The trip back was uneventful; I felt no urge to wander, and my only other stop was for lunch. I could've made something at home…but while I was out, I realized, I could take the opportunity to have a proper damn hamburger for the first time in months. So I drove over to Tom's Burger…and promptly ordered a filet-o'-fish. Well, it still counted – broiled animal flesh, cheese, lettuce & tomato, and (tartar) sauce onna bun, piping hot and in no danger of getting cold or soggy on me. Heavenly…even if it did get me some funny looks.
When I finally got home, I opened the door and was caught off-guard by a strange scent – faded but lingering, like the woman's cigarette smoke. It wasn't altogether bad, but it carried notes of anxiety and strain with it, and I could feel them prickling at the back of my neck like they were petitioning for readmittance to my nervous system. Had somebody come by? But I was the only one with keys to the place…°
° (Well, I and my landlord, but I could hardly get him to come out when there was a need. When my fridge died, I had to spend a day and a half pestering him before he gave in and arranged for a replacement.)
It took a moment for realization to set in: the scent was my own, a last little remnant of what I'd been my whole life, a ghost of the old self. I was taken aback; okay, the pandemic was a big societal upset, and lockdown had been no fun, and I'd struggled to figure out how to feel about what'd happened to my neighbor and what I was afraid would happen to me…but, I wondered again, had I really been that stressed? I thought I'd been handling it pretty well, aside from the boredom, the uncertainty, the nervousness, and the uncomfortable existential questions…
And…that was all over, wasn't it? So…now what? I'd have to go back to work eventually, have to break the news to my family, have to settle back into the basic routine of life as I tried to figure out what it even meant to be this other-me I'd never asked for. And if I was still me, I'd have to deal with all my old baggage, too; it wasn't like this was some narratively karmic cure-all for that. I was still introverted and awkward, still didn't really get people…had I really changed so utterly, for so little?
Shaking my head, I caught sight of the living-room floor. The early afternoon sun was streaming in through the window, bathing a large patch of carpet in warmth and light, and dammit, it beckoned to me. I felt ridiculous thinking about it, but I was pleasantly logy from lunch, and it was all warm and sunny and…you know what, screw it. If I had to deal with everything else new and confusing about my altered form, I might as well get something nice out of it. I stashed the beer in the fridge, tossed the brush and blowdryer on the counter for later, and curled up on the carpet for a goddamn catnap.
I drifted back to consciousness a couple hours later in a pleasant haze; the light had shifted and the floor was no longer warm and sunny, so it was no longer a place for a nap. That was logical, wasn't it? I rolled onto my hands and knees, strreeetched, and got up, but it took me a minute to get my wits about me.
And cripes, I realized, I did need to vacuum in here; I'd twisted around in my sleep, and my hair and fur had picked up bits of carpet lint, dust, and miscellaneous crud. I spent a couple minutes picking them back out before heading to the bathroom to break in my new brush with a full going-over of my hair. That felt good, but a part of my brain insisted that it'd be much nicer if someone else were doing it…
Still feeling my metaphorical oats a bit – and prompted by some instinct that valued a tidy living space more than I used to° – I actually got as far as dragging the vacuum cleaner out of the hall closet, plugging it in, and switching it on. GAH!!! I immediately turned it off; if they'd bothered to dampen the noise at all, it was only with respect to human hearing. That'd have to wait 'til I figured out what I could do for earplugs.
° (I really didn't want to think about what specific feline behaviors that'd map to.)
My fur was on-end, and I took a moment to let it settle back down; after that, maybe I just wanted to relax. I grabbed a beer from the fridge, then hesitated. One of many assorted people things I'd never grasped was how adult beverages are treated as a gendered thing, like this or that cocktail or beer style was for one sex or the other Because Reasons. I found it baffling, but now I had to wonder if there was any validity to it. What if I just didn't like the things I liked anymore…?
Well, here was a chance to be empirical about it – and either way, hesitating would change nothing. I popped the cap off the bottle, took a deep breath, and drank. Nope: Russian imperial stout, still God's own drink, myth busted. Feeling inordinately pleased at disproving what'd never made sense to me in the first place, I settled in at my computer desk; I had to drape my skirt around the perimeter of the seat cushion so my tail could hang over the back.
Funny; this was the first time I'd sat down to just chill out since the whole thing started. I'd been in and out of consciousness, and half the time I was up it was to deal with some weird, uncomfortable part of my body's spontaneous remodel and/or visitations from half the planet; it felt both comforting and strange to sit in my usual spot, doing my usual thing, in a new and unusual personal context. The basic sensations of sitting were different, even – my bits having been taken in, my spine drawn out, and my rear at least somewhat more cushioned than previously…
Headphones were a no-go, for now; earbuds might work, but I hated them, even as a human. I switched on the speakers, put on some music, and took another sip as I logged into my usual MUD; was it just me, or was the flavor stronger? Maybe it had to do with my enhanced sense of smell. And speaking of senses, the music seemed…a little odd. It took me a minute to put my finger on it – I hadn't noticed in the car, but it was missing all the high-end I'd never been able to hear before, thanks to audio standards specced for human ears.° I wondered what it'd be like to catch a live concert, but if the vacuum cleaner was too much for me…
° (I also wondered if I should look into 96 KHz remasters – or was that just typical audiophile snake-oil…?)
A while later, I heaved a frustrated sigh; I was trying to relax, let myself go, and settle into my usual routine…but it just wasn't working. My character wasn't exactly a self-insert, but wasn't leagues removed from resembling me – less because I was enamored of myself and more because role-playing didn't come naturally to me, and it was easier to get into character when the character was approximately me. But dammit, now me was all different, and it felt weird trying to get into the headspace of "being" this character who was kinda-sorta the old version.
It didn't make any sense, on a rational level. I wasn't literally my character, or vice versa; I didn't even strongly identify with "him," it was just…kind of a convenient "face" for the game, to me. But it felt like wearing that "face" when I'd just gotten saddled with this one would be…I didn't know, misrepresenting something? Like putting on a fake grin and pretending that everything was Situation Normal when it suddenly wasn't.
I had a new sense of empathy for the player who'd been the subject of that argument a while back…assuming that (s)he really had been indicating something about the situation IRL. Okay, yeah, it was bad form to drag real-world drama into the game, but what were you supposed to do with Big Life Changes that weren't going away anytime soon? Sure, escapism was a big part of the point in gaming, but one of the points of escapism was as an aid for coping with Life Stuff…
Well, I wouldn't be pulling a stunt like that, anyway; I had a ways to go before the level cap and reincarnation. But: standards vary for "alt" characters in MUDding culture, but around these parts it was accepted, as long as you didn't engage in sockpuppeting, self-assisting through gameplay challenges, or other shenanigans. It'd be a first for me, but I could roll one up, just to putter around with while I figured out how to even feel about this little slice of weird in the layer-cake of weirdness that was my life now.
The idea went from "I could do that" to actually doing it surprisingly quick; then I got all bogged down in thinking about it. Did it matter if my alt was female, as long as it was clearly not the old me? Would it be cringey and on-the-nose to go with the catfolk race,° and did I even want to? What class should I pick? Was I trying to say something with my choices, or just looking for a "face" that didn't feel weird due to life circumstances? Was it a question of "presentation…?"
° (There had been an uptick in them lately, come think…)
While I was getting flustered over that, I felt my ears swivel: my phone had just pinged. I turned and reached for it, and – whoa, geez, only the one beer and I was already loopy!? Not full-bore drunk, but a bit disoriented and fuzzy in the head. I thought it over, and groaned; I hadn't weighed myself, but I was smaller, and some body mass had gotten metabolized just to fuel my transformation. It was a high ABV, and with less blood to diffuse it across, my BAC was higher for the same drink; God, I was a literal lightweight.
My fingers danced across the screen, tapping out my standard lock code. I hadn't kept up on things, I realized; I'd been too whacked-out at first, and then too busy coping with the reality of what was happening to me. I wasn't that involved with too many people, but even so, things piled up over the course of a week. I glanced over the list: a very late New Year's update from relatives in Massachusetts, photos from my parents of some random day-trip thing they'd done last weekend…
I paused over that one, noting my own sign-off from our last conversation. Wouldn't trade you ;) It was such a little thing, part of the standard family lexicon for so long that it was almost protocol; but even through the alcohol buzz, I couldn't help thinking that now I'd gotten traded…
The latest message was from my sister, the last in a string that she'd sent from Saturday onward. I felt a little guilty, looking it over; it started with a casual how-ya-doin' and good-natured ribbing about me getting lost in reading when I hadn't replied, then more straightforward concern that my phone might've broken. And finally:
Caitlin:Seriously, brother o' mine, you OK?
Caitlin:It's not like you to go *Total* Radio Silence.
My ears flattened out, and I felt myself cringe; I hadn't meant to make anyone worry, and I felt bad about it, extenuating circumstances or no. I sighed, and tapped out a reply:
Kit:Ah crjd,° sorry. Not dead, just undr the weather.
Kit:Its, you know, "what's going aroubd."
° (I will own my typos; they are far preferable to the horrors of auto-correct. Anyway, I was tipsy.)
I probably would not have added that last part if I wasn't slightly drunk – but by the time I realized, Caitlin was already responding. Damn it, I thought; I'd put my foot in it, now…
Caitlin:!!!
Caitlin:=^_^= …?
Groaning, I buried my face in my hands, and felt my fingertips brush at the base of my ears. Dammit, dammit, dammit, I hadn't meant to let that slip; but I'd hardly been thinking about it at all 'til the last day or two, and I hadn't formulated anything like a plan for how to break the news. I could lie, I supposed, but I didn't like the idea, and I knew she'd never believe it. I heaved a sigh, and:
Kit:Yes
Caitlin:OMFG
Caitlin:PICS
I stared down at that for a moment, then rolled my eyes.
Kit:Yeah, no.
Kit:Stjll adjusting to even seeing it in the mirror, thamks.
Caitlin:Phooey. Bet you're gorram adorable.
Kit:Mostly lool like a brunette you.
Kit:Totally ordinary.
Caitlin:Bullshark, *I'm* gorram adorable.
Caitlin:Man, now I gotta wait for spring break.
Caitlin:It was mean of you to change during the semester. *pout*
My hackles rose a little at that, but I knew she was teasing; this kind of snarky back-and-forth had been our default mode of interaction for many years. It was a little comforting that our dynamic wasn't suddenly different, though I had Premonitions about what she'd be planning when she came to visit.
Kit:Neet time I'll be sure and schedule it ou with you.
Caitlin:You *better* XD
Caitlin:So many questions!!!
I was waiting for the deluge, but there was actually a delay, as if she'd paused for a moment, started typing, and paused again.
Caitlin:…You want I should tell Mom & Dad?
Caitlin:I won't if you don't, solemn swear. =;
It took me a minute of staring at the last bit to determine that it was her attempt at a "zipped lips" emoticon;° then I had to think about what she'd actually asked for another minute.
° (I forswore the use of "emoji" glyphs since I resent corporate interests offering me a palette of pre-fabricated Approved Feelings to choose from and have opinions about cluttering up the Unicode space; my sister simply found them too limiting in her quest to turn text messages into a medium for creative expression.)
Kit:…Yeah, acyually.
I wasn't worried about their reaction…not seriously…but I had no idea how you'd even start that conversation – oh hey, Mom, how's planning for the garden coming along? What're you guys planting this year? Fine, thanks, I just spent a week turning into something completely different than what you gave birth to, thought you should know. Did Dad ever get involved with that Baroque group…? – and if she was willing to shoulder the awkward part, I was all for that.
Caitlin:Roger that ^3
Caitlin:I'll tell them you're neither adorable nor unadorable until observed [=^_^=]
I felt one ear twitch.
Kit:Cait, I am going to fibd innovatife ways to hurt you.
Caitlin:Scary XD
Caitlin:Guess I oughta ask: what's it like?
I made to answer, then had to stop and think about it for a minute. What was it like…? I could run off a litany of squishy biological factoids, but most were things she was already familiar with, things which were only novel to me because I hadn't grown up with them; and anyway, was that truly "what it's like" in the final analysis? I could spend an age summarizing the weird cocktail of feelings I'd had at the sight of my own reflection, as it gradually altered on me; was that it? How did I feel about…all this?
Kit:I unno? Still figurinh that out?
Kit:I'm alive, I guess, but *being* frels kinda diferent, in a bunch og ways?
Kit:Or something? Not sute how to explain it
Caitlin:That is 100% the Most Kit Response.
Caitlin:Guess we don't need the hot wire after all ~~ [_____]
Kit:The tail tskes more getting used to than yoy'd think.
Kit:Ig that's mire what you're wondering.
Caitlin:I expect a 2,000-word essay, due by the end of the semester.
Caitlin:Also I am going to pet the ever-loving heck outta you.
Kit:Dont make mf get a restraiming order. I'll do it
Caitlin:| |E|o.O|3| | Love ya, bro <3
Caitlin:Or sis <3
Caitlin:Or whatever [?]
In spite of myself, everything I'd been through in the past week, and everything I was still trying to figure out, I smiled.
Kit:You tko.
Kit:*too