What would you do if you woke up a different age and gender?
Switched
by Angela Lam
Genre: Dystopian Cyberpunk SciFi Fantasy
A global phenomenon is rewriting the laws of biology,
causing men over fifty-five and women between eighteen and forty to suddenly
and inexplicably switch their ages and genders. No one understands it, and no
one can stop it.
Maxine thinks she can stay on the sidelines, supporting her brilliant
boyfriend-turned-girlfriend Jo—an audacious biotech pioneer, who’s breaking new
ground with brain-to-brain communication. But when the transformation strikes
Maxine, her reality is flipped upside down.
Now facing an unexpected future, Max must grapple with their identity,
struggling to align who they were with who they have become. Can they reclaim
control over a life that’s no longer theirs, or will they be swept away by the
changes they never asked for?
At nine fifteen, a car pulled into the driveway, and a young woman stepped out of the vehicle. She circled around to the trunk, removed several shopping bags, and waved goodbye to the driver who pulled out into the street.
Who is she? Maxine squinted, trying to determine whether she knew the blonde who struggled up the porch steps in kitten heels.
When the woman unlocked the front door and disappeared inside, Maxine gasped. No wonder Joe hadn’t returned her calls and text messages. He had ghosted her for this freakishly tall model who couldn’t walk a straight line in heels.
A flurry of questions erupted in her mind. How long has Joe been dating this woman? Has she moved in with him? Maxine gulped a mouthful of air, and her heartbeat crashed against her ribs. Are they married?
All her mother’s worst fears pelted her. Don’t date a man old enough to be your father. Don’t trust a divorced man. Don’t believe anything rich people say.
Don’t, don’t, don’t.
But she did, did, did.
And now a thick, hot sweat doused her in regret. She tore off the sweatshirt and mopped her forehead. Her phone pinged.
She sniffed, trying hard not to cry. No man was worth crying over. That was what her mother said. Maxine had always thought her mother would have been better off if she had cried after her husband died, but what did Maxine know? She was young and stupid. Falling for a man old enough to be her father. Father! She rubbed the edge of her sweatshirt’s sleeve against the corner of her eyelid before she rummaged in her backpack for her phone.
A quick swipe revealed a message from Joe, who had probably been woken by the live-in woman—she couldn’t think of her as a wife or girlfriend, not yet—who didn’t care that he had lain in bed sick all day, perhaps near dying, too weak to pick up his phone to call anyone, not even the office.
—Sorry to respond so late. Left phone at home by accident.—
Yeah, sure, she scoffed. You’ve been home all day.
Her phone pinged with a response. She widened her eyes. She hadn’t meant to send a thought-to-text. Damn phone. She swiped the screen and read his reply.
—I left at ten and just came home a few moments ago.—
She tried to modulate her breathing, unwilling to send a thought-to-text, but the words flew across her mind.
—That’s a lie.—
—I’m not lying.—
—Then who is the woman who just entered your house?—
Silence.
She glowered at the dark windows of his home. The bedroom faced the backyard. She wondered if the young woman had turned on the lights. Maybe she could sneak a peek through the plantation shutters. She palmed her phone, her thoughts stewing in the worst-case scenario—the young woman, naked in bed with Joe, who wasn’t sick, but taking a day off for what, she didn’t know, and their bodies tangled in a heated mess of arms and legs and God knew what else, maybe some kinky stuff she wouldn’t ever want to try. Was that why he had dumped her? She heaved a sigh. What if she was right? The situation would remain unchanged. She was still a ghosted woman, a betrayed woman, a woman unknowingly caught in a love triangle. She tossed her phone on the seat and started the engine.
Her phone rang.
She pulled away from the curb and drove. The call continued to ring through the stereo speakers. Her hands shook too much to grab her phone off the seat, so she jabbed the button on her steering wheel without knowing who it was—Patty, her mom, Joe, or the other woman.
“Hello?”
“Don’t hang up. It’s Joe.”
The high-pitched voice sounded squeaky. Was this the other woman calling to harass her? She lowered her foot against the brakes, slowing for a speed bump. Her heartbeat ratcheted in her chest. What did you say to your lover’s secret wife or girlfriend? If she had just listened to her mother, she would have avoided this mess. Maybe if she apologized, the young woman would leave her alone, and she could go on with her life. Yeah, it would be tough, and she’d miss him, but it wasn’t the end of the world. There were plenty of available men her own age.
“I’m sorry—”
“Why are you sorry? I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me today. Is Patty okay?”
Her jaw stiffened. How long had this other woman been reading Joe’s messages? “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me.” Her voice hitched.
“Because I care.”
“You care?” She laughed, braking at the stoplight. “Why do you care that Joe hurt me?”
“I am Joe.” The exasperation in the woman’s voice echoed throughout the car. “I’ve switched.”
Angela Lam writes across all genres, from romance (The Women
of the Crush series) to memoir (Red Eggs and Good Luck) to thrillers (No
Amends) and science fiction (Switched). Sometimes, she writes under a pen name
to keep things interesting (The Heroic Adventures of Madame X). The rest of the
time, she is busy exploring mixed-media art and teaching others what she knows.
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