Stick Shift

 17/25

Darren had expected lectures, not a life overturned. When the court ordered him into the mesh-assisted driver rehabilitation program, he thought it would be a handful of classes, maybe a stern instructor correcting his habits behind the wheel. Losing his license would have meant losing his job, so he chose the implant without hesitation. He could handle a tiny scar behind his ear.

At first the changes were almost invisible. The mesh encouraged him to keep a journal of his driving habits, to reflect on moments of impatience. It nudged him to set off earlier in the morning, to avoid peak traffic so he would never feel rushed. It felt harmless. Sensible, even.

But the logic crept further. Women, it concluded through carefully surfaced statistics, were safer drivers. Women had fewer serious accidents, showed more patience on the road, took fewer risks. If he wanted to be safer then why not be of the gender who drove best?

Darren was powerless to stop the transition – as subtle as it was at first. He began sitting straighter at the wheel, knees together, both hands resting neatly at ten and two. He wore softer clothes because they made him feel calmer, lighter dresses in the summer that made crossing his legs second nature. .

Surgery came later. The mesh never asked, it just drove him forward in his mission to become the safest driver possible. It spun its web in the back of his thoughts in a way that his ideas and the ones created by the implant behind his ear were completely discernable. Wouldn’t it be safer with less testosterone? Wouldn’t softer features and a smaller frame make him calmer? Wouldn’t permanent change protect him from himself? By the time Darren booked the appointments, it felt less like surrender and more like inevitability.

Now the photo on his license no longer bore his old name. A woman with glossy blonde hair and painted lips smiled back at him from the laminate surface. His final assessment had been almost anticlimactic. The instructor had handed over the certificate with a warm grin. 'Women always make the best students,' he’d said. Darren had laughed with him, just as the mesh instructed.

She drove differently now. Slower, smoother, patient at every turn. Other drivers waved her through at junctions. Strangers smiled at her at stoplights. She had not had so much as a parking ticket since the implant. The scar behind her ear had faded to nothing, and the mesh no longer stirred. Its work was finished.

Darren pulled to the side of the road and listened. The implant was silent. He opened the door to let cool air wash over him – to be sure he wasn't hallucinating – and put a hand to the side of his head, his other resting on the soft feminine skin of his leg. Still Nothing. He looked up at the rear view mirror and just sat there in silence. The mesh was silent – his thoughts were finally his own, but his appearance would forever belong to that implant...