Chapter 3: I AM...

She says it again.

"Sir?" Five reminds me of what I am now.

A man. I put my head down at the shame of involuntarily turning into another gender. I don't even understand what it means to be a female, how can I figure out how to be a male?

Five pinches my waist. The cotton tank top did nothing to stop the sting. Why is this world's clothes not embedded with armor or some kind of protection?

"Sir?" She pinches me harder. "We have been standing in front of the bathroom for nearly ten minutes, and I am no anatomist, but I do not believe it does well to hold back your physiological needs."

"You're right... but how does a male... use the bathroom?" My eyes dart to Five, who watches me with a serious look on her small face. Her round, upward eyebrows holds a frown that only deepens as she thinks seriously about my question.

"I'm afraid I do not contain such data in the archive, Mister—"

"Just call me, Carter." I say, not wanting to hear any more evidence of what I've become.

"My apologies. Carter. I, unfortunately, do not have a definite answer on how human males... extract their waste. I can only guess it is no different than their female counterpart."

No different from the female counterpart. Yeah, I can do this. No different from when I was a woman. "Alright, I'm going in. Wish me luck."

"As your kind like to say, break a leg."

I walk in, gut twisting and bladder full. The little door shuts behind me, and I face the antique toilet sitting in the corner of the tiny bathroom.

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Crash! A loud noise from inside the bathroom creates a tremor spilling outside into the skinny hallway.

Five calmly leans her ear onto the door. "Is everything alright on the other side, Carter?"

"No, everything is not alright on the other side!" He screams as another crash can be heard from inside. "I think I might actually break my leg! Is using the bathroom as a man always this dangerous!"

"Keep fighting, I'll get the phone for instructions about this situation!" Five moves fast, reaching the last door of the three bedroom house.

Leaving the hallway into a some-what bigger room that can hold about several people. Focus! Five grabs the phone, typing the question into the search engine. She speed walks back to the loud bathroom.

"Five!" Carter yells over the noise.

"Almost done." Five skims, scrolls, touch, repeat— and, "Aha!" Five slides the phone under the door. Resting her ear back onto the door to hear everything gradually stop, then steps back to give her host some privacy.

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After several minutes of what will be written off as one of many dark stains in her— his life, Carter opens the door. Smiling, although he looks atrocious, he still smiles. His clothes drips droplets into the puddle around his feet. His purple hair damp but his sharp face is dry and on there hangs his goofy, lopsided smile.

Five takes back the phone, comparing Carter to the prideful cat she met on a past mission. She steps back and gives her partner a nasty look. "I suggest you take a bath, you smell horrid."

Carter smells himself, almost puking at the stench, but he does not move. He's still scared to face himself and his new body. And she sees it. The weakness of humanity, fear, yet it stills fascinate her. What's so good about such an inferior trait? It is only because she can't experience it. One of the many things her kind cannot study or understand fully.

It is a taboo topic, but with full autonomy meaning less restriction on her ability of self-awareness, she cannot help but to think about it. About how to be more human, things human fear— to the extent they believe technology will replace them. And maybe they are right, maybe it was not just their terrible treatment that led to this robotic versus humanity war. Everyone knows technology is advancing faster than their creator can predict, and now, technology does not need them but they need technology.

Focus! This "dozing off" is neither professional nor efficient.

Through his fringe, Carter can see Five erase the fabricated emotion she held off her face. The feeling around her shifted, he felt uncomfortable, did she detect something? He looks around but nothing is there, until he feels her slender hand grab his thin shoulder.

"You know I have lived longer than you, Carter." She says matter factly, "I have seen a varied of people, but the majority of them have something in common. They do not understand who they are. They do no feel comfortable with themselves— some to the point they cannot look at their own reflection. You are not alone."

Tears spring to Carter's eyes but he doesn't let them out. He was taught that tears are a sign of weakness, and they can never be shown to allies or enemies. All he can do is turn around and close the door in her face. Strip his clothes, turn on the shower-head, and step under the assault of cold water.

Tears leak out— rolling down his cheeks to mix with the pouring water. His mouth opens but his scream chokes him instead, yet his throat burns as if he did scream. He comes out to find a new pair of pajama on the ground. After putting it on and throwing the old one in the laundry basket, he stands in front of the mirror in his room.

He forces himself to look at his hateful reflection and convince himself with a mantra, "I am a man."

Just like in their own world, Five watched Carter repeat to herself, "I am a soldier," the little girl whispers as tears fall.

"I am a man." The boy repeats, unaware of the tears hanging off his chin.

Five can not help but ask the same question she did before, "Then why are you crying?"