Choices

The sky was all bruised peach and powder blue, the sun sinking just far enough behind the volcano to set the clouds on fire. Emi and Claire sat on the highest balcony, legs swinging, the breeze thick with salt and garden sweetness. No one else had found the spot yet—a gift, Claire thought.

Emi rested her chin on her knees, but her six arms fanned out along the stone rail, fingers curling and uncurling like she was playing invisible chords. The gesture should have looked grotesque, but on Emi, it was almost elegant. Sometimes, the extra arms would flex or reach for each other with a mind of their own, while her regular hands stayed calm and still.

Claire watched her, a little spellbound. She’d never known anyone so good at being both there and somewhere else at the same time.

“I like it best when the clouds go all purple,” Emi said, voice thin as tissue paper. “It’s the only color that looks better in the sky than on paper.”

Claire nodded, then scribbled a note in her own battered notebook:

Clouds look like watercolor stains.

She held the page up, and Emi grinned.

“They do, don’t they?” Emi said. She turned to look at Claire, but her gaze slipped through her, past her, into the memory of something neither of them could see.

The wind picked up, lifting a strand of Emi’s hair across her face. Without thinking, two of her arms reached up and tucked it behind her ear in perfect sync. Claire felt her heart lurch—there was something almost heroic in the way Emi adapted, never letting the transformation slow her down or make her small.

They watched the sky for a while. Emi pointed out a bird, then a cloud shaped exactly like an open hand. “If you had wings,” Emi mused, “do you think you’d ever come back down?”

Claire tapped her pencil, thinking. She wrote: Maybe. If someone was waiting for me.

Emi smiled, and this time it looked real. “I’d like to believe that,” she said. “But I think if I left, I’d just… keep going.”

Claire closed her notebook and nudged Emi gently with her elbow. Emi always seemed one missed heartbeat away from floating into the sky for good.

They watched as a low cloud drifted over the sun, scattering the last of the light. Emi drew slow shapes in the air with one hand, tracing patterns only she could see. Her top left hand slid along the railing until it bumped against Claire’s fingers, then stayed there, a quiet tether.

After a while, Claire pointed to Emi’s forehead, then drew a question mark in the air.

Emi blinked, as if surprised to find herself in the present. “I was thinking the sky tastes different here,” she said. “Like old candy. Or maybe new candy.” She laughed, the sound ringing out above the hush of wind.

Claire didn’t laugh, but she smiled, letting Emi have the moment.

They sat like that until the lights on the far tennis courts flickered to life, turning the garden below into a constellation. Emi’s hands stilled, all six at rest. For a long time, they didn’t speak at all.

When Emi finally stood, she offered Claire two hands to help her up. Claire took both, letting Emi pull her gently to her feet. Their arms tangled for a second, and they both laughed. Then Emi wrapped two arms around Claire in a hug, and for a moment, neither of them was alone.

The sun was gone now, but the warmth lingered. They walked back to the main hall, hand in hand, watching their shadows stretch out in front of them on the flagstones.

Liesa liked the gardens at dusk, when the world slowed and the air grew thick with jasmine and wet leaves. The gravel paths twisted in ways she suspected weren’t entirely consistent from day to day, a quiet trick of the hotel’s impossible geometry. It suited her mood: restless, a little lost, haunted by the taste of honey and the feel of Andy’s hands in her hair the night before.

She drifted through a stand of cypress and almost didn’t notice Arabella, who sat on a sun-warmed stone bench as if she had been waiting hours for company. The Host was incongruously dressed in a scarlet dress that looked identical to the dresses Liesa had seen on ancient Greek statues, her feet bare and her hair loose around her face. She looked perfectly at ease, legs stretched in front of her, as though this corner of the world belonged to her alone.

Liesa hesitated, then sat beside her, careful to leave a polite distance.

Arabella glanced over, her smile soft but knowing. “You don’t strike me as the type to walk alone at sunset, Liesa.” To Liesa’s surprise, there was a hint of weariness in the Host’s voice, quickly masked.

Liesa studied the patterns her shoe left in the gravel. “I am not afraid,” she said.

“Of course not,” Arabella replied, amused. “There is no danger here. But you are thinking. I could hear it all the way from the veranda.”

Liesa considered feigning ignorance, but there was no use. Arabella always seemed to know things before you did. “You come here to see me?”

Arabella’s lips curved. “I wanted to check on you. After last night.”

Liesa flushed, uncertain if it was embarrassment or something more dangerous. “It was only a conversation,” she said.

“That’s not what it looked like,” Arabella said, voice gentle. “For Andy, it was the first time in years he felt…” She paused, choosing her words. “young.”

Liesa didn’t answer. The word sat heavy between them.

Arabella tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze lingering on the creeping shadows. “You don’t have to explain why you never wrote to him,” she said. “I already know.”

Liesa felt her stomach drop. “You do?”

Arabella shrugged, almost playful. “It’s my job to know.” She looked at Liesa, eyes kind but unyielding. “The world has a way of making people choose between impossible things. I won’t judge you for what you did. It’s not my place to tell Andy, either.”

Liesa studied the Host, searching for mockery or malice, but found only calm. There was something unreadable in those old eyes. Liesa almost mustered enough courage to ask. Almost.

Arabella sighed, then leaned back, arms stretched along the top of the bench. “I’ve been keeping my distance,” she admitted. “But for the last few days, the show has been… dull. Except for Claire, perhaps, but she is naturally gifted in that regard.”

Liesa blinked. “Dull?”

Arabella nodded. “The Audience likes to be surprised. To see what people will do when pushed. You know what I mean. Lately, most of you have chosen to stay safe.” She smiled, not unkindly. “Safety is lovely, but it doesn’t sell.”

Liesa folded her arms, defensive. “You want us to seduce Andy.”

“I want you all to live,” Arabella countered. “To stop hiding from yourselves.” She hesitated, then added, “You in particular, Liesa. You have more to offer than anyone here.”

The words stung, and Liesa glanced away, heat rising in her cheeks. “I do not want to be on a stage,” she said.

Arabella’s tone softened. “You’re not on a stage. Not unless you want to be.” She tipped her head, regarding Liesa from beneath her lashes. “But you should know: at the moment, you, Norah, and Erin are at the bottom of the scoreboard. Not that I’d ever use it as a threat, but…”

Liesa tensed, waiting for the hammer to fall.

Arabella smiled. “It’s just information. You do with it what you will.”

“Well, your transformation made sure I'll stay there, unless Andy decides otherwise, won’t it?” Liesa asked, a little bitterly. Arabella blinked.

“Do not confuse eroticism with romanticism, Liesa. Just because you cannot initiate anything erotic, it does not mean you cannot romance him. You should have seen this already. You just have to choose the right weapons.“

They sat in silence, the darkness growing denser around them. A night bird called, unseen.

Finally, Liesa looked at her. “Is there anything else?”

Arabella stood, smoothing her trousers. “No, schat,” she said, the endearment sounding impossibly sweet in her accent. “Unless you’d like me to stay and talk about the weather.”

Liesa shook her head, unable to muster a smile.

Arabella started down the path, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. “If you ever change your mind,” she said, “I’m always here.” She vanished behind a stand of cypress trees, her footsteps leaving no mark in the gravel.

Liesa watched the darkness where Arabella had gone, unsure if she felt better or worse than before. In the distance, a light flickered in the main house—a sign that the rest of the world still moved on, indifferent to her choices.

She pulled her jacket tighter, and kept walking, not knowing if she was running from something or toward it.

The main lobby at dusk had a strange, empty brightness, like a gallery after closing. Every surface gleamed as if it had been freshly buffed, and the broad marble floor mirrored the orange clouds outside. It was the kind of space that could make even the world’s best troublemakers feel a little self-conscious. Claire and Sam stepped in from the side corridor, shoes making a soft, dry noise on the tile.

The Commissary looked, from a distance, like a regular ATM wedged into a recess near the main VP screen. Only when you got closer did you notice how out of place it was—the brushed steel so clean it almost glowed, the screen twice the size of any real-world touchpad. A little sign on the side read: “One at a Time, Please.” The glow of the screen made the lobby seem darker by comparison, shadows at the edges like a stage set for a scene not yet rehearsed.

“I feel like I should have brought a fake ID,” Sam said, peering over the edge of the terminal. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Claire pointed at the screen, then at Sam. She was half-hidden behind a thick knit scarf, the weather not requiring it but her nerves demanding it anyway.

Sam stepped up and tapped the glass. A ripple ran down the display, and it booted up with a soft chime, instantly filling the air with the faint, pleasant scent of ozone. “Okay, this is… intense. Looks like a menu at a sushi place, but instead of maki rolls it’s all superpowers and upgrades.” She paused, turning to Claire. “What do you want to look at first?”

Claire pointed to “Current Balance” on the screen. Sam tapped it, and the menu responded instantly:

CONTESTANT: SAM COLLINS / 2500 Bonus Points
OPTIONS:

1. Main Commissary Menu
2. Transformation Upgrades

Sam raised her brows. “Transformation Upgrades. Now we’re talking.” She selected it, and the screen split into two columns, each branch ending in gray boxes, most marked with lock icons.

The top of the tree had a single colored node: ‘Life Hugger (Path: Best Friend)’. Below it, a branch split left and right. The left was labeled ‘Master’, the right ‘Harem’. Under ‘Master’, a box: ‘The Soma of My Arms’. Under ‘Harem’: ‘The Nest of Us.’ Both were priced at 1000 BP.

Sam poked at the first. A text window popped: ‘Details will be revealed upon purchase. All sales final. Purchases cannot be undone.’

Sam let out a snort. “Of course. Let’s not make it too easy. Hey, this is like a D&D feat tree. You ever play?”

Claire shook her head, but her eyes lit with curiosity.

Sam looked a little wistful. “I ran a game once, senior year. Kept it going for two years. I could probably pull off a one-shot here, if you’re interested.”

Claire scribbled:

I’d play. I think Dawn would too. Maybe Emi, if she gets used to the extra hands. Andy too?

Sam’s grin returned. “Hell yes. But back to the upgrades. Wonder what happens if I unlock the Harem side?” She poked the ‘Nest of Us’, but the window was empty except for the message: ‘Unlock required: 1000 BP.’

Sam hesitated, thumb hovering. “Should I? Or should we check what you get?”

Claire waved her forward, so Sam backed out of the menu and switched to the main Commissary menu. She scanned the options, noticed one labeled ‘Path Exchange - 2500 BP’ and clicked on it, curious. The screen asked for confirmation, flashing a warning:

'Path Exchange will permanently change your Transformation path and may alter personality traits, compulsions, or physical attributes. Select path to exchange: Lesbian; Best Friend; Blue Bean Barista.'

Sam blinked. “What is this?” She asked, confused. Claire’s eyes narrowed, then she scribbled in her notebook.

‘Best Friend’ was associated with your transformation in the other menu. Maybe it’s like a theme?

Sam frowned. “I remember the transformations Arabella mentioned. There was a coffee one… that’d be the barista, I guess. If the one I got was from the ‘Best Friend’ theme, then that means the one that would have made me think of Andy sexually would have been the ‘Lesbian’ path.” She snorted. “Someone didn’t do their homework on what ‘lesbian’ means.”

Claire scribbled:

That would make sense, though. The Master is a man.

Sam’s finger hovered over the buttons. “Yeah. Kinda tempted to try this exchange, to be honest. If the whole Lesbian path is… making me hornier for Andy… I feel like I’m getting shortchanged.” She bit her lower lip, then, before she could change her mind, she selected the Lesbian button.

Sam: 2500 BP - 2500 BP = 0 BP
Path changed! Lesbian → Emotional Anchor

Sam breathed out slowly. “Well, that sounds better. I hope.”

Claire nodded, then pointed at the main screen, at her eyes, and then at her screen. Sam understood. She wanted to see her own menu.

Sam backed out and selected “Switch User.” The display flickered, then:

CONTESTANT: CLAIRE FREEMAN / 2000 Bonus Points
OPTIONS:

1. Main Commissary Menu
2. Transformation Upgrades

Claire scrolled to “Transformation Upgrades.” At the top: ‘Silent Muse (Path: Muse)’. Below, the same forked branches: ‘Master’ and ‘Harem’.

Under ‘Master’, a node: ‘Naked in Return’. Under ‘Harem’, ‘Bath of Feelings.’ Both were dark, waiting to be purchased. Each had the same tooltip as Sam’s options: ‘Details will be revealed upon purchase. All sales final. Purchases cannot be undone.’

Claire pointed at the first and looked at Sam, a question in her gaze.

Sam shook her head. “These names are even more unhelpful than mine.”

Claire shrugged, then tapped the ‘Bath of Feelings’ node, mulling it over. She scribbled:

I don’t want to break anything. Or anyone.

Sam nodded. “Totally fair. Also, I wonder if all the upgrades follow the same pattern. Or if it’s custom to each person. What’s Emi’s look like?”

Claire shook her head, shrugging.

Sam hesitated, then straightened her shoulders. “Okay, let’s go back to the main Commissary menu.”

Claire tapped back to the main menu, and a long list of items appeared, each of them with a BP price. Sam and Claire stared. Some were relatively normal, albeit with that classic Harem Hotel twist: a bottle of aphrodisiac massage oil? VIP access to a secret spa called ‘Aphrodite’s Cave’ for the purchaser and Andy? But others… Who would pay 1500 BP for a temporary transformation, or 2000 BP to raise the arousal of everyone around her for 24 hours?

“Wait,” Sam said, pointing to one of the options. “What’s a ‘Reality Adjustment’?”

Claire selected the option, and a new menu opened:

Reality Adjustment (per Transformation) - 1500 BP
Upon return to the real world, all previous acquaintances and public records will treat the Transformation as normal for you. (Note: Applies only to a single Transformation. May be purchased multiple times.)

Sam blinked, impressed. “That’s huge. For people like Emi, or even Norah… they’d never have to explain their changes. It would just be their reality.”

Claire nodded, but her face was troubled.

Sam said, “It’s not all bad, right? Some of these are weird, but some are… practical.”

Claire tapped her notebook:

It would be helpful for those of us who have physical changes. Even if it’s just to not have to explain. But the more you buy, the less BPs you have for other purchases.

Sam hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am. But for someone who would never fit in, this would be a blessing.” She watched the screen for a minute, then said, “Try Path Exchange. I want to see if you get the same warning as I did.”

Claire brought up the menu. The same disclaimer appeared, but with different flavor text:

'Path Exchange will permanently change your Transformation path and may alter personality traits, compulsions, or physical attributes. Select path to exchange: Muse; Myth and Maiden; Surrender.'

Claire read it twice, then wrote:

Do you think this is how they picked our traits? Not at random?

Sam shrugged. “Feels like a game designer’s patch notes. Maybe they tune things to keep it interesting. Maybe they want us to try every version of ourselves before we find the right one.”

Claire tapped her lips with her pen, lost in thought.

Sam watched her for a moment, then said, “I know that face. You’re thinking of a loophole.”

Claire grinned, then shook her head. She wrote:

I was thinking of buying the rules.

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Wait, can you do that?”

Claire exited to the main Commissary Menu, scrolled down, and there it was:

‘Comprehensive Rulebook: The Harem Hotel. Includes appendices, errata, and arbitration clauses. Hard copy delivered to room. 300 BP.’

Claire selected it. The screen flashed a confirmation.

Claire: 2000 BP - 300 BP = 1700 BP
Purchase Complete. Item will be delivered tonight.

Sam let out a low, appreciative whistle. “If anyone can find a loophole, it’s you. I mean it.”

Claire blushed, then wrote:

I just don’t want Andy to get corrupted.

Sam leaned against the wall, looking at Claire with a gentle, teasing smile. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Claire shrugged, not meeting her eyes. She wrote:

He’s nice to me. It’s easy to like him.

Sam said, “He’s easy to love, if you let yourself.” She sounded half teasing, half serious. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, but I think he likes you too. I’ve known him a long time.”

Claire hesitated, then wrote:

There’s something I never told him. Or anyone.

Sam sobered. “You can tell me. Or not. No pressure.”

Claire stared at the screen, then at her hands, then back at Sam. She took a slow breath, then wrote:

What if he hates me? Or what if he feels sorry for me? I don’t want either.

Sam put a hand on Claire’s shoulder, steady and warm. “He won’t. Andy’s one of a kind. He’ll support you with his whole heart. He always does.” She squeezed once. “Trust me.”

Claire’s hands trembled on the notebook. She wanted to say more, but the words dried up on the page.

Sam stood, offering a hand to help her up. “Come on. We’ve got a rules manual to read, and a lot of games to plan.” She grinned, then whispered, “I meant what I said. If you want to try D&D, I’ll run a game for you and the others. It’s a deal.”

Claire nodded.

They walked together out of the lobby, the glass doors closing with a soft, satisfying click. The sky outside was deep violet, the first stars blinking through. Sam’s arm found its way over Claire’s shoulders, and Claire let herself lean into the warmth.

Behind them, the Commissary screen blinked once, then went dark, waiting for the next set of choices.