Wait too long and the choice is made for you

“We choose.”

Despite the bold declaration, I didn’t really know what to do either and so we lapsed into uncomfortable silence again.

I let my eyes wander aimlessly over the inscriptions decorating the walls as I tried to think it through. As I said before, I really didn’t like the idea of being turned into a woman. But why exactly? I’d like to think I was enlightened enough to regard women as equals. So why did the idea of being one scare me?

Because I’d be loosing little John. Even if it wouldn’t impair my life too much, I’d be loathe to sacrifice my little finger. And my groin was something I was instinctively much more protective about. And yeah. I wasn’t macho enough to define myself around being a guy, but the symbolic castration scared me at least a little bit. I’d still be loosing a part of my identity.

Hmmmm. Loosing a part of myself….. I think, that’s what was really scaring me, about this. My friends, my family, my whole life was bound up in being me. Yeah changing my sex added a new dimension of scary, but I would probably feel much the same way if I’d learned me and Alex were about to pull a Freaky Friday. I knew next to nothing about his job.

Come to think of it, if we were swapping bodies I would at least have papers. I really doubted some ancient magic was designed to cough up some fake ID to go along with a new body! Damn! Perhaps I would look similar enough to convince people that I had some surgery? Telling my parents and friends that I had always wanted to be a woman would be awkward. Really awkward. But I’d still have my English-degree and an ID.

If I moved somewhere where no one knew me, I might just be able to start anew. It’s not what I wanted, but if I didn’t have to deal with prejudice on top of it I’d probably be able to deal with seeing how the other side lives. And… oh who was I kidding?

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. Changing town might have worked before Facebook. In this day and age people would find out.

“I-I choose the basket. I pushed him into it, so John can keep the rod.”

I stared at Alex in shock, I had been so distracted by my own problems that I had nearly forgotten about him. He would have to face much the same problems. Come to think of it….. His parents were big believers in ‘Christian family values’ so it might actually be worse. They also thought what you did with your life was between you and god, so they usually weren’t ones for bigotry. But they weren’t saints and these things were always different with family involved.

“Your parents…..?” I began quietly before trailing off, unsure how to ask the question.

He gave me a crooked smile “It will be ok.” But I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Dang it! If it had to be one of us I would have been the better choice. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed I could have stopped my friend from doing something that would probably hurt him worse than it would me! Isn’t that what friends were supposed to do?! Watch out for each other?!

My self-recrimination devolved into an incoherent stream of mental cussing, as Alexs’ smile slipped and he let out a pained sob. My first reflex was to reach out, to put an arm around his shoulder but all I did was awkwardly jerk our bound arms and then … then Alex was gone.

Someone I didn’t recognize sat in his place, a pretty miserable looking someone. The transition was so startling that I just sat there frozen for several seconds, trying to process what had just happened. Our arms were still lashed together which meant……. what? Alex had chosen the basket, but this stranger was clearly a man. Was this one of these rituals where you got the opposite of what you asked for?

While I was trying to make sense of this new development, the stanger had been inspecting his new form in a slightly detached manner that look suspiciously like the onset of shock to me. But now something on the left wall had caught his attention “The name.” he murmured, a note of distress creeping into his voice. He pointed “Look, the name.” and started to rise.

Getting to our feet, while lashed together was a bit awkward made even worse by my companions’ impatience. When we had finally managed to get out feet under us and gotten a bit closer to the wall I could see what had my companion so excited: The name of my friend was now among the script running along the walls, bound in a tight knotwork of lines. “Names have power.” The longing in his eyes as he looked at the name, belied the offhand tone of my companions remark.

As if in answer a slight scrapping and clicking started behind us. There was another awkward moment as my companion and I both tried to turn around only to be stopped short by the vine aroubnd our arms.

By the time we had gone through the whole nonverbal dance of ‘I’ll try and go this way.’ ‘No, after you,’ and ‘Sorry, my bad. You lead’. The runes had already slid into a new configuration.

‘OnE ChOoSe THe FATe

FoR BotH

sO leT tHe OtheR choOSE

a NaMe mOrE beFiTTinG oF

a MaIdEn tO bE cOuRtEd’

After reading the message a second time, I slowly looked over to my companion.

Damn that was creepy!

Now that I knew what to look for, I could see that the clothes, the hair, the eyes, everything was still the same. The part that said “Alex” however was missing. The air of detachment that now surrounded his every action, made it even creepier. Like all this ….didn’t … affect ….him any longer.

I winced, that probably wasn’t a good sign.

And if the loss of his name had such an effect on my friend, I should better choose a new one with care.