G11

by Sarah Bayen

Part Four

 

Steve was awoken the following morning by the soft humming alarm of the Machine. He turned over in his bed, but did not get up. Slowly his thoughts gathered themselves together, as he sorted out the nightmare reality of the day before from the fantasy dreams of the night. He slipped his hand down onto his thighs, and felt the soft silky material of his nightdress to confirm his suspicions. It had all been true.

The door beeped to signal that someone was knocking. "G13" it announced. He slipped out of his bed, and with bleary eyes, made his way to the door. He pushed the panel to open it. What did Sarah want at this time of day? The door opened, saw her standing there in the plain pyjamas that he had tried to select for himself the night before.

"Hi Steve," she said enthusiastically. "Oh, that's pretty!" He looked down at himself, and had the sudden realisation that he had opened the door wearing a pastel nightdress. Why had he been so stupid? "I nearly tried that myself, but I thought it was a bit fussy," Sarah went on. "It looks nice though, it suits you."

He was about to excuse himself by pointing out that the Machine hadn't let him have anything with trousers when Sarah carried on. "Anyway, I was just going to use the toilet," she whispered. "I just wanted to let you know first."

"Oh, thanks," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "I'll give you five minutes, and then I'll go."

"I won't need that long," she said, looking once more at his nightdress, and making him feel self-conscious. "But thanks. I'll see you at breakfast then."

Steve allowed the door to close. Now he was for it! Not only had he allowed Sarah to see that he had deliberately worn girl's knickers last night, he had now inadvertently let her see that he had slept in a girl's nightdress; a girl's nightdress with pretty flowers on it! God, he would have to be careful that he never upset her again, otherwise he'd be the laughing stock of the whole ship forever.

He walked over to the Interface, and angrily ripped the nightdress over his head, tossing it carelessly into the recycling chute. It missed, and he had to walk over, and pick it up to drop it in more carefully. "Learning Uniform only available," the screen informed him, and after a few whirs and clicks, it delivered a set of clothing for him much as he had been forced into the day before.

With extreme reluctance, he sorted out the knickers, pink this time, with a picture of a ballerina on the front, and stepped into them. They were a good fit, but felt unusually tight against him. He shuddered a little, and picked up the blouse, crisp and white, with its pink piping around the collar and cuffs. He put it on, and did up the buttons, struggling in vain to fasten the final one by the neck. He had thought that he might look a little more masculine with that one done up, but it was not to be. He picked up the pleated grey skirt, and grimaced again. He hadn't had to wear it all that long the day before, thanks to Karen's kindness in swapping with him. Much as he hated putting it on now, he took solace in the thought that it would not be for too long that day either. They would go and see the Machine after breakfast, and put all this madness behind them. Suitably consoled , he stepped into the skirt, and did it up at the back. The white socks were bunched up in a ball. He untangled them, and slipped his feet in. They looked ridiculous, he thought, with their silly patterns picked out in little holes all over them. He shuddered as he looked at his legs, to all appearances girl's legs, and put on the black patent shoes, fastening the buckles. What a mess the Machine had put him in!

He walked over to the mirror to look at himself. He was going to be ridiculed for having to wear the girl's uniform, but he might as well make sure it looked reasonable. He turned to one side. The skirt didn't seem to be hanging right, so he adjusted it at the waist, and nodded in approval at his reflection. Karen was right, the uniform skirt was short, although it looked a good deal longer and more modest on him than it had on her. It must have been hell for her in the boys' sleeping quarters wearing something like this, he realised.

"Breakfast will be served in the Refectory in fifteen minutes," the Machine informed him. He looked around the room where he had slept, hopefully for the last time. He might as well get himself off to breakfast now, and face the inevitable jibes as his friends saw him in his sorry state. He'd get them back for it, once he was back to being a boy, he decided, and smiled to himself in anticipation of revenge.

He opened the door, and walked out into the chamber. There was a scream from one end of the corridor, and a figure quickly shuffled itself back into one of the rooms. The Machine might well think he was a girl, but the other girls in the sleeping area clearly did not. He sighed, and walked through the archway, and along the corridor to the Refectory.

He had expected to be the first there, so it was something of a surprise when he walked through, and saw Eddie and Malcolm deep in conversation at one of the tables. They looked up guiltily when he walked in. He nodded to them, and they leant back on their chairs indifferently, not even bothering to comment about his clothing. He thought of what Sarah had said the night before. Were Eddie and Malcolm really in love with each other? It seemed implausible, and yet, what were they doing talking so intently with each other alone in the Refectory so early for the meal?

He sat himself down at an empty table to wait. Richard and Bryn were next to arrive. He heard them coming long before he saw them, shouting and larking about in the corridor. They burst through the door, and looked surprised to see him. "Wotcha Steve. Still in a skirt I see," Bryn said by way of greeting, and came to sit down next to him. Richard chortled to himself, as he looked at Steve's skirt, but made no comment. "Back to lessons today, "Bryn observed casually. "Though I suppose you'll be taking some time off to argue with the Machine."

"I guess," Steve responded.

"I bet you had fun in the girl's sleeping quarters though," Bryn went on, leaning forward. "What was it like? Do they all run around naked, feeling each other's tits?"

"No," Steve responded. "I didn't go out of my room much anyway, in case they thought I was perverted."

"Nothing perverted about trying to look at naked women," Bryn observed. He then looked down at Steve's skirt, and long white socks. Steve shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, somehow feeling Bryn's eyes on his naked legs. The others arrived in dribs and drabs. He smiled at Karen as she walked through. She looked rather smart in her uniform, he thought before he could stop himself, and had even put on the necktie, and tied it perfectly. She didn't look at Steve, which upset him a little, and went to sit with her friend Mandy at a distant table.

The meal passed pleasantly enough. Richard and Bryn chatted away to Steve, and, for a moment, he almost forgot about his predicament. The room was abuzz with chatter, and, in the midst of a conversation about one of the console games, it was a surprise to hear the Machine's voice interrupting them. "Lessons will commence in fifteen minutes," it commented.

Bryn stopped in mid anecdote, and looked around them. "Well, back to the grind," he sighed.

"Yeah," agreed Richard. "Football again tonight?"

"Suppose so," confirmed Bryn, still looking around. Richard's eyes turned to Steve. A flash of memory brought Steve a picture of the pale blue leotard the Machine had offered him the previous day, and he had to shake his head to clear it. By tonight, he reminded himself, this madness would be over.

"Yeah, I'll be there," he affirmed.

Bryn began to play with his fork, hanging its handle over the edge of the table, and flicking it so it made a twanging sound. Steve saw Jeanette walking over to them, smiling benignly at him. "Here comes the mad horsewoman," muttered Richard, snickering to himself.

"Hi Steve!" she said brightly, sitting down on an empty chair next to him. "I just wanted to wish you luck this morning, with the Machine and all that."

"Oh, thanks," he replied, looking down at the table, rather than at the girl. She leant forward towards him conspiratorially.

"And can I just say how brave I think you've been about all this?" she whispered. "It can't have been easy. Sarah told me about you wearing the nightie last night, rather than pyjamas. That was really brave!"

Steve was about to protest that he hadn't had any choice, when, to his utter horror, he saw that Bryn and Richard had heard the conversation. Their looks said it all, a mixture of contempt and disbelief. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, as Jeanette smiled kindly at him, unaware of the collapse of his peer group credit she had caused.

"Anyway, best of luck!" she said brightly again, and planted a kiss on his cheek. She stood up, and walked away across the room to where Sarah was sitting. The other, shorter girl gave him a little wave, which added to his shame.

For a few moments the three boys were silent at their table, all feeling the discomfort at Jeanette's revelation about Steve's choice of nightwear. Eventually Richard broke the silence. "You seem to be getting on well with the horsy set," he said, in a croaky sort of voice.

"Almost like you're one of them," Bryn added.

There was a commotion across the room, and, looking up, Steve saw Linda standing on one of the tables, and clapping her hands for attention. It was a few minutes before everyone stopped talking, but then, all eyes were on the girl.

"Right," she said. "I've got something to put to you boys." There was a fresh outbreak of muttering amongst the male half of the room at this, which she waited to dissipate before continuing. "You know that the Machine has made us girls wear this stupid uniform for lessons, right?" She indicated the blouse and skirt that she was wearing.

There were a few murmurs of assent. "You and Steve!" Colin put in, unhelpfully. Steve glared at him, and he sneered back.

"Well as you probably know, we don't like it."

"Well we don't like wearing uniform either!" a boy called Roger retorted. There were mutters of agreement at this too.

"Well at least you don't have to wear stupid short skirts!" Linda's friend Gill snapped back.

"Anyway," Linda went on. "We've decided to make a protest about it, until the Machine sees sense."

There was a chorus of feminine "Yeahs" in agreement.

"We're refusing to wear skirts in the evening for a start, as you may have noticed last night," Linda informed them. "But we need to make some sort of protest during the day as well."

"Then take your skirts off!" Bryn suggested, to much laughter.

Linda fixed her steely eyes on him, and looked as if she was holding back some retort. In any event, she paused for two or three seconds before continuing. "In a manner of speaking, that's what we propose to do. You all know that Steve's had to wear a skirt as well don't you? And that Karen's wearing the boy's uniform." Steve felt a sea of eyes look in his direction, and especially at his naked legs, which he had carelessly let slip from under cover of the table. Why had Linda felt the need to mention that?

"Well what we thought would be good, is if more of you boys wore them as well, as part of the protest."

They were shouts of derision, and general disagreement with the idea. "We're not all poufs like him!" Colin shouted.

"He's not a pouf!" Linda retorted on Steve's behalf. "It takes a brave man to wear a skirt, that's for sure, especially with idiots like you around."

"It's not really our problem though is it?" Roger put in. "I mean, good luck to you and all that, but I'm certainly not wearing a skirt, and I doubt if anyone else here would."

Another chorus of male 'yeahs' greeted this observation.

Linda glared across the room at them. "Well that's really disappointing," she commented acidly at last. "I would have thought at least some of you would have helped us out."

"Yeah," put in Jacquie, whose intervention made the boys pay more attention. She stood up, and tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder. A silence fell over the room. "I mean, we don't mind wearing skirts sometimes. But it should be when we choose to, not the Machine." The girls around her nodded their agreement. "All we're asking is some help from you lot to get it to see sense."

"Why don't you just go and talk to it?" Roger suggested. "That's what Karen and Steve are going to do, so I've heard." Steve was put out that, again, he had been brought into the argument, and looked away for a moment.

"We will do," Linda went on. "I've fixed up a session for after dinner tonight, but I think we need to show the Machine that we mean business before then."

There was silence again for a few moments, and then, to Steve's surprise, Charles stood up to talk. "Well I don't mind wearing a skirt," he piped. "What do we have to do, swap, like Steve and Karen did yesterday?"

"That's the general idea," Linda said, smiling at Charles, who looked decidedly nervous at his outburst. "Well that's good," she went on. "Charles is man enough to agree to what we're proposing, what about the rest of you?"

There was a further bout of muttering, and a good few 'not me's' before Bryn decided to speak again. "Why don't you just leave the skirts off?" he suggested. "We're not going to mind if you spend all day walking around in your knickers, are we lads? In fact it would be interesting to see!" There was general laughter at his proposal.

"Well if you're that interested in seeing knickers, then you could just lift up your friend Steve's skirt!" Linda snapped back at him. The room fell silent, and, once again, all eyes fell on Steve.

"Are you wearing girl's knickers then?" Bryn asked him.

Blushing furiously, he nodded, almost imperceptibly. "It's all the Machine would let me have," he muttered.

"Knickers and a skirt, how sweet!" Colin sneered from across the room.

"Well the rest of you won't need to wear knickers, just a skirt." Linda went on. "Come on, who else is up for it?"

"Lessons will commence in five minutes," the Machine put in. "Please make your way to the learning rooms now."

No one spoke or moved for a moment, and then Colin and his cronies stood, and made their way to the door. The Machine's summons to them, had seemed to end the conversation. "You're on your own," one of them unkindly said to Linda, as they walked past her on the way out.

"Come on!" she urged. "There must be more of you who want to get in our good books other than just Charles!"

"I'll do it," a tall boy called Nigel said, standing, and walking across the room to join the girls. Charles took this as a cue to do the same.

"All right, count me in," another said, and went to join them. Eventually five boys agreed to join the protest, and join Steve and the girls in wearing skirts. Charles, Nigel, Peter, Martin, and, surprisingly in view of his previous objections, Roger. The girls gathered around them, deciding who could swap with whom, given the varying sizes of both the boys and the girls. The rest slowly made their way out of the Refectory towards the Learning Room.

"You coming?" Bryn asked Steve, as he and Richard stood to leave.

"No," Steve replied. "I've got to go and see the Machine with Karen, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Bryn acknowledged. "You said." He looked pityingly at Steve for a moment. "No more knickers for you then?"

"I certainly hope not."

Steve watched Bryn and Richard leave, and then turned his attention to the other side of the room, where various pairs were sneaking off into the corridor to swap clothes. Jeanette, it appeared, would be swapping with Nigel. No doubt she would have preferred Stuart, Steve thought to himself. In the midst of this chaos, he was relieved to see Karen walking over towards him.

"Well that was interesting," she said to him, standing by the table. "Are you ready then?" He nodded, and stood, waiting for her to show him the way to the room where the meeting was to take place. "I was wondering if we should put it off for a day or so," Karen mused. "Till this business about the uniforms is sorted out. You know what the Machine is like. It gets confused if there's more than one thing going on." Given that the Machine ran the ship, including its engines and navigation, environmental controls, as well as looking after thirty rebellious teenagers, this comment appeared a little odd to Steve.

"No!" he exclaimed in response to any suggested delay. "Let's get it sorted now! I don't ever want to wear a skirt again."

Karen looked at him curiously, and, after a time, shrugged. "Well okay then. Let's do it then shall we?"

Relieved, Steve followed her out of the door, and, instead of turning towards the Learning Room with the others, they headed in the opposite direction, towards the centre of the ship. Charles and Jacquie were nearly blocking the corridor, both in their underwear. Charles looked a little abashed as Steve and Karen walked by, and Jacquie ignored them, handing Charles her little pleated skirt, and stepping gleefully into the trousers he had just vacated. "This will show it!" she exclaimed as she did so.

Steve had difficulty keeping up with Karen's stride, as she moved along the corridor confidently. He was glad he hadn't put on the girl's shoes the Machine had offered him. That would have made it even more difficult. As it was, the flapping of his little pleated skirt against his legs irritated more than hindered him.

"Slow down!" he begged at last, and Karen turned, and flashed him a smile.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just anxious to get this over with."

"Me too," he agreed joining her. "But we're not in a race you know!"

"Sorry," she said again. "That was interesting, Linda's protest that is. Would you have helped out, if things had been different?"

They began walking again. "I don't know," Steve replied. "Probably not."

Karen made no response, but led them down a side corridor, which ended in a cul-de-sac and a plain door. "This is it," she said, and placed her palm on the panel by the side. After a couple of seconds, the door slid open, and they walked through into a small room, with a circle of chairs laid out in front of a large monitor. Karen signalled for him to sit down, which he did, and she took the chair in front of the screen.

It flickered into life, and the image of one the strange face the Machine was so fond of resolved itself into the centre of the screen.

"Welcome B15 and G11," it said. "How may we be of assistance?" it asked. The Machine, Steve noted, tended to refer to itself in the plural.

Karen coughed, and then began. "We've come to talk through some mistakes that have been made in the gender assignment yesterday."

The Machine chuntered and whirred before responding. "Specify," it demanded eventually.

Karen turned briefly to Steve, before carrying on. "Well," she began. "Both Steve; G11 that is, and I, seemed to have been assigned to the wrong gender."

"Checking data," the Machine told them, and clicked away to itself for ten seconds or so before continuing. "Negative. Gender assignments correct for both B15 and G11."

"But that's ridiculous!" Karen exclaimed, heated for a moment. She calmed herself again before continuing. "There has been a mistake," she went on. "G11 is a boy, and I am a girl. You've got it the wrong way around."

"Negative," the Machine responded through the image of the Other. "G11 is female. B15 is male. Data verified."

Karen turned to Steve again, with an exasperated look on her face. "But that can't be right," she went on. "I'm the female. I've got," she hesitated for a moment. "all the right bits."

The Machine made no response, and Steve decided to put his pennyworth in. "Me too! I'm a boy, there's no doubt about it."

The Machine clicked and whirred for a few more seconds before responding. "You both have genital anomalies. These can be corrected."

"We don't want them corrected!" Karen snapped back. "We want your bloody mistake corrected!" The face of the Other stared at them impassively, while the Machine took its time to formulate a response.

"Request denied," it eventually stated, with a flat finality. "Is there anything else we can help you with?"

Steve felt anxious. This was not going well. He turned, and saw Karen glaring at the screen, her lips narrowing, and her eyes boring into the placid face displayed there. "You can help us with this, you stupid bastard!"

Steve suddenly remembered something his mother had told him years before, when he had first asked her about the Machine, and its purpose, curious as all toddlers are about their environment. The Machine, she had told him, was programmed to maximise their happiness. That was it, the trump card he could play! He touched Karen gently on the arm, and was momentarily surprised at the tension in her muscles. "Listen," he began. "This gender diagnosis is making us very unhappy."

Immediately the cogs behind the screen whirred into action, clunking, clicking and humming as various bits of the Machine's vast databases were consulted about what he had said. He felt smug for a moment; he had hit the weak spot in the Machine's armoury. It could never willingly make them unhappy, so it would now have to correct its ridiculous error.

Karen looked at him, frowning, and he smiled at her. The Machine continued its search for a response, the Other face looking blankly at them from the screen. "What was that about?" she asked him.

He smiled again. "It's supposed to do all it can to make us happy. Now it knows we're not happy being the wrong sex, so we'll be all right." Karen raised her eyebrows for a moment, and then looked back to the screen. Still the Machine continued its mechanistic thought processes.

Suddenly the Other's face flickered back to life. A response was imminent. There was a few more seconds pause before it spoke. "Your happiness is important to us. We understand the importance of gender diagnosis in happiness." It paused, and Steve smiled to himself, thanking his Mum for her words of wisdom spoken so long before. The Machine continued. "That is why we cannot reverse the assignment for either G11 or B15," it stated. "Neither of you would be happy with a different diagnosis."

Karen jumped out of her seat, and moved closer to the screen to shout at its impassive face. "This is absolutely crazy! I'm one hundred per cent functionally female!" She put her hand to her zipper. "Do you want to see, for God's sake?"

Steve was too shocked to react. He had been sure that he had forced the Machine to see sense, to follow its prime directive to secure the happiness of its charges. For some perverse reason it had followed an entirely different path of logic from the one he had anticipated.

"That will not be necessary," the Machine told Karen. "Your genital anomalies have been noted. Diagnosis of gender is not by genitalia."

"What do you mean diagnosis is not by genitalia?" she demanded, standing right in front of the screen now, so that Steve could not see the face upon it.

"Diagnosis is by," the Machine paused, and hummed away to itself, searching its vocabulary databases. "Diagnosis is by ghost," it proclaimed at last. Steve's mouth fell open. What did the damn thing mean by that? Was he being haunted by the ghost of some girl?

"Ghost?" Karen shouted. "What do you mean by ghost?"

The Machine whirred again. "We will rephrase," it commented. "Diagnosis is by spirit. The spirit of G11 is female. The spirit of B15 is male."

Karen turned away, holding her hands up in despair, while Steve sat quietly in his chair. He thought about what was happening. The Machine was accusing him of having a female spirit, of all things. What did that mean, and, thinking to himself, could it possibly be right?

"How can you measure someone's spirit?" Karen snapped back, waving a finger accusingly at the screen.

"This can be done. This has been done. It is part of the checking and assignment process undertaken yesterday." the Machine responded. Karen paced backwards and forwards, and then turned back to the screen once more.

"So you're saying I have a man's spirit?"

The Machine hummed to itself. "No," it responded eventually. "All spirits display both genders."

Karen threw a glance up at the ceiling, and, watching her, Steve could see the veins on her neck standing out against the skin. "So what's all this rubbish about diagnosis of gender by spirit then? If our spirits display both, then we might as well choose whichever one suits us best."

The Machine hummed to itself for a moment, and then responded. "This is generally correct, but when a spirit is over two thirds male, then only a male diagnosis can lead to happiness."

Karen glared at the Machine for a few seconds before responding. "So you're saying that I'm two thirds male? That means I'm at least twice as masculine as him!" she went on, gesturing behind her back at Steve, still sitting passively in his chair.

"Four times," the Machine corrected without feeling. "G11 spirit is 18% masculine. B15 spirit is 76 masculine."

Steve's eyes widened. He was not good at Maths, but he realised that the Machine was saying that his spirit was predominantly female. Karen turned to face him, with outrage written on her face. He felt anxious at the violence of the emotions evident in her face. "So he's 82% feminine?" she commented.

"Correct," the Machine agreed. "G11 has the most feminine spirit on this ship at the present time."

"No!" Steve protested. The Machine remained silent, while Karen looked at him curiously.

"82% feminine," she repeated to herself. "That's a lot." Steve felt himself blushing under her gaze.

"I'm not!" he protested again. "I demand a recount!"

"The data has been verified," the Machine assured him.

"82% feminine," Karen repeated again, staring at Steve and shaking her head. Seeing him sitting there, cuddling himself anxiously, and in his little pleated skirt, she could almost believe it.

"Well you're 76% masculine!" he retorted, standing, but still feeling small next to her. Their eyes held each other for a minute or more. Suddenly Karen turned back to the screen.

"This is fucking ridiculous," she shouted. "I'm bleeding now; menstruating that is, to you! How can you say that I'm a boy when I'm doing that?"

The Machine chuntered to itself for a few seconds. "Your menstrual state has been noted. This is most unfortunate. It will not reoccur."

Steve saw Karen's shoulders shudder at this pronouncement. "What do you mean this will not reoccur?"

"You will not menstruate again," the Machine announced. "It would be counter productive to your happiness."

"Well bleeding is never a barrel of laughs I agree, but I'll not be told to stop doing it by you!" she snapped. The Machine whirred to itself for a few seconds.

"It is not appropriate for a male to menstruate," it stated calmly. "You need to find happiness in your male gender. Menstruation will not reoccur."

"And how do you propose to stop me?" Karen demanded. "Are you going to correct my genital anomalies against my will or something?"

The Machine whirred and clicked, before the face on the screen spoke once more. "Negative," it stated. "Surgical correction of genital anomalies will not take place without your consent."

"And the same for me?" Steve asked, apprehensive that Karen might have obtained some concession withheld from him.

"Correct," the Machine went on. "However, steps will be taken to assist your identification with your assigned gender roles," it went on. "Hence menstruation will cease for B15."

"How?" Karen demanded again.

"Your hormones will be balanced appropriately," the Machine stated benignly.

"I'm not taking any bloody tablets you try and give me," she spat back at the face on the screen.

"Hormones will not be administered in tablet form," the Machine told her.

"Then how?"

The Machine clicked and whirred on. "They will be manufactured by your bodies," it went on.

"But I've got a girl's body," Karen shouted back at it. "How can it manufacture fucking boy's hormones?"

"It can be done," the Machine stated. "It is already being done."

Karen stepped forward, and hit the screen with all her might. There was a loud thud, but the face behind remained impassive. "I hate you, you bastard!" she sneered at it.

"Come on Karen," Steve said soothingly. "That won't do any good."

"Shut up!" she snapped, turning on him. He backed away a little, nervous of her anger. "It's all right for you. You enjoy being a girl!"

"I do not!" he protested.

"Well since you're 82% female, you obviously do!"

Steve felt tears springing into his eyes, and turned his head away from her. Why was she being so cruel to him?

"To further assist your identification with the correct gender," the Machine went on. "You will be encouraged to wear gender appropriate clothing, and undertake gender appropriate activity. There will be greater restrictions on your choices than those of your colleagues."

Steve turned back to the screen. "Is that why you won't let me wear trousers, or pyjamas, or anything like that?"

"Correct," the Machine responded. "We have noted that yesterday G11 wore trousers, and B15 wore a skirt. This should not be repeated."

Karen glared back at the screen. "I'll wear what I bloody well want!" she snarled. The Machine did not respond for a moment.

"We have noted that other B numbers are currently wearing skirts," it stated baldly. "This is inappropriate and will not be tolerated."

"Well you'll have to take it up with them," Karen mumbled. "Come on Steve, this is useless." She beckoned to Steve to follow her.

"Just a minute," he said, standing in response to her summons. "I just want to ask one more thing."

"Is there anything else we can help with?" the Machine went on, pleasantly enough.

"What will you do if I wear trousers again?" he demanded. The Machine chugged to itself as it thought about this.

"Privileges will be withdrawn," it announced. "But we encourage you to comply. Once genital anomalies have been corrected, standard G number privileges will apply to G11 also."

"So I can't wear trousers until you cut my Willy off?"

Chug chug. "Correct," the Machine responded amiably. "You are requested to return to lessons."

Steve glared at the blank unseeing face on the screen. So he was 82% female, was he? He would show it! He turned his back on it, and haughtily held his head aloft as he walked through the door into the corridor, with Karen watching him. She followed him through, and the door closed with a hiss behind them. They both stood there in silence for a time, and then suddenly Karen started pummelling the wall with her fists.

"Fuck that bloody electric bastard!" she shouted.

Steve looked at her for a moment. He felt entirely crestfallen. His plan to appeal to the Machine's overriding responsibilities had failed dismally. He leant himself back against the wall, and shut his eyes to stop the tears of frustration welling up too much. Karen rested her arms against the wall, her head hanging down between them. Then she started hitting the wall again.

"Stop it Karen, you'll hurt yourself."

She turned to Steve with a wild look in her eyes. It was all very well for him. The Machine wasn't stopping his periods was it? She moved over to him, and then, to her surprise, saw fear in his eyes. She stopped, and looked at him, leaning against the white featureless wall of the corridor with his damp lashes betraying his tears. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "The bloody thing just makes me so angry!"

"Me too," he muttered sympathetically. He paused for a while. "What do you think we should do now?"

"I don't know," she said, with some irritation. "I just don't know."

"I'm not sure I want to go back to lessons dressed like this," he whined.

She looked at him, in his crisp white blouse, and pleated grey skirt. She had worn the same the day before, and had some empathy with his reluctance to face their classmates in them. Still, at least the damn uniform fitted him. It had been positively indecent on her, as Bryn and the others had taken pains to point out.

"Well I suppose we ought to," she went on. "We'll just have to think again. Linda's not going to be very pleased either."

"Why?"

"Well if we can't get the Machine to see sense about this, there's not much chance of her getting it to change the uniform either."

Steve could see her reasoning. The Machine was totally impervious to logic it seemed. A part of him was pleased however. If the Machine refused to change the uniform, and the others kept up their protest, then at least he wouldn't be the only one, or even the only boy, stuck in a skirt.

Reluctantly, they made their way back down the corridor to the learning areas. They paused outside the door, and looked at each other in silence. Steve smiled. "It'll be all right," he said, and Karen nodded, before pushing the panel to open the door. They walked in with false bravado, while all eyes fixed on them, noticing that their uniforms hadn't changed. Steve went over, and sat in his accustomed space next to Bryn and Richard.

"Well?" Richard asked him.

"It's thinking about it," Steve responded, clicking on his monitor to try and get himself up to speed with the lesson.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough. Steve wasn't ribbed about his skirt, after all, there were five other boys wearing them as well. Richard and Bryn went off with the others at the lunch break for a game of football, and Steve sat reading a book in one of the common areas alone until lessons recommenced. The afternoon was spent in study of literature, with a range of poems offered to them by the Machine for analysis. Steve liked this sort of thing better than Maths and Science. He had a feel for words, and for colours, whereas figure work left him numb. Soon the lessons for the day were over, and they were free to return to their sleeping areas until the evening meal.

With an air of resignation, Steve said goodbye to Bryn and Richard, and trudged behind the girls to their sleeping area. Linda was gathering a good few of them together to discuss how to broach the subject of the uniform with the Machine. Steve felt like telling them that it was a waste of time, but didn't. Their enthusiasm for the subject was somehow too precious to destroy just yet. He had felt similarly hopeful that morning, but was now just numb with pain and shock. He let himself into his room, and sat down on the chair to think.

The way he saw it, he was going to be stuck dressed as a girl until he reached adulthood. It wasn't ideal, but the alternative was to allow the Machine to correct what it insisted on calling his genital anomalies. No way was he going to go along with that! It was, he reasoned, better to be dressed as a girl than to actually be one. He idly switched on his console, and looked to see what he might wear that evening for dinner. Turning up in the Learning Uniform did not seem an attractive option. He found a new area on the clothing site, and, after a bit of experimentation, discovered that he could actually design different clothes for himself there. Only girls clothes of course, but it might be more fun that simply accepting what he was offered. He first tried simple changes, like altering the colours on the floral skirt he had worn the night before. The little facsimile of himself who acted as his model seemed pleased with the changes, as it turned through 360 degrees. He tried a different top, which to his eyes at least, looked better with the skirt. He altered it a little, widening the neck, and lengthening the sleeves, before trying three or four different shades of blue to see which looked best. Looking at the hem of the skirt, he wondered whether it might not look better if he made it a little asymmetrical. He lost himself in the creative exercise, and was surprised when the Machine announced that the meal would be served in half an hour.

He decided he should have a shower before eating, and got up to tell Jeanette. She wasn't in her room, the panel on the door told him, and so he undressed, and went into the shared shower cubicle anyway. He felt cleaner, and calmer as he got out, and dried his hair on one of the thick white towels the Machine provided.

"Fifteen minutes before the meal is served," the Machine intoned. Steve looked at the floor. He had thrown his learning uniform across it. He told himself off for being so untidy, and picked it up, and placed it in the disposal chute. What to wear, he thought to himself? He looked at the picture he had created on the screen. He was quite proud of his efforts in a way. Well, he reasoned, that was as good as anything else. He clicked the button to order it, and, after a few clunks and clicks, the outfit, as designed by him, was delivered. He quickly put it on, looked in the mirror, and was quite pleased with the result. The Machine had delivered him a simple pair of shoes to go with it. He had to admit, going barefoot all day had made his feet sore. He looked at the shoes. They were a little strappy perhaps, but in a nice blue that matched his outfit. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought to himself, and slipped his feet into them. They were a perfect fit.

"G9 and G13", his door announced. He walked over, and pushed the panel to open it.

"Hi Steve," Jeanette said brightly, as she appeared in the entrance. "We wondered if you wanted to walk down to dinner with us."

"Oh my!" Sarah gasped, looking at him. "That looks nice! I didn't see that as an option when I looked through."

"It's a bit like the floral skirt though," Jeanette observed. "Only with a different hem, and in a different colour."

Steve felt himself blushing. "Yes," he mumbled. "I made a few changes to it."

"But it looks lovely!" Sarah exclaimed again. "Come and look what Steve has managed to do!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Three or four of the other girls, on their way to the Refectory, came across to admire his fashion sense, which embarrassed him still further. He began to regret his idle tampering with the clothing options, but at least the comments were complimentary enough. After a few moments, Steve and the girls made their way along to the Refectory for the meal. Most of the conversation on the way was about Linda's coming confrontation with the Machine, and whether she would be able to persuade it to let them wear trousers during the day. There were differing views as to how successful this might be. Steve, with some experience now of negotiating with the damn thing, did not hold out much hope for them.

Despite being late, they arrived in the room before any of the boys. Steve wondered which table to sit at, to wait for Bryn and Richard to join him. "Come and sit with us!" Jeanette urged him, unexpectedly, as soon as they had entered. "You'll get hungry otherwise!" She patted the seat next to her, and, after a couple of moment's thought, Steve sat himself down on it. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. He wondered, for an instant, what percentage femininity her spirit would score.

Loud shouting from along the corridor announced the immanent arrival of the boys. Steve looked up to see them streaming in. None of them paid him any attention, not even Bryn and Richard, who were enjoying some elaborate joke of their own. Karen entered last, tall and elegant in jeans and a sweatshirt. She paused at the entrance, and looked around the room, before striding across confidently to sit next to her friend Mandy.

"You've taken your skirts off," Linda observed to her press-ganged male protestors. "Pity, they suited you!"

"Pretty little Steve's still wearing one though!" Colin observed, sneering across the room. Steve felt himself blush again, as all eyes fell on him. He had forgotten for a few moments the constant shame he was living under, being so unfairly treated as one of the girls by the Machine. He could think of nothing to say in reply to his tormentor.

"So am I," he heard a voice say. He looked up. It was probably one of the girls, he thought. But no, it was a new entrant to the room, Charles. Ellen stood beside him, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, while he wore a short black dress. They must have swapped recently. Steve had seen Charles swapping with Jacquie that morning. There were gasps around the room.

"Well that's brilliant Charles. You too Ellen!" Linda exclaimed when the tumult had died down. "There's no need to limit our protest to just the Learning Uniform is there?" There was a general shout of agreement from the girls, although some still looked a little oddly at Charles, and his choice of evening wear. Ellen grinned broadly, and offered him her arm, which he took a little nervously. She led him into the room, and sat him at a table with herself and Linda.

"That's very brave of him!" Jeanette whispered.

"Yes," agreed Sarah, "although he doesn't look as nice as you Steve!"

The meal passed without incident. When it was over, the majority of the boys went off to play more football. Bryn and Richard didn't even bother to ask Steve whether he wanted to play. Although he would have had to refuse, he still felt a little put out. Linda gathered together her little deputation, and they all sat at a table to plan their approach. After a few minutes, Sarah suggested that the she, Jeanette and Steve, should return to the sleeping quarters. Jeanette and Steve agreed.

It was apparently Steve's turn to supply the cocoa, so he led the way to his room, and went over to the console to order it. "I wonder what made Charles agree to wear a dress this evening." Sarah mused.

"Well perhaps he just wanted to show solidarity or something." Jeanette suggested. Three mugs appeared in the slot, and Steve picked up two of them to take over to his friends.

"Maybe," Sarah went on. "But none of the others did. Perhaps he wanted to wear one, you know, just because he could."

"Perhaps," Jeanette went on. "I must admit, I've always thought it was a bit unfair that boys couldn't wear skirts or dresses, present company excepted that is!" She smiled at Steve, as he handed her the mug. "Some of them looked quite nice today, don't you think?"

"Well Steve certainly did!" Sarah agreed. "Mind you, he's always had an eye for colour and stuff like that."
"Yes," Jeanette nodded. "I tell you what Steve, why don't you show us where you designed the skirt and top? I've not been able to find out how to do it, and I'm better at the Interface than you are!"

"Oh good idea!" Sarah agreed. "I'd love to be able to tailor some stuff like you did!"

Their two faces looked eagerly at him as he walked back over to collect his own cocoa. Part of him wanted to reject their request. It had been a mistake, playing around with the clothing program, and even more so letting people see the results. But they had been so nice to him since his assignment, and looked so keen to learn how to do it for themselves, that he relented. "Sure," he said. "I'll show you."

They spent two hours playing around with the design suite. Steve showed them how to access it, and how to alter the colours and shapes of the clothes on offer. Sarah had a go, and put together quite an elegant evening gown in a pale pink colour. Steve was a little uncomfortable at seeing his little facsimile modelling it for her, but tried not to let it show. Jeanette tried as well, but with less success. The poor facsimile ended up wearing a pink skirt with a dark green top, and blue shoes. He took over, chastising her for her colour sense, and put things right.

"Oh God," she said. "I'm not sure I'll ever get the hang of colours."

"Well that's what the facsimile is for," Sarah explained. "To show you what things look like before they get made up."

"I know," the taller girl replied. "But you and Steve just seem to have a natural gift for knowing what goes with what."

They continued practicing with designs, Steve's facsimile happily trying on all the outfits, however outlandish, smiling at them from the screen as it turned round and around, so they could see the results from different angles. Sarah tried something a little more daring, and put together a red mini dress with a plunging top and no back. They giggled at the facsimile as it modelled this, particularly as it seemed to have grown boobs in celebration.

"G2" the door announced, making them all jump.

"Who's that?" Steve asked.
"Linda I think," Sarah said, still sitting by the monitor.

"Oh God, she must have finished her meeting with the Machine. She's probably come to tell us what happened!" Jeanette reasoned.

Steve stood up, and went over to the door. No one was there immediately, but the room was immediately filled with the sounds of cheering, and laughter. He put his head around the door, and looked into the Common area. The rest of the girls were all jumping around in the chamber, hugging each other, and looking generally pleased with themselves. Linda separated herself from one such huddle, and came across to him.

"I take it you won then?" he asked, a note of bitterness arising from his own failure with the Machine creeping into his voice, remembering.

Linda's elfin face broke into a broad grin. "We sure did!" she announced.

"Oh that's brilliant!" Sarah exclaimed from behind Steve's shoulder. "Well done Linda!"

"Yes!" agreed Jeanette. "Well there you go then Steve. You said the Machine was still thinking about your problem. So there is still hope that it can see sense for you as well!"

"Yeah!" agreed Sarah.

Linda's grin left her face, as she stood in front of Steve. "Well," she began, "I need to talk to you about that Steve." He looked at her. The Machine had told her, he knew! It had told her that he was 82% feminine. His mouth fell open, but no words came out. "The thing is Steve, we had to agree to call off any more demonstrations. We get to design the trousers we can wear, but the boys aren't allowed to wear skirts any more, not even as a joke." Her eyes did not leave him as she explained all this.

"Well okay, but what's that got to do with Steve? The Machine doesn't think he's a boy does it? So it'll still let him wear skirts." Jeanette interrupted.

Linda grimaced, obviously embarrassed about what she was about to say. "It was a bit put out by you and Karen swapping clothes yesterday," she went on. "Maybe it thought it was part of the protest or something. Anyway, we've had to agree that if we wear trousers, you can't."

"But that's not fair!" Sarah exclaimed.

Linda shrugged. "Maybe not, but it said that if Steve ever wore trousers, we'd all have to go back to wearing skirts."

"Oh poor Steve!" Sarah said, putting her hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, a little unkindly.

"Yes," Jeanette agreed. "I was thinking earlier, if we got to be allowed to wear trousers, then I was going to let Steve borrow them every now and then."
"That's exactly what the Machine forbade us to do!" Linda went on. "I'm sorry Steve. I know it sounds a bit unkind, but you'll have to stay in skirts, otherwise none of us can wear trousers."

Steve looked and felt downcast. Jeanette put her hand on his shoulder to console him. "Well it's only until you and Karen get the Machine to put things right," she told him.

"Yes," Linda agreed. She looked back at Steve, her face knowing that in a sense she had betrayed his needs for the greater good. "But until then, we can't help you, not by lending you our trousers anyway."

"We are the champions!" announced Ellen, coming over to Linda in the doorway, and putting her arm around the other girl's shoulders. "Are we good or what?" she exclaimed, smiling at the three people in Steve's room.

"Yes," Steve said, "You did really well. I'm pleased for you."

"Sorry about the ban staying on you," Ellen said to Steve, drunk on her triumph. "But you look better in a skirt than most of us anyway. Come on Linda, let's party!"

"Okay," the other girl agreed, studying Steve's face for reaction. She moved her eyes from him, to Sarah and Jeanette over his shoulders. "What about you?" she asked. "Are you going to join us or what?"

"Oh gosh, I suppose we could!" Sarah announced.

"Yes, we could do with a bit of a celebration, after all that's happened with our parents and stuff!" Jeanette agreed. They squeezed past Steve, still standing in the doorway, and went to join the party that was now in full swing. Steve watched them for a few moments, then quietly stepped back into his room, and allowed the door to shut. He leant against it, and shut his eyes, feeling warm tears streaming down his face. He didn't begrudge the girls their moment of triumph, far from it. Over the past two days, he had more empathy than ever before with their desire not to have to wear skirts. But he felt justified too in allowing self-pity to take over, and allowed the tears to fall.

It was fairly late. They had been playing on the Interface for quite some time. Steve stared at it, and the little facsimile of himself, looking delighted with its new red mini dress. He flicked the image off angrily, and decided that he might as well get ready for bed. He clicked to order nightwear, and was again offered only nightdresses to wear. The Machine stuck by its word, if nothing else. He selected the same nightdress as the night before, threw the clothes he had designed himself into the recycling bin, and waited for the delivery. Ever helpful, the Machine decided that he should have a matching pair of knickers to go with his selection. He threw these to one side, and slipped the nightie over his head, before lying down on his bed, trying to ignore the sounds of music and laughter from outside his door.

  

  

  

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