CD Chapter Thirty-seven (Patreon)

Even though Myles had assured her repeatedly that she would feel perfectly normal when she woke, Ava was still shocked to find that it was true. She had been in the pod for three weeks - a month and a half in the game - until she could name every organ, bone, and artery, as well as their primary functions and the most common signs that one of them wasn’t doing its job.

Partially as a result of all her studying, she knew what three weeks of complete inactivity should do to the human body, but instead of feeling weak and stiff, Ava felt better than she had when she went in. Which wasn’t entirely unexpected, since her hand, eyes, and face had all had time to heal enough that they shouldn’t hurt any more.

As Ava exited the bathroom after her first shower in weeks, she felt amazing. There was a slight hematoma where she’d removed her IV too quickly, but otherwise, every part of her felt as good as new, and she bounced on her toes as she walked.

Amythyst appeared on the wall nearby, and grinned knowingly. “Feels good, right? Getting the biogel right was the hardest part of creating the pod, but it was completely worth every second and every penny.” She grimaced. “Not that Dad - Carl - would have agreed at the time, especially when we failed forty-seven times in a row, but when this pod hits the market, it’s going to change the world.”

Ava nodded, lifting her leg and spinning in a pirouette that flowed into a jump. She hadn’t been able to perform such a perfect grand jeté even when she’d been in ballet, and she certainly hadn’t practiced in years. Even if she’d had the energy or interest, her downstairs neighbors wouldn’t have appreciated the noise, and she would have crashed through one of the plasterboard walls of her apartment if she’d tried.

Amythyst applauded, and Ava’s cheeks flushed. For a moment, she’d forgotten she had an audience.

“Why do I feel so good?” she asked, forcing herself out of the port de brás she’d fallen into out of habit. Shaking her arms, she headed for the table, where a delicate, crustless quiche sat invitingly on a white porcelain plate.

Amythyst ‘sat’ at the other end of the table and picked up her own fork. “That would take a lot of explanation, but it boils down to the fact that your body has actually been working while you were playing. The pod and biogel flex and work each and every muscle group in the optimal way, allowing you to wake up stronger and more agile than you were when you went in.” She took a bite of her quiche, chewing slowly, and Ava did the same.

Flavor exploded in her mouth; the slightly sweet nuttiness of the gruyere, the complex, herbaceous taste of the spinach, the heavy, thick cream, and the savory, essential egginess of it all. She almost dropped her fork as she moaned out loud.

Soft laughter pulled Ava from the trance created by the depth of the experience, and she tried to level a dark look at Amythyst while simultaneously shoving the entire piece of quiche into her mouth. “Wha’s happ’ning?” she mumbled, unable to stop a new forkful from joining another one that was already in her mouth.

“You haven’t actually eaten in three weeks,” Amythyst explained, eyes twinkling. “Your mind may think you have, but your body knows differently. There are no real side-effects of being immersed for a few hours or even days, but after a week or more, well,” she shrugged, “you’re going to find that a few things you usually take for granted are a little different today.”

Ava shook her head, swallowing with difficulty. “And you didn’t mention this, why?” She sighed and held up a hand. “No, wait. Because this way is more ‘fun’.” She made finger quotes as Amythyst leaned forward in her chair, fluttering suddenly comically long lashes.

“You do understand me,” the AI cooed, and Ava rolled her eyes, forking another bite of quiche into her mouth.

When breakfast was over, Ava sat on the real half of the couch, her hand resting on her stomach, which felt ready to burst. She leaned her head back, groaning. “Why did you let me eat so much?”

Amythyst, who was now on the virtual end of the couch, chuckled again. “You didn’t actually eat that much. Your stomach just isn’t used to having anything in it. This is one of the less pleasant results of long-term immersion. You’ll need multiple smaller meals over the next day or so, until your gastro-intestinal system gets used to working normally again.”

Ava thought of something, and lifted her head, staring at Amythyst in slowly dawning horror. “What’s it going to be like when I go to the bathroom?”

The AI bit her lip, clearly trying to hold in a laugh. “Well, let’s just say you shouldn’t leave the house today.” Sobering, she held out her hand, and a small stack of papers appeared in them. “But before that, we need to talk about what’s going to happen over the next week.”

Ava sat up, mirroring Amythyst’s pose, with her legs tucked up beneath her. She nodded to indicate that she was ready, and Amythyst continued.

“We sent your job application in last week. As predicted, they jumped on it. I cracked the message they sent to Carl, and the one he sent back, so I know the hiring agent is excited, but Carl wasn’t happy you don’t have the experience he wants.” She flipped a page into the air, and it spun into the image of a middle-aged woman with dark hair and skin, and striking light brown eyes. “This is Devorah Bayles. She called ‘you’ earlier today and requested a face to face interview. Tomorrow.”

Amythyst’s body shifted and stretched until she was a mirror image of Ava. Even her voice was Ava’s husky alto, rather than her own. “You told her that would be fine,” she melted back into her own body, much to Ava’s relief, “which means it’s time for a make-over.”

Ava’s thoughts hiccupped to a stop. “Wait, what?”

Amythyst rolled her eyes. “Your hair is a mess,” she said, flatly, “and you don’t even own any makeup. I can get you an interview suit, but you need a haircut and a professional look.” She held up a hand as Ava started to protest. “I’m not saying you need the full array of product, but a little mascara, eyeshadow, and lip gloss would go a long way. You’re already ridiculously pretty,” and was Ava imagining it, or did Amythyst blush a little as she said this? “But I guarantee Ms. Bayles - and especially Carl -  have certain expectations that you’ll need to meet.”

Ava nearly jumped off the couch as an energetic rat-a-tat came from the front door. She turned wide eyes on the avatar, who grinned and made shooing gestures. “That’ll be your makeover team, so let them in, and I’ll see you in a few hours.” She vanished, and as she did, color flooded the room. The couch turned a deep shade of violet, and the color was picked up and accented in a dozen places, from the curtains on the digital windows to the runner down the center of the ‘oak’ table. While the room still looked a little strange with all of its half-furniture vanishing into solid walls, it was an acceptable kind of strangeness.

Not without some trepidation, Ava crossed the room and opened the door, fully expecting to see Amanda. To her surprise, the short blonde woman was accompanied by VaVa, whose six-foot frame was encased in a Marilyn Monroe classic; a blue and white dress with a bolero jacket and an exaggerated bow on one hip.

Mandy threw her arms around Ava even as VaVa clucked disapprovingly, eyeing Ava’s outfit of black yoga pants and loose white t-shirt. The queen’s hand reached out and flicked the ends of Ava’s hair, which were now long enough to brush her shoulders. Normally, she would have taken a pair of scissors to it by now, but she didn’t even know where to find a pair in Amythyst’s house.

“Oh, honey, I’m so glad we finally get to do something with this hair,” VaVa took hold of Ava’s shoulders and spun her around, marching her back into the house. She towered over Ava in her six inch heels, and for once Ava felt small, until she looked down and saw the top of Amanda’s head leaning against her own bicep.

“Yes!” Amanda chirped gleefully as VaVa closed the door behind them. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages.” She held up a bag from a high-end makeup brand. “Our ‘friend’ even sent me some money so I could get new cosmetics for you. I got a couple of colors of foundation, since I wasn’t sure which-”

Ava cut her off before she could work herself up any further. “Mandy! I really appreciate it. Really.” She tried to smile as Mandy’s face fell. “But if I have to do this, I just want something basic.” She thought back to what Amythyst had said. “Mascara, eyeshadow, and lip gloss. That’s it.”

VaVa looked back and forth from Amanda’s crestfallen expression to Ava’s stubborn one. “Mm mm, you two are too cute.” She looked around, brow lifting as she took in the bisected furniture. “There is a story here, but for right now, show me to the bathroom.” She lifted the bag she was holding. “Mandy may be here for the makeup, but, honey, I am here for that hair.”

The bag turned out to contain a multitude of scissors, razors, and other haircutting paraphernalia. Once VaVa had everything arrayed on the counter in the bathroom, she turned a critical eye on Ava, who was sitting on a kitchen chair in the center of the room.

“It has to be professional,” Ava said nervously as VaVa combed her fingers through the platinum blonde locks.

The queen sighed. “Oh, I know. I’d love to give you a pixie with an undercut. It would bring out those fabulous cheekbones and those eyes.” She rolled her own chocolate brown ones, which were emphasized with long false lashes and perfectly applied makeup, as usual.

“But, since we have to keep you mainstream,” she wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste, “we’ll go with a classic pixie with some side-swept bangs. I’ll leave you some styling foam, a round brush, and a blowdryer, because I know you don’t have them.” She picked up a hair of scissors and snicked them, smiling in satisfaction. “Now, don’t move.”

Ava didn’t move. She held still for the cut, the lesson in styling her newly shorn hair, which was surprisingly simple, and then Amanda’s makeup tutorial. Ava had used makeup occasionally in high school, but since she hadn’t dated and had only gone to a few dances with friends, it had never been something she paid much attention to. When she started working at VaVa’s, someone usually helped her, and there wasn’t time to really learn anything, even if she’d cared enough to listen.

Now, though, she focused on the discussion between VaVa and Amanda as they discussed how to achieve a ‘natural look’ that required an amazing number of little containers of pigments, creams, and powders. Ava once again put her foot down when it came to foundations and ‘contouring’, insisting that she wasn’t going to do all that, and Mandy sadly put half of her little treasures back into the bag, muttering about how she should have kept the receipt.

They compromised on shaping and filling Ava’s brows, and VaVa showed her how to flick her eyeliner into a perfect little wing. There was a great deal of laughter over her first attempts, and by the end, even Ava was chuckling. The tinted lip gloss was accompanied by a subtle lip liner, and the mascara was darker and thicker than Ava would have chosen, making her pale, mismatched eyes the focus of her face.

When they were done, Ava looked into the mirror and saw… not a magazine model, but someone with a more unusual bone structure that had been played up and turned from what she’d always seen as harsh angles into a striking and even attractive appearance. This wasn’t one of the heavy looks she wore at work, which were practically theatrical makeup, but a subtle highlighting of her best features, and downplaying of the worst.

“Oh,” she said, lifting a hand to the elegant sweep of her eyebrows. They’d always been too straight and too thick, but a few minutes of plucking and waxing had turned them into an asset.

Amanda smiled, pleased with the reaction. “I kept telling you, you only needed a few little tweaks. You’re pretty without doing anything,” she rolled her eyes in faux jealousy, “but with this, even when you haven’t done your hair or makeup, you can really see just how gorgeous you are. Honestly, we barely did anything.”

VaVa shook her head. “Speak for yourself, Miss Thing. Did you see that hair?” She turned a castigating look on Ava. “We are not going to cut our hair with nail scissors any more, yes?”

Ava made a face, but nodded. “Yes, VaVa,” she said, obediently.

VaVa snapped her fingers. “Now that is the right answer.” She began gathering her things back into her bag, though she left a hair dryer, a few brushes and combs, and some styling products out. “These are for you.” She pinched her mouth and stared Ava down when she tried to protest. “These are for you,” she said again. “I don’t care if you only use them once a week, honey, you need to have them. Looking good is a weapon and a defense, and how you present yourself is how other people are going to judge you. You may not like it. Hell, I may not like it, but people are shallow, and that’s how the world works.”

Reaching out, she gathered Ava into her strong embrace. “Now, some of us have to get to work,” she gave Amanda a meaningful look before turning back to Ava, “but you stay in contact. I bought a dress last week that you would slay in, and I’m holding one until you come pick it up.”

As quickly as they had shown up, the two bustled out again, though not without several more hugs from Amanda. Even though Alpha and Tess played together almost every day now, it was different getting together in real life, and when the door finally shut behind the two, Ava had to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, then run back to the bathroom to make sure she hadn’t smudged her makeup.

She hadn’t, but she found herself caught by the mirror, staring at her own face again. Amanda was right. They really hadn’t done much. Most of the changes were subtle, and she knew she could repeat the process in less than ten minutes. Her hair was the most obvious difference, with the new shape bringing out her high cheekbones and softening the harsh lines of her jaw.

“You look amazing,” Amythyst said quietly from behind her.

Ava whirled, heat filling her cheeks as she realized that she was no longer alone. She’d never spent much time looking at herself, and when she did, it was never with admiration. She was thoroughly embarrassed to have been caught doing so now.

Amythyst offered her a quirky smile; mostly pleased, but with a hint of sadness. “You look like you’re ready to fly the nest. No more days spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and throwing popcorn for B.T. to clean up.”

Ava shrugged stiffly. “Isn’t that the point? I have to get this job, get inside Carl Landon’s fortress, and save the sleeping princess, right? The last few weeks have just been building up to what comes next.”

The AI nodded. “That’s right. I know. But I… enjoyed it. Spending time with you.”

If possible, Ava’s cheeks flushed even hotter, and she looked away from the searching green eyes. “Yeah. Me too. It was nice.”

Nice didn’t even begin to cover it, and a million words hung in the silence until Ava finally said, “How will I get to the interview tomorrow? What do I need to know before I go in?”

Amythyst’s gaze lost that questioning spark, and she settled down to business. “Come out to the living room. I have some practice interview questions and videos. You’re going to blow them away.” The AI vanished from the bathroom wall, and Ava leaned over to rest her forehead on the cool plastic countertop.