Sarah stared in silence at the crowded webpage that filled her laptop’s display. Menus within menus within windows within sections made it a difficult read, all crowded with a clearly function-over-form mentality. The only thing that caught Sarah’s eyes with the slight blue shade to one of the page’s many empty forms.
Please enter the subject’s first and last name (if applicable).
For a moment, Sarah just stared, trying to figure out what sort of sick joke the website would end up being. Or maybe it was something more sinister. Identity theft, building a list of gullible email addresses for later phishing attempts? She wasn’t putting her name in there, that was for sure.
Pausing to glance down at her cat Thomas, who brushed against her leg with a self-satisfied purr, Sarah noticed yet again the scratch running down her right arm. Face shifting from a smile at her cat to a frown at the mark, she found herself once again mentally going over the events that had led to the minor injury. Her crush, Jacob Miller, and an extra ticket to the local university cinema’s anniversary Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind showing. She thought it was a perfect combination, and after a few hours practicing the night before had built up the courage to ask him.
She couldn’t help but tear up at the thought of how he had snapped at her. The look of disgust, the hate that dripped from his voice. It wasn’t like she was having a good day to begin with. She was used to suffering through the usual bullies, but Jacob? She had ran away crying so hard that she may as well have taken off her glasses. She still wouldn't have seen the open locker door that she ran into. The resulting fall had left scrapes and cuts, but as usual the worst injury of the day had nothing to do with her body. Unlike the dull numbness of her arm, the humiliation and regret still stung as clearly and painfully as in the moment.
Sickened self-disgust now turning into cold anger, Sarah entered Jacob Miller into the empty form. To her immense surprise, an unmistakable portrait of her classmate immediately appeared.
She stared at the picture in silence for several moments before drawing her attention to the several new text windows that now even further crowded her screen.
Please select the desired change(s)
A long list of options, phrased as intentions such as “Change subject’s x” or “Remove subject’s x” appeared as she opened the drop-down menu below. Head spinning, she clicked one at random simply to see what would happen.
Change subject’s…
Please describe modification.
Instead of another drop-down menu, there was now another form for her to apparently describe a… modification? Sarah wasn’t sure what that meant, but the thought of changing anything about Jacob filled her with a wicked burst of glee. The first thing would be his precious hair: Jacob cared about his swooped stylish semi-pompadour look more than most girls cared about their own hairstyle.
Change subject’s hair to a buzzcut.
The form turned a pale green. The portrait flashed white and then reappeared, now showing Jacob looking like he had just started bootcamp.
Modification understood. Would you like to make an additional change?
Sarah couldn’t help herself. Despite her surprise at the portrait’s change, she wasn’t reacting in concern but in sheer glee. A grin played at her lips as she continued.
Add to the subject…
Sarah stared at her hands as she thought of something to add to this ridiculous little power fantasy. Immediately her attention was brought to her hello-kitty themed nail art. Jacob had torn into her for her self-described lolita look, calling her immature and even disgusting for her interest in the less-than-typical “pedobait” fashion. With a new burst of fury, Sarah went to work.
Give subject fake nails. The fake nails are long and pink and are glued on. Decorate nails with nail art; bows, hearts, glitter, lace designs, all shades of pink and white.
The new image of Jacob’s undeniably male hands now sporting nail art to make hers seem butch had Sarah laughing hard enough to scare away Thomas. As the form flashed green and the previous question returned, she glanced at the computer clock and sighed. Selecting no at the option for additional changes, she thought about just closing the browser and going to bed when a new section appeared.
Please describe how this changes function:
Who is aware of these changes?
Sarah stared at the text form. What did this even mean? Interested but still tired, she typed in “me”. A new question immediately appeared below.
The subject and all others besides yourself will not notice these changes. Confirm?
Sarah clicked the confirm button, still confused but interested in seeing what would happen next.
Are these changes permanent and impervious to subject’s attempts at self-modification? If not, how long will they be in effect or how may they be removed?
Sarah snickered at the thought of Jacob being stuck with nail art for the rest of his life. “Yes” filled the green-flashing text form.
For additional change function options, select More. If you wish to make this an EZ-Change, select Finish.
Sarah glanced again at the clock. Despite her curiosity, she selected Finish. She would have come back to this after school. Another flash of green.
Do you wish to make these changes irrevocable? WARNING, change and its functions cannot be edited after confirmation.
Sarah was taken aback by the oversized warning that flashed onto the screen. Out of an almost involuntary instinct, she selected No.
These changes have been added to your [MILLER, Jacobs] change library. Thank you for using RealityShift.Net! And now a message from our sponsors.
A tacky fast food ad played as Sarah blinked in surprise. What was this website? And who put all the time and energy into these bizarre systems? It was all so surreal. Sarah closed her laptop and crawled into bed, trying to forget Jacob and everything about him even as she struggled to find some explanation for RealityShift’s apparently nonsensical existence.
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