Uglies

  Tally turned her interface ring to bring up a menu on the wallscreen, and blinked her way through a set of eyemouse choices. The screen's camera flickered with laser light, and a green grid sprang up on Shay's face, a field of tiny squares imposed across the shape of her cheekbones, nose, lips, and forehead.
  Seconds later, two faces appeared on the screen. Both of them were Shay, but there were obvious differences: One looked wild, slightly angry; the other had a slightly distant expression, like someone having a daydream.
  “It's weird how that works, isn't it?” Tally said. “Like two different people.”
  Shay nodded. “Creepy.”
  Ugly faces were always asymmetrical; neither half looked exactly like the other. So the first thing the morpho software did was take each side of your face and double it, like holding a mirror right down the middle, creating two examples of perfect symmetry. Already, both of the symmetrical Shays looked better than the original.
  “So, Shay, which do you think is your good side?”
  “Why do I have to be symmetrical? I'd rather have a face with two different sides.” [...]
  “I hate my right side. I always start with the left.”
  “Yeah, well, I happen to like my right side. Looks tougher.”
  “Okay. You're the boss.”
  Tally blinked, and the right-side face filled the screen.
  “First, the basics.” The software took over: The eyes gradually grew, reducing the size of the nose between them, Shay's cheekbones moved upward, and her lips became a tiny bit fuller (they were already almost pretty-sized). Every blemish disappeared, her skin turning flawlessly smooth. The skull moved subtly under the features, the angle of her forehead tilting back, her chin becoming more defined, her jaw stronger.
  When it was done, Tally whistled. “Wow, that's pretty good already.”
  “Great,” Shay groaned. “I totally look like every other new pretty in the world.”
  “Well, sure, we just got started. How about some hair on you?” Tally blinked through menus quickly, picking a style at random. [...]
  “Hey, Squint,” Shay said. “Whose face is this, anyway?”
  “Just playing,” Tally said. “You want to take a shot?”
  “No, I want to go hoverboarding.”
  “Sure, great. But first let's get this right.”
  “What do you mean 'get it right.' Tally? Maybe I think my face is already right!”
  “Yeah, it's great.” Tally rolled her eyes. “For an ugly.”
  Shay scowled. “What, can't you stand me? Do you need to get some picture into your head so you can imagine it instead of my face?”
  “Shay! Come on. It's just for fun.”
  “Making ourselves feel ugly is not fun.”
  “We are ugly!”
  “This whole game is just designed to make us hate ourselves.”
  Tally groaned and flopped back onto her bed, glaring up at the ceiling. Shay could be so weird sometimes. She always had a chip on her shoulder about the operation, like someone was making her turn sixteen.
  “Right, and things were so great back when everyone was ugly. Or did you miss that day in school?”
  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shay recited. “Everyone judged everyone else based on their appearance. People who were taller got better jobs, and people even voted for some politicians just because they weren't quite as ugly as everybody else. Blah, blah, blah.”
  “Yeah, and people killed one another over stuff like having different skin color.” Tally shook her head. No matter how many times they repeated it at school, she'd never really quite believed that one. “So what if people look more alike now? It's the only way to make people equal.”