Planet Name, like all other planets, had customs deemed absurd for non-natives. Two of its deceased—Mr. and Mrs. Bender—had named their daughter Gender. She, a straight woman obsessed with the idea of love, dreamed of marrying a man but was too in love with masculinity.

Gender, or Gen as she liked being called, sat on the balcony of a small restaurant a hundred floors high. Her fingers brushed the sides of a beer can, her black eyes gazing at the numerous flying vehicles whooshing by on planet North Star.

She was dressed in her usual young-man outfit: dark-blue jeans; a maroon, long-sleeved shirt; and a black, down vest. Her cropped, ebony hair was spiked up at the front, but her sideburns were a bit too long. They were beginning to curl near the ears; she pulled at the hairs in slight nervousness and anticipation.

"Gen?" a man asked.

She swirled around, and there he was, her handsome blind date possessing broad shoulders, deep eyes, and a masculine yet perfect amount of scruff. Blushing, she imagined his stubble scratching her lips as his tongue plunged into her mouth.

"That's me," she said in a boyish voice as she winked. Then she rebuked herself for coming on too strong. Or, was he fine with it?

He returned a charming smile and slid into the seat across her. His legs spread apart—forming the kind of manspread that if he were next to her on a train, she would have whipped out her plasma pistol and shot him dead.

But right now, oh wow, he was sexy.

And so was his deep voice.

"Sorry I'm late, had business to attend to. I'm honestly surprised about this date." He looked her up and down then nodded. It was creepy, but Gen let it slide because she had done so first.

Wouldn't want to be a hypocrite, she told herself.

She asked, "How so?"

"It was set up by my sister—and I guess your brother too. But my sister is kinda...well, nah. Don't want to ruin the mood."

"C'mon. Take a shot. What about your sister?" Gen took a fake swig of her beer then leaned into the metallic table.

She was a tough lady. Give her a plasma blade, plop her onto some monstrous planet, and she'd live her life contently eating monster meat.

The man frowned. "She's one of those people."

"Those people?"

"Homophobes," he said, voice filled with disgust. "Whenever she hooks me up with someone, it's a woman. And sometimes they're real manly with beards, as if that would attract me."

Ah, there was the caveat, and it did ruin her mood; this man wasn't the one. She'd stay her lonely self.

"So you're gay." She tapped the table.

His brows wrinkled. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"Like gay, gay," Gen said. She rolled her eyes at her brother. How could a super-hacker miss something so basic?

The man blinked; he must have been very confused.

"Gay, as in purely gay, not bisexual," Gen explained.

"You weren't looking for a threesome, were you? I'm not into that." He reached towards the stand holding the salt and pepper shaker to press the button to call the waiter.

Gen grabbed his hand but then released it. His skin was soft and warm, possibly delectable, but he was gay! How could her brother mess up so badly? She had been looking forward to this date.

"That's not necessary," she said. "I'm a gal. Us won't work if you don't like a female package wrapped up in man."

He looked her up and down, and she shifted in her seat. "As in a woman who's had a sex change? I'm fine with that."

"No," she said, "I'm a straight woman, born female and still female. And I like acting like a man. It's...hmm...a habit. That's the simplest way to explain it. Now if you'll excuse me…"

She grabbed her beer, walked up to the pay machine, and scanned her wrist bracelet. The machine beeped, and she swiftly left the restaurant.

Her sneakers echoed throughout the metal stairwell as she headed to the car dock. Before stepping through the exit, she tossed her beer can—still full—into the appropriate bin.

"Wait." The man slammed the door. They stood at the end of the landing.

"Yeah?" she said, raising a brow. Gay men had flirted with her, but once they discovered she was a woman, they left unless they were bisexual. In that case, the man stayed until he found she was a bit too...eccentric.

"You're"—he pulled at his collar—"pretty cute."

Gen shrugged. "No need to force yourself."

He shook his head. "How'd...how'd you like to help me with something?"

"And that would be...?"

He shrugged.

Gen knocked on the exit. "Hey man, if you're not gonna say it, let me be on my way. I've got places to be." Here reminded her too much of failed dates and disappointing men—of days people abandoned you for being you.

He sighed. "There's this guy who might be gay. Don't get me wrong, I'm not interesting in him. He's a friend...sort of...and I'll pay you if you can find out for sure."

She pursed her lips. "Do you hear how crazy you sound? If you're his friend, why do you need me to scope him out?"

"It's for...well I can't tell you. And he's uh...very tight-lipped."

"So?"

"He might hate women."

Gen laughed. "You don't use your brain, do you? A women-hater, and you're sending a woman to spy on him?"

"Oh no, don't spy. You'd be...I don't want to imagine it."

She crossed her arms and leaned against the door. Her gaze grew cold. This guy needed to hurry up and get to the point.

She stared, and he remained silent. His fingers fidgeted, tapping his pocket without pattern.

A girl holding hands with a young man passed them on the stairway. Twice she glanced at Gen. The first was nothing, but Gen sensed a tinge of surprise, maybe even infatuation, within her second gaze.

Gen smiled at the girl, not because she liked her but because she was jealous. The girl blushed, and the young man, who had seen their exchange, narrowed his eyes. He hauled the girl upstairs.

Oopsies, those two will be fighting, Gen thought, but she was not at all sorry for her instigations.

Oblivious to it all, her blind date said, "My sister wants to know if my boss likes women."

"And you want to send me because..."

"You seem ballsy enough to face him."

She scoffed. "Ha! That's hilarious. What made you think I was ballsy? Because I act like a man and wear men's clothing? I'm leaving."

She yanked the door handle, nearly hitting him.

"Wait! Take this. I had wanted your number but..." His words trailed, and he retrieved a white business card from his pocket. "If you ever need the pocket cash, just call me and we'll work out a deal or something."

"Thanks," Gen said, taking the card so he wouldn't chase her. "So you know, my brother lied to you. I do have a phone number, but you don't deserve it."

Satisfied, she strode onto the car dock. The metal planks creaked. Rust had covered the bolts, and the fixture rested at an odd angle, as if it were peeling from the building like an old metal flake. But, it was deceptively tough.

Three hundred years, Gen mumbled. It would last three hundred years. Two hundred if someone tossed a few grenades. And three seconds, if she destroyed it herself.

She zipped the top of her vest, keeping herself warm as a cool breeze brushed by her. The twin moons hung in the sky alongside the sun. They were beautiful, but not as beautiful as her dearest baby.

She stood before a dark-blue, streamlined Nightingale fitted with customized seating and a powerful plasma core. The flying vehicle hovered like some handsome falcon ready to hunt its prey. Orange light emitted from its underside, contrasting yet complementing its midnight paint.

He was her love; her very own Sexy named in honor of both itself and her home planet's tradition of naming things poorly.

Gen pressed a few buttons on her wrist bracelet, and Sexy's door opened. She slid inside, nestling herself at the central driving console. Unlike the vehicles of ancient times, it didn't have a driver's wheel but instead an orb with multiple panels. There were also no seats beside her, and the back seats were situated in the shape of a hook.

Like an ancient limousine, she had told others, but nobody understood her reference. They gave her the same blank stare at the mention of tanks, airplanes, and boats. Only Gen had a fascination with antiquated vehicles.

"It's them who are missing out," she said out loud then shoved her phone into the vehicle slot. Nobody understood her, and at times she felt lonely, so lonely that she had dismantled her vehicle's AI. This had incited bad reviews from her customers, but she had ignored them.

She lived for herself, and when she meets the one, he would love her for who she is. They'd laugh at everyone else.

Gen took a deep breath then hummed to her vehicle's own humming. Her nerves calmed.

"Who shall I fly today?" A smile tugged at her lips, but it didn't match her current outfit. The smile was innocent with a touch of childish optimism.

A girl's smile, not a boy's.

"Will I meet him?" She shrugged then laughed. "Like that's gonna happen. Someone's gonna need some thick tastes and balls of steel to like me."

The app dinged, finding her a rider.

A man named Aether.