A Wish the Heart Makes: Fornever in Blue Genes

by Tigger

Chapter 3: Views from the Other Side.

Forty-five rather embarrassing minutes later, a very
uncomfortable Matthew found himself hosting, or rather,
hostessing a breakfast meeting with Robert West and Adam
Jacobs in attendance.  Adam had arrived within a half hour of
the sedative wearing off.  The breakfast had been Robert's
idea - he figured that Matt's new stomach needed to start
dealing with food instead of nutrient sprays.  The 'party' had
been the nurse's idea.  "Well, if you're going to be a girl,
dear," she'd told him, confirming she was aware of his gender
change, "then you don't want to let visitors, especially male
visitors, see you with your hair a mess and your teeth green."

Nurse Therese (call me Teri) Richards was short, with an
impressive figure and an arresting face highlighted by
beautiful blue eyes.  Even doped up with a strong emotion
blocking agent, Matt had noticed that and would have had an
appreciative, male physiological response to her blatant
femininity if there had still been anything between his legs
to respond with. 

"I wonder what she would look like in a bathing suit - or out
of one for that matter," he mused to himself when she was out
of earshot.

Teri must have been a military nurse before joining up with
BioCybernetics.  Before Matt could get out a word of
complaint, he found him . . . dammit, . . . *her*self decked
out in a pretty nightgown and peignoir, and had gotten her
(long!!!) hair ruthlessly brushed and her teeth thoroughly
whitened.  Teri'd even managed to sneak some make up on to her
stunned patient's face and to spritz her with some lightly
floral perfume.  

Matt did manage to recover sufficiently in time to draw the
line at wearing the open toed, high heeled bedroom slippers
she tried to slip onto Matt's feet.  Not much of a victory
over that force of nature in a very nicely fitting nurse's
uniform, but it was something with which to salve his injured
pride.

The mirror then provided yet another shock.  "God, but I'm
lovely."  And then the still male-thinking brain responded
like a male brain is usually configured to respond in the
presence of a sexually attractive female  - desire and sexual
awareness flared inside Matt.  He, that is the "he" that his
mind still told him he was, wanted himself, or rather
*herself*, that is.  He just did not want this her to be him.  

God, but that was confusing to think about, and Matt was going
to have to live it.  "Confusing" was a rank understatement. 
In the untold days since he had lost consciousness at the moon
port until she had awoken in this sterile room, she had lost
his identity, his most basic concept of self.  Whoever that
was in her mirror, it was not the "he" whom Matt had spent 56
years thinking of as "ME".  Nor was it the "he" Matt had
expected to see in the mirror if the experiment had actually
been successful.  It was like he'd died and been suddenly
reincarnated, fully grown and aware of his past life, but with
no memory of *her* new life. 

Adam had been stunned when Teri had helped Matt back into the
main room.  Even Robert had been surprised.  For her part,
Matt had still been much too bemused by the highly unusual
pampering to have done much more than make idle pleasantries
when they sat down to eat.  That soon passed, however, and she
had begun to focus on what had been done.

"Okay, guys," she finally said.  "Explain to me why I'm a
female and not the somewhat smaller version of myself -- my
MALE self -- that I personally programmed into that file."

Robert coughed.  "Well, Matthew, therein lies part of the
problem.  You see, with the exception of modifications made by
the optimization program per the directions you left behind in
your wish-file, you ARE what was in the Wish File that Adam,
Cat and I opened the day you left the Moon."

"Robert, I beg to differ!  For the most part, all my wish file
contained was a somewhat shorter version of me.  I wanted a
much faster metabolism and to be spared male pattern baldness,
but I still wanted to be me . . . I mean, a male.  What the
hell happened?"

"Well, maybe I should tell you what happened on our end.  It
all began with that first high priority call from Castleton .
. ."

Interlude: Reminiscences of a Disaster - A Flashback

"Jacobs," a sleep-drunk Adam answered the call before he
realized it was coming in on the circuit reserved for use only
by the company's leadership.  Since Matt was off-planet, that
meant it had to be either Bob or Cat, and Bob rarely used the
damn thing.

Adam had been wrong.  "Adam?  Bob here.  Something's gone
drastically wrong at the Moon Base.  Matt has been hurt very
badly, and is only being kept alive because of extraordinary
intervention.  I need you here at his office right now.  I
need Cat, too."

"Call her," Adam ordered as he reached for his clothes.  "I'll
pick her up on my way in.  Do we need to activate the security
force?"

"No, not yet.  At least, not until Matt gets earthside.  He's
launching from the moon as we speak.  Should be here in about
80 hours.  Don't plan on going home anytime soon, Adam.  This
is going to be hairy."

"Right.  20 minutes, Bob.  See you then."

~--------------~

"Okay," Cat Donovan said in the quiet tone of voice that was
all the more frightening for its rarity.  "So you're certain
that a THE Project treatment is the only way he can live a
full life again?"

Catherine Brenda Donovan, formerly Captain Donovan, United
States Marine Corps, and now Chief of Security, BioCybernetics
Corp. was definitely *not* happy.  More accurately and bluntly
stated, she was thoroughly pissed off.  Matthew Sorenson was
one of her few male friends, and at that precise moment, she
was helpless to do anything substantive to help him.  Cat
Donovan *hated* feeling helpless, and she damned well was
going to find whoever had done this to her friend.  She was
tall, powerfully built and competent in far too many ways of
bringing pain and death to her fellow humans to be taken
lightly.  More importantly, at that particular moment in time
she was dangerously angry with the cold, rational fury of the
professional warrior.  *Someone did this to Matt,* her mind
whispered, *and that someone is going to pay - big time!*

Bob nodded gravely.  "Castleton did his work well.  I have
full brain scans and neural path continuity check results. 
Unless we can re-engineer his whole body, he will be a living
mind in a dead body for as long as we can artificially sustain
him.  Knowing Matt, I am confident that he would soon opt for
self-termination rather than continue such a bleak existance."

"So," Cat said, a suspicious hitch in her voice, "what do we
do now?"

Pointing to the touch plate on Matt's desk, Bob smiled
wearily, "We prepare the treatment.  Step one is finding out
what are Matt's wishes.  For that, I need both of you."

"All right," Cat growled.  "Let's do it.  Then, I'm going to
start setting up security for his arrival at the spaceport and
for his subsequent transfer here.  This smells funny, guys,
and I don't want anything more happening to that man."  She
placed her thumb upon the sensor plate on Matt's desk.

*She wants there to be a conspiracy so that she will have
someone to fight,* Adam mused.  *It is much harder for her to
accept this as a random, malicious act because she can't fight
that.  Well, so be it, there isn't much for her to do here
once we've opened Matt's file.*  "And I'll go make sure the
documentation trail is clean so that there are no questions
about Matt's identity after . . . whatever happens."

A short, dapper little man, Adam still remembered the day that
Matt Sorenson had chosen the relatively inexperienced young
Adam Jacobs, Esquire, over several older, better known and
socially-placed attorneys to head up the legal division of his
new corporation.  Over time, real friendship had grown between
the short statured lawyer and the physically large computer
scientist.  If Cat was right, and there was something more
behind this, Adam Jacobs would damn well make sure whoever did
this to his friend would not gain by their crime.  *There
won't be any questions about who you really are that I can't
answer, my friend.  I swear it,* he thought fiercely as he put
his print next to Cat's.

"Right," Bob said as he placed his thumb on the plate next to
Cat's and Adam's.  "Computer.  Open Filename: Sorenson Wish-
File.  Password: Rebirth."

~--------------~

"You're kidding me, right?  Matt Sorenson?  Cripes, Bobby, I
went to pleasure resorts with him in the early days.  The man
is as male-heterosexual as I am.  Hell, he caught more girls
at that place than I did. Why would he want to be a woman??!?"

"You've read the file," Robert said quietly.  "All the
justification and background documentation is there, Adam."

"Look, I know he's always, well, you know . . . " Adam ran a
frustrated hand through his hair and took a deep breath. 
"Look, I know he's always complained about his size and lack
of looks, but to do something like this?  Look, it's a wish
thing, Bob.  He was just playing with some silly fantasies
some dark and lonely night and forgot to erase them from that
file there."

"Does that sound like Matt Sorenson to you?" Bob challenged. 
When Adam couldn't answer, he continued.  "He told us where
the file was, Adam."

"But what about the survival stuff?  Didn't you tell me that
this course of action is unsafe?"

"Yes, in general, but I am checking into those probabilities
as they relate to Matt's specific genetic makeup.  I have
those tissue samples I took from each of us a few months ago. 
I'm doing clinical testing on some of Matt's."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"I will also generate a non-gender changing treatment that
will be ready in case of an unacceptably low survival
probability with the gender changing treatment.  In the
meantime, I will conduct optimization studies to comply with
his stated wishes."

"But you will insist on a very high survival probability,
right?  As in 100 percent?"

"He's my friend, too, Adam," Robert said with austere dignity.

"Sorry, Bob, I know that.  Well, guess I better make like a
lawyer and make sure we do this perfectly," Adam said with a
sigh before a thought hit him.  "What about Cat?"

"We comply with Matthew's stated wishes whenever it does not
affect his chance of survival.  He doesn't want her
interfering and you know as well as I do that she would try. 
Let her worry about setting up her security plan and let it go
at that."

~---------------~

The sleek, hypersonic space-transport shut down its engines
and rolled to a stop near the smaller airship that was waiting
with its own engines hot.  Four med-techs raced across the
tarmac pushing what looked like a cross between a bed and a
combat tank towards the bigger ship.

Six other men rushed down the spaceship's loading ramp
carrying a life support litter.  With skilled efficiency, the
man in the litter was transferred to the bed and then wheeled
to the load hoist of the smaller airship.  They were airborne
less than ten seconds after the hoist had melded into the
smooth lines of the fuselage.

Bob and the other doctor worked feverishly to hook up the bio-
network.  "Damn, he's further gone that we thought," Bob
swore.

"We need his go ahead, Bob.  That was the agreement.  Because
of the inherent risk of the gender transition, he personally
has to approve the use of any treatment with that type of re-
engineering," Adam said.  *Hopefully, he won't say anything
and we can forget the whole idea.*

Matt awoke momentarily, surprised to see a very worried Bob
looking down at him.  "Matt . . . I need to know.  Are you
sure you want to attempt something so drastic?" 

The effort seemed to drain yet more life out of their friend,
and for just a moment, Adam thought he was not going to be
able to answer.  Only he did.  "Dras-tic?  Good.  Short-er . .
. Plenty . . . hair.  Thin waist? New face.  Not ugly freak. 
Dras- tic?  Com-pared . . . to what, Bob?  Do it!  Gotta . . .
look bet-ter . . . prove to . . . "

Adam could only stare at his now comatose friend, willing him
to say something more.  When he didn't, he rounded on Bob. 
"Cripes, West, what the hell did he mean to say?  What do we
do now?"

The strain of more than three days concentrated effort on far
too little sleep and far too much stimulant burned in Robert's
eyes.  "I think we both know what he meant to say, Adam.  As
for what we are going to *do*?  We're going to save his life
*and* give him the life he's asked us for at least twice.  Any
other questions?"  When Adam could only shake his head, Bob
nodded wearily.  "I know.  I feel it, too.  Sorry for jumping
down your throat.  Come on, we're starting to descend.  We've
both got work to do, my friend.  Let's get to it."