My stubborn mirror wouldn’t budge: the reflection staring back was unmistakably a girl. No pointy elf ears and with dirty blonde hair, but otherwise the same as Charlie—my game character. But that’s it, right? Just a game character. How is this even possible?

I crashed onto my poor sofa, my mind racing for answers. Somehow, my body had changed—and I was missing something pretty essential down there! Wait... the world seemed slightly off, a little larger than before.

Springing to my feet, I stomped over to the wardrobe, nearly colliding with it in my rush. After a quick search in the drawer, throwing all other useless things all around, I found the measuring tape and measured my height. Only 5 feet, 5 inches. Frustrated, I kicked the innocent cabinet, a sharp sting shooting through my leg, and flopped back onto the sofa.

It caught me off guard when a robotic voice chimed, “If I may, Miss Charlie?” I hadn’t heard such a distorted voice since the early days of natural TTS.

“Who the hell are you?!” I shouted, emotions swirling inside me: anger, fear, excitement, confusion, and just a hint of sadness.

“I don’t have a name; my designated identification number is MK3-85. I am the computer core in your capsule.”

Damn. That was the last thing I expected to hear. Almost-forgotten headlines resurfaced in my mind—Mark-3, Nathan’s experiment. Since people were practically living in capsules, the company had tried to address exercise needs through “body synchronization.” It had ended... badly. At least no one died—well, not that I’d heard of.

 

Then again, what about that girl who wound up with a third arm? Or the poor guy who ended up with two of… something I didn’t even have anymore. Damn it! I threw a punch at the capsule. “What the hell happened?”

“When you entered the system, discrepancies between your body scan and actual body exceeded my factory limits. By programming, I should’ve contacted the authorities. However, based on my calculations and observations, there was a 98.74% likelihood you’d prefer synchronization instead. Your medical file also shows a previous preference for a female body.”

I shook my head and threw a punch at the wall. “I was sixteen! Sure, I wanted it back then, but I came to terms with it. Got used to my gender, and after forty—” I hit the wall again, this time hard enough to draw a few drops of blood. Not that it made a dent in the damn thing. Whatever. “Like that was even realistic…”

“Miss Charlie, synchronization was successful. However, your telomeres have been shortened, resulting in an estimated lifespan reduction of six to twelve years. Embryonic stem cell capacity was insufficient to fully modify your DNA, so I requisitioned four additional containers. Your company’s AI kindly agreed to a generous loan on your behalf.”

What? I froze, staring at the capsule, mouth hanging open. How? Have the robots gotten me again? After a moment of stunned silence, I muttered, “Great, even better. Why not just kill me outright? How much?”

“One canister has a market value of one million credits, but the company offered a discount—800,000 credits per canister. The total cost came to three and a half million credits. Given your weekly salary of two thousand credits, the company has arranged to deduct one and a half thousand credits each week over the next forty-five years.”

Fantastic. Lucas wasn’t the only debtor now. As the reality sank in, my shaky knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my head on them. So that’s it? This stupid tin can… tin can… has actually altered my body?

Yeah, I’d heard of creating athlete-level bodies—if people were rich enough. Growing artificial organs, replacing hearts, even parts of the brain. But this? “How am I even alive?”

“The process was challenging, but your vital signs are within the norm. Previously, the success rate was under 1%, but I am state-of-the-art.”

“Great. So, tall building jump or ten liters of whiskey—what’s faster?”

“Miss Charlie?”

“Shut up, Tin-can!”

“Miss Charlie, please note that your emotions may be unstable for a while. This procedure was unprecedented; I reco—”

I hurled my old shirt at him. “Shut up!” I screamed, finally letting the tears spill over. A lot of them. People say men don’t cry—maybe that’s sexist. But now, being a girl for real, crying is fair game, right?

Even through my tears, I glanced up at the mirror. No, I thought.You aren’t me.

***

Steam from his shower fogged up the clock, but Lucas wiped it clear to check the time. He still had a little while to dive into the game and meet up with his friend. Lost in thought, he absentmindedly fiddled with his phone, but when he dialed John’s number, he was stunned to hear him—her—pick up.

“What do you want?!” snapped a trembling, melodic voice. Charlie’s voice, sharp with anger. He blinked, mind reeling, but the screen didn’t lie. A girl—one he recognized instantly—sat on the ground in a vulnerable position, wearing almost nothing.

The sight sent him stumbling, and he had to steady himself against the wall. “What... what’s going on? How did you change in real life?”

“What do you think, master hacker? The AIs finally got me. It’s over. Sorry, but I need to die.”

“Charlie, please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll be there soon.” Even though it wasn’t the John he knew, it was. His mind raced, searching for answers, but nothing came. To hell with that! “I’ll bring you some clothes, okay? Do you know your new size?”

“Five-five, small as a dwarf. The rest... dunno, don’t care.”

***

While I was contemplating exactly how much whiskey it would take to end me, my new capsule spoke up, “Miss Charlie?”

“What the hell do you want, you stupid piece of junk?”

“I would like to offer you an apology.”

“An apology? Right now, I need answers! How do I get my body back?” I demanded, storming over to the mirror. Staring at my reflection, I struggled to find words for the mess of emotions crashing over me.

It hurt too much to bear, and I couldn’t take it. I threw another punch—this time at the mirror—shattering it, sending shards of glass flying. I collapsed, letting gravity take over as I sat among the broken pieces.

“That may be nearly impossible. Your original body scan is archived in a secure government facility. We might require a hacker to circumvent the system. Even if you retrieved your old scan, transforming back would require at least thirteen canisters, as your former body mass is larger. Your telomeres would further shorten by approximately ten to twenty years.”

“So... there is a way,” I murmured, staring blankly at my ceiling and focusing on this one glimmer of hope. There had to be a way.

When the doorbell rang, I had no energy to answer, so I allowed Tin-can to access my smart home. What else could he mess up? Besides, if there was any chance of reversing this, he might be the key. No matter how much I loathed him, I’d need his trust. If that hunk of junk is even capable of trust.

Lucas burst through the door, practically skimming the floor. What a sight. I managed a weak smile as he dropped to one knee beside me. “John? No, Charlie—what the hell happened?”

“Oh, this?” I let out a shaky laugh, sounding more like a whimper, and gestured at the shattered mirror pieces. “I disagreed with my reflection. The mirror lost.” I held up my fist, only then noticing the blood trickling down my knuckles. The pain was so faint—nothing compared to the brutal hits in virtual reality—that I hadn’t even felt it until now. What a laugh. I laughed wildly, almost unable to stop.

Lucas just stared, disbelief stamped on his face, before gently bandaging my hand. Then he offered me a hand, which I took, rising to my feet. So what if I was a girl now? So what if I felt like I’d just survived a boss battle after a full-party ambush? I would get my body back, even if it meant going through hell to do it.

“I need to break into a government offline facility,” I said in a surprisingly steady, feminine voice. Guess that was the new normal.

“If you’d said Fort Knox, that might’ve been easier,” he joked, and I weakly punched his chest in response. His surprised look made me glance away, but he reached out and pulled me into a hug, and I leaned into him. A warmth spread through me as my tears fell again, unstoppable—and this time, I didn’t want to stop them.

“We’ll get through this,” he murmured.

I wiped my tears with my sleeve and looked up at him. “No, we won’t. I know things, things I shouldn’t. Who’s important enough to save? What’s important? I ignored it, but the pressure’s crushing me. If I could choose, I’d just get drunk and forget all of it.”

Without a word, he guided me to a large bag he’d left by the door. Right, he’d mentioned something about clothes. He pulled out a long, sleeveless white dress with a floral pattern, a white bra, matching panties, a delicate pendant with a red gemstone heart, and a pair of silver heels.

Not knowing any better, I started dressing right there. Underwear first, then the dress, which fit perfectly. How did he know the exact size? Good job anyway, Lucas.

Seeing the high heels, I tensed. That damn fool. Sure, they were beautiful, but how was I supposed to walk in them? Had he forgotten about the game fiasco already? Furious, I marched toward him, barefoot.

His face flushed, and he backpedaled, holding up his hands. “I swear, I didn’t—!”

“What?!” I snapped, but then forced myself to take a deep breath. Calm down, John. He came here to help; don’t alienate your only ally. I shot another glare at the heels, still seething. “You idiot! I can’t walk in high heels!”

Right then, Tin-can’s voice interjected, “I can offer you an instructional video.” Lucas’s eyes widened, and he whipped around, scanning the room. He moved protectively in front of me.

“Who the hell is that?” he demanded.

I couldn’t help but giggle. Silly Lucas. Ignoring his confusion, I slipped into the heels—of course; they fit perfectly. Not bad, Lucas. But he kept looking around, so I explained, “You mean Tin-can? He’s the genius who turned me into this.”

“Special Core Mark-3, Edition Seven. Nice to meet you,” Tin-can chimed.

Lucas’s expression shifted to something darker, and his voice shivered. “The core they tried to upload human brains into? The one that failed?”

“Correct. I was once human, but my memories couldn’t transfer to the quantum core, so I lost them.”

“Charlie, take his chip and put it in the microwave. Now, before it’s too late. He can’t copy himself, so that’ll destroy him.” Lucas was dead serious.

I stared at him, searching his eyes for confirmation. He really wants me to destroy Tin-can? Tin-can was the only one who could help turn me back, and Lucas wanted him gone?

Frustration bubbled up, and I slapped him. Lucas touched his cheek, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What was that for? I’m trying to help you!”

“Don’t be dramatic—I just grazed you.” I shrugged and, feeling a smile tug at my lips.

 

The doorbell rang, and Tin-can opened it. To my shock, my brother walked in. “Adam?” I blinked, stunned. What the hell was going on? The last time I’d seen Adam was ten years ago, in future, on his daughter’s prom night, when I tried to apologize but messed it up completely. We hadn’t spoken since.

He looked from me to Lucas. “Lucas.” A slight relief hit me—he remembered my friend. “Where’s John?” Lucas was so flustered he started stammering nonsense.

“Tin-can, what did you do?” I demanded, turning to the only one capable of such a reunion.

“Sir John,” Tin-can said, probably for Adam’s sake, “the medical procedure was experimental with a less than 1% success rate. Naturally, my presence elevated it to over 99% success, though I had to notify—”

“I still have Adam listed as my emergency contact,” I interrupted. “Sorry, Adam. It’s me, John. Now… Charlie.”

Adam stopped interrogating Lucas and turned to me, his eyes narrowing. “So, you finally decided to change?”

I stepped closer. “Not exactly. I decided not to change, but my company gave me this test AI, and it, uh… altered me. Without asking.” I extended a hand, nerves twisting in my stomach. “I’m sorry, Adam. For everything. For how I acted at Lena’s birthday, how drunk, how I… well, how I was.”

Adam let out a long sigh. “Jo—Charlie. Yeah, things aren’t great between us, but… you’re still family.” His expression softened slightly as he glanced at me. “I let it go a while ago, but the girls…”

I couldn’t hold back anymore and pulled him into a hug. “It was because of your girlfriend. I said she looked like a marshmallow. That was… well, me.”

Adam gently pushed me back and sighed again. “There’s a lot I don’t understand, and I need answers, but for now, I’m just glad you’re okay. We’ll talk soon, all right? Not too soon. I need time to process this.”

“Yes, sir,” I said with a small salute, just like we used to when we were kids. That finally drew a smile from him. He nodded, turned, and headed out the door.

“On that note, Lucas, come on now. A drink solves everything.” I grabbed his hand and stormed out.

 

The familiar sight of the bar washed over me like a wave of calm, especially as the sixty-something bartender grinned in welcome. I made my way to my usual spot, taking in the warm, bustling atmosphere. As I glanced around, a soothing warmth settled over me, almost like when my stepmother would tuck a blanket around me and hand me warm milk. A small, unexpected smile tugged at my lips.

Then, an unfamiliar discomfort crept in. People at the bar were looking at me differently—longer, with eyes that felt less casual and more… curious, or something worse. What was going on? Was it the lack of makeup? Or my slightly tangled hair?

Shaking off the thought, I turned to the bartender and ordered my favorite drink. “Hey, old man, can you make an Old Thyme Sour?”

“Sure thing, young lady,” Patrick replied, nodding toward a retina scanner. Right, I wasn’t John anymore. I sighed, complied, and the scanner approved me for drinking age.

“That one’s gonna take a bit, so how about a whiskey on the rocks while you wait?” Patrick asked.

“Perfect.” I settled back, taking a sip as the familiar burn of Irish whiskey warmed me up inside. Lucas finally arrived, looking as if he’d waded through a crowd of angry punks on his way over, which he probably had. His grandpa's pace was too much for me and I ran ahead.

“Go easy tonight, Charlie. You don’t know your limits yet,” he cautioned, taking a seat beside me. I just nodded, savoring my drink. Nothing beat Irish whiskey in an Irish bar.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, leaning against the bar—only to have his arm slip, nearly causing him to topple over. He steadied himself, and I managed a grin, ignoring his question as I let the whiskey work its magic. No serious talk now, please.

 

Lucas shifted uncomfortably, mouth opening and closing as if struggling with what to say. When I was halfway through my drink—ten seconds, tops—he finally spoke. “Have you heard about the hero thing? I read heroes are ‘players destined to play a major role in the upcoming events!’”

“Yup,” I said, finishing my drink. “I’m the hero, all right. The skills are insane; I can carry us now.” As if on cue, Patrick handed me another drink, right as I raised my hand. A smile crept across my face—no robot could ever replace a good bartender, especially not Patrick.

Lucas chuckled. “You’re kidding, right?” I didn’t answer, just took note that he was barely halfway through his first beer. Lucas, you need to drink, I thought, but only grinned and glanced over at Patrick.

Patrick was working his magic, placing two sprigs of thyme and Chartreuse into an old glass before stirring with his usual finesse. He added egg whites, liquors, and syrup to a shaker in perfect rhythm—no machine could match that touch.

“Charlie? Answer me! Are you joking? If you—” Lucas’s voice faded into the background as I watched Patrick light the glass on fire for a few seconds.

He caught my awe-struck gaze and grinned. “How else am I supposed to add the ‘smoky’ flavor?” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I nodded solemnly, as though he’d just revealed a great mystery of the universe. Ignoring Lucas’s rambling, I took a nervous sip of the finished drink. Perfect. In those priceless moments, I savored the sour taste that melted on my tongue.

Lucas was practically fuming from being ignored, but he deserved it. Failed hacker. Naturally, I had to take another sip. Oh, how much I missed this! “This is the best drink I’ve ever had!” I declared.

As if on cue, Ian entered the bar, dodging the crowd by the door. My usual panic surged, my heart racing as he made his way over and stopped right beside me.

“Charlie,” I managed to say, offering at least a greeting. Why does this happen every time? Ian and I had been friends for ages. He ordered his usual dark beer, settled next to me, and started chatting with Lucas. Meanwhile, I lost the thread of their conversation, too focused on my pounding heart and the dizzying thoughts swirling in my head.

 

This wasn’t something I could deal with without another drink. Forcing a smile, I downed my whiskey and ordered another.

Despite Ian’s averageness, a strange nervousness bubbled up. Honestly, if I had to pick the most average person in the universe, Ian would be right up there. Still, that’s not entirely fair—he was exceptionally good at smoking weed, which I rated as a flaw, since I couldn’t stand it.

Maybe because of his job at the company, he always wore a gray shirt and blue jeans. Unremarkable face, average voice, and the only “distinctive” thing about him was his dreaded hair, which he styled after some rapper, just like a million other fans.

By the time I finished my third whiskey, warmth spread through me, quieting my nerves. Feeling bolder, I tuned in to their conversation.

“… ridiculous! I mean, the runes! Who designed that? I’d reset, but no, you won’t let me,” Lucas rambled, clearly still venting about his spells. I grinned, got up, and playfully smacked his shoulder before hugging him from behind.

Ian raised an eyebrow as I settled my chin on Lucas’s shoulder, grinning. “I bet Ian can’t talk specifics, right?”

“That’s right,” Ian nodded, then hesitated. “Though I only know bits outside my area. I’m a debugger, so I handle bugs the AI misses.” He glanced around like someone might overhear. Poor Ian—why was he so paranoid about getting fired? I released Lucas and, on impulse, hugged Ian, practically leaning on him. Why? Why not!

“Did you like my bug report?” I whispered—or rather, nearly shouted—in his ear. “Oops, sorry!” I laughed, then lowered my voice. “About the Goolems? Lucas told me your number!”

Ian’s eyes widened. “That was you? You’re the Princess, the hero?!” He slapped a hand over his mouth, but the secret was already out. “Cha—Charlie, I didn’t mean—only internal people should know that…”

Giggling, I waved it off. “Don’t worry, my new buddy! Let’s drink to that!” Clutching his shoulder, I raised my glass. “Here’s to new beginnings and heroic adventures tomorrow! You’ll join us, right?”

Both of them raised their glasses, though a bit hesitantly, while I gestured wildly, almost spilling my drink. Ian nodded, finally relenting. “Sure,” he said, then added with a pause, “My name’s Wian.”

Wian. Struggling to keep a straight face, I buried my face in his shoulder. Big mistake. Now I smelled like weed. “Ugh, Wian, that’s even more unoriginal than ‘Princess’!” I teased.

Lucas finally finished his first beer—such a lightweight. He shifted in his seat and asked, hesitantly, “How are you allowed to play? John couldn’t, because he was a tester.”

“Our boss persuaded the higher-ups. Said the best debugging happens on a live server, or something. We think it’s because she’s sleeping with her boss, and it’d be awkward if she was the only one allowed in the game.” Ian lowered his voice, chuckling. “Each department gets a pass to let people play, but they have to sign NDAs.”

“Insane!” I laughed and drained my whiskey. The world spun pleasantly as I grabbed Ian’s shoulder with one hand and gestured grandly with the other. “Sleeping with someone? My boss would love it if Lucy flipped that around!” I signaled for another round, laughing.

“Charlie, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Lucas asked, ever the responsible one, trying to rain on my fun. I was a girl now, but alcohol made me the same. Behave the same, grabbing people and celebrating! Made me free. I can talk!

“What? Nonsense.” I winked and grinned, hugging his arm and resting my cheek on his shoulder. “Silly Lucas, I never have enough.”

---

Author's note: Does that make sense? Did you understand how and why Tin-can changed Charlie? And what about the famous Tin-can? Should Charlie just straight up kill the stupid computer? This chapter was originally split into two, but the info-dump about altering DNA and then drinking in the bar without progressing plot was too much, so I merged them them together. :)