Allison Zero - Book 1 - Part 2

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A dark metallic hallway on a space station, functional and industrial with signs of advanced technology, with a large hexagonal window with a view of a star field.

On the deep space welcoming station Patryk is now Allison, or so it seems. He’s never in his life heard of a man becoming a woman. No-one has. No-one even talked about the possibility of it happening. But it’s what’s happened to Patryk, after he met One, a mysterious man who gave him something to smoke that helped Patryk remember his dreams. One offered Patryk a job then brought Patryk to Patryk’s new apartment. The first time since Patryk’s first few months as an adult he has his own apartment.

But now Patryk is all alone in his new home. He has to begin living his, or her, new life. But is Patryk really Allison? Nothing can be this easy. Simply put on clothes, style your hair and walk into the midsts of the station? Can Patryk even walk into the station as Allison? Does he even have a choice?


Allison 3260 sat, on the single bed, a woman’s bed, in what according to her conn was definitely her new apartment. She was a woman, it appeared. She wore women’s clothes, her hair was styled in a female style, much like her arched eyebrows. Her conn glowed in the rainbow patterns of a woman’s conn. Most importantly the text next to her name, her ID, read, ‘Female – Of Child Bearing Age.’

She had no idea what to do.

If she was still Patryk she’d be planning out what he could do. What her, or Patryk’s, unemployed—avoiding employment—limited credits would allow him to do. He might be able to afford a good meal, he might be able to afford to watch a new movie in the theatres, most likely he’d be looking for a party that night and thinking of what drinks he could buy. If he was really stuck for money he’d go for one of his three daily free meals then read the encyclopedia on his conn until his only real friend, Adam, was free from work and they’d meet up. If things were really hitting the shit he’d be looking for a new place to call home for a few weeks, but now it seemed he had a home. A real one. With a styler in it with women’s styles available. And actual water.

He looked at his conn again and checked his access to the encyclopedia. He had none. Women had no access to the encyclopedia. He really was a she now. As if everything else wasn’t telling him this.

Allison messaged Adam without even thinking, knowing she needed to see him as fast as he could meet her.

She received a message back a little later as she was looking at her stocking tops. Her stockings that didn’t reach all the way to her denim miniskirt. “What the fuck is happening?” the message read. “What’s up with your ID? Meet me in the Level 37 mess hall. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t talk to anyone. Fucking no-one! Do not do something to get your ID checked.”

Which was the end of the matter. Allison had to venture outside her apartment. She had to be seen. As a woman. Where men would see her. And women would see her. She had to be a woman in public. Where men—especially, really men—men who thought only a few things about women would see her.

She put on her boots, tying the laces, and walked to the apartment’s living room. This was it. She opened the front door and stepped outside. She knew this area was abandoned but still, this was public. People could and were about to see her.

She walked to the nearest elevator and announced her floor, quickly remembering that women stood at the front of the elevator so men could watch them. She hoped a man wouldn’t get in. That she’d be free to ride to Level 37. No-one is that lucky.

A man did step in. She bowed her head, trying not to make eye contact and engage him so he wouldn’t take it as an invitation to flirt. He quickly moved behind her. Right behind her. He placed his hand on her hip and started to stroke the soft satin of her blouse near her hip. Stroking and kneading her the whole way to Level 37. He made a few noises of satisfaction as he did.

The elevator doors opened and Allison was thankful he didn’t follow, so thankful that it took quite a few steps before she realised people, both men and women, were looking at her, looking away and then quickly looking back again. No-one approached her. No-one had ever seen anything like this. Anyone like her.

She got to mess hall and was about to ask the server at the drinks area for a coffee but remembered those were rationed, for women at least. “A cola, please,” Allison said, swiping her wrist against the scanner at the front of the area. The server looked at his screen and quickly gave her a bottle of cola with a straw in it.

She snatched at the proffered bottle before rushing to seat at the edge of the mess hall, but still near the entrance.

Allison sat, keeping her legs together, she didn’t want to invite a man to her. She wished that Adam would arrive quickly.

She sipped at the cola and thought What the hell is this? before remembering, just like coffee, any soft drink with sugar in it was rationed for women. It was assumed you wanted sugar free unless you specified. “We want you to keep your figure, ladies! Ask a man to buy you one. Who knows what else he’ll ask for?”

Allison put her hand to her face as she stared at her drink. After a few minutes she saw Adam walk in, looking around for her, or him. For Patryk.

Allison stood, just a little, and waved. Adam spotted her and hurried to her.

“What the fuck?” Adam said.

Allison held out her conn and the two confirmed identities. Adam was Adam 7111 to Allison. And when Adam said, “No!” she knew she was Allison 3260 to him. “No-one I’ve met has a 0 in their ID. I’ve never even heard of it happening at the end of an ID. This is the worst fake I’ve ever seen.” Adam shook his head. “Why? Why the fuck!? Why would you do this!!?”


Allison wasn’t allowed finish her sentence with her, ‘just me,’ as Adam was saying, “I can’t let this go. I know you. I’ve seen you. This is imitation. This is impersonation. And not just of a made up man but a woman! You’re imitating a woman! If they find out I didn’t report this I’m as fucked as you are!”

Adam stood and held his conn in front of him. “You’re imitating. I have to report you. Stand for a photo. I’m reporting you!”

Allison knew she had no choice. She knew this would be found out in a few minutes. The court would rule and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what her punishment would be.

She stood, in full view of Adam’s conn, and let him take a photo. He typed out a few words for the report, then sat, and so did she. Neither of them said anything. Allison glanced her eyes to the side a few times hoping she’d see the station tearing away because of some catastrophic event, sparing her punishments and torment.

Death would be a release from what the court had in her store for. No-one had ever done what she’d done. She had been so confident in herself. She believed she was Allison. It was real. But now she didn’t know. It was a lie, it had to be, and all she saw was more and more people sitting, men and women alike, sitting next to each other, opposite each other. No-one ate or drank. No-one flirted. No-one kissed. No-one fucked. No-one was going anywhere. The entire room was quiet, trying, not very well, to avoid looking at her and Adam.

Everyone simply sat.

After what seemed like an hour of this, but was really only about five minutes Adam’s conn beeped and vibrated on the table. Allison instantly knew hers hadn’t. She was clinging to it. Waiting for the warning not to move from where security would find her. Allison who was really Patryk.

Adam read his conn. He shook his head.

He handed it to Allison.

Allison read the decision.

The court takes all accusations of imitation seriously. There are consequences for false accusations, as there should be, and we must thank you, Adam 7111, for doing your duty, while ignoring the consequences there would be in falsely accusing someone of such a serious crime. We must also thank you for being aware of the idea it’s possible for a man to imitate a woman. It takes a male mind that seriously contemplates the law to think such a thing could, in theory, occur. The court is thankful for all who are aware of the depth of the law. Even if some have over-active imaginations.

The court has done every check possible and can affirm Allison 3260 is a woman of child bearing age. The court has absolute certainty in this decision, like all its decisions, although the court finds some amusement in entertaining the possibility citizens could now have the slightest of doubts even in the court’s rulings. This accusation that a man is imitating a woman is the first time we’ve had such a query, perhaps there will be other firsts. The court hopes you find this amusing, too, as will all citizens once this decision becomes public.

However, imitation is a serious accusation, especially this peculiar form of imitation, and needs serious punishment when a false accusation is made. Yet, in this case, the court understands the citizen accused with caution and a deep awareness of what a truly deranged citizen could do, a man choosing to imitate a woman, however unlikely.

Given all this the court has decided there will be no criminal punishment for you, Adam 7111. A non-criminal caution is being placed on your record. Should the court remain unaware of you for the next year, from the time this decision was reached, the court will hide your non-criminal caution from your record to where it is only accessible to the court.

Allison’s hand was shaking as she handed Adam back his conn.

He took it from her, already standing, and simply said, “I hope you enjoy your life, Allison.” Then he walked away. Allison shook harder as she imagined what her life actually was now.

Allison was still shaking a few minutes later when every man in the room began reading their conns. The decision was out to men. Within a few seconds they were all looking at her.

Conversation began in urgent, quiet tones, between everyone. A few moments later some women were sitting on men’s laps, kissing them, reading their man’s black conns over their man’s shoulders. Others were giving men handjobs as they sat next to the men they were wanking, also reading their men’s conns.

A few people simply talked. Some stood and left quickly.

Allison heard snippets of conversation. “Always a woman.” “Not possible, she was just hiding.” “Unfortunate woman... She’ll really have to fuck good.” “That’s what you get for not wearing makeup.” “...dresses like a twenty year old. She’s just someone unleashed and a shock to some asshole man who was drunk and regretted it when...”

Allison knew this wouldn’t last. This faith in her being a ‘normal’ but unfortunate woman. Her ID would have changed in enough people’s conns that some, at least, would always know. It would circulate. Friends would trust friends, and friends would fall out with friends, because of what they knew or didn’t know about her. Over their doubts about her. About what they believed.

Allison sat not knowing how she felt. She was a woman. The court had confirmed it.

As she sat, confused, she saw and felt a hand on her own, her hand which was holding the bottle. The nails on the hand holding hers were painted red. She looked up and saw a face she recognised. It was a woman she, or at least Patryk, had given a beer to.

She smiled at Allison. Allison didn’t remember her name. She placed a clear soft drink in a glass down in front of Allison. “Thank you for the beer, Allison,” she said. “I think you might need this right now.” She squeezed Allison’s hand, smiled again, and walked away.

Allison took a sip of the drink. It was a vodka, and lemon and lime. A lemon and lime with sugar. Allison didn’t know what the woman, the woman who’s name she didn’t remember, had done to or promised a man to get an alcoholic drink in a public mess hall. Then she’d given it away to a woman, a woman no longer the man who could buy her beer

As Allison drank she realised she’d been sipping at the glass normally. Not normally like a man, normally like a woman who was looking to get drunk. To be taken. To enter arrangements. To hear rates.

She moved the straw to her lips and began to sip at the drink like a woman who wanted to keep her wits about her. To not be easy, not at that precise moment.

She thought to herself What the fuck am I going to do? Who am I?

Allison was staring at her drink, her eyes feeling like they were bulging out of her head when she realised someone was sitting opposite her. She looked up with her heart racing and saw a beaming woman staring at her. “It makes so much sense, now,” Angie said.

“Oh fuck!” Allison said.

“You’ll be doing plenty of that, believe me!” Angie said. Angie was one of the few women who’d met Patryk and wasn’t immediately all over him. She seemed to respect him, or at least leave him be. She didn’t ask him for more beer, they just talked. He’d tell her about what he’d read, or heard, what he knew about jobs, while she’d tell him about who was interested in who, and good ways to please a woman. Occasionally they’d both read an article on his conn from the encyclopedia and laugh. It was as normal as normal could possibly be between a man and a woman. Or at least a man like Patryk and a woman.

“What now?” Allison asked.

“You let me get a look at you!” Allison stood and edged her way to the side of the table, standing morosely in front of Angie. “You dress like a twenty year old. Perfect for a newly unleashed woman! And your hair. Wow!”

Allison sat herself back down and admitted something. “I have a styler in my bathroom.” She didn’t say it contained water in the shower. Unlimited water.

“You really are the most amazing woman on the station. A fucking styler? A personal fucking styler!” Angie said.

Allison took another drink of her alcohol. “Like I said, what now?”

“Well, you have a lot to do. Most of it will take some effort. You’ll have to try some new things, I’d hope they’re new. For the moment, though, there’s two things you have to do. Either we get you proper shoes because wearing boots hasn’t been in style for years. And even then it was a little out there. It will get you more looks than your physical appearance. Or we go see a doctor.”

“A doctor?” Allison asked.

“A woman’s doctor. Who can help with that physical appearance of yours.”

“What’s wrong with my physical appearance?”

Angie laughed. “Oh, please, Allison! Every woman wants help with their physical appearance. Some a little here, some a little there. You need a lot there and even more here. I think the doctor will be willing to help. I know a good one. She’s young, and understands. I’ve already messaged her and she’s said anytime today. She’s a voter too. Almost every women’s doctor is.”

Allison nodded. If the doctor was a voter she really knew her shit. It was rare for a man to get to see a doctor who was a voter. It had to go through approval. Most citizen carers for men had some training, and could triage and tend to typical male injuries. There were some citizen doctors, always an honorific out of respect for their experience. But a man getting to see a real doctor, a voter, with proper education? That hadn’t happened to most men under the age of 40 unless they had nearly met their death.

And if the doctor was a voter maybe she really could help Allison with her appearance. Did Allison want that? The thought floated in Allison’s mind, before escaping.

“Doctors are private? About... Issues..?” Allison asked.

“Of course,” Angie said. “But take the laces out of your boots before you go. No woman has ever worn laces in her boots.” Angie shuddered thinking of shoes with laces in them.

Allison turned in her seat so she could get at her boots. It was true, she thought, as she tugged at stubborn laces taking them down and out through the eyes in the leather. She remembered when women wore boots. A lot of men didn’t like it, Patryk didn’t care, but Allison was certain he never saw a woman with laces.

After a few minutes she had the laces out and was placing them on the table as she sat back into it properly.

“Those men will have so much to talk about,” Angie said. “I hope your panties aren’t lace! Fuck! I hope you’re wearing panties!” She was laughing, looking amazed.

“I am, of course, and they are lace!”

“Well all those men and quite a few of the women will be talking about the most extraordinary birth defect they thought they saw between a woman’s legs.” Allison looked at Angie with confusion. “Well I suppose more men will find out when you’re having sex. Your legs were spread wide, woman! We’d better leave before one of the four or five very aroused men I spotted come calling.”

Allison stood and stepped out from the table. So did Angie, who immediately reached over to Allison and took her in the most welcoming hug either Allison or Patryk had ever felt. “I knew there was something correct about you,” Angie said. “Something to you. Something that made you more. Now I know.”

In that hug Allison felt the same certainty in her chest as when she had finished smoking the brown rollie of tobacco One had given her. The drug that had revealed what was so true to her. What she knew was true. And now was true.

“Let’s go,” Angie said.

Allison and Angie began to walk to Allison’s first appointment with a woman’s doctor.

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A very strange place

Podracer's picture

No doubt with a history responsible for the gender attitudes we are seeing.

"Reach for the sun."