50174-96

In a world where the difference between freedom and captivity was determined by your gender, I was over-the-moon about being chosen to have surgery. Every year, the government gave 18 girls under the age of 23 the chance to have a better future through a major operation: gender reassignment surgery. My name was only in the raffle 5 times, so being chosen was quite a stroke of luck. Being 21, I had a very slim chance of making it to this part, but here I am. Waiting in the glaring silver room of the hospital, I slipped off the long skirt and top that identified me as a woman and putting on non-descript white hospital scrubs. I kissed my mother and father goodbye and I watched tears of joy spring to their eyes. "Good luck, 50174-96" they called as I was whisked away by attendants. 501740-96. My identification number. I was the 50174th female to be born in 1996, and it was the only thing close enough to a name that I could claim. I was known through school as "Five-Oh", and that was the only unique quality I was allowed to possess.

I arrived at another room, and a doctor was there to greet me. He was tall and blonde, holding a clipboard with several sheets of graphs, diagrams, and figures. "Welcome 50174-96. Today must be your lucky day" he grinned and motioned me to a seat. I nodded and kept my mouth shut, as protocol dictated. "You are allowed to speak" he granted the permission with a wave of his hand and slid the clipboard over to me.
"Thank you, Sir" I respond, keeping my eyes away from his direct stare.
"I suppose you have questions?" the doctor asked, folding his hands in his lap and regarded me with a confident smile.
"No Sir"
"As it should be. Here is the paper work you need to fill out" the doctor fished a cheap biro out of his pocket and handed it to me, watching my reaction with amusement. "As a male, you will be filling out all official documents from now on, Five-Oh"

I pick up the pen and look at the document, wide-eyed. Never before had I seen a legal document before, let alone been able to fill one out by myself. It just wasn't the role of the women. The first item was 'Name'. I look up at the doctor in wonder, still avoiding his direct gaze.

"Name, Sir? I get to have a name?" I ask in bewilderment, flinching slightly as he laughs loudly.
"Of course you do Five-Oh. You'll be marrying a lucky lady in 4 years' time. You'll be the head of house, of course you get a name. Any one you choose!" he beckoned to the attendant at the door who held a tray of coffee and biscuits. "You are dismissed" he dismissed the lady, whose nametag read 'Fifteen' with the numbers 88915-64 in brackets. She bowed low and scurried out of the room with a muffled "Thank you Sir. If you need me Sir, just ring". I turn back to the paper and think. The privilege of having a name, something I had only dreamed about for as long as I could remember. I had thought long and hard about what I would have as a name in case I ever got this chance, and I didn't hesitate writing it down. Riley Hoffers.

I filled out the form that defined my new life; my new residence, my sporting team, my preferences for a family and so on. As I reached the section on 'Occupation', the doctor stopped me.

"We looked at your GROE results and sent them to potential employers. The ones that have responded are a banking firm, a politician's office, the police department, or the military. Studying your results more closely, I would recommend the police or the military positions, but it is your choice"

... My choice. Never in my life had I been given such a responsibility. All these opportunities have opened up before me, and I could not be more grateful. There was so much more freedom in being male. No more strict regimes on keeping house. No more rules on how to act in public. Not more restrictions on clothing. It was liberating, and very exciting. I finished the form and handed it back to the doctor, who slipped in under his clipboard and pressed a few buttons in his organizer, so a few moments later, another attendant came rushing forward with an armband.

"Congratulations Miss Five-O" the attendant began to say, before earning a smack to her head.
"YOU DO NOT GET TO ADDRESS THE PATIENT!" The doctor thundered, grabbing the arm of the attendant and throwing her to the floor. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

"Yes" she whimpered, curling in a ball to shield her chest from potential kicks from her employer and averted her eyes away from the gaze of anyone in the room.

"THEN GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU USELESS WOMAN" he bellowed and turned back around to me, a sorry look in his eyes. "So sorry about that Miss Five-Oh. I will deal with the punishments later, but for now, it is time to prepare you for your surgery."

I was lead down a silver steel corridor, my bare feet slapping against the cool metal, and brought into a large operating theatre. The original doctor left and I was immediately surrounded by a swarm of attendants, poking and prodding at my face and hair.

"Five-Oh, I'm sure the process has been explained to you." A kind-faced man took my hands as he spoke to me directly. I nodded and he squeezed my hands lightly in reassurance. "Good. We'll be starting off with facial reconstruction, then moving on to bone structure and fat/muscle distribution. The final part will be the gender reassignment and the hormone injections. You'll be asleep for the entire thing, and we will be keeping you here for the next two weeks."

While he was speaking, three other attendants had shaved my hair into the current trendy hairstyle, and were now prepping the operating equipment. I lay back and a mask was fitted over my mouth and nose, and all I could see was the face of the kind-faced man above me.

"That's it. Breath nice and deep. After this no one can hold you back, Riley Hoffers"