CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A Wide Angle LensIt was four in the morning in Mérida, and while the jet g from two hours difference wasn’t that bad, Leia (née Leonard), found herself irritably unable to sleep. She decided to head to the courtyard at Casa del Garden, via the kitchen, where she microwaved herself a small cup of warm milk, and settled into the one of the comfier patio chairs to enjoy the warm night air and occasional cool breeze.

  “Hey,” said a voice from the next patio chair over. Victoria (née Victor), waved at her, rexing, drinking from a bottle of water. The cast and crew had been warned not to drink directly from the taps here. Mérida was a safe town, but was still part of Mexico’s water system, which was… not the best.

  “Couldn’t sleep either?” the actor asked.

  “Nah,” Leia admitted. “I know I should get rest - I didn’t sleep well st night either, but this is a big step. Eine showed me all sorts of things about how the effects of the anti-androgens are only temporary, especially if you just take one or two months of them, but it’s still a scary prospect.”

  Victoria nodded. “I’m not looking forward to the effects, but I’m looking forward to the experience. It will be informative, I think. By the way, they’re still filming out here–” she pointed around to the small, remote controlled, unmanned PTZ cameras, “–and the whole area is wired for sound. I don’t know if anyone’s live-manning the cameras, but I’m sure they’ll review the footage ter. So, you know. FYI.”

  Leia slowly turned her head quizzically towards Victoria and frowned. Of all the contestants, she had the least amount of idea what Victoria’s ‘whole deal’ was, other than that she was a little dumb, and that she really wanted to be an actor.

  “Say,” said Victoria. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Vic.”

  “Are you and Eine… a couple?”

  Leia snort-ughed. “No. I’m straight. And to crify - because I’ve been here less than twenty four hours and my brain is already bending - I like women. Exclusively. And yes, I’m pretty sure that if a woman had a penis, that would be a deal-killer for me sexually no matter how hot they were with clothes on. And Eine is… just Eine. I don’t know what she’s into, dating wise. I don’t think she even thinks about dating.”

  “Ah. Because she pinged my gaydar. You didn’t,” expined Victoria. “But you’re really good friends, that’s clear.”

  Leia had to agree. After all, if it wasn’t for Eine, would she even be in this situation? ‘He’ probably would have f-ed off with all the other guys back at the soundstage, spending ‘his’ 100 on… one textbook, maybe.

  “So what’s your deal, Vic?” Leia pretty much just came out with it.

  “Oh, that’s simple,” said Victoria. “I want to be rich and famous.”

  Well, that was straightforward motivation.

  “That’s it? You’re just doing this to be famous?”

  “And rich,” Victoria pointed out. “Don’t forget rich.”

  Leia rolled her eyes. Victoria didn’t, staring out at the rippling reflections of blue light from the swimming pool.

  “Robin Williams,” said Victoria, as a non-sequitur.

  “Hunh?”

  “Robin Williams. Is dead. I’m mentioning him specifically, because you’re a comedian, and he was a comedic legend. He was also an acting legend. And he’s dead. And yet, he’s not. ‘Good Will Hunting.’ ‘Dead Poets Society.’ Everything from HBO stand-up specials to ‘Mork & Mindy’. Cssics. He lives on forever.”

  Leah did not think this was the time to bring up ‘Jack,’ ‘Toys,’ or ‘Death to Smoochy’, which live on forever for wildly different reasons.

  Victoria held her hands up over her face, with her thumbs out, looking at the stars through a makeshift movie screen.

  “You know what’s interesting? All those stars out there, they’re light years away. Some of them may already be dead. Or explode into supernovas. And yet, it’ll take years for the light to reach us. The universe is not broadcast live, we observe it on tape dey.”

  ‘Okay? Where the hell was Victoria going with this?’ thought Leia.

  “But it’s only the brightest stars that we see, you know. Only the biggest and brightest make their way to us. And we only know the names of a few.” Victoria pointed some out. “Orion’s belt. Poris. Big dipper.”

  She then pointed to what seemed to be a random patch of night sky.

  “But nobody other than astronomers know the name of, say, that dim little star out there in nowhere, and it's probably something like alpha-vxn-2832. Or something like that. If that little dim star were to suddenly blink out of existence, who would notice? Not unless you were really looking at it, specifically. In closeup, we are all the stars of our own stories, but in the wide angle… some of us are just dim specs of light.”

  “Vic, where are you going with this?”

  “I’m afraid of dying, Leia. No - actually, I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of being forgotten.”

  “Whoa.” This was way too deep a conversation to be held between two insomniacs at four in the morning. Or maybe it was the only time such a conversation could ever be held. Or maybe Leia was so sleep deprived she was hallucinating this whole thing.

  “Three years ago, my friend, Jack, died. Wonderful man. Not book-clever, but clever. Creative. A joy. But he died.” Victoria expined. “Rode his motorcycle to see his girlfriend, because his truck wouldn’t start. He wore a helmet. He was careful. It was just… bad luck. Twenty two years old. He was my best friend. And I looked back… and I don’t have any pictures of him. Never bothered to take any. Except one. I found one picture of him. It was the back of his head.”

  “We all miss him, of course, those of us who knew him. His death left a wound in the world. A wound… but not a deep wound. And the world does what any organism does when wounded. It heals. Some people, when they die, leave deeper wounds than others. Sometimes they leave scar tissue - like Robin Williams. Marilyn Monroe. John Belushi. River Phoenix. Heath Ledger. Selena. They are remembered long after the wound has healed. Jack died alone, and the world carried on without him, unscarred.”

  What do you say to that? What can you say to that?

  “Geez buddy,” said Leia. “That’s rough.”

  Victoria took a sip of her bottled water.

  “Thank you,” she said, sincerely. “So, that’s my deal. I’m here to become famous. And rich. I’m not like – dammit, what were MAGA and Twink’s new names again?”

  “Mara and Diana.”

  “Yeah, I’m not like them. I know gender dysphoria is a thing. I’ve met trans people at LGBTQ+ meetings, in passing. I know it’s going to be hell. I know I’m going to hate myself and hate my body and all of that. And so are you. And Rose especially, because she’s been through this before, found a taste of relief, and is voluntarily going back to it. And I know this… ‘Woman Up’ thing, it’s cheap and I’m being exploited and I’m wrecking my body, and I’m doing it for all the wrong reasons, and whatever.”

  Victoria waved broadly at the stars with her right hand, as if to dismiss all that and refocus.

  “But if there’s one thing I know, it’s this: Reality TV can turn anyone into a star. I mean, everything I know about the Kardashians, I have learned expressly against my will. And they’re famous for… for what? You don’t need talent. You just need a camera, a gimmick, and no shame or self-esteem whatsoever.”

  Victoria sighed deeply.

  “And I qualify. I’m dim, good looking, and morally bankrupt. Fuck it. Let them take my manhood. I became an actor because it’s about being someone I’m not in exchange for the attention. So if they want me to be a woman, even though I’m not a woman? I’m fine with that. Getting my dick chopped off is just method.”

  A wise person, thought Leia, would have the right words to say to that. A kind person would have healing words. Leia was neither. But she was a comedian.

  “Death and obscurity, versus vaginopsty. Tough choice. I suppose it comes down to whether it’s better to die now, or ditor,” Leia quipped.

  Victoria genuinely ughed at that.

  ***

  Crafty (a.k.a. Craft Services, a.k.a. caterers) had put out a nice little continental breakfast spread for cast and crew in the small alcove leading to the kitchen. In addition to little cereal boxes, there were eggs and beans, chorizo, bacon and sausage. A sign in English and Spanish warned not to reuse ptes, and to bus your own dishes into the provided tub. By the time Pranav made his way to the dining area, Sam and Jamie were already seated at the table and waved him over.

  “Pranav, good morning!” said Sam. “How are we looking? Go/No-go on the impnts?”

  “Right into it, I see,” said Pranav. “Let me get coffee and some breakfast first.”

  “We really should let him get breakfast, Sam. Bad things happen when you skip breakfast.” Jamie sipped her coffee. “I know it’s irrational but I’m completely superstitious about it now.”

  Pranav headed over to the buffet and returned with a pte.

  “So,” he said, “to answer your question, Dr. Gutiérrez understands what we’re doing, speaks perfect English, and is willing to prescribe the treatments. There are two RNs - well, Enfermera Auxiliar, which is equivalent, their English is incomplete but serviceable, and they’ll actually administer the treatments to the contestants.”

  Jamie nodded. “And me?”

  “Your English nguage skills could use improvement,” said Pranav.

  Jamie narrowed her eyes, while Sam giggled. Sheri walked in around that time, and was quickly waved over to the table - she did the smart thing and got her chorizo and migas (tortil chips crumbled into eggs) first.

  “Hey everyone!”

  “Sheri! It’s been a while,” said Sam.

  “Well, I had to come by a few days early to make sure that all the paperwork was in order. Christopher Roen is brilliant, I’ll give him that. Just FYI, I’m not licensed to practice clinical psychology in Mexico, but I am licensed to practice experimental psychopathology in Mexico.”

  “What’s the difference?” asked Jamie.

  “The difference is that I have to document the treatments’ effects and write up a report at the end of it, submit it to Marista University of Mérida, and hope they publish it.”

  “And if they don’t publish it?” asked Pranav.

  “Doesn’t matter. I just officially have to hope that they do.”

  “Hunh?” asked Jamie.

  “Basically, I have to treat it seriously, I can’t just turn in something half-baked. It has to be an effort made in good faith,” expined Sheri.

  Rose headed over to the table with the showrunners.

  “Um, sorry if I’m bothering you, but Dr. Pranav, I had a quick question.”

  “Sure thing,” he replied. “Though if it’s not quick, we’ll have time ter today for bigger ones.”

  “It’s just that, I was checking my itinerary for today, and comparing it against the others, and I’m also scheduled for an impnt today?”

  “Oh, yes, that,” said Pranav. “Obviously there’s going to be some differences with your treatment because your body naturally produces different hormones than what the other contestants naturally produce. But we’re trying to keep your treatments as close as possible to the treatments the other contestants will receive.”

  Rose tilted her head.

  “We’re giving you a pcebo,” Pranav expined.

  “Wait, what?” said Rose.

  “Rose, what if one of the other contestants has a crippling fear of needles, and decides to drop out because of it? It would be a bit unfair that you didn’t have to face the needle just because you didn’t need the medicine.” expined Sam. “All the contestants have to get an impnt to be fair. It’s just that your impnt will be… inert.”

  “Oh,” said Rose. “I get it. I mean, it’s still insane.”

  “Everything we’re doing is insane, Rose,” said Pranav. “As I told you before, none of these treatments are medically necessary or advisable.”

  “Except for me,” said Jamie.

  “Yes, yes, we all know that you're a special game-show princess,” said Pranav, “and that you subconsciously maniputed a multi-billion dolr company to fund your healthcare as entertainment.”

  “How are you holding up, though?” said Sheri to Rose. “I could tell right away you hated being called Rose for the first time. I saw the video, you flinched.”

  Rose sighed.

  “I’ll admit, not great. I’m not at the ‘cwing at my skin’ level yet, but I don’t like it at all.”

  “You know you can reach out to us if you need to talk. And that you can drop out at any time.”

  “Before the injections, we’ll recalcute the cash-outs, if you just want to go home,” said Sam. “I know you saw it on your itinerary, but starting tomorrow, we’re going to be moving over to compulsory feminine clothing.”

  “Oh joy,” said Rose.

  Jamie snickered.

  “Sorry, just thought of something funny, Sam. S-A-M. ‘Skirts Are Mandatory.’”

  Rose looked over her shoulder. Mara, Diana, Brittany, and Victoria had gathered at one table, while Jane, Gucci, Leia, and Eine were at another. “Ugh, great,” she said.

  “What is it?” asked Sam.

  “Not even the second day and already the girls are forming into cliques that I’m not invited to. Combine that with the dysphoria and the stupid name, and… this is high school all over again for me.”

  ***

  Over at their table, the #Coalition discussed what they had learned from the previous day.

  “Okay,” said Victoria, starting them off. “Leia and I hung out a little st night.”

  “Hung out?” said Brittany.

  “Not on purpose. We both couldn’t sleep. She was worried about what was going to happen, and I was stuck with Mara, who snores.”

  “Hey!”

  “Seriously, Mara, while you’re here, you should get tested for sleep apnea. She’s a nice person, but as a competitor, well, anyway, her weakness is Eine. They’re a pair, pretty much, get one to drop out and the other should follow.”

  “So, we encourage that,” said Diana. “Get them more dependent on each other, so that whichever one of them drops out the earliest gets the other one to drop out before they would have.”

  “What about you, Diana, what’s your thoughts on Jane and Gucci?”

  “Jane’s a guy’s guy. She’ll crack like an egg, sooner, rather than ter. But the thing is, they’re not like Eine and Leia, they’re… I don’t know. Jane, I think, is here to prove himself–”

  The GenderBuzzer? went off by the #Coalition table.

  “Damn,” said Diana. “Anyway, she’s here to prove herself and win the game, while Gucci… Gucci is insane.”

  “Well, yeah, she’s a little out there,” said Mara.

  “No, no, you… you don’t understand,” said Diana. “We got to talking, and she cims that her grandfather wrote the song ‘Old MacDonald’ but got screwed out of the credit. She was very adamant about it. Said that they changed the lyrics without her grandfather’s permission, it was originally about her great grandfather’s sexual escapades.”

  “What, with a bleep-bleep here, and a bleep-bleep there?” asked Brittany.

  (Obviously, Brittany didn’t say ‘bleep’, but that was what anyone would hear if this conversation made it to air.)

  “Yes. Exactly. Here a bleep, there a bleep, everywhere a bleep-bleep,” replied Diana.

  “Are you sure she wasn’t just messing with you?” asked Victoria.

  “That’s the thing, I can’t tell!” Diana was exasperated.

  ***

  “Victoria might go all the way,” said Leia, to the #Alliance. “She’s got issues, like, not like, dangerous ones? Sad ones. We were talking st night, and I didn’t understand it all, but basically, she’s afraid of being forgotten, and she’s willing to go to extremes to make sure she isn’t.”

  “Well, that can’t be helped,” said Eine. “I could see how someone might be willing to have elective surgery if they felt it would make them more famous. I mean, a lot of people do exactly that. Especially in show-biz.”

  “What worries me is Diana. Diana… is insane,” said Gucci.

  Jane nodded in agreement.

  “What do you mean?” said Eine.

  “She was obviously fishing for information with us,” expined Jane. “Trying to find a psychological edge on us. And I’m like, dude–”

  The GenderBuzzer? didn’t go off then, but it did fsh a warning yellow.

  Jane narrowed her eyes and stared at the buzzer. But this had no effect on the GenderBuzzer?. The GenderBuzzer? can’t be bargained with, can’t be reasoned with. The GenderBuzzer? does not feel pity, remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop… ever. Until your deadnames… are dead.

  Jane sighed and resumed. “And I’m like dudette…”

  She looked over to the GenderBuzzer?, which fshed a little happy green.

  “...this isn’t that type of game. There are no immunity idols. There is no Fast Forward. Nobody gets voted off. It’s just you and how much you can handle. Messing with other people doesn’t give you an advantage, it just makes you a jerk.”

  “Hmm. What I don’t get is Brittany,” said Eine. “I don’t know what she sees in Diana.”

  “Codependency,” said Gucci, as if that expined everything.

  Eine tilted her head like a confused puppy.

  Gucci counted off on her fingers. “Low self-esteem, trouble identifying your own emotions, trouble making decisions, desire to care for others and to feel important to someone. There's more to it than that, but that’s a good pce to start. Brittany is completely codependent on Diana. I see it all the time in chickens.”

  Leia opened her mouth, started to say something, reached out her hand, stopped, closed her mouth, narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth again, pulled her hand back, and then closed her mouth, deciding not to say anything.

  Eine was less cautious.

  “Chickens?”

  “Yeah, for a while I tried to make a living as a chicken whisperer.”

  “What’s that?” asked Eine.

  Leia kicked Eine’s shin under the table.

  “And why did you give me the secret signal for when I should stop talking?” Eine asked Leia.

  “So,” said Gucci, “the thing about chickens is that you want them to do one of two things: y eggs, and get fat. The fat chickens taste great, but don’t y eggs well. So when you get a bunch of chickens, you need to psychoanalyze them to see who would make good yers and who would make good roasters.”

  “Sometimes,” Gucci continued, “you’d have a fat roaster pick on a good yer until the yer just considered it normal to be pecked at. Then the roaster gets thin, and the yer gets depressed, and starts to stress eat. You gotta nip that in the bud right away.”

  “Very interesting,” lied Leia.

  “Brittany is absolutely a yer, and Diana’s a total roaster,” said Gucci.

  “So how did you deal with them?” said Eine, to Leia’s consternation.

  “Usually I hypnotized one or the other, picked them up, and physically separated them.”

  “Don’t,” warned Leia. “Eine, I’m telling you, don’t.”

  “Okay,” said Eine.

  Leia breathed a sigh of relief.

  “So, how did you hypnotize the chickens?” asked Eine.

  “Oh my fucking god. I’m going to get some more Choco Krispis,” said Leia, and headed to the buffet.

  “You pce the chicken’s head on the ground and draw circles around it with a finger or stick. The chicken tries to follow the motion and gets dizzy. At least that’s one way to do it, it’s the way Werner Herzog does it.”

  “Interesting. Tell me more.”

  ***

  At ten thirty, the first tasks of the day began. The contestants were cd in comfortable - but masculine - clothing they had brought from home, with the exception of Diana, who was already in a skirt, fishnets, and crop top, and Rose, whose binder didn’t qualify as comfortable.

  They, and Jamie, took their seats to get ready for the show, and Erin was standing next to a rge television screen on wheels which dispyed the ‘Woman Up!’ logo. Off to the side was a medical examination table, complete with examination paper.

  “Morning, girls!” chirped Erin. “So. Are you ready for the first of your medical treatments? Can I get a big whoop and cheer?”

  As expected, the contestants were silent. There were even a few groans. Jamie had to ugh at that.

  Erin continued. “You should all know Dr. Pranav Vadekar by now, and with him is Dr. Gutiérrez, who is officially administering the treatments.”

  Eine raised her hand, and Erin nodded to her.

  “So, question. Why is Dr. Vadekar not administering the treatments?”

  Pranav answered. “Oh, simple reason. I’m licensed to practice medicine in the state of California, but not in Mexico. Don’t worry, Dr. Gutiérrez is an excellent physician, my job was to vet him and his staff.”

  “Ho.” said Dr. Gutiérrez, waving.

  “My other job,” continued Pranav, “is to give you this lecture as to what’s about to happen. But first, I believe Erin has an update for everyone?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “As you recall, yesterday, you had completed a challenge, and added over four thousand dolrs to the pot, bringing your total to 15,480.”

  Erin waved at the board, bringing up the Prize Pot, Pyers Remaining, and Cash-out amounts.

  “There are also nine contestants left. So let’s recalcute the cash-out amount. Each of you is entitled to a share of 1,720, so half that would be: 860, plus whatever money you have won in your individual prizes. As always, you can cash-out at any time.”

  Leia looked back to Eine, and raised an eyebrow. Eine simply shook her head, and Leia turned back to the lecture.

  ELAINE: 2500 goes into the pot for every one of us that takes the first round of anti-androgens. That’s 1,250 each if we decide to drop out right after. It’s a no-brainer. “So, as always, we’re going to demonstrate on our volunteer, Jamie, first.”

  Jamie headed over to the examination table, nodding to Dr. Gutiérrez, while Pranav took over the podium.

  “The drug you will be given is Zolodex, also known as Goserelin, at 3.6 milligrams. It’s an impnt, administered subcutaneously - that means into the fat, not the muscle - every twenty eight days into the anterior abdominal wall below the navel line.”

  Pranav pyed a video illustration, as he narrated.

  “The main effects will be a suppression of your testosterone. The side effects, you will have all been briefed on. Rose, because you have no natural testosterone production, you will be given a pcebo instead.” Rose nodded in response.

  “As with all the medical treatments, Jamie, you’ll go first, in front of the cameras and other contestants, as a demonstration. The rest of you will have your medical interventions done privately.”

  “The things I do for television,” said Jamie, who then made her way to the examination table. She raised her shirt to expose the skin under the navel where the injection would go.

  Dr. Gutiérrez was about to open up the package with the first Zolodex impnt, and the enfermera started wiping down Jamie’s stomach with an alcohol wipe. Suddenly she stopped, looking at Jamie’s face, squinting.

  Jamie looked back at her. She suddenly snapped her fingers. “?Ataque de tiburón!”

  “Hunh?” was all that Jamie could say. The enfermera started singing. It had a lively salsa beat.

  “~?Ataque de tiburón, ahí vienen ya!

  ~La suerte está echada, ?quién se salvará?

  ~En este juego de locura y tensión,

  ~?Sobrevive si puedes, en Ataque de Tiburón!”

  Jamie could only repeat her previous “Hunh?” but with more conviction. The enfermera grinned from ear to ear, and made biting, gnashing sounds, and made a little bitey-face with her hand. "??am ?am, tu dinero está delicioso!"

  Even Dr. Gutiérrez was looking at her strangely.

  “I’m sorry, Jamie, she’s singing about sharks, and… ‘your money is delicious?”

  Jamie rolled her eyes when she realized what was going on.

  “Si! Si!,” Jamie said. “Ataque de tiburon!”

  Jaime didn’t even know the show was dubbed into Spanish, and so far as she knew, the theme to ‘Shark Attack’ didn’t have lyrics. But maybe that was just a Spanish nguage market thing. So she smiled politely. Then she turned her head back over to the doctor, who was getting ready with the injection.

  And saw the size of the needle.

  “Holy Bleeping Bleep! That’s Bleeping humongous!”

  “Fourteen gauge,” said Dr. Gutiérrez. “It’s an impnt. Don’t worry. It’ll be over in a bit. Just look away.”

  ROSE: I’ve had impnts before, and back then they used a twenty-five gauge needle. This thing looks nasty.VICTORIA: Mentally, I prepared myself by retreating into my happy pce. Off to the side, Sheri noticed that Sam looked a little nervous on Jamie’s behalf. She leaned over and whispered in her ear.

  “She’ll be fine, Sam.”

  “?Senora Howard?” said the enfermera, and grabbed Jaime’s left hand, forcing Jamie to look at her. “?Uno, Dos, Tres?” and then slowly started counting up. “Uno…, Dos…”

  “OW!”

  Dr. Gutiérrez jabbed the needle in after 'dos', shocking Jamie and causing the impnt to disappear without a ‘tres’.

  A click from the syringe, and it was over. The enfermera quickly applied an ointment and bandage, and the injector went into the sharps bin.

  “That’s it,” said Dr. Gutiérrez. “You’re done.”

  LEIA: That was stupid. You know that now we’ve all seen them do the countdown trick, it’s not going to work on the rest of us! “Okay, that was… not as bad as I thought it would be.”

  Jamie looked past the cameras and nodded to Sam, who was also looking relieved. Next to Sam, Sheri gave Jamie a thumbs up.

  Jamie pulled down her shirt, and headed back to the contestants.

  Erin smiled, as Dr. Gutiérrez started wheeling the exam table towards the more private clinic onsite.

  “So that’s what it’s going to be like,” she said, once again addressing the contestants. When I call your name, head back to the clinic. When you come out, if you’ve gone through with the procedure, give the camera a thumbs up on your way out. If you’ve decided to drop out, give the camera a thumbs down. Do not tell any of the other contestants what you’ve decided.”

  “Any volunteers?”

  Brittany raised her hand.

  “I really, just want to get this over with, as soon as possible. If I wait too long I’m just going to end up driving myself crazy.”

  “Alright then,” Erin said. “Brittany goes first. The rest of you, we’ll draw names from a hat.”

  ***

  Brittany headed down the hallway, to the clinic, then stopped.

  “Wait. Can I… Can I talk to Dr. Vadekar?” she said.

  “Absolutely,” Dr. Gutiérrez said. “Wait here while I fetch him.”

  Pranav arrived only a few moments ter.

  “I’m here. What’s up?”

  “This injection. Let’s… let’s say I do this, but I don’t want to do it next month, will… will it… will I return to 100% normal?”

  Pranav thought best how to answer that. “Before I answer that, are you okay with talking about this in front of the cameras, or do you want privacy?”

  “I think I’m okay with the cameras,” said Brittany. “But I really appreciate you asking.”

  “It’s my job. So, to answer your question, Zolodex is a reversible treatment. And it takes about four weeks to dissolve completely - by that time, almost all of it is gone and has been used by the body. If it’s just the one dose, it shouldn’t have any major effects, you may just be a little tired. There may be sexual dysfunction, maybe some acne. I can’t say one hundred percent that there will be no permanent effects from just one dose of it, but I am as confident as I can be that there won’t be. Like with any medical procedure, however, there are risks, but I would say they are minimal, if not negligible. At this stage, anyway. If you were to get a second dose, and start estrogen next month, then I would have a different answer for you.”

  BRITTANY: I don’t… I don’t know what to decide. It just - it’s stupid is what it is. But it’s also… I work for a living, right? I don’t particurly want to go do construction in the summertime when it’s hot, but I do it for the money anyway. And just one little impnt? I don’t know. Mostly I don’t want to leave Diana alone, I think she might take things too far, and if I leave the show now, I can’t protect her.“Alright,” said Brittany. “Thank you, Dr. Vadekar. Dr. Gutiérrez, I think I’m ready.”

  ***

  As each of the contestants left Dr. Gutiérrez’s clinic, Sam was there to ask them a question: How many of their fellow contestants would go through with the Zolodex injection?

  She wrote the answers down, and then instructed the contestants not to head back to the main room, but to the hallway leading to their rooms, where they were to stay put, watch video, take a nap, whatever, until they were called back.

  ***

  Eventually, at around 2:30pm, the contestants were brought back to the main room, and seated in their chairs, with the noted absence of Jamie, who was behind the cameras, talking with Sam, as Erin and the crew got set up for the next scene.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Sam. “Everything alright?”

  “I’m fine, Sam, just fine. A little excited, actually. Like, everything up to now was… like you’re taking a trip you’ve wanted to take your entire life, and you’re finally past security and in the terminal?”

  “So what you’re saying,” said Sam, “is that you’re in the overpriced Cinnabon stage of your transition.”

  “I guess so. Pne hasn’t boarded yet, and I’m just killing time, waiting for the changes to kick in, browsing the bookstore, pretending I’m interested in any of the books.”

  Jamie thought for a second. “You know, at the WeHo center, there were tons of books about people on a transition journey, but I think my egg could have cracked sooner if there was a book there that I identified with, you know? It was mostly teenagers and college kids. There’s got to be a book out there about a middle aged trans woman coming to terms with her identity te in life while having to hold down a career.”

  “Maybe you should write it. You could make the main character a thinly-veiled, self-insert Mary Sue.”

  “Nah,” said Jamie. “Mary Sues in fiction tend to be competent, confident, and capable. I can’t even say the word ‘vaginopsty.’”

  Sam and Jamie both realized what she said at the same time, and looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

  “Weird,” said Jamie. “That’s a psychological block I didn’t know I had. Let me try something.”

  Jamie cleared her throat.

  “Armord Permer. Arnmold Prvfrvr.”

  Sam shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe all this time, you were a golfer on the inside, too.”

  Terryl Gordon, the acting director, approached the two of them. “Everyone’s in position. It looks like we’re ready.”

  Sam and Jamie nodded.

  “Quiet on set!” the director said, and everyone focused on Erin.

  “So, all of you were given the choice to drop out or stay in. So, here’s the big question. How many of you decided to drop out and take the 860 dolrs, and how many of you went forward. On the count of three, if you have dropped out, rise from your seats.”

  “One,” Erin said, and paused for a long time. Obviously this was done to heighten suspense, where a drum roll would be inserted in post production, but in the live environment, it just looked ridiculous.

  “Two,” she continued, after far too long. The contestants looked around at one another, wondering who was going to be out of their seats.

  “Three.” she said.

  Silence.

  Nobody had left their chairs.

  JANE: That can’t be right. I thought someone would have dropped out, just from the size of that needle. GUCCI: I put down one. I thought it was going to be like ‘The Price Is Right’ rules where you didn’t want to go over.“Oh my god,” whispered Victoria. “Nobody dropped out?”

  “That’s right, Vicki,” Erin said. “None of you dropped out. And as promised, we’ll add 2500 dolrs for each of you who have stayed in.”

  Erin turned to the monitor, which trickled up to a rather impressive 37,980. With a cash-out value of 2,110.

  “Congratutions, everyone. Now, if you’ll recall, we asked you to guess how many of your fellow pyers would stay in. Three of you got the answer right - Brittany, Rose, and Mara.”

  BRITTANY: I’m literally the least brave person here. If I did it, everyone did it.MARA: This is nothing. It’s just some hormones, and I’m kinda here to prove that anyone can do this, that there’s nothing innate about so-called trans-women that’s different from anyone else. ROSE: If they knew what I know, they would have all dropped out. But they don’t, so… I said there wouldn’t be dropouts. We’ll see how things go over the next three weeks, though, when it starts to kick in. Which means you’ll have a major advantage during our next challenge, a week from today. But I don’t want to spoil it. In the meantime, hang out, have some fun, enjoy yourselves.

  The contestants rexed.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” said Erin. “As of midnight tonight, feminine attire only. If we catch you in anything else, it’ll be 10 for each item of clothing. Good luck, girls!”

  The director called ‘cut’, and Sam headed to the contestants.

  “Great job everyone. Just a reminder, you’re free to hang out and socialize, do whatever. There are sandwiches in the dining area if you want something to hold you over till dinner, which will be at 6:30. It won’t be as fancy as st night’s, but it’s good stuff.”

  Eine raised her hand. “Can we swim in the pool, is that avaible? Or is it just for show?”

  “No, you can swim, just be aware that you need to wear a swim shirt and keep your nipples covered. We’ve provided one for you in your wardrobes.”

  “Hell yes,” said Leia, and reached out for a high-five from Eine.

  Soon, the afternoon turned into an impromptu pool party, with tons of nice b-roll footage of frolicing contestants to choose from in the edit.

  ***

  Back in Los Angeles, Daria was looking over some proposals for the next big unscripted television proposal, and feeling entirely unsatisfied with any of them. They were bad. Unconscionably bad. Horrible. But worst of all, they were dull.

  Her phone rang and she was very, very grateful for the distraction. “This is Daria Bryant, director of unscripted programming at Garden Alpha.”

  “Daria? It’s me, Sheri!”

  “Sheri! It’s great to hear from you. How are things going on set?”

  “So far, so good. Nobody’s panicking or crying or falling apart yet, but they’ve only had their hormones suppressed for about ninety minutes now. What about you?”

  “Wish I could say the same. After all the excitement of ‘Woman Up!’ going back to other pitches…” Daria sighed. “They’re either insipid carbon-copies of things that have been done a thousand times before, or they’re submitted by people who think that because we’re doing ‘Woman Up!’ we’ve suddenly become the unethical medical experiment streaming service. I’ve got one submission here called ‘Siamese If You Please’ which proposes that we sew couples together back to back on their first dates.”

  “Ye gods,” said Sheri. “Surely they’re not all that bad, though.”

  “Oh no. Some of them are worse. One of them proposes that they turn SantaCon into a battle royale.”

  “SantaCon?” said Sheri, quizzically.

  “It’s a… you know what, it would take too long to expin. How are our girls holding up?”

  “Sam’s in her element, and Jamie’s starting to get comfortable in hers. It’s sweet, actually.”

  “We should all get together and have a girls’ night out when you get back to L.A. Lord knows I could use one,” Daria suggested.

  “Heh, maybe that could be a reality show.”

  “What could?”

  “Girls’ Night. You have a camera crew just follow around a bunch of straight girls in retionships, and let them party. Their partners then are taken to an isoted room, where they bet on what they think their wives and girlfriends would get up to. Follow it up with “Boys’ Night” which reverses the premise. And have specials for gay couples.”

  Daria paused and thought.

  “Sheri, that’s like, better than every pitch I have in front of me right now.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, really!” Sheri leaned back in her chair. “You know what the problem is? Why I think we’re not getting good pitches? It’s because the people pitching them work in television. So they’re pitching the things they see on television. You just gave me a hell of an idea, Sheri. One second, I need to write some stuff down. And ter, I need to talk to Sam, get her advice on some of this stuff. Heh, too bad we can’t make a reality show about making reality shows and…”

  Daria suddenly went silent as she was struck by a brilliant idea.

  “Sheri, I’m sorry, do you mind if I call you back? I need to catch Daryl and Chandra before they leave the office.”

  “Not at all. Good luck!”

  “Thanks! Bye!”

  Daria hung up the phone, declined to put her heels on, and sprinted down the hallway to Daryl’s office.

  ***

  Pyers Remaining: 9 WinningsPenaltiesTotalPrize Pot: 37,980Brittany (Bradley)1000100Cash-out: 2,110Diana (Jett)100-595 Eine (Ethan)50050 Jane (Jacob)2000200 Judi "Gucci" (Jude "Gooch")2000200 Leia (Leonard)50050 Mara (Oscar)250-5245 Rose (Rafael)300-25275 Victoria (Victor)250-105145