Split Victory

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

“Hyperextended in the AAA finals,” Jade sighed, balancing her weight. “They had to carry me off like a sack of flour. Totally embarrassing. But hey, now I’m a scout. I didn't see your name on the NAMASA roster, T-Bird.”

“Late entry. Jen thought I needed to ‘expand my horizon’ beyond the TKD bubble.” Tiffani glanced at the gold ‘NAMASA #1’ pin on Jade’s jacket. It caught the fluorescent light with a mocking glint. “The 2028 Olympics are the goal,” Tiffani said softly, her eyes drifting to the crowd. “But the noise, the drama about trans girls on the mat. NAMASA is already rattling the cage, Jade. I don't know if I can hold the mask for four more years.”

Chapter 6

The crowds were back, and the atmosphere had turned up a notch. This all made me feel alive. There were hundreds of fans here today to see us play. The other three doubles teams were specialists, while the other six singles players were all highly ranked. I knew that Tony was right, there would be no shame going down today, but we had worked hard enough to give it a good go.

Rain was pouring down as Vienna and Diana dashed out of their rented house and into the waiting car. The overcast skies and the approaching dusk hid their activities very well.

“Get in the back,” said the driver, who had identified himself as Bob Harrington.

The Dead Pixel Society

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

The character I dreamt of that night was one of the many not-quite-human species my wild childhood imagination had invented during the period after I had learned how sex works and was imagining other ways that it could work. Aries was not the ram from the zodiac, but a member of a species called the Sea Men. The pun on semen wasn’t intended at the time I named these people. They’re actually based on the seahorse!

Back in the lab. Seo-yeon does the blood draw at my desk — tourniquet, vein located without hesitation, needle in. Three vials, labeled in her handwriting, coat pocket. She doesn't look at me while she does any of this. The mode she uses when she's already three steps ahead and the thing in front of her is a procedure rather than a problem.

Then she says: "The server."

I know what she means. I know what we're about to do.

Chapter Five
Banquet of Broken Dreams

The six weeks expire. He calls Hale directly.

Hale answers on the second ring with the ease of a man who expected this call. "When can you start?"

He starts on a Monday.

The elevator doors slide open to a hum of keyboards and the sharp, citrus bite of cleaning products. Caden adjusts the strap of his laptop bag — too loose now, the leather sagging where his shoulder has narrowed — and follows Hale past rows of identical standing desks. Faces glance up, then away. A few hands pause mid-keystroke.

Part of them getting to know each other was talking about how they looked and what style of clothes they liked.

It turned out that Diana was just half a size larger than Vienna, so she was able to wear at least some of the latter’s clothes. They both agreed that it would be fun to dress up in the evenings.

The Dead Pixel Society

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

He barreled through the extremely heavy door without a second thought.

The character in my dreams was not as common as Nancy or Victoria, but I was still quite familiar with her. Mona was a witch, a sorceress, whatever. A woman who did magic using a magic wand.

Chapter 8: At the Threshold

Morning arrived softly at the Temple of Aphrodite.

Hood up. Hair bundled underneath it, more or less contained. The sweatshirt is the largest I own and it reaches mid-thigh and in the elevator to the lab I stand with my face down and the hood forward.

I get to my desk before anyone else. This was the plan.

I open the overnight logs and they are good — rabbit's margins holding, pathway data clean, projection unchanged — and I focus on this and not on the fact that I am sitting in a laboratory in November in sandals and a hoodie like someone who has not quite finished becoming a person.

Good morning.

"Morning."

One

This time, Samantha announced her arrival by knocking on the door after she opened it. “Good morning, Sandy. Did you sleep well?” She bent down to pick something up from the carpet. “How did this thing get here?”

Sandy looked at her through bleary eyes. He felt drained, and his body ached as if he had the flu.

“How did what thing get where?” he croaked.

She held up a large black feather. “I think it’s from one of those rooks from around here,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Nasty birds.”

Split Victory
©2026 Zoë Taylor

14 year old Tiffani and her identical twin Morgan were both assigned male at birth, but due to an unusual intervention, they were separated and raised in vastly different lives. While Tiffani was allowed to simply exist, following her dreams of studying Taekwondo at a prestigious global academy, her long lost twin brother Morgan found himself under the oppressive shadow of his stepfather, billionaire playboy John Roth.

But now, Tiffani has left the singular world of Taekwondo tournaments behind to join the global world rankings of the North American Martial Arts Sports Association, she and her long lost sibling are put on a collision course that was never meant to happen, and along the way they'll unravel a mystery that's bigger than the both of them.

Monday morning. The soreness is there when I wake - interior, a tenderness that locates itself when I move. I lie there for a moment taking stock of it, and then I get up.

Downstairs Emily is at the sink, her back to me. She turns when she hears me and her face has something in it - a careful stillness, the effort of someone holding their expression steady over something else. The coffee is already made. She pours me a cup without speaking and then turns back to the sink and grips the edge of it with both hands and breathes slowly through her nose.