The City Who Cried

This is fan fiction that takes place in the "Ship who sang" universe created by Anne McCaffery. I look forward to seeing what people think

I am a city.

Okay, so I’m not the streets, or the buildings, or the people. But I have the last say in a lot of what happens here - everything from traffic lights to dispatching emergency crews to dealing with garbage are under my control.

It hadn’t always been the case.

I was born human, but badly damaged - so badly, they had little choice but to put me in the “shell” program, a way to hook up a human to mechanical frame called a shell. I went to a special school where other “shell-persons” and I were taught how to use our shells, as well as more mundane things like language and maths.

One of my “classmates” was named Helva, and she became one of the most famous shell-persons of all time, as she was placed in control of a starship and became known as “the ship who sings”. But I’d like to think that even if I’m not a famous, I do a pretty good job.

Sometimes, she still visits my city, and if she’s in the right mood, she’ll even sing for me.

Not that I have a lot of time for songs, as my job keeps me pretty busy.

Which is probably a good thing.

Because thinking about other things can be a bad idea.

See, most shell-people dont think about their actual bodies much, or at all. We are ... encouraged to forget that behind our titanium shells there is a body, that we are something other than the shells and the systems they are hooked up to.

But I’m ... a little different.

Because besides all the other things I had wrong with my body, I had one nobody could see at the time.

My body, as twisted as it was, is male, and my soul, my sense of self, however you want to say it, is female.

And there’s nothing I can do about it.

So I keep busy and try not to think about it

Doesn’t always work.

But I keep going anyway.

Up until a short time ago, I’ve never told anybody about my problem. I’ve always been afraid they would decide I’m so broken I can’t be trusted with my job.

But recently I managed to find someone I could trust to talk to.

Helva, “the ship who sings” herself.

I cant even describe how much of a relief it is to talk to someone about this.

It all happened a week ago ...

Helva had arrived at my city’s spaceport, and once the day’s bustle slowed down, I risked having a conversation with her after listening to her talk about her new “brawn” which is how the men and women who partner with ships like Helva are called.

Helva had some bad luck with her brawn partners - the first one died on her, another was a complete jerk, another was mentally scarred. But she’s hit the jackpot with her latest brawn. He’s smart, kind, ... and he loves Helva.

That’s kinda outside the rules, but I think it works in this case. The two of them make a stronger team because of the love they share.

Knowing she’s not always a follower of the rules helped me take the chance on telling her.

I waited until her “brawn” had gone into the city, and then contacted her.

As always, she was singing.

“I like that song.” I said.

“Thanks, Harry. What’s up?”

‘i ... got a problem. I don’t know if anybody can help, but maybe it would do me good to talk about it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Me. I’m wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shell people are not supposed to think about their physical bodies.”

“That’s right.”

“But I have been.”

“But ... why?”

I sighed.

“It’s hard to explain. But I think that in some fundamental part of me, I’m a girl. But I can never be seen as one.”

For a while afterward, there was silence.

Then Helva said, “When I first decided I wanted to sing, someone might have told me it was impossible. Yet I found a way. Can you find a way to be seen as a girl? What makes me a girl that you can’t do?”

Her saying that cut through my pity-party and got me thinking like a shell-person again.

“I ... could just ask them to call me by a female name? Use female pronouns?”

“You certainly could.”

“But would they do it?”

“They might. I mean, its not like its a big deal. You’re just asking for a little kindness, a little respect, and it really costs them nothing to do so. Plus, I’ll add my voice to yours.”

“You ... will?”

“Why wouldn’t I? But you better have a female name ready if you want them to take you seriously.”

“Any ideas?”

“Well, what about Hilda? Then we’d be like sisters.”

“That sounds ... wonderful.”

Then I “felt” a buzz that told me there was a situation in the city I had to take care of, so I said to Helva “I got to go, but I’ll definitely tell them I want them to call me Hilda the first chance I get.”

“Good luck.”

I was busy the rest of the day, but finally I was able to send a message to Central that I wanted to talk to someone, and the hardest conversation of my life followed.

What made it go at all was Helva chiming in, and she even got her brawn to speak on my behalf as well.

And yesterday, I got the news - as of today, I’m Hilda, and female, as far as Central Worlds is concerned.

Its just about impossible how good that makes me feel. Yeah, I will never be a pretty girl or wear dresses, but those are not the things that make a girl anyway.

Being a girl is about what’s in your heart and mind.

Although it does feel good to be acknowledged and treated as one too.

So if you’re in the neighborhood, come check out my city.

This girl will do her best to make sure you enjoy your stay ...

End.