Jessica just wants a normal life. She wants love and success like anyone else, but she is not a normal person. She is a Changeling, someone who has changed their body and gender through genetic manipulation. Not everyone accepts Changelings, and not...
• A child believed to have been secretly substituted by fairies for the parents' real child in infancy. • A person who has undergone the Chang-Lee Procedure and altered their physical appearance or characteristics through genomic alteration. • See also freak, Frankenstein.
Chang-Lee Procedure, noun
• Form of genetic and epigenetic modification and physical reconstruction developed by combining the genomic modification process developed by Dr. Andrew Lang of Shanghai University, China, and a cellular regeneration process developed by Dr. Marcus Lee of Univ. of California Davis, USA. Also known as Genomic Alteration and Phenotypic Reconstruction.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I couldn't remember being more excited since I'd crawled out of the vat after my change. My stomach muscles were quivering in anticipation, leaving me a bit twitchy as I opened my shop that morning. It was hard keeping my mind on the task at hand.
Still, my hands and eyes went through the routine by rote, checking the fridge for supplies to make sure I hadn't missed anything the day before, unpacking the morning delivery of bagels and muffins, taking out the bags of coffee beans and turning on the grinders.
It was an archaic job, but I loved running my coffee shop. Living and working in the Pacific Northwest, I had purposely modeled it after an old local favorite, Starbucks, from before the economic crash back in '35. Most coffee these days came from single serving canisters made of molecularly printed organics, but mine was grown and harvested from actual soil in South America to be roasted, ground, and served by real human beings. No faceless AI run kiosks here. It was more expensive, but the personal touch was in high demand. The steady line of customers waiting for me to open every morning testified to that.
Glancing through the glass door, I could see that John was already in line, five people back. My stomach quivered some more, forcing me to take a deep breath to calm myself.
I had no idea why I was so nervous. I was used to taking risks. I was a Changeling. Three years before I made the choice to have my genetics altered and my body reconstituted like one of those automatic coffee canisters, knowing that not everyone would understand or accept me. So why should something as simple as a crush leave me dumbfounded?
Yet this felt different. Changelings were more known for causal flings than dating, and not without reason. It didn't help that the majority of Naturals did not take kindly to the idea of being around someone who was more made than born. So most Changelings had come to accept a life of short term, meaningless relationships. But I knew that a little piece of me would crack and break if John rejected me. Silly as it was, I wasn't just putting my body or mind at risk here. I was endangering my heart.
I could have stuck with the other Changelings at the club and kept my heart safe. But something about John tugged at me. A part of it was the daily ritual. The pause he would take outside the door, the deep breath before stepping inside. How he would studiously not look in my direction, sheepishly standing in line before the counter while trying to stare at his shoes or off into space. Then there was the blush on his face when he ordered his vanilla soy latte from me, or the crestfallen look of disappointment when my employee took his order instead.
