CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Promotional Considerations

  PixelProwler92:Wow, Jimmy Howard is DONE. Can’t handle the pressure, I guess. Yikes!"

  CaptainOblivious:Is this a publicity stunt or did we just witness the st neuron in a man’s brain finally burn out?!1Contribution from Mythriel

  ilovegod:get this man some jesus, itll save him. heck get the whole show some jesus2Contribution from Fi

  xx32godsyerxx: [This comment was deleted for viotion of Terms of Service]3Contribution from Fi

  SassySnail:The sharks finally got him! ??? #SharkAttack

  CocainePrincess:It's obviously a publicity stunt, no one looses brain cells that fast you're all idi*ts for falling for it.4Contribution from Mythriel

  ChillVibesOnly:Not surprised. A show idea like 'Woman Up!' was bound to break someone eventually. #Trainwreck

  JarJarBinksDidNothingWrong:Old: ‘Get Woke: Go Broke.’ New: ‘Fuck with Gender: Mind in Blender’

  KeyboardCrusader:"Welp, this just went from 'cringe' to 'WTF' real fast. Is Jimmy Howard okay?!"

  CaffeineAddict101:That awkward moment when Sam just watches Jimmy implode like ???.

  TacoTornado23:Jimmy Howard? More like Jimmy HOW the hell did we get here?

  LostInTheEther:The show’s cursed. Not even Jimmy could hold it together. Get out while you still can!

  ComicLSD:He’s a few sparks short of a lightning round, if you know what I mean.

  ComicLSD:He’s gone way over the Manufacturers Suggested Retail Price, if you know what I mean

  ComicLSD:He’s tried to buy an umut from Vanna White, if you know what I mean.

  ComicLSD:He traded in his marbles for what’s behind door #2 and got a zonk, if you know what I mean.

  RedRoseRachel:This was what was going on in Jimmy's head during that dead air: Reverb Fart Sound Effect HD + Download 5Contribution from Rachel. Thanks Rachel. I hate it.

  Daria rubbed her temples. She’d gotten word that Jimmy was alright hours ago, so that wasn’t the worry, but it still left a massive media shit-storm.

  Christopher Roen knocked on her door.

  “Mr. Roen,” said Daria. “A pleasure to see you again.”

  It was never a pleasure to see Roen. Even Roen would admit that no one was ever pleased to see him. His job was not ‘to be pleasant’. His job was to show up when someone was in some sort of legal jeopardy. He was an ominous cloud of ill portent. Bck rot in the crops. Professionally.

  Rumor had it he had once forced a recalcitrant pintiff into agreeing to arbitration simply by heading into an inner sanctum inside the sub-basement of Garden’s main HQ, and chanted: ‘Prima facie ad hoc de facto ex parte ad litem per curiam amicus curiae certiorari’ until the pintiff’s hair had turned white.

  “Daria, I take it you are aware of the minor crisis with Mr. Howard?” Roan said.

  Daria’s response was dripping with sarcasm.

  “Yes, Christopher. I’m very aware.”

  “Right. There’s a very important matter we need to discuss about it.”

  “Can it wait?” said Daria.

  “Not really,” Roen sat down on the couch in Daria’s office, and produced a small document in a small envelope from the inside of his suit jacket, handing it to Daria.

  She took it, dreading what legalese would be on the parchment of doom she had just been given.

  “Do you think the tone of this is appropriate, or does it constitute unprofessional conduct?” the wyer said.

  Oh god, what did she do now? She looked down at the document and it was… a greeting card.

  A greeting card that read: ‘Congratutions! It’s a Bouncing Adult Woman!’ It was addressed to Jimmy, and signed by Roen.

  Daria looked up at Roen, confused. The wyer took a deep breath.

  “Jimmy and I have had our differences. But this seemed appropriate. However, on the off chance that it could be seen as trivializing Mr. Howard’s… sorry, Ms. Howard’s–”

  “It’s ‘Mister’ Howard still. When and if Jimmy decides to change pronouns, I’m sure he’ll let us know. And no. This is actually really thoughtful.”

  “Good. I imagine that you’ll be seeing him tonight. I would appreciate it if you brought him that. Seeing as there’s a good chance we’re going to have to ask him to resign from the director’s position in the next few days.”

  There it was. There was the bck rot in the crops.

  “Jesus, Christopher…” she said. “Way to kick someone when they’re down.”

  “I’m sympathetic. But the fact remains, Mr. Howard had a very public nervous breakdown. If he continues to be listed as the director on record for ‘Woman Up!’, the insurance company may decide that he’s an unaffordable liability and rescind our coverage.”

  “He had a panic attack, he wasn’t institutionalized, Christopher.”

  “It’s still a pressing concern. There’s a chance the insurance company may think nothing of it. There’s also a chance that they might take this as an excuse to withdraw from the whole project. I have to be prepared for both scenarios.”

  Roen stood up. “It’s not just the company I’m protecting, Ms. Bryant. Jimmy just had his entire worldview turned upside down. If I suddenly found out, for example, that I was a woman - and just for the record, no, I am not - I would think I’d be emotionally compromised, and would probably take an extended leave of absence until I felt I could perform my duties. And ‘Woman Up!’ starts filming on-site in a week.”

  “You’re just a ray of sunshine, you know that, Christopher?”

  ***

  “So, um, we should talk about this,” said Jacob, to the group on Contestant App. He was sitting at his desk, looking over the contestant packet.

  “Why?” said Oscar, doing the same in a much nicer office. “It’s clearly a publicity stunt. A way to get people to tune in.”

  “And considering they’re turning in to see us, I say, bring on the drama!” Victor added, lying down on his bed, holding the phone above his head.

  So far, the group video call he organized was going about as well as Jacob expected, which was to say, not very well at all.

  “I’m with Victor,” said Jett, tuning up his unicycle, sitting on Bradley’s p. “It’s about controversy. About the ratings, or whatever the equivalent of ratings is. Clicks, I guess.”

  “Does it not bother you that the director who we’re going to be following to Mexico seemed to have a mental breakdown?” said Leonard, who was waiting in the UCSD’s registrar’s office with Ethan, about to ask to suspend their studies for a semester. “Jimmy’s clearly hit one too many whammys, if you know what I mean.”

  “He’s not crazy,” said Rafael, sitting up on his bed. “I think… I think it’s something else. Bradley, you remember at the studio, when he took me aside?”

  “I remember,” said Bradley. “What was that all about, anyway?”

  “Specifically, all he did was take me aside and tell me that y’know, because I am who I am, that I was still eligible if I wanted to compete, even after I learned the twist, which, well, we all know what the twist was. He wanted me to know that I was welcome, in a way. He didn’t have to do that.”

  “So he didn’t seem crazy to you?” asked Ethan.

  “No, not at all,” said Rafael. “He seemed kind. A little sad behind the eyes. Honestly, Ethan, you seemed a little crazy to me when I first met you. No offense.”

  “None taken,” said Ethan. “I am well aware that I do not conform to normal social interaction parameters.”

  “You also talk like a robot,” said Oscar.

  “But can you dance like a robot?” said Gooch, frantically drawing a design for his new product, “YiffSpliffs.”

  “No.” said Ethan.

  “Want me to teach you?”

  Gooch then pced the camera up on a table, took a few steps back, and started doing the robot. Rather than being awkward, Gooch’s interpretation of it was unexpectedly fluid and convincing.

  “I think we’re getting off topic,” said Rafael. “But, uh… that was surprisingly good.”

  “Yeah,” said Oscar. “I kinda do want you to teach me.”

  “You’d make a killing on Venice Beach with that and a coat of silver makeup. Ooh, I could add that to my drag act.” Jett turned next to him, to Bradley. “Bradley, what do you think of ‘Glitch Please’?”

  “It could work,” said Bradley, rubbing Jett’s shoulders.

  “Right,” said Jacob. “Focus. So, if he’s not crazy, does anyone have any idea what’s going on with Jimmy?”

  “Um, yeah,” said Rafael. “I think I do.”

  Rafael took a deep breath.

  “I had a freakout a lot like Jimmy’s once.”

  “Really?” said Bradley. “When?”

  “When I was a sophomore in high school. I knew I needed to do some extracurricurs to look good on college applications, so I… god this is embarrassing.”

  “Take your time,” said Victor. “We can make popcorn if you need a few minutes.”

  “Shut up, Victor. Didn’t your dad ever teach you that when a girl is about to tell you a sob story to shut up and listen?” said Oscar.

  “Not a girl,” said Rafael.

  “Sorry,” said Oscar. “I shouldn’t call you a girl. You’re a fully grown woman. Didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

  “Oscar, it is going to be fun to watch you break,” said Jacob.

  “Like a twig,” said Victor, gleefully, rubbing his hands together.

  “Yes, well, Oscar, fuck you. Anyway - I decided to try out for the cheerleading squad. Not because I wanted to. But because it was what you did, you know? And I’m getting changed, putting on the dress and everything, and I look in the mirror and I’m like… oh my god. I hate this. I hate everything about this. I hated myself so much. Because I wasn’t me, I was… I didn’t even look like someone I could be. It was a stranger in that mirror. A stranger wearing my face.”

  “Damn.” said Leonard.

  “Yeah. Damn. I didn’t even try out, I just got changed back into my street clothes and ran home. Later that night I was chatting in Discord about it…”

  The always ‘helpful’ Garden Telpha pointed out on Rafael’s screen that the term ‘Workstream Colboration Tools’ or ‘GardenColb’ was preferred.

  “...and they asked me if it was a trans thing. That was the first time I heard of gender dysphoria.”

  “Gender what now?” said Oscar.

  “I swear Oscar,” said Leonard. “I’ve never met a man who more greatly deserved to be beaten around the head with a humanities education.”

  “Not my thing,” said Oscar, smugly. “I majored in conservative arts.”

  “Point is, that look in Jimmy’s eyes, right after he got asked if he considered himself transgender? I think his egg just cracked… sorry, that he just realized at that moment that he might be transgender. And he did so in front of the whole world. That must have been horrible,” concluded Rafael.

  “Well, if true, that expins why he’s doing this project,” said Jett. “Dirty old man wants to have a little harem of boy toys for himself, I bet. Er, present company excepted, Rafael.”

  “How are you worse, Jett?” said Leonard, contemptibly. “How are you worse than Oscar?”

  “Hey!” said Bradley. “Knock it off! That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

  “Okay. Time out!” said Jacob, making a T with his hands. “We’re supposed to be a team.”

  “Well, sometimes,” said Ethan. “It’s actually kind of fascinating, game theory wise, because there’s going to be advantages to colboration and defection at different parts of the game. Colborate and the overall prize grows bigger, defect and you get a bigger share. I’ve been programming some simutions of what would happen given different prize structures and attrition rates, and–”

  Leonard nudged Ethan with his elbow.

  “Yes Leonard? Oh. Was I infodumping?”

  “Yeah, Ethan. Yeah, you were.”

  “Look, while I’m concerned about him, the question is - egg crack or no - does anyone feel like they wouldn’t feel safe going to a foreign country with Jimmy?” asked Jacob. “I’m still pnning on going. It’s not that I’m not concerned, but Jimmy’s just one person on the production team. There’s also that woman - Sam, I think, and the doctors, and all that. But if anyone else wants to drop out, I think they’d understand.”

  “Ooh, you sly dog,” said Victor. “You’re trying to psych us out, get us to drop out early so you can get more of the prize money.”

  “No,” said Gooch. “We want to build up the pot first, then we’re going to psych you out. I’ve been working on developing my tent psychic powers just for the occasion.”

  “Latent psychic powers?” asked Bradley.

  “Yeah, if I stare at a lightbulb long enough, I can get it to burn out,” expined Gooch. “Eventually.”

  Dead silence.

  “Don’t… don’t all bulbs burn out eventually, even if you don’t stare at them?” asked Ethan.

  ***

  “Jimmy!”

  Daria ran over to him the minute he and Sam stepped through the office doors.

  Jimmy smiled. “Daria. Great to see you again.”

  “Hug?” Daria asked.

  “Absolutely,” Jimmy replied. “But only if Sam gets one too.”

  Hugs were exchanged, and Jimmy and Sam headed with Daria into her office.

  “I have to say,” said Daria, “I like the new look, Jimmy.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know if I’m comfortable in women’s clothing yet, but I knew I wasn’t comfortable in a suit, so, I’m mixing it up a little. Sportscoat over a Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans.”

  “My suggestion,” said Sam. “It’s like training wheels for getting used to floral patterns.”

  “I think I’ve seen Daryl wear something like that once, actually,” Daria said. “So, I know you said you were going to be fine with this, but… are you sure you’re going to be fine?”

  “Daria, we’re less than a week out from filming. I just flipped my wig on a national stage. If I’m not fine, well, that’s what this meeting is about.”

  “Because I hate that we’re making you jump through these hoops. It’s not fair. I even think if it was something like a non-gender reted panic attack, they’d just ask you to go on Xanax and be done with it.”

  “I assure you, Daria. I can do this. My egg cracked at the worst possible time, but I was lucky enough to be surrounded by people who were able to help me bounce back. I’m a very lucky man.”

  A pause, as Jimmy realized what he just said.

  “Or whatever,” he shrugged. “Actually, if you… if it’s not personal, can I ask… how you handled it?”

  “My story’s probably not going to be very helpful. I realized it when I was young, didn’t really have one big moment, like you or Sheri did. I was twelve years old, and I just… I hated being a boy. I liked the idea of being a girl.”

  Daria winced, expining her situation. “I’m kind of a nepo-baby. Dad used to work with Wharton-Charley Productions in the 70s and 80s, and so when I had depression as a teenager, they took me to some of the best doctors and psychologists money could buy.”

  “My parents… they… supported my transition? Kind of? Basically, my parents really don’t understand me being trans. My mom sometimes slips up and calls me ‘Charlie,’ though she always corrects herself and doesn’t do it on purpose. But, back then I was clearly suffering, and… maybe because I’m on the autistic spectrum, I didn’t care what people thought, I just told the psychologists that I wanted to be a girl. And the way my mom tells it, she said ‘Dr. Hartigan told us in no uncertain terms that we were either going to have a live daughter or a dead son. And asked us to choose.’”

  Daria sighed, continuing. “So I got on puberty blockers and HRT early. Not early enough to stop these stupid massive man-hands, but early enough that I know I got very lucky.”

  “You’ve got good parents,” said Sam.

  “I know,” said Daria, but she looked away, mencholy. “And yet… it's so hard to deal with them. They… still don’t get it. You’d think after nearly two decades, they’d get it, but they don’t. They attend fundraisers for Republican candidates, for Christ’s sake. That’s how bad the cognitive dissonance is. ‘Oh, the Republicans hate trans people, and they’re encouraging fear and violence against them, but they won’t do anything to hurt my daughter.’ It’s so… strange. You can have parents who love you, who support you in your journey and want you to be happy. But some people… they can love you as a person and yet not even want to understand you, so they don’t see how what they do hurts you.”

  Jimmy handed Daria a tissue from the box of tissues on her desk.

  “Sorry. Noticed you had a little… you had a little tear there.”

  Daria took the tissue and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

  “God, Jimmy, I should be comforting you, not…”

  “Right now, I’m not the one who needs comforting. And everyone was there for me yesterday, and you helped me a lot by keeping the reporters off me all day yesterday, and when you came by at night, it was really, really helpful. I need to thank Christopher for the card, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Roen from the doorway, causing Sam, Jimmy, and Daria to leap an inch from their seats.

  “Jesus,” said Sam. “Like a bloody vampire.”

  ***

  The four of them headed up to the conference room on the second floor, where Chandra and Daryl were already waiting. Chandra went for the hug - Daryl went for the hearty handshake.

  “I like the new look,” said Daryl.

  “You know, I thought you might,” said Jimmy.

  Then they all settled down, and after the requisite ‘congratutions on finding yourself,’ repartee, they got down to business.

  “So, as much as I’d like this to be good news, we really do have a rather serious problem.” said Daryl. “As Christopher has brought up, there’s a question about… fitness. We start filming in a week, and… well…”

  “You want to know if I’m going to have another freakout,” completed Jimmy. “Because if you have a director freaking out on a film set, or even if my head’s just not in the game, you’re going to have all sorts of liability issues. Yeah. I get it.”

  “We’re already getting some pushback from the insurance companies. They haven’t threatened to withdraw our policy yet, but they might feel pressured to, with the negative press that’s already starting to come in,” said Daryl.

  “Already?” said Sam.

  Chandra brought up an article on her ptop, and started reading from the test op-ed page.

  The Disturbing Spectacle of 'Woman Up!’: A New Low in Reality TV

  In a world already saturated with frivolous reality TV programs, Garden Alpha has managed to sink to an unprecedented low. Their test venture, a show where cisgender men compete to undergo the steps of gender transitioning, is a prime example of modern entertainment's insensitivity and moral confusion. Cloaked in the nguage of "pushing boundaries" and "exploring identity," this program turns one of the most personal and challenging experiences a human being can undergo into a grotesque competition for profit.

  At its core, this show is nothing more than exploitation masquerading as progressive exploration. The decision to treat gender dysphoria and the transitioning process as a game trivializes the real struggles of transgender individuals, many of whom face tremendous hardship in their journey for acceptance and self-realization. Transitioning is not a game; it is a profound, often painful process that cannot be reduced to entertainment without deeply disrespecting those who live it.

  More disturbing is the fact that the creators seem blind to the obvious harm this premise inflicts on both the participants and the wider audience.

  Chandra looked up at them.

  “Well,” said Sam, “yes, I mean, but maybe if you look at some of the more progressive news sources…”

  “That was the progressive news source. This is what they’re saying at the right-wing sites:”

  Woman Up!: A Woke Fantasy Turned Reality TV Nightmare

  Reality television has hit a new low, and once again, it’s the woke agenda at the helm. Garden Alpha is taking a group of men and pits them against each other in a grotesque competition to see who can "transition" furthest into womanhood. You read that right—this is what passes for content in 2024. They’re calling it ‘Woman Up!’

  Let’s be clear: this isn’t about “exploring identity” or “challenging norms,” as the left-wing producers would have you believe. This is about pushing an ideology that insists gender is fluid, that men can simply become women, and that the entire notion of biological sex is somehow outdated. In reality, this show is a cynical attempt to cash in on the culture war by turning something as sacred as gender into a spectacle.

  What’s most galling is the btant disrespect for both men and women alike. By reducing womanhood to a series of superficial “challenges” and aesthetic transformations, Garden Alpha insults the very concept of femininity. Meanwhile, it degrades the male contestants by turning them into puppets for this far-left experiment in gender confusion.

  Silence for a few moments after that.

  “Okay, so, yes, this looks bad–” said Jimmy.

  “Mr. Howard?” Roen interrupted.

  “Yes, Mr. Roen?”

  “Just for a moment, let me act as your wyer, represent your legal interests, and give you practical, time-tested, legal advice.”

  “Oh… kay?”

  “Shut up, Jimmy,” said Roen. “This isn’t something you charm your way out of.”

  Daria looked guilty as she spoke. “Earlier this morning, Chandra and I… we were thinking about the best way we could proceed with this project. To… try to turn yesterday’s events into a positive, rather than a negative. And we… wanted to throw around some ideas to maybe pivot ‘Woman Up!’.”

  Sam bit her bottom lip. Production notes from corporate. Meddling in the core idea. This was turning into ‘The Martinet’ all over again.

  “It’s a little te in the production cycle to make a big pivot, isn’t it?” said Jimmy.

  “Yes,” said Daryl, “it is. And I really, really wish we had more time. But we don’t.”

  “We have a couple ideas. But they all really depend on if Jimmy is able and willing to do them.”

  Sam reached over and grabbed Jimmy’s hand to support him. Jimmy squeezed it back.

  “What do you need me to do?” asked Jimmy.

  “Do you think you would be willing to officially come out, publicly, on national network television, as part of the efforts to promote the show?” said Daryl.

  “You can’t ask him to do that!” said Sam, perhaps more angrily than she intended.

  “Sam…” said Jimmy.

  “I mean, wasn’t standing out there in front of his home, in front of all those reporters, having an identity crisis bad enough? Come out in public? He just came out to himself!”

  “Sam, it makes sense,” said Jimmy.

  “What?”

  “It’s the Hugh Grant strategy. Remember Hugh Grant getting caught with a hooker, and then the very next day he did Leno? Celebrity does something bad or stupid, they immediately hit the talk show circuit to give their side of the events, make some jokes, and show it isn’t a big deal.”

  “But you didn’t do anything bad or stupid,” said Sam.

  “I did something that looked bad. Same difference in Hollywood. And it promotes the show, and the streaming service, and takes advantage of the free publicity,” Jimmy said. “That’s another reason you want me to do it, right, Chandra?” Jimmy looked straight at her.

  Chandra nodded.

  “If you can show that the freakout was a one-time thing by willingly entering into a high pressure situation and not having another freakout, and if you can expin what happened to the viewing audience, yes, I think that would be the best way to take advantage of our current strategic position,” she expined.

  “When? And where?”

  “We want you to join Erin and do Larry Zimmel tomorrow night,” Daryl said.

  “Larry Zimmel,” said Sam, incredulously. “The host of Larry Zimmel Live. Who famously, unlike most of the other te night comedians, records their show live. You want to put Jimmy on live television only two days after having a massive identity crisis.”

  “Erin was already booked, but I’m absolutely sure after yesterday, they’d allow Jimmy and Erin to appear on the show as a double-act,” said Daria.

  “They’d salivate at the chance, in fact,” said Chandra. “And the sooner we can give them an answer, the sooner they can use your name in the promos.”

  Jimmy took a deep breath and thought about it.

  “Larry’s a good guy, Sam. I met him a couple of times when he was coming up, and he was hosting ‘Inconceivable!: The 10,000 Walce Shawn Challenge,’ on Comedy Central. He’d ask tough questions but he’d treat me and Erin with respect.”

  “Jimmy, you scared me yesterday. I’m sure you were even more scared, but I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Not now. Not ever, if I can help it.”

  Jimmy squeezed Sam’s hand, and with his other hand, he drummed his fingers on the desk.

  “Mary Silva,” said Jimmy.

  “Who?”

  “Mary Silva. She was a contestant on Shark Attack.”

  Jimmy looked off into the distance, remembering.

  “I don’t remember all the contestants, there were so many - but I remember her. She made it to the final round, had won over thirty thousand at that point. And she really, really needed the money. It would have helped her pay off some crippling credit card debt and student loans, and have a little left over for something nice.” Jimmy smiled, softly.

  “She was sweet. Kind. You always wanted to root for the contestants on Shark Attack - that’s how we cast them - but I really wanted her to win. I wanted her to take the money and run so badly, to not risk it in the Final Frenzy Round. To py it safe. But she went ahead and risked it all.”

  “I asked her if she was sure. Normally we have to take the contestant’s first answer, I was pushing the rules by asking her again. Do you know what she told me, Sam?”

  “What?”

  “She told me that in this world, you can py it safe and still lose. And that she’d never forgive herself for getting so far and then not seeing how much further she could go.”

  “Did she win the grand prize?” asked Sam.

  “Doesn’t matter. Daryl, Chandra, Christopher, Daria… If it will help the show - I’ll do Zimmel.”

  Sam looked into Jimmy’s eyes, and he looked back into hers. And Sam knew, she knew, there was only one possible thing that she could say in that moment.

  “I need to pee.”

  ***

  “A coalition?” said Bradley, on the video call, while on break at the construction site.

  Victor had called up Jett, Oscar, and Bradley soon after the meeting with the other contestants had concluded.

  “No, Victor’s onto something. Mutual aid and reassurance. To encourage the others to drop out early so that we four get the prize money,” said Oscar, packing his best suits into his luggage. “Not my primary motivation, but when am I going to say no to money?”

  “Well, at least until the final four. Then, we’ll cut each other’s throats out,” Victor said, trying on different capes in front of a full length mirror.

  “I’m not sure I want to py like that,” said Bradley.

  “Then stick with us until the final three, then,” said Jett, applying makeup at his home. “Oscar, what are you doing?”

  “Packing, why?”

  “How many suits do you think you’re going to need to participate in a feminization contest?” Jett pointed out.

  “Plus, those look heavy,” said Bradley, “And the Yucatan peninsu gets hot.”

  Oscar thought about it. “Good point,” he said, and then started unpacking his suits and putting them back in the closet.

  “What about Rafael? Should we invite him?” said Bradley. “To be part of the coalition.”

  “Probably not,” said Jett. “She’s probably going to be our toughest rival, what with having an unfair advantage.”

  “Really?” said Victor. “I thought Rafael would be the first one out.”

  “One of the two, certainly,” said Oscar. “And if she drops out early, there’s no advantage by aligning ourselves with her, if she stays for the long haul, then she’s a rival that we would have a better chance of defeating together - that’s the whole point of these reality TV coalitions, no?”

  “So it’s settled. Hashtag #Coalition?” said Victor.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Oscar. “I’ve got to fill out the paperwork and submit it, as well as finish packing, so I guess I’ll see you all at LAX.”

  “And I need to get to Hamburger Mary's,” said Jett. “Bradley and I will see you at LAX.” Click.

  “Jett… wa—” but it was too te. Jett had left the call before Bradley had a chance to talk him out of this pn. Victor soon dropped off as well, followed by Oscar,” leaving Bradley alone on the call.

  ***

  Sam was spshing water on her face, looking at herself in the mirror, when she heard the restroom door open behind her. She closed her eyes in frustration.

  “Daria, you know this isn’t right. You can’t seriously go along with this stupid idea.”

  “Uh, Sam, it’s me,” said a deeper voice than she expected. She turned around. It was Jimmy.

  “Oh. Jimmy.”

  “I figured I’d use my recently acquired gender superpowers and check up on you.”

  “Gender superpowers? You mean being able to use the women’s loo?”

  “Technically, I was always able to use the women’s loo, the superpower is knowing that it’s okay to use the women’s loo.”

  He looked around.

  “This is a lot cleaner than the men’s room. And smells nicer. Are those flowers?” he said, pointing.

  “Uh, pstic ones, yes,” said Sam.

  Jimmy looked in one of the stalls. “Ooh, what’s this little white mailbox for?”

  “Mailbox?” Sam said, ughing.

  “Looks like one.”

  “Well, you can try sending a letter, but I wouldn’t expect a bloody response!” said Sam. Jimmy leaned up against the wall, happy that the tension was broken.

  “You’re right. If life were fair, I’d have figured it out as a teenager, like Daria, or at least have figured it out long before we got into this big project.”

  “Or figured it out anywhere other than in front of the bloody reporters on your front wn,” Sam suggested.

  “But I didn’t,” said Jimmy, crossing his arms in front of him, “and that got us into a mess. Now I have to fix it. If going on Zimmel, if coming out publicly can do that? Well then, I have to try, don’t I? It’s not just about me anymore. It’s not even just about me and you. So many people are counting on us. And not just the people in the production. You heard what those opinion columns said about the show. They judged who we were and what we wanted to do without even trying to look at why we were doing it. They just assumed the worst. We need to prove them wrong.”

  “I just feel like this is ‘Martinet’ all over again, you know? We had things set up, they were going fine, and now the corporates want us to change the pn.”

  “Daryl, Daria, Chandra, even Mr. Sunshine Christopher Roen – they’re not trying to steal the glory or convince themselves of their professional worth. They’re trying to figure out how to save the show. And need I remind you, Samantha Terwilliger Culver, the show must go on.”

  “Terwilliger?”

  “You’re British. All British people are Assigned Terwilliger At Birth, no?”

  “Samantha Maelyn Culver,” she said. “After my grandmother.”

  “How have we been living with each other for two years without me learning your middle name?”

  “Jimmy, you’ve been living with yourself for decades and you just learned your gender.”

  “Too true,” he said. “Too true. C’mon. We need to get back to the meeting before they both get on us for having panic attacks in high pressure situations.”

  “Christ!” said Sam, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “And before I left, Daryl said we were only half done. There was more we need to discuss.”

  “Dammit!” said Sam, and hurried out of the restroom at a jog.

  ***

  “An alliance?” asked Gooch, standing in front of a gssblowing kiln.

  “It makes strategic sense,” said Ethan, talking and walking back to Leonard’s car in the UCSD parking lot. “And there’s another reason I want to see you and Jacob get further into this game. You’re good fellows. My worst nightmare would be to get into the final four with Oscar, Victor, and Jett, after all.”

  “I would think that your worst nightmare would be having your balls cut off,” said Leonard. “That sure as hell is mine.”

  Ethan shook his head. “I’m not concerned about that. Obviously that’s a negative outcome, but when you put it into game theory terms, this is effectively a n-pyer game of Hawk-Dove, a.k.a. Chicken. Imagine a payoff structure of +3 to the prize pot for each continuing pyer, but incur a growing personal cost of -1 * r, where r is the number of rounds in py. If multiple pyers continue until the st round, all remaining pyers get their balls cut off, which I’ve modeled as a negative 1000 outcome–”

  “I can’t expin it,” said Leonard, cutting Ethan off. “His brain just works like that.”

  “Point is, optimal strategy is for everyone to avoid catastrophic loss, so no one’s going to go too far with this. We can drop out at any time,” said Ethan, “but if we coordinate strategies in order to maximize our winnings before we drop out… well. There you go.”

  “What do you think, Gooch?” asked Jacob. “It sounds like Ethan’s done the math.”

  “It kinda sounds like Ethan’s freebasing crystal math.”

  “Ooh, that’s a good one. Leonard, you should use that in your act,” said Ethan.

  “I’m not going to make fun of you in my act.”

  “It’s okay, it’s different when you do it, because I know you don’t mean anything.”

  “Awww…” said Gooch, and tilted his head, smiling.

  “Gooch,” admonished Leonard. “Don’t be sarcastic.”

  “I’m not. I’m genuinely impressed at the friendship you two have.”

  Leonard blinked.

  “Oh.”

  “So, Jacob, I’m down, if you’re down, for this alliance thing.”

  “Yeah, I’m down. Let’s do this. Hashtag #Alliance.”

  ***

  Sam and Jimmy headed back into the conference room.

  “Gd you’re back,” said Daryl. “Everything okay?”

  Jimmy reached out and rubbed Sam’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, Daryl. Everything’s okay on our end.”

  “Right. So you’ll do Zimmel?”

  “You can go ahead and book the slot.”

  Sam and Jimmy sat back down.

  “So. This other idea you had,” said Jimmy. “Let’s rip off the bandaid. What is it?”

  Daria spoke up. “Well, the show has eight cisgender men and one trans man, and we’re going to track their ongoing gender dysphoria. We were thinking… it would be interesting… if you will, if there was a… contrast.”

  Jimmy tilted his head.

  “You want me to be a contestant.”

  Daria nodded.

  “Not eligible for the prizes, of course, and you wouldn’t be participating in the challenges. But to… go through the same things as the contestants. In the same time frame.”

  “That’s crazy. You’re asking Jimmy to make a life altering decision about whether to pursue transition in the next week, for reality TV?” Sam gred at Daria.

  “Ideally, we’d have an answer by the end of the day. Before Zimmel,” said Daria.

  “It’s exploitative! It’s maniputive!”

  “It’s karma,” said Jimmy, ughing darkly. “It’s karma, is what it is.”

  “What?”

  “Sam. We turned transitioning into a game show. Not in small part at my urging. You wanted to drop the idea, I pushed you. The opinion column got one big thing right: ‘Transitioning is not a game.’ And we’ve been treating it as one. Hell, we even gave it its own theme music. Now there’s a ticking clock over my shoulder and the stakes always get higher in the lightning round.” Jimmy looked around the room. “Give me a few moments to think.”

  There was silence in the room for the next two minutes, as Jimmy sat and thought. Major life-altering decision, sure, but not one he wasn’t asking the other contestants to do – and unlike them, he should want it, right? Wasn’t the whole point of having a life-changing revetion that it should spur you to action?

  He thought about calling Sheri, but he knew Sheri would tell him not to do it - and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to or not. It was a tough call, especially since it wasn’t just his life that might be altered by this. It was everyone involved in the show. All the people whose lives could positively or negatively be impacted by its execution and reception.

  He had already used up his ‘phone-a-friend’ yesterday. And this wasn’t a case of 50/50. It was time to ask the audience.

  “Okay. Before I make up my mind. I want to go around the room. I want everyone’s individual opinions about what you think I should do. Sam, your opinion is the most important to me, so you go st,” said Jimmy.

  Sam nodded. “Okay.”

  “Christopher.”

  Roen sat up, straightened his tie. “If you do this, I would recommend that you vacate the director’s seat. There are plenty of solid directors we could get at short notice within the Garden entertainment family. This actually works to our advantage as the liability from the insurance companies would no longer be a concern.”

  “You mean if I freak out again, they don’t care if it’s in front of the camera, only if it’s behind it.”

  “Exactly. You would need to sign liability waivers very simir to the contestants - we can get those drawn up ter today, but to me the only question is whether or not you are willing to risk your mental health for entertainment.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Right. Well, it could be argued I’ve been risking my mental health for entertainment since I hosted a kids’ game show in the early 2000s. Okay. Chandra, you’re up.”

  “From a marketing perspective, it’s a win-win. We capitalize on the news cycle. We add celebrity star power to the product. We get people otherwise uninterested to tune in. The only question is - coming out publicly is one thing. But transitioning under a magnifying gss? I’m worried we’re setting you up as a sacrificial mb.”

  “And that would be baaaaaaaaad,” said Jimmy.

  “Jesus, Jimmy,” said Sam, shaking her head. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Daryl. Your thoughts?” Jimmy continued.

  “I wouldn’t!” Daryl said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but anything this… life altering. This… much of a change. I’d walk, Jimmy. We’ll be able to do the show without you - Sam can find another director, the show will still go on, but you can take the time to do this the right way, at home, with your friends to support you. Maybe do some research first. Take it easy. Dip your toes in the water. It’s just television, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy thought about that. “That’s a really good point, Daryl. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Does bring up a complication. My friends were there to support me yesterday. And I wouldn’t have any of them if it wasn’t for this show.”

  “That is true,” said Daryl. “You seem like a good guy, Jimmy… shit.”

  Jimmy smiled.

  “Sorry,” Daryl said.

  “Hey, I haven't turned in my he/him pronoun pin yet. You’re good,” said Jimmy. “Daria?”

  “My interests are more complicated than just what’s good for the show. You’ve known that since the beginning. I was attracted to the idea that we could use this to illustrate that people need to be the gender they are internally. But I… despite how traumatic it might have happened, think your egg hatching is a gift, and an opportunity. Now it’s not just about gender dysphoria. But we also get to show gender euphoria. It’s scary. It’s crazy. Do I think you might regret transitioning in front of an audience of millions? Yes. But I don’t think you’d regret transitioning, Jimmy. I really don’t. It’s a rushed decision… and that’s not fair. But… there’s a major upside.”

  “Right. Thank you, Daria. I’ll be lying if I said that I hadn’t been wondering what it would be like to be a contestant over these past few months. It’s… probably what got the egg-cracker into high gear.”

  Jimmy turned to Sam, who by this point was deep in thought in a world of her own, thinking deeply about how much she knew about Jimmy. About what he believed, about who he was, at his core.

  “Sam? Your turn.”

  Sam took Jimmy’s hand again, took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye, and said two words.

  “Mary Silva.”

  “Right. I think that settles it,” said Jimmy. “I know what I’m going to do.”

  AnnouncementThe illustration in this chapter was commissioned by Kerry Ann Boyko for this work. The artist is Zal Cryptid, who provided the line art. background adapted from a stock photo provided by user “Luis Yanez” on the website pexels.com and used with express permission. Colors by Kerry Ann Boyko