With chest bound underneath a crisp blue shirt accented by a tie dangling below the unbuttoned collar, this brand-new person stared so intensely into the mirror that they could have been looking through it. They. That was the pronoun now. Not he. Not she. They. The stocky yet fit soul considered adjusting their tie, but winced. I always feel like I’m choking in these things. They examined the way the faux-silk hung, and nodded. Yeah, I prefer it sloppy chic.
One last decision had to be made, for today at least. A name. Something gender neutral or is that too expected? Perhaps it would have made more sense to have chosen a name at the beginning of their transition, but for some reason they’d left it by the wayside. If you’d asked them, they’d not have been able to tell you why. In any case, the moment had arrived and a deadname stood on the precipice for burial. Time to give birth to a new one.
Focusing on their reflection, they met a face with high cheekbones and a dimpled chin, smooth skin, a freckled nose, and thinned lips pulled taut. They raised a thick brow over a pale blue eye. Their other eyebrow and eye remained impassive. Atop this facial configuration rested a newly acquired undercut with a long bleached fringe. Who do I look like? I mean, sometimes people say they look like a Sam or a Shannon or an Ashley. But who do I really look like?
They bit their lip. Rummaging through their brain’s filing cabinet, it felt like every uncovered file turned up blank. Okay, it really shouldn’t be this difficult. I mean, I know who I am now, so putting a name to me has gotta be easy. They swore loudly and ran a hand through their soft fringe. Another ten minutes passed where several names came to mind, all of which were met with a meh. Shaking their head, they did what they always did at times like this. They grabbed their cell phone for advice.
Where to begin? The first letter of the alphabet seemed logical. “Names that start with A,” they barked into the search engine.
The results appeared. Nothing inspired. The person huffed.
“Names that start with A that ROCK!” they shouted.
They laughed loudly at an image of Alice Cooper in full makeup. After scrolling down for other suggestions, all of which left them flat, they returned to the photo. Alice. That would be way too funny. They gazed once more in the mirror. Well, it’s definitely not a cliché. I can’t help but feel more than a little pleasure from the name Alice representing my gender-fluidity. Their reflection smirked. Yeah, I’m so doing this. Hey, everyone, I’m Alice. Deal with it.
“Thanks, search app!” Alice said to their phone.
The screen went blank.
What the heck?
A white dot appeared against a black background. It stretched from both sides and each end curved upward, resembling a wide grin. Alice blinked a few times. They never remembered installing a smiley app.
“Um, hello?” Alice asked. “Where did you come from?” They poked at the screen. The smile distorted with each touch, but returned to normal.
“Hello, Alice,” said a voice unlike the tone Alice selected in their phone settings.
“Wha— How did you know my name?” And why am I talking to this thing?
The grin opened up into a toothy smile against the dark screen. “I like this name. I also like glam metal. That’s why I chose it for you.” The smile vanished, replaced by a hand whose fingers were arranged in a heavy metal-salute.
“Yeeaah, okay, so—”
The phone display returned to normal before Alice finished their reply. Everything looked as it always had, including the purple and aqua cupcake wallpaper. I’m not on any meds, so I can’t be hallucinating. They checked for rogue apps. Nothing. That wasn’t weird. Not at all.
They were putting their cell in their back pocket when it vibrated, taking about ten years off their life. Alice feared looking at the thing, expecting the grinning metalhead app. They exhaled when they saw it was a text from a friend:
Are you coming? We’ll never get into this new place if you’re not on time!
Alice smiled. Ah, Bunni. You’re obsessive, but I love you.
I’m on my way. And call me Alice.
Move your butt, Alice! We’re going to be late!
They smiled.
Butt is moving. See u soon.
Alice hopped off the bus as it entered The Garden. Not its official title, but that’s what everyone called it. This section of downtown comprised an eclectic collection of coffee shops, strip clubs, dance venues, tattoo parlours, and various religious institutions. Finding a church beside a tanning salon or house of ill repute – if anyone even said that anymore – seemed perfectly normal. Prophets new to the ’hood often admonished “sinners,” but eventually could be found sharing a tea and a scone at a nearby café with the same people they’d tried to rebuke. Something about the pulse of the neighbourhood created an atmosphere of acceptance. You could be who you really were there.
The person Alice sought wasn’t hard to spot. Bunni paced beside the long line outside of the town’s newest hot spot, fretting into her smartwatch. Alice’s breath caught in their throat: white halter top against light brown skin, form-fitting white capris, and powder-pink stilettos, the same colour as her bobbed wig. Their front pocket vibrated over and over as scolding texts poured in.
Eventually Bunni looked up, glimpsing Alice walking casually toward her with hands in their pockets. Her own hands immediately found her hips and the woman in white stood akimbo, poised for battle.
“Hey, Bunni, it’s me, Alice,” they said. Bunni really was beautiful when she was angry.
“Do you know how late you are? Look at this!” she gestured to the queue, which trailed around the block.
“I’m sorry. Again.” They proffered their arms out for a hug.
Bunni offered up her wrist. “Can you read this? Can you see the time? Can you even tell time? Well? Can you?”
Alice sighed. They peered at the fluorescent sign that wasn’t lit properly. It couldn’t have been a complete name, because a dark patch to the left made the letters appear misaligned. It Hole? Seriously?
“What’s an It Hole?” they asked. “Are the S and H missing?”
Bunni clucked her tongue. “It’s Rabbit Hole, stupid. And we are obviously not getting in for the opening, so you might as well take me to an S and H place right now.”
“You know, you could at least say something about how I look,” said Alice.
Bunni fumed at her watch again, and at the impossibly long line. When it dawned on her that Alice had said something, she glanced at their body and face and muttered, “You’re fine. I would have rethought the tie. Like your hair, though.”
Alice shook their head. That would have to do. “What about my name?”
“Your name is your name. How can anyone argue with it?” Her back was to Alice now while she made eye contact with a sturdy bouncer, who greatly approved of the woman before him.
He leered at Bunni and waved her over. She gestured that Alice was her plus-one, and he didn’t seem bothered by that a bit. He’d probably try to hit on her later.
Inside the club, Gryfünn belted out their one-hit-wonder, Drowned in My Own Tears. The song sounded a bit emo to Alice’s ears, and as with most tunes they despised, Alice changed the lyrics from:
You are my entire heart
I need you as my air
I pray we never part
Clandestine love affair
to:
I need to really fart
and taint your precious air
I hope the ground soon parts
and sucks you into nowhere
Bunni ran toward the stage, screaming like a teenager. This was her favourite band and she’d not stopped talking about the club opening for weeks. Alice wanted to join her, but not even the bliss of being beside Bunni tempted them to give their undivided attention to Gryfünn. Yeah, no. I’d rather hang upside down off a frozen balcony in January, in the nude, wearing a sign that reads, “Look Ma, I’m an icicle!”
Alice shoved wireless earbuds in tightly, hoping to drown out the sound of cats being castrated without anesthetic. Picking up their phone to select a playlist, they jumped when they saw the screen go black again. Instantly, the smile reappeared.
“If you like her, tell her,” said the app.
Vitamins, thought Alice. That’s all I took before I left. Four of D, and I think a C. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought them from the organic shop. Who knows what’s in the fillers?
They pressed two buttons on the phone, hoping to provoke a factory reset.
“Stop that,” said the app. “Anyway, here’s what will eradicate that cacophony.”
A rage of death metal surged into Alice’s consciousness, threatening to rip apart their eardrums with a driving double-kick beat, and a lead singer who sounded like Cookie Monster on steroids. Alice attempted to lower the volume.
“Too loud?” said the creepy smiley app.
Alice pressed and pressed the volume controls until they strained a ligament.
“If you want something, you must ask me,” said the app. More teeth appeared in the smile.
Alice looked around to make sure nobody stared and realized that was ridiculous. After all, it would just appear like they were speaking to a voice-activated device, as everyone did these days.
“Volume down by thirty percent,” they said.
“Was that so hard?” said the app, lowering the volume.
Alice relented. They felt thirsty. Also claustrophobic as the crowds poured in, pressing firmly against Alice’s body. Holy crap, I’m not sure if I just lost my virtue! Alice pushed forward, taking their dry throat to the bar at a snail’s pace. It was not a great situation for someone who coveted their personal space. Losing patience, they ducked through a gap in the masses and dived for a lone seat at a table where some rando took a drag on his bong.
“Um, hey, can I sit here?” asked Alice.
“Looks like you’re doing a good enough job of it,” said the guy, blowing rings into the air.
A voice rang through Alice’s earbuds. “Ask him to give you a treat. But don’t eat it until the right moment.”
They peeked at their phone where an eye appeared above the grin and winked slyly. Alice looked up at Bong Guy and cleared their throat.
“I’m parched, dude. Any chance I can get a drink around here?”
“That’s not what I told you to say!” said the app.
Alice removed the earbuds, and shoved their phone in their pocket. It vibrated like mad. Alice ignored it.
“Bar’s over there, son,” Bong Guy pointed with the mouthpiece.
“Yeah, I know, but it’s impossible to get to. And by the way, I’m not a guy-YI-YEEE!” Alice jumped out of their seat and quickly tossed the searing phone from their trousers. It landed face-up on the table. On the screen was not so much of a smiley face. More of an angry face.
Bong Guy jumped when he caught a glimpse of it. “Whoa, dude,” – he turned Alice’s phone over to hide the app – “I didn’t know you were one of us. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. New hair?”
Alice sat, mouth gaping, and picked up the phone, putting the buds back. They shook themself awake and cleared their throat. “Um, yeah, phone? Talk to me.”
“First of all, don’t do that again.”
“So noted.”
“Second of all, ask the man for a treat.”
“What kind of treat?”
Bong Guy smiled and leaned toward Alice, exhaling smog into their face. “Right on, dude. You want a tart, dontcha?”
“Don’t call me dude. I’m not a guy. Tart? The dessert or a woman with loose morals?”
“Hey, I call my mom dude.”
“Good for her. I don’t like it.”
Bong Guy frowned and took another drag. “So, you want the tart or not?”
“Again, person or baked good?”
Bong Guy laughed. “You’re hysterical, dude— uh, person. Let’s shake on this budding friendship. It’s nice to have interests in common.” He held out his hand.
“Take it,” the app said into Alice’s ear.
Alice smiled awkwardly and shook the man’s hand. They felt a plastic packet with something hard inside pressed against their palm. When they tried to peek at it, Bong Guy chastised, “Not here, du— erm, person, not here. Keep it in your pocket until the signal. Geez, are you trying to blow our cover already?”
“Sorry.”
“Cwen will lose it completely if she finds out we stole her tarts.”
“Cwen?”
“Yeah. She’s over there, with Roy. It’s amazing we have them together in one place.” Bong Guy pointed with his mouthpiece again, as he blew more smoke rings in the air.
The creepy smiley app had turned off the musical antidote, so Alice inwardly groaned at having to listen to Gryfünn’s latest hit, Everything Is Queer Today, a misdirected attempt at being inclusive. For some reason, the song had played on every local and online radio station. It must have been easier to avoid the plague than this musical train wreck. Alice prayed for a stroke – for either themself or the band. Alice wasn’t too fussy about whom.
Trying to focus, Alice targeted their sights through a part in the crowd that revealed a large round table where a bunch of people seemed to be gambling. It was hard to make them out.
“Head over,” said the app, sporting a wider, toothier smile. “See what you’re up against.”
Seriously, how many teeth can one have? On second thought, since apps can be designed with more teeth than any living creature, I probably should just accept this at tooth value. They stood up and nodded to Bong Guy.
“Later, person,” he said with a puff. “And remember, wait for the signal.”
Alice ventured through the crowd, tripping on someone’s outstretched boot and crashing against two men slow-dancing. The startled couple offered a symphony of profanities.
“You slaughterer of romance!” cried the guy in the over-sized felt top hat, who clutched his partner protectively. The other man wore a scowl of death, and a headband with furry brownish-greyish rabbit ears attached to the top.
A killer rabbit? Alice resisted the urge to recite Monty Python sketches, and instead apologized profusely and fled the scene.
Finally reaching the table with a gang of people around it, Alice had a better view of Cwen and Roy. Cwen looked strong and buxom in an Amazonian sense, clad in a red-leather dress that moulded her toned form perfectly. Her dark hair piled high on her head in a riot of corkscrew curls. Several tendrils escaped their bobby-pin incarceration and danced against her pale skin. Roy also had midnight locks, and would have been more handsome if he hadn’t conveyed such acute distress. He wore an ill-fitting, soft black leather jacket over a scarlet shirt, and nervously scratched his frizzy hipster beard. However odd a match, they seemed to be some sort of power-couple; everyone deferred to them in a sycophantic manner. Perhaps for this place, they’re hot poo, even though no true A-list couple would be ever caught dead in The Garden.
“Straight flush, peasants!” Cwen tossed her cards on the table. All hearts. She reached for the pot piled high at the centre of the tabletop.
“Not so fast,” said a man sitting at the nine o’clock spot. “Royal flush beats all!” He threw down the spades.
Cwen said nothing, sitting upright. Roy cowed on her right. She turned to him and drew her finger across her throat. Roy gulped uncomfortably and nodded at the woman standing guard at Cwen’s left. The woman in turn nodded to two people who stood behind the man who’d just won the hand. They swooped in and pulled him from his chair, just as he reached for his winnings.
“Hey! Let me go!”
They held him firmly by the arms.
“What did I do? Cwen, Cwen! What did I do?”
Cwen inspected the cuticle of her index finger. “We don’t tolerate cheaters here, Jack. You must leave the game.”
“But I—”
“Permanently.” Cwen waved a hand dismissively and Jack disappeared into the crowd, escorted by what Alice assumed was Security. Hopefully, the man had merely been barred from the club. Hopefully.
“Now, then,” said Cwen, “we need a new player.” She scanned the faces standing around the table. Most of those faces refused to look directly at her. However, her eyes sparkled when she noticed one person who appeared quite the noob.
“You!” she barked. “The one with the horrible tie trying to free itself from its collar.”
Alice pointed at their chest.
“Yes, yes, you,” Cwen said impatiently. “Sit down.”
“I really don’t know the game too well,” said Alice.
“Perfect! Stan, pull out the chair for my new guest.”
Someone obviously named Stan did her bidding. Alice felt all eyes on them as they sat. “Um, thanks, Stan,” they said over their shoulder.
Stan grunted.
“Your name, my dearest?” asked Cwen, suddenly all coquettish smiles. She dealt the cards in that gravity-defying way only experts manage. It was a skill Alice had always envied.
“Alice. As in Cooper. My pronouns are they, them, and their.”
A dimple deepened on Cwen’s left cheek. “Aren’t you a clever one? Well, then, my nonbinary friend, shall we play?”
“Um, sure.”
“But do remove your earbuds, dear. One might accuse you of cheating.”
Alice’s eyes widened. They’d be losing their only connection to the smiley app. For once they actually wanted that creepy thing inside their head. They removed the left earbud but before they could take out the other, the app said, “The pink flamingo.”
Cwen skillfully dealt the cards. Alice cleared their throat again and thought, Lose. All I have to do is lose. Then everything’ll be okay.
They picked up their cards. Three jacks and two kings. A full house. Aw, gnads. Around the table the other players wore stoic poker faces. Considering the amount of sweat trickling into Alice’s pits and onto their forehead, they probably had all the tells in the known universe. Crap!
When someone called out the betting round, Alice nearly announced they had no money. A mountain of chips poured from monstrously large hands. Cwen smiled with only her mouth. Her eyes glared wickedly.
“A gift from me to you.” She laughed with certain malice.
Alice put down the required red chips. As the other players folded, it never occurred to Alice to fold. Maybe because they felt eyes staring at their cards from behind. Is it still considered cheating to fake your own death in poker? They decided to ask for three cards. That should ruin my hand. It’ll also make me seem ambitious to the goons behind me.
Cwen dealt the three cards. Alice picked them up. They had discarded the three jacks only to retrieve two kings and an ace. Now they had four kings, which was even better than a full house. Okay, Life, seriously?!
Everyone stared at Alice now. Alice had no idea why.
“Well?” said an overly rouged woman to their right. “Raise or check?”
“Uh, um, check?”
“Oh, come now,” said Cwen. “Will no one have the courage to put some money down on this friendly game? Nobody likes a coward, you know.” She glared pointedly at Alice.
If I bet nothing, it’s bad. If I bet anything, it’s bad. If I bet everything, it’s super bad. But maybe she has another straight flush. Maybe she keeps straight flushes on her lap. That could be a thing, right? Hoping desperately the true cheat was Cwen, Alice pushed out ten black chips onto the table. Ten seemed to be a conservative number.
“A thousand? Well done!” cried Cwen. “You impress me, young Alice.” Her almost black irises said otherwise. No doubt she was prepping her finger to cross her throat once more.
The people to Alice’s left folded until it was Cwen’s turn to bet. “All in,” she said.
“But, dear,” said Roy, “you can’t—”
“I can do what I wish!” she retorted.
Alice pushed the mountain of chips to the pot and threw down their cards. Cwen scowled. She had a full house.
“L-look, you-you keep it,” sputtered Alice, pointing to the chips. “I-I don’t want it. I p-prefer a low-income Bohemian lifestyle, anyhow.” They tried to stand but were pushed back onto their chair.
“Rooooy!” Cwen bellowed.
Without warning, a siren roared and water spritzed out of overhead sprinklers. People screamed, mostly because their hair and outfits were drenched. A loudspeaker voice announced that this was an unexpected false alarm. The sprinklers stopped immediately. However, the diversion worked. Whoever’s hands had been on Alice had let go, so Alice bolted as fast as possible. Their phone vibrated and heated up again, but without scorching. Alice grabbed the plastic packet from their back pocket, looking at a beige pill with a raspberry gel-like center. Gee, it even looks like a tart. They popped it in their mouth and washed it down with whatever drink was nearest. Ugh. I hate Scotch.
The ingredients blazed through Alice’s system, changing their perception of their surroundings. The motley crew of patrons who were still there seemed to think all the wet was camp and fun, but dispersed throughout the club stood beings most definitely not human. Humanoid mauve faces, streaked with fluorescent orange and green patterns, scanned the crowds. Alice gasped, searching for Bunni. They pushed people out of the way, distinctly avoiding the aliens, to find their beloved friend.
She hadn’t budged and danced sensually, soaked to the bone, to the pounding beat of the onstage horror. Sadly, Gryfünn were not aliens. That would have explained a lot, actually.
“Bunni, Bunni!” Alice grabbed her arm. “We have to get out of here!”
“Ugh, no way!” she protested. “This is my favourite tune. I’ve waited forever to see these guys play live.”
“No, really, we have to get out of here!”
“You go. I’m staying.”
Alice spun about and saw more aliens; the highest concentration of them hung about Cwen’s table. Cwen herself stood out from the rest not only because of where she sat, but also because of her outrageously high bouffant in gradients of purple. Um, pretty gaudy. And she didn’t like my tie?
Alice looked over at Bunni. Oh heck, let her hate me. They grabbed the woman, swept her off her feet, and onto their shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. A sexy sack of spuds, though, in pink stilettos.
“Have you lost your mind? Put me down!” screamed Bunni as Alice panted and ran.
They stopped when they noticed more aliens blocking the exit.
“Crap!”
“Put me down or else I’ll never speak to you again!”
Alice did. As soon as Bunni’s heels touched the concrete floor, Alice grabbed her cheeks in their hands.
“You’re going to think I’ve lost it, but we’re in big trouble. This place is crawling with aliens!”
The expression on Bunni’s face revealed her exact feeling about that statement.
“I know, I know,” said Alice, “but you hafta trust me on this!”
“Listen,” she said, “I know people tend to experiment a little when they come to places like this, but honey, what did you take?”
“I didn’t take, well, okay, yeah, but, you don’t get it. Bong Guy said—”
“Bong Guy. Said what?”
“The signal! And then the sprinklers. So I ate the tart, and then there they were. Everywhere. Purple and green and orange and I think their Queen has a Sixties bouffant, so—”
“Alice—”
“Wait! The phone!” Alice grabbed their cell and shoved one earbud into Bunni’s ear and the other into their own.
“Tell her, app!” they shouted.
As creepy smiley metalhead app began to explain, Bunni’s understanding didn’t seem to deepen one bit. She quickly removed the earbud.
“Where did you get this phone?”
“Some guy online. Got a deal second-hand. Mint condition.”
“Alice, you’re losing it.”
“There they are!” screamed Cwen as she charged ahead of her guard toward Alice and Bunni. “That’s the thief who cheated me out of my money. And after I’d been so generous, too! Grab them!”
“Run, Bunni!”
“Wait, what? What money – HEY!” An alien reached out and pulled Bunni away. “HEY! ALICE!”
With Bunni dragged off and Cwen barrelling toward them, Alice turned left and right and left and right like someone with no sense of direction.
“The pink flamingo!” shouted the app.
“What flipping flamingo?” cried Alice.
The flashlight of the phone pointed toward a plastic pink flamingo standing upright beside one of the columns just ahead.
“Get it, now!”
“AAAALICE!” screamed Bunni.
Alice bolted for the pink flamingo.
“Pick it up,” said the app.
They did and clutched it in their arms. Cwen and her troops were closing in.
“Point and shoot!” shouted the app.
“Point what and shoot where?”
“The feet. Aim the feet at the aliens and squeeze the beak!”
“Arrest this person at once, and all their accomplices!” ordered Cwen.
As stupid as they felt doing this, Alice aimed the flamingo and fired. The blast emitted a pulse that disintegrated Cwen and a few guards, but had no effect on the human bystanders.
“Good shot,” said Bong Guy, arriving at the scene with his own flamingo. “Between the two of us, we’ll make quick work of these douchecanoes!”
Alice and Bong Guy waved plastic birds at random patrons like lunatics. Onlookers could not perceive the blasts coming from the weapons. They could, however, see the patrons disappear, and must have wondered how Alice and Bong Guy pulled that off without any smoke and mirrors. A few people applauded, thinking it a wonderful illusion. Others stopped drinking, fearing someone had spiked the punch.
Just as Bong Guy had predicted, the Rabbit Hole was clear in no time. Alice also satisfied a particular bloodlust by vaporizing the purple-people-snatcher who’d tried to abduct Bunni.
Alice rushed to Bunni and held her tightly. She wrapped her arms around them.
“All right, all right, I like you, too,” she said. “I’ve no idea how you frightened away that loser with only a lawn ornament, but thanks.”
Alice pulled away and touched her cheek. “I need to kiss you now, okay?”
Bunni smiled. “Sure.” She pressed her lips against theirs.
Remarkably, Gryfünn hadn’t stop playing throughout the alien extermination. Alice inwardly cringed at how their first kiss with Bunni would forever be immortalized in one of these inane songs. Oh well, they thought with a shrug, and kept kissing her.
“You want me to explain why all of this happened in the first place?” asked the app through the bud still lodged in Alice’s ear. “You see, this race had been studying Earth for decades. They felt The Garden would be the perfect neighbourhood to blend in while they gained further intelligence to help plan the coup of this planet. We of the resistance decided—”
Alice pulled away again. “Maybe tell me more…later.” They tucked their earbud into their pocket and offered their hands to Bunni. She took them and pressed her body against theirs. The couple caressed and kissed without any worries of purple poker-playing aliens, as they slow-danced to Gryfünn’s syrupy ballad, Don’t Wake Me Up If This Is a Dream.