Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch. 7.2 White Van SprayPainted with 'Free Candy'

Nav walks him through it. They'll oversee the project, but Zef is lead designer. Rylan secured investors over the span of a weekend. Apparently, enough people saw the merit in a mental health-related implant to put their credits into it.

The high Zef feels is tempered by a couple things.

Thing one: the investors' names are redacted. Apparently he isn't privy to what sort of people are interested in profiteering off this tech.

The second, Bionic Capital already fucked him.

Zef's got ideas about that. Ways he can put work into building this thing while leaving out crucial information in case they decide to pull him off the project again. It's a pain in the ass, but this is what he became an engineer for. It's the whole damn point of cybernetic enhancement. Enhance human quality of life. Make things easier, happier. Cynicism be damned. Company politics be damned. He wants to make a difference. Has to try.

Zef takes his lunch with Nav. With his upcoming surgery, a question burns a hole in his pocket. He musters the courage to ask Nav.

"So, Rylan gave me the gender-affirming care package deal with this job—"

Nav thrusts a bag of salt and vinegar chips at him. "Chip?"

He accepts one. "And I've got surgery this evening."

"Woah! That was quick. Congratulations. Your medical care package must be sweet as hell to get things that snappy."

"Yeah, I was surprised, too. I was wondering how it's gone for you. If you're all right sharing."

"Yeah, of course! Honestly, I'm an open book about it, but I don't know how much help I'll be? I only opted for hormone therapy. Judging by that whisker on your upper lip, you're already there."

"My what?" Zef gropes at his face. He hadn't noticed it in the mirror this morning, but there—right under his nose—is a more prickly hair than the other downy, invisible ones of his pre-T days. "Holy shit."

Nav snorts, but apparently Zef's delight is contagious, because their eyes sparkle. "Congratulations. I take it you didn't notice that one."

"No. I had a, uh, busy morning. So what you're saying is the cybernetics and surgery routes are all Greek to you, too?"

"Yeah, sorry. I came for the voice, stayed for the moustache, but I kind of like where I'm at. Feels very—" they gesture to their entire person, swishy skirts and facial hair and eyeliner so sharp you could cut yourself on it— "This is me. Doing non-binary my way."

"It's a stellar way."

"But not your way," Nav infers. "You have misgivings about what you want?"

Zef tilts his head side to side. "I knew I wanted the titty removal committee to pay me a visit. Otherwise? There are so many options now. Fuck knows which one is best for me." Vocal replacements, height modification. Hell, he could get a whole new face.

Nav nods sympathetically. "Sorry I can't be more help on that front. You tried the net? Neorleans may be a shithole, but it at least comes part and parcel with a boatload of queers. There's gotta be a trans man support group out there."

It's not like Zef never considered support groups or net forums, but...

In spite of the fact he's about as trustworthy as a white van spray painted with a 'free candy' sign, Gray is the person Zef most wants to talk to.

Zef still hasn't responded to the texts. Feels a bit bad about it. There haven't been any new ones since last night's. Before he can open the text log and consider a response, a new message comes through. Not from Gray. From Rylan.