I blinked my acid colored eyes open, seeing a slight flash through one of them. A ping...? At (here I checked the clock) 3 in the morning...?
Who the sodding hell-
I noticed that the ping was tagged as urgent. An urgent ping? No one ever sends an urgent ping to an ugly.
Ever.
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, flicking my eye mouse a bit and opening the ping.
Mr Arthur Kirkland
Ugly-ville, Londinium
This message is to inform you that your operation is on the 23rd of April, at 9 in the morning. Do not reply to this message.
If you have something you would like to suggest about your operation, please do not hesitate to contact us; your opinion is very important to us.
Signed, The Body Modification Bureau, Londinium Branch
"...if I'm going to become a female... I should send them a ping in the next..." I checked the read out on my calendar and saw that it was the 12th, "...11 days." I didn't quite understand why it was so urgent, as I was still half asleep, but I decided to send a ping to them before I forgot. Sitting up on my bed, I yawned a bit, staring at the interface ring on my left index finger.
It felt the same as always, and greeted me silently in my mind with a soft robotic voice that seemed to say 'Hello, Arthur'.
I was so curious about what it would be like to be a girl... I had always felt like a girl, but boys were boys and girls were girls; new pretties may be the type to experiment, but boys went with girls, not with other boys.
That was why I wanted to be a girl.
Because of one Alfred Jones, who seemed like he would make a very interesting pretty, with the way he would laugh at the smallest of things. He was the boy that I liked, even though I was a boy too.
I hurriedly typed up a ping and sent it, a bit worried that I would be stuck, unhappy, as a boy, forever; I wouldn't be able to handle it. Both of my parents were happily pretty, the type of people that wouldn't lend you a purifier if you were dying of thirst.
Greedy like New Pretties, with the understanding faces of Middle Pretties, and the sense of a pair of Rusties. I would've called them Rusties if it were actually worth it to insult my parents.
They wouldn't care, even if they were Rusties, because they didn't care about anything other than their stupid perfect house, surrounded by more perfect houses with the other stupid perfect middle pretties, who lived out their days with their cute ugly littlies, who grew into self depreciating little uglies, who became perfect self obsorbed new pretties who would one day be middle pretties just like their worthless perfect parents were.
Unlike everyone else, who thought they were ugly when they weren't and would grow up just like my greedy parents, I had already seen how being an ugly and thinking like an ugly didn't make you into the self obsorbed pretties; it was thinking that everyone else is ugly too, and all that will change once you get the operation.
I knew that I would never be pretty unless I became what I wanted to be.
Being pretty is not just the operation; it's how you feel afterwards.
If I had the operation and was a boy just like I had been before, I would turn out just like the other uglies who became pretties.
But, if I had the operation and came out a girl, I would be happy by choice, rather than being greedy like my parents.
Then I would have Alfred, and we would be happy together.
...happy little bubbleheads...
