I’m suddenly a 40-year old woman in the body of a baby boy. Overnight: the following things are true:
I’m in Japan. My English is borderline-perfect, once my face and throat can express it. It’s okay, I was born to white parents who are English speakers, but they didn’t raise me with English. We’ll see where this goes in my new life.
My wife, who I’ve fallen asleep to every night, is now 3-year old kid in Illinois. I will miss her deeply and I cannot even grieve without arousing suspicion. Her existence at this point in her life is miserable. I know what she’s suffering through and which address she’s suffering at. Even if I went to go see her, she wouldn’t know who I am. I don’t look like me. She also hasn’t met me yet.
I know full well that I’m trans and I know that my mother and father are hostile to such notions, and I know there’s nothing I can even do at that point in time.
Everything I have read, watched, and played doesn’t exist yet. There’s embedded cultural touchstones that I reference that don’t exist yet. I’m also a baby.
Most of my favorite music doesn’t exist yet. I will hum songs by Hitorie, The Beths, South Arcade, Battle Tapes, and Emi Nakamura under my breath decades before they’re written. This is a problem.
The technology I use to make my art doesn’t exist yet. Digital cameras at the turn of the millennium were ass.
I’m still 40. I can’t pursue my hobbies and works. I can’t take pictures (yet). DSLRs don’t exist.
One of my two strokes gets undone. My body moves somewhat easier. However, I still think and interact with the world like I’ve had two.
The house I’m living in now hasn’t been built yet then.
In summary, endless culture shock. I would panic forever. My life would immediately be one of those television shows where suspicion keeps mounting against the main character and there’s jack shit anyone can do to stop it.
I suppose I could tell her that in sixteen years, 9/11 is happening and what transpires, down to Kevin Cosgrove’s phone call. She’d panic and try to contact the feds, and I’d just say that Bush already knows. It’s in the commission report that doesn’t exist yet.
Well it says all skills and memories so just explain it to them and hope for the best!.
Uh hello wifey I’m a talking infant. I guarantee this is weirder for me than it is for you.
Okay you need to understand I just got isekai’d but not in the fun way… you are going to have to teach my parents what isekai is. Then we tell them together.
I’m suddenly a 40-year old woman in the body of a baby boy. Overnight: the following things are true:
In summary, endless culture shock. I would panic forever. My life would immediately be one of those television shows where suspicion keeps mounting against the main character and there’s jack shit anyone can do to stop it.
I suppose I could tell her that in sixteen years, 9/11 is happening and what transpires, down to Kevin Cosgrove’s phone call. She’d panic and try to contact the feds, and I’d just say that Bush already knows. It’s in the commission report that doesn’t exist yet.
That might actually radicalize them…
You are a baby in 2026…
That’s even worse.
I have to relive all my life so far on a planet with worsening climate change? I’d kill myself as soon as possible.
Oh, well then, I’d still be grieving my wife, who doesn’t know where I’m at, and my parents in their seventies will be freaked.
Well it says all skills and memories so just explain it to them and hope for the best!.
Uh hello wifey I’m a talking infant. I guarantee this is weirder for me than it is for you.
Okay you need to understand I just got isekai’d but not in the fun way… you are going to have to teach my parents what isekai is. Then we tell them together.
Edit is italics “for clarity of intent”