer than I intend. I suddenly feel a lot meeker, but I’ve started, there’s no going back.
“Yeah?” he nods.
“Well…we haven’t always seen eye to eye, have we? Most of the time we’re pretty matched here” I tap my chest, point to my heart. “but we can be miles apart up here.” I tap my temple. “Some of the things I like, you’re not so keen on. That’s okay for small things, everyone has that, but there are some things I really can’t live without and which seem simply to disgust you-“
I can’t stand it any longer. She has to see this before she says something she’s going to regret. The holomask hangs on a thin chain around my neck; I pull it out from under my shirt and rest a finger on the pendant.
His finger is on the holomask pendant, does this mean he’s going to show me? My carefully-planned gentle drop comes apart in my head as the anticipation floods my brain. This is something that I have to see. For the past three months now I’ve wanted to see it, but now that it seems I will finally get to…I simply can’t think.
She looks ready enough; at least, as ready as she ever will be. So what am I supposed to do now? Just switch the mask off and let her see?
What else can I do?
He presses the pendant and the sight that greets me, there is simply no way that anything could have prepared me for this.
I can’t take it; I jump up, scream. I run to the door, he gets up but by that time I’m at the other end of the room. I dash into the bathroom, lock the door and hear him thump once against it.
I slump down into a corner and shake my head with fearful, tearful wonder.
She doesn’t like it. I knew she wouldn’t; instead of showing her how much I do understand her I’ve just scared her. Oh, how I have really fucked up this time.
From my pocket I pull a folded-up piece of paper. I unfold it; a little tattered but the picture on it is still visible. I study it again, uncertain now.
I had been sure about it when I found it by chance under a few folders on her desk, all those months ago. Very well-rendered, I have to give her that. Good sense of proportion and perspective, excellent shading and texturing.
It’s me. What she calls my “shit-eating grin”, the blue tie with red dots; she loves to make fun of my taste in clothing, especially when the tie’s worn with a white shirt and a pair of denim shorts…
It's myself as I am now. It's different from the original me that first came across the picture. The me who wasn't sure what to do at first. The me who saw the genetic surgery advert only a short time later, the me who decided to model himself on that picture in a desperate attempt to keep her interest. It’s slimmer, it has better muscle definition. Bigger eyes, larger teeth. Claws and orange fur spotted with black.
The anthropomorphic cheetah me.
The picture is captioned with one word at the bottom - “Purrfection”. I give a thin smile, wander back through to the living room. I catch myself in the mirror and suddenly my throat is beyond my control. It starts leaping and jerking; I flop down on the couch and begin to cry.
This is what I wanted, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
I always wondered whatever happened to that picture; I need wonder no more. He’s always known about my furry…thing. He tolerated it at first, but over the past few years I've had the impression that he didn’t like it, he wanted me to change, or he just
wanted away from me.
But now he's gone and done...this. I mean, how am I supposed to react?
Well I can stop being such a silly bitch for a start, can't I?
The bathroom door clicks, I look up and see her walk out. I sit up on the couch, leaving space for her. She doesn't take it; she crouches in front of me. I can see streaks all around her eyes. What have I done? Have I just totally fucked her up now?
Who is more fucked up - me or her?
The fur around his eyes is all wet, there are streaks right down his face. He looks so plaintive and pathetic, like a frightened little kitten. Shit, I feel so cruel. I sit down beside him on the couch, put my arms around him.
“It's alright.” I whisper. He leans back until his head is on my lap and he looks uncertainly up at me with a set of beautiful golden eyes. “It's alright.” I say again, hoping he knows that I truly mean it.
I think she actually means it. I'm still unsure, I pull up from her lap and our eyes are level. I move towards her, open my mouth and move closer-
She backs off. What now?
Why am I backing off?
Oh god, it's those teeth. They're
enormous. They'll rip my face to shreds for sure.
No. As long as they're Brian's teeth, they won't do that, will they?
Well there's only one way to find out.
I feel a surge of adrenaline as I move closer to him, open up and let his tongue in. It's been so long since I've felt such power in a kiss.
No. It's been
never since I've felt power like this. I run my tongue across the teeth, my heart pumps fit to burst, my whole body is simmering. His eyes are locked onto mine, but they're not by any means the only part of him that's breathtaking. The smooth, soft fur over the wonderfully lithe muscles, even those teeth are...Why don't I just admit it? He is gorgeous all over.
The kiss seems to last forever, but when we finally withdraw to breathe I wish that it could have lasted even longer. I wish we didn't have to breathe, I wish we could just keep our mouths clamped to each other for all eternity-
“It'll take some getting used to.” she says, bringing me back to real life.
“What?” That's not necessarily bad, is it? Is it? What does it mean?
She grins deviously.
“Just involve a little experimentation, that's all.” She pulls the holomask off me and starts on my clothes.