Issac sat cross-legged in front of Jess’s desk, the Chronivac still active on the screen. Curious about the strange but fascinating program, he’d spent the last several minutes tweaking settings he thought were amusing or helpful—adjusting Jess’s motivation levels, reducing teenage angst, and improving her school focus. Each change seemed to make sense on the surface. After all, what parent wouldn't want their kid to be a little less moody and more career-minded?
Then a new prompt blinked on the screen in a vibrant orange:
"Former Identity Trace Detected. Options: Suppress / Reinforce"
Issac squinted at the screen, confused. "Former identity?" he muttered. "Like... another profile she had before this?"
He clicked on the prompt for more information. A tooltip expanded, reading:
Anomalous neural imprints consistent with pre-existing mature identity detected. Residual self-awareness may cause behavioral inconsistencies. Reinforcing identity will preserve cognitive trace while integrating adjusted traits. Suppression will allow for full assimilation into present configuration.
Issac tilted his head, blinking at the screen. "Weird... but okay, reinforce sounds safer. Better than deleting something important."
He clicked Reinforce.
A soft chime rang out from the computer. On screen, a flurry of code scrolled by before settling into a steady green pulse.
Down the street, Jess suddenly slowed her pace. A strange warmth rushed through her body—a tingling buzz behind her eyes, a sudden clarity in her thoughts. For a moment, she felt like she had forgotten something crucial... or maybe someone.
She reached up, brushing her long hair behind her ear, her fingers momentarily hesitating as if expecting shorter hair. Her brow furrowed.
"That was... weird," she whispered to herself.
Memories swirled—memories of teaching Megan how to ride a bike, of cooking roast dinners, of arguing with Mike about paint samples for the kitchen. They felt vivid, real... and yet distant, like watching a movie she'd once starred in.
She looked down at her cropped hoodie and high-waisted jeans, the latest messages in her group chat buzzing on her phone about mall plans and summer break.
And somehow... both lives made perfect sense. Both Were Real And Not?
Back in Jess’s room, Issac stretched. "This thing is nuts," he said, glancing again at the profiles. He still didn’t understand why he and Michelle had been in here in the first place, but the tech was obviously way more than a simple game. Still, everything seemed fine, Jess was probably better off with the changes—less stress, more direction.
Unaware of the deeper implications of reinforcing Jess’s former identity, Issac closed the info tab, leaned back in the chair, and murmured, "Well, at least she'll be in a better mood now."
Outside, the front door clicked open as Jess stepped in.
"Hey! I'm home!" she called out.
Issac blinked, startled. He quickly minimized the window and turned to greet her, completely unaware of the internal fusion happening inside his daughter—Isabelle's wisdom, instincts, and emotional depth silently colliding with Jess’s teen vibrancies and drive.
What could possibly go wrong?
Jess stomped through the front door, her face twisted in a mixture of fury and disbelief. Spotting Issac near the kitchen, she snapped, "Jeff, you are in big trouble. Not only did you mess with your and Mike's genders, but now you're messing with me!"
Issac's demeanor changed instantly. He turned sharply toward Jess, his eyes narrowing, voice booming in a deep and commanding tone, "What was that, young lady? Threatening your parents is a strategy I can assure you will not go unpunished!"
Before Jess could retort, Issac strode across the room, grabbed her wrist firmly—but not cruelly—and dragged her into the dining room. He pulled out a chair, sat her down, and placed a pencil and a few sheets of blank paper in front of her.
"You are to sit here and write a full-page apology for your outburst and behavior. And if it isn’t sincere, you’ll be banned from the computer and from hanging out with your friends."
Jess scowled. "Very funny, Jeff. You had your laughs. Now let’s change back!"
She started to get up, but Issac’s grip returned, guiding her firmly back into the seat. His face was serious, his tone unflinching. "I’m not joking."
It was in that moment Jess realized the depth of what had happened. This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t a game. Jeff—the boy she once knew her former son—wasn’t acting. He believed was her father. The lines between their old lives and this strange new reality had been redrawn.
Left with no other choice, Jess reluctantly picked up the pencil. Her hand trembled slightly as she began writing the apology. Her mind swirled with confusion and dread. Somewhere deep inside, the woman she once was screamed out—but that voice felt more and more distant as the teenage girl in her saw the "scary" and "serious" face of "her dad" and was terrified not only to disappoint him but to see that side of him again.
She wrote:
"Dear Dad,
I'm sorry for raising my voice and being disrespectful..."