“What will this accomplish?”

“Astonishingly little, actually. But it makes people feel better about it. Many of these things have to come into play at certain times in the development of the body to have noticeable effect. For instance the brain, left to its own devices, develops a monthly cyclic hormone discharge which then excites the ovaries, in a woman, at monthly intervals, to produce the female harmones which cause them to ovulate. The introduction of androgen, however, makes that part of the brain stem develop differently and the monthly cycle is damped way down. The brain stem is visibly different during dissection—in women, the brain stem is noticeably thicker than in men. But the point is, once this development has occurred and the monthly cycle is surpassed, even if the androgen is discontinued, the brain doesn’t revert back. Things of this sort are very difficult to reverse. They take ten or twelve minutes of bubble—

micro-surgery. But that’s the way we do most of what we do. We try to use clones of your own tissue for whatever has to be enlarged—the uterus masculinus for your uterus; and we take actual germ plasm from your testes and grow-cum-sculpt ovaries from them—which is quite a feat. Have yow ever considered the difference between your reproductive equipment and hers—? Hers is much more efficient. At birth she’s already formed about five hundred thousand eggs, which, through a comparatively nonviolent absorption and generation process, reduces to about two hundred thousand by puberty, each waiting to proceed down into the womb—you know, practically ninety-nine percent of the data about what’s going to happen to ‘you,’ once the father’s genes meet up with the mother’s, is contained in the rest of the egg that’s nonchromosomal. That’s why the egg, compared to the sperm, is so big. You, on the other hand, produce about three hundred million sperm every day, out of which, if you’re prime breeding material, perhaps a hundred or so can actually fertilize anything. The other two hundred million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand and nine hundred are lethal mutations, pure wasted effort, against which the female has an antibody system (fortunately) that weeds the bad ones out like germs. In fact, stimulating this anti-body system further—you have it too—is the basis of our birth control system.” He coughed. “Topologically, men and women are identical. Some things are just larger and more developed in one than the other and positioned differently. But we begin by completing your X chromosomes. I say completing—you mustn’t think I’m catering to some supposed prejudice on your part where, because you want to be a woman, I’m assuming you think men inferior creatures and I’m buttering you up by downgrading—”

“I don’t think men are inferior,” Bron said. “I just want to be a woman. I suppose you’ll tell me that’s a type too.”

The man’s smile drew in just a little. “Yes, Ms Hel-strom, I’m afraid it is. But then, it’s not my place to judge. I’m only here to inform and council. Childbirth is only one of the things that can make a woman’s life more complicated than a man’s—but of course four out of five women today choose not to have children; does childbirth particularly interest you?”

“No.”

“Well, at least you’ll know you’re free to change your mind. Basically, however, you’ll be getting a much better designed, more complicated body. Treat it well, and all will go well with it. Treat it poorly, and, I’m afraid, because it is more complicated, there are more things that can go wrong with it. This can be a problem, especially to an inexperienced woman, a woman like you, Ms Helstrom, who is—how shall I put it? Not to the method born.”

Bron wondered how many times a day he put it exactly like that.

“But I hope you’ll accept the help I can give you, if only the information about the purely biological possibilities.” The man took a breath. “Of course, other methods have been devised for female-to-male transex-uals. But that probably doesn’t interest you ... ?”

“I had a friend,” Bron said. “He ... she ... well, he used to be a woman. Now he’s got a family, and at least one child. How did that come about?”

“Oh, there are quite a number of possibilities.” The man touched fingertips and nodded. “The simplest one, of course, is adoption. Then, there is a complicated process in which the germ plasm is induced to form all-X sperm, similar to the male bird or lizard. Was the child a daughter?”

Bron nodded.

“Then it’s quite possible. But we were talking about you. What would vou like us to do?”

“The whole thing.”

The man drew another breath. “I see.” But he was smiling.

“I want to be genetically, hormonally, physically a woman ...” He found his hands clutching each other. He released them and said, more softly: “Don’t you want to know my reasons?”

If there were a scale of smiles, the one in front of Bron would have dropped a minor second. “Ms Helstrom, we are counselors here—not judges. We assume you have your reasons, that you have worked them out logically to your own satisfaction. I only have information, most of it biological: if this fits with your reasons, fine. If it makes you uncertain about them, by all means take as much time to reconsider as you need; five minutes, five days, five years—if you think it’s necessary.” The man suddenly leaned forward. “Ms Helstrom, it would be completely fatuous of me to pretend I was unaware that, even in this day and age, such a decision as you have made may cause some consternation among one’s co-operative, if not communal, colleagues. It’s hard not to find such consternation upsetting—not to mention those nameless social attitudes that one internalized during a less enlightened youth on a world with a different culture, that are, very often, the same attitudes the dissatisfaction with which prompted one to the decision confronting us now. And while we have our own emotional commitment to bolster us, these external prejudices assail us nevertheless, invariably presenting themselves in the guise of logic. Let me try and offer you some support, Ms Helstrom. Are you by any chance familiar with a current area of computer mathematics called metalogic?”

Bron raised his real eyebrow. “As a matter of fact I am.”

“Thought you might be.” The man’s smile rose a perfect fifth. “Logic can only tell us about the possible relations of elements that are already known. It gives us no tools to analyze any of those elements into more basic knowns or unknowns. It gives us no way to extrapolate about elements outside what we know. Analysis and extrapolation are both accomplished by reasoning—of which logic is only a very incomplete part. The point is, with life enclosed between two vast parentheses of nonbeing and straited on either side by inevitable suffering, there is no logical reason ever to try to improve any situation. There are, however, many reasons of other types for making as many inprovements as you reasonably can. Any reasoning process, as it deviates from strict, deductive logic, is a metalogical one. There is no logical way that you can even know that I am sitting here on the other side of the desk from you, or even that ... well, that there is your own hand. Both could be illusions: we have the technology—downstairs, in the west wing—to produce illusions, involving both belief and knowledge of those beliefs as true, far more complicated than either, by working directly on the brain. What are your social responsibilities when you have a technology like that available? The answer that the satellites seem to have come up with is to try and make the subjective reality of each of its citizens as politically inviolable as possible, to the point of destructive distress—and the destruction must be complained about by another citizen; and you must complain about the distress. Indeed, there are those who believe, down to the bottom of their subjective hearts, that the war we just ...” He coughed: “—won this afternoon was fought to preserve that inviolability. Soldiers or not, I don’t. But basically our culture allows, supports, and encourages behavior that, simply in the streets of both unlicensed and licensed sectors, would have produced some encounter with some restraining institution if they were indulged in on Earth a hundred years ago.” He cocked an eyebrow, let it uncock. “The situation of your life in the world is such that you think it would be better if you were a woman.”