A constant reminder of her inventor father’s genetics and inventions was a double blip in a near perfect existence: stubby thumbs and virtual keyboards, a devil’s dance indeed.
She had grown to accept that Jims would always become Kims and Kims would be Jims. Her failure rate was quite dismal.
Oh, but she had a plan, for this was not the life she wanted. She began to befriend only Jims and Kims– and then added the quirk of always intentionally typing the opposite of who she was actually with, which approach bumped her odds to a middle ground 50/50– but this only made her imagine two thumbs half full of potential– again, no way to exist. Then an idea revealed then sparked then morphed into a hyper vigilance as she searched for the ultimate golden calf, yes, the elusive hemaphrodite. Yes! She could win this with the great golden god Kim Jim.
She was obsessed, reading, searching: where is my Kim Jim?
Friends fell away, exhausted by her thumb-centric monologues.
She began having walking dreams of temples in fog where the great Kim Jim was real. This god of halfway could only exist in a world with stubby thumbs and virtual keyboards, she was sure.
She remembered little girl stories in unidentified adult voices, books illustrated in colors unreproducible… It was all coming together– yes! It was one of Uncle Zeeb’s awesome bedtime stories–for God’s sake, he once shook the Pope’s hand. He wouldn’t lie about this.