“Just a little further.” Pete said, leading the way up another flight of the seemingly never ending staircase.

“This better be worth it…” I grumbled. I wasn’t exactly used to climbing long staircases, and physical exertion wasn’t generally a great idea anyway when you didn’t have a ton of spare calories to burn. But Pete had insisted, so… I guess this is what friends do together, right?

“Alright, here it is!” Pete said between gasps, grabbing the latch on the door. A bit of the peeling black paint on the door flaked off as he pushed it open. He led the way out onto the rooftop of the building we’d been climbing for what felt like eternity.

I followed him over to the ledge, and he swung his legs over the side of the waist high wall, letting them dangle freely. I took a seat beside him, looking out over the city. The sun was setting over the skyline, with the light forming a sort of halo around the Harcourt Tower, a huge condo complex downtown. The way it was silhouetted and reflecting the light made it look like a spear of pure black, set aflame amidst the rest of the city. 

“Told you it was pretty.” Pete said with a grin, looking over at me.

“Yeah…” I said, awestruck by the sights of the city I had been crawling around for a couple years at that point. I’d never seen it from anything but street level, or slightly below.

“You okay over there?” Pete asked.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.” I said, currently watching the people below us scurrying about like bugs. 

“You sure? You know you can tell me anything right?”

I smiled. “Yeah. Thanks, Pete.” It was good to have a friend. I’d almost forgotten what that was like, before Pete showed up in my life.

“No problem, Kit. I’ve always got your back.” He smiled wide, and I couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the evening light or if his face seemed a bit pink.

Something about his smile was infectious, and I couldn’t help but fixate on it for a long moment, before looking back out at the sunset tinged city. Something warm and soft suddenly came to rest on my hand, and when I looked down I saw it was Pete’s hand.

‘Well that’s strange…’ But it wasn’t bad, so I let him keep his hand there on top of mine until the sun was finally beyond view and the city had fallen into as much darkness as the streetlights and illuminated office buildings allowed.

Pete was the first to pull away, swinging back over the ledge onto the rooftop. “We should go before it gets too late. But this was fun. We should do this again!”

I joined him back on the safety of the roof and nodded. “Yeah.” I agreed with a smile, following him to the door that led back to the staircase.

==========

The warmth started to fall away, replaced by a general fuzziness that was swirling around my head. I could hear distant voices, muffled, but small bits and pieces were sharp enough to be distinct - short bursts of laughter, a man and a woman arguing, kids screeching. A PA system repeating something about a doctor being needed somewhere.

A doctor.

Wait… Am I at a hospital?

“Oh, you’re awake!” I looked over quickly, startled by the nurse standing nearby, checking a monitor beside my bed.

“Where…?” I asked, trying to quickly brush away the lingering fogginess. 

“You’re at Ridgeview General Hospital, sweetheart.” She smiled at me. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

Before I could say anything else, she hustled out of the room, the swishing fabric-on-fabric of her pink scrubs fading quickly as the door swung closed behind her.

Okay, so, pros and cons? Pro: I’m alive! Con: I’m in a hospital. Pro: CPS won’t take me until I’m healthy enough to be discharged! Con: CPS is definitely taking me. No way I can slip out of this. Con: I don’t know how serious whatever’s wrong with me is. Con: I probably won’t get a chance to say goodbye to Pete before they ship me off…

That last one hurt the most. He was pretty much my only friend, and I was going to miss the heck out of him. Maybe if I could escape my new orphanage or foster home or whatever I could come back here and catch up with him. 

A few soft knocks came at the door, followed by the doctor entering. She was a roughly middle aged woman, and her smile seemed genuine. I returned it nervously. “Good afternoon. You’ve been asleep for quite a while. We were afraid you might Rip Van Winkle on us!” She chuckled at her own joke, moving around to check my charts and re-check the monitors near my bed.

I clearly missed what was supposed to be so funny, so I kept quiet. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked brightly, making a few marks on her clipboard.

“Fine, I guess.” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Wrong? No dear, you’ll be fine. I’m just here to ask a few questions and determine your current baseline health, since your medical records haven’t been updated in a few years.”

“Oh…” I relaxed back into my pillow. I guess it makes sense that they’d want to update my charts. I ran through a dozen or so questions about family medical history, personal medical history, any illnesses or potential exposures to things. I didn’t know the answers to most of them, so I just said as much. The doctor didn’t seem too upset by that lack of knowledge. When things were done, she smiled and headed for the door. 

“I think we’re all done here for now, so I’ll let your agent know you’re ready for him. Nice to meet you, Ms. Carson.” She smiled and left the room.

Agent… So CPS is already here to pick me up? Crap… Wait, did she call me ‘miss’ Carson? What was that about? Maybe I just misheard? Maybe she’s just tired after a long shift? Oh well. It’s not a big deal, I guess.

It was only a few minutes - maybe 10 or 15 - before the door opened again. A stern, well groomed man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped inside, and made his way over to the chair beside my bed. He took a seat and folded his legs, lacing his fingers in his lap.

“Hello, Ms. Carson. I’m glad to see that you’re awake.” His voice had a sort of gruff quality to it, but he didn’t seem overly harsh. The smile he gave didn’t reach his eyes, and almost felt like it came out of a corporate ‘how to smile’ handbook.

“Um,” I began, “it’s just Kit, and I’m a guy.” Weird that two people had messed it up now - no way it was just a coincidence, so I figured I better set that record straight at least.

The agent made a noncommittal hum, and pulled his briefcase up onto his lap. The latches popped open and he lifted the lid briefly, rifling through the contents before he pulled out a folder. He closed the case again and opened the folder, looking the documents over. “I see your age is listed as 16, is that accurate?” 

“Yes, just recently.” I nodded.

“Is that your natural hair color?” he asked. I tugged a strand of long black hair in front of my face and nodded. 

“And your natural eye color is?” he asked, glancing at me. 

“Green,” I said. He nodded, taking down a note in his folder with each of my responses.

“Are you left handed or right handed?”

“Right.” I said, starting to get a little annoyed by the weird questions. “What does any of this have to do with getting carted off to an orphanage?”

“I do wish we had a more accurate medical history for you,” he sighed. “But I suppose a gap is to be expected in a case like yours. You’ve been homeless for roughly three years, is that correct Ms. Carson?”

“Stop calling me miss!” I insisted, losing my temper for a moment. The agent just looked back at me calmly. I tamped down the anger and nodded to his question. 

“I see.” He gave the papers a quick once over before shuffling that stack below another stack. “Now then… I am Agent Dobbs, but you may feel free to call me Brian, if it makes you more comfortable. I am sure you have a few questions, and will certainly have more as we go. Please feel free to ask as they occur to you.”

“What does any of this have to do with being taken to an orphanage?” I asked again, more insistently.

“An orphanage? I’m not here to take you to an orphanage, Ms. Carson.” 

“Why do you keep calling me miss?!” I snapped the question out, beyond frustrated with this no longer amusing joke.

Agent Dobbs put on his practiced business smile again. “Because that is the typical polite form of address for a young woman such as yourself, as of roughly twelve hours ago.”

I started to form a snappy response, but it died on my lips as I tried to process the completely unbelievable statement. “Wait… what?” I asked, as eloquently as possible.

“You are familiar with the yearly occurrence known commonly as the “Re-gendering”, yes?”

I nodded slowly. It was something covered in health classes starting in middle school, and I had a more intimate experience with it than a lot of people. “But that only happens to people over 18.”

“A common misconception. The number of cases occurring in people under 18 is much lower, but it is not unheard of.”

“But wait, regens switch over instantly.” I would know, since it happened to my mom. I wasn’t going to tell him that though.

“Not in cases relating to individuals under 18. In such cases, those individuals progressively change as their bodies absorb the particles emitted by the alien device in orbit. This process can take anywhere from a few days to a week, depending on measures that can be taken to slow the process. In about half of the pre-18 cases, the situation is even completely reversible by the end of the week, given the appropriate measures are taken and adhered to.”

I just stared at the agent for a long time, and he sat there patiently waiting, as if he could sense my fumbling attempt to grapple with what he’d just revealed. “So you’re telling me… you’re saying… I’m gonna be… a girl?”

He shook his head once. “No, Ms. Carson, I’m saying you already are a girl, biologically speaking. While many changes can occur in the early stages of the Re-gendering process, inversion of the primary sexual characteristics are almost always the first change. We haven’t been able to determine why.”

After processing that bit of information, I strongly resisted the urge to grab around down south and prove him wrong - or right. Instead I tried to subtly rub my thighs together. Nothing. Just an awkward emptiness I somehow hadn’t noticed in the stretch of time since I woke up.

“Now then,” Agent Dobbs continued after letting me have my moment of exploration - he must see this sort of thing a lot, I figured. “If you want to allow the changes to occur, that is perfectly fine, and we’ve had many young men and young women pursue that route.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I asked quickly.

“Then,” he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small black box. “I would give you this to wear for the remainder of the week.” He opened the lid of the box, revealing what appeared to be a regular brilliant watch. I’d obviously never owned one, but I’d seen normies on the street wearing them.

“Why? What’s it do?” I asked.

“Well, in addition to functioning as a standard brilliant watch, and being able to sync up with any recent model oPhone, these special Bureau models can monitor the degree to which the alien device has affected you. It helps to slow the body’s absorption of the alien particles, as well. Are you interested?”

I nodded quickly.

“Very well, Your wrist, please?” I held out my left arm towards him. “Thank you.’ He fastened the oWatch around my wrist, and tapped the screen. A few gentle taps of his stylus walked through what I assumed was some kind of set-up process. When he was finished, I looked at the display, showing the current time - 12:44pm. 

“If you hold your finger on the top right corner and drag it down diagonally towards the bottom left corner, it will bring up the Bureau monitor display.” He said, watching me fidget with the new bit of hardware. I did as instructed, and swiped the screen. The swirled grayscale background was replaced by a solid black with a white bar and text. 

‘Particle Saturation - 55%’

“What’s that mean?” I asked, showing him the watch.

“It is the overall saturation level of the alien particles within your body. A person who is not being impacted by the regendering may be anywhere between 0 and 25 percent saturation during the event.They might feel a bit off, but there are no physical changes. Adult individuals impacted by the event rapidly climb from 0 to 100 percent in the span of a few hours. Those are the cases that are best documented and known in the public eye, though given your mother’s experience, I doubt you needed much reminding of that.”

I flinched at the painful reminder. He was right, I didn’t need that. When I was 11, Mom was affected by the Re-gendering. In a single night, she went from the caring woman that I had known all my life to a carefree guy who apparently had no interest in having kids. He just up and left me alone at our house with a $50 bill and a short goodbye note on the kitchen table. 

“However…” the agent continued, “In cases of individuals under the age of 18, that progression from 0 to 100 percent is much slower, and in roughly half the cases we’ve documented, if the individual avoids reaching 100 percent saturation by the time the event ends, they are able to return to their original bodies after a few hours without particle exposure. Their progression can be far more chaotic than those rapidly exposed, altering anything from: aspects of your personality, to height, weight, eye and/or hair color, even ethnicity in some rare cases. Recently a young lady was even rehomed to Japan following her experience with the so-called “Re-Gendering” event. It is truly fascinating how diverse the changes can be.”

I stared at the watch, suddenly feeling far more threatened by that ominous ‘55%’. It was only the first proper day of the Re-gendering event, and I had already given up over half of my chance at being normal again. I felt tears trying to build, and I quickly pressed my hands to my eyes to put an end to that.

“There are a few other details we need to cover before I let you get some rest, Ms. Carson. Do you need a moment to collect yourself?”

I shoved against my eyes harder for a moment, gritting my teeth as if to bite down on my emotions. “It’s just... Kit,” I said when I finally trusted myself to pull my hands away and meet the Agent’s gaze again. 

“That is one of the details that we must address. As part of the Bureau of Gender Services’ ‘Re-gendering Adaptation Program,’ we assign individuals updated forms of identification to match their “re-gendered” sex. If an individual returns to their original sex, or is unable to return to their original sex, and wishes to pursue other means of transitioning back to their original sex, then the Bureau will fund that process and repeal the temporary identification. If the individual does not return to their original sex and does not wish to, then the temporary identification is fully instated as new permanent identification, and would require the standard legal procedures be pursued to make further changes.”

“So what you’re saying is... “ I took a moment to make sure I had understood, “that you’re going to give me a bunch of temporary paperwork that says I’m a girl not a boy, until I manage to switch back?”

“That is correct, Ms. Carson. To facilitate that, we’ll also need to assign you a new given name. We find that the adjustment process goes more smoothly without clinging to your previous name. However, we do try to keep the names similar enough that they can still be adjacent to your original name, out of respect for the name you were given at birth. If you perchance have a name in mind, you may also suggest that name, as is the case with many of our ‘voluntary transition’ re-gendering individuals.”

“Wait, so you’re saying I have to change my name?” I asked, staring at him blankly.

“Yes, Ms. Carson, do you have any names that you might prefer?” He asked.

“What? No… I like my name.” 

“Well, then…” He paused, tapping his pen on the paper for a moment. “We’ll stay adjacent to “Kitridge” and try… “Katarina”. That way your nickname goes from “Kit” to “Kat,” he posed with a dry, humorless laugh. “What do you think?”  He flashed me what I am sure he thought was a friendly smile.

“No! It’s Kit dammit,” I shouted at him, clenching the guardrail of my bed. 

“I understand that this is a stressful time, Ms. Carson, but as part of the globally agreed upon regulations for “Re-gendering” affected individuals, in accordance with decades of study, individuals such as yourself stand the best chance of making it through your circumstances by attempting to adapt to your new sex via adhering to some of the gender norms common to cisgender individuals of that sex. After the event has ended, you are more than welcome to return to whatever gender norms you feel most properly align with your own preferences.” 

“That’s… That’s so wrong! What about all the people out there who don’t give a damn about gender norms!?” I was pissed, now. There’s no way they were going to force me to act like some walking stereotype.

“As I said, you are welcome to adopt or discard whatever societal gender norms you wish after the event period, Ms. Carson. However… it is for the sake of your own mental health that we suggest adhering to them for the span of the event duration.”

I felt the fire drain out of me, and I slumped back in my bed again. Nothing I say is going to change his mind, so I might as well just let him talk. I can just ignore whatever he says. What’s the orphanage going to do if I don’t listen, anyway?

“Well, Ms. Carson, I’ll need to get this paperwork sorted, and meet with your temporary guardian for the duration of the event.” Agent Dobbs tucked his paperwork and folder back into the briefcase and closed it, latching the clasps again. He stood and straightened out his jacket and slacks.

“...Guardian?” I asked, looking away from the window, towards him again.

“Yes, Ms. Carson. She’s the one who brought you in after you collapsed, and she has agreed to take temporary guardianship of you for the duration of the event. She’ll be in to speak with you after I’ve had a chance to brief her. Get some rest, Ms. Carson, and try to enjoy your day. I’ll be meeting with you for the occasional check-in over the course of the event, so we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” He smiled, opened the door, and left me alone with everything that he’d just dropped in my lap.