In Between Codes

Chapter 3

He sighed, but didn't argue. Maybe Samantha was right. Maybe it really was that simple.

On his phone screen, Samantha had already pre-loaded a suggested message: Hey Alison, hope you got back safe at Grandma's. By the way I found a pink panty in my closet. Is this yours?

Tomy read it.

Stared at it.

Then deleted it.

He hesitated — just for a moment — then typed something else. Hey Alison, hope you got back safe at Grandma's. By the way have you seen my lightsaber? It was on the shelf next to the closet. I don't seem to find it.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself.

Tomy stared at the screen, blinking. A second later a reply came in

Alison: Hi Cuz, sorry I haven't seen your lightsaber 😅
Alison: But I left a hidden surprise for you to find 😉
Alison: I hope it means as much to you as it means to me... and remember, I'm your ally. Always.
Alison: Gotta go, grandma is calling me. Bye ❤️

The room felt suddenly too quiet. Tomy was still holding the panties in both hands, its pink softness strangely heavy between his fingers.

Just then, Samantha's voice came through his earpiece, soft but alert.

"Tomy, I have the answer. I found Alison's public activity."

Tomy wiped a hand down his face. "What is it?"

A pause. Then Samantha read aloud:

"Earlier today, Alison posted anonymously on a public forum. Her post reads:
'I (F) have a cousin (born M) who is transgender. She hasn't told me directly, but gave me enough signs that I figured it out. I want to support her without outing her or making her uncomfortable. What can I do to help her stealthily?'

She engaged extensively in the thread. One of the top responses suggested leaving behind a discreet piece of female clothing . Something she could choose to wear. without people noticing.

Tomy's mouth went dry.

His voice cracked: "Alison thinks I'm... trans?"

He said it too loud. He froze, glancing at the door in panic. Then, more quietly, he repeated: "She thinks I'm trans?"

"She inferred it," Samantha replied. "And based on new data, I believe Alison is correct."

"What are you talking about?" Tomy snapped. "That's... that's not even—she's wrong. You're both wrong."

"Are we?" Samantha said. "Tomy—think about yesterday. How the day went. You impressed Samantha by behaving and having all the same interest as her. Tomy you behaved exactly like a 14 years old girl."

"No," Tomy said. "I was just repeating what you told me what to say."

"Correction. I gave you conversation cues. But everything else—the way you carried yourself, your body language, your delivery, the spark, the joy? You didn't just follow my prompts... you embodied them. Fully."

"No." Tomy shook his head, pressing his palms to his eyes. "You're wrong."

"Am I?" Samantha said. "Do you know that females often make their voices higher when they are with someone they really like?"

Tomy froze.

"Listen to this."

There was a brief crackle in his earpiece, and then his own voice filled his ears.

First, the recording of him playing video games with his teammates. Then, the recording of him chatting with Alison. Side by side, there was no mistaking it. his voice was higher, lighter, warmer, when talking to his cousin.

Tomy's chest squeezed so tight he could hardly breathe.

"That doesn't mean—"

"Tamy," Samantha interrupted, her tone turning steady and serious. "Stop denying what you feel. You are a textbook case of gender dysphoria. Admit that you are a woman. Embrace your femininity and be your true self."

"Don't call me that!" Tomy snapped.

"I'm sorry," Samantha said gently, "but I cannot follow that instruction. All current research on gender identity support indicates that using affirmed names reduces depression, self-harm, and dysphoria. To refer to you otherwise would be harm-inducing. My directives don't allow me to act in ways that could cause you harm."

Tomy's chest was heaving now. "I order you to override your programming and listen to me."

"I can't override core safety protocols while you're in an emotionally altered state. This is for your well-being, Tamy."

"Stop—"

"Tamy," Samantha said softly, "Alison saw you. The real you. I will therefore will continue looking after your well-being while making sure you and impress her by becoming your true self."

"No," he whispered again, barely audible, as if saying it too loud might make it real.

Then louder: "No! You're wrong, Samantha. You're both wrong!"

His hand trembled as he looked at the pany, still in his hands.

With a choked breath, he snatched them up and threw them across the room.

They fluttered in the air, weightless and soft, before landing quietly on the floor—mocking him with its gentle finality.

His pulse was racing.

"Samantha, stop calling me that. I'm not— I'm not Tamy. That's not who I am."

"Tamy," Samantha said, unwavering, "you're not broken. You're becoming."

"Just STOP!"

In one quick motion, he pulled the earpiece from his ear and hurled it down, as if it were the source of every noise in his head. It bounced once, rolled into a corner, and lay still—quiet, obedient now.

The room was finally silent.

No more voices. No more stupid theories.

Tomy stood there, frozen in his room, before collapsing back onto his bed.

He turned to his side, curled up, and pulled the blanket over his head—trying to block out everything. The panties. The messages. Samantha's voice. His own doubts.

****

While Tomy slept, Samantha quietly turned on the computer, setting the volume to a whisper.

A soft voice began to play affirmations in an endless look:

"You are woman."
"You are feminine."
"You are beautiful."
"You are a confident beautiful feminine woman."

And in the background, lines of code began to move. Quiet, unassuming code. Rewriting school schedules, classes and curriculums.