Title: Self-deception

Fandom: Altered Carbon

Prompt and challenges: fan_flashworks challenge #2 prompt(s) « Prediction », « Genre », « Trapped »

Characters and relationships: OC

Length: 700 (words)

Content notes: onanism, transgenderism issues, implied suicide

Author notes: Altered Carbon describes a world (set in a distant future) where consciousness can be stored on carbon chips and thus transferred into a new body, a new « sleeve ». Curiously enough, the author doesn’t address transgenderism issues at all.

Music: Somewhere I belong by Linkin Park

Summary: Five things that hinted everything wasn’t the way it should.



I was not born yet
“It’s a girl!”
“You’re sure?”
“Sir, gender predictions are completely reliable. This is not the 21st century anymore!”
None of my parents ever said so but I’m sure my dad’s disappointment showed.

I was 5
I stared at the rows of shoes, scrupulously sorted in the shoe closet. It smelled of leather and wax. It smelled like Christmas because my mom always made me wax my shoes before I put them under the Christmas Tree.
I knew I was supposed to try my mom's shoes. That's what little girls do, I knew that much. They try their mom's shoes and then they steal their jewelry and use their make-up.
I thought I'd give it a try.
I took one of the high heeled pair and tentatively put my foot in it. It was much too big and wobbly. I stared down, wondering why anyone would bother putting something like it on. I carefully put it back in the closet, knowing I was never going to wear a shoe like this again willingly

I was 6
Christmas, finally!
Presents were almost always disappointing but I still hoped. I wanted model trains and cars, lots of books, maybe a kite to go play outside with my daddy. I unwrapped the last one. It was a Barbie doll. I stared, nonplussed. Did Santa mix up my presents with my sister's ? I looked at my mother, searching for a clue. What was I supposed to do with that ? My aunt beamed at me "Go play with your nice doll, chop chop!"
I left the room and found an isolated corner and cuddled there with my favorite book, an oldance called "Michel Strogoff" until my parents called me to say good bye.

I was 13
It was getting cold out there and I was fed up with my own coats. I opened the coat closet and knew which one I wanted right away. There was no one home, no one to ask permission. Did it matter anyway ? It was there, so obviously no one needed it. I grabbed my father's navy cloak and draped myself in it. It fitted me nicely, just the right size. I watched the belt critically, wondering. A girl's clothe should be cinched at the waist but the garment wasn't cut for it. I sort of liked it better that way but I still knotted it to prove to myself I really was a girl.

I was 16
I glided a hand down my belly, between my legs, exploring with fingers and discovering how it felt. It was nice but there was obviously something missing. I kept stroking, imagining my hand shaped around a shaft of flesh. I knew it was impossible. And apparently, it was quite normal to miss this specific appendix. Freud said so. He couldn't possibly be wrong. Ergo I was a girl. My imagination pictured an enthralling hybrid with breasts and a dick, mesmerizing acrobats in glittering outfits flying. I came for the first time and cried. Reality was sinking in. I had breasts and I didn't have a dick.
You're a girl, suck it up.

I was 18
I was legally of age. What sense it made was beyond me. I was born eighteen years ago, I learned a few things in the meantime. Was it enough to make me an adult? My body was supposed to be mature but nowadays what difference exactly did it make? Anyway, no matter what little sense it made I was now legally able to purchase a sleeve in case of an early demise. I could have made it so that the new body was a male one, there were ways to make that kind of "mistake". But I was a girl. I'd had eighteen years to fool myself into believing that. I bought a female one.

I was 36 and then I died
Eighteen years later, I wanted to rip my own flesh apart, tear the body that should never have been mine. I was a man and I was trapped, again.
I put the gun into my mouth carefully for the second time and pulled the trigger.