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Lester peeled his eyes open. He felt like he hadn’t slept for days and his eyes stung like hell. He also felt an immediate craving for something, a strong physical need, although what for he could not tell. It took him a few moments to remember where he was.
“Barkley you con-artist!” he yelled suddenly sitting bolt upright. As soon as his did his brain overloaded and he slumped over sideways, unconscious.
The second time he regained consciousness his head was at a strange angle looking at the floor. He wondered if he had been dreaming. He tried to move his right arm only to feel it was stuck under the weight of his torso, pinned against the side of the procedure chair. He tried shifting his body weight to get a better view of where he was, but found that he could freely sit up without much effort.
His brain started to overload again and he felt dizzy, but this time there was an element of pure ecstasy as he realised why it was happening. He had a new body!
The door to the room opened and for the first time in his life Lester watched someone walking towards him at a normal angle. His natural tendency was to tilt his head, but he resisted. It was Barkley and he walked directly over to Lester and slapped him firmly, but not violently, on the side of the face.
“Wakey wakey Mr White, the more you resist fading out the quicker this will pass. Your brain is still trying to adjust.”
“Where is Mr Black?” asked Lester, even the act of moving his tongue so rapidly and easily to form words made him giddy.
“That’s none of your business. All you need to worry about is getting your arse out of my store as soon as possible. You have an hour to get yourself through the transfer sickness before I throw you out into the street.”
The next hour was a collage of sensory overload and endorphins racing about in Lester’s brain. Eventually however his mind was able to assimilate all of the new wonders of a functional body. When he finally stood up from the chair and took his first steps he could not help but scream at the tops of his lungs in a sudden outburst of joy and relief. A moment later Barkley came bustling into the room with a sour look on his face.
“If you’re well enough to make that racket you’re well enough to leave.”
“But I’m not ready,” protested Lester.
“You paid for a body swap not a nursemaid Mr White,” said Barkley sternly as he grabbed Lester by the arm and half lead, half dragged him out of the room and out of the door at the end of the corridor that lead into the back alley.
Barkley did not follow Lester outside and he had to prop himself against the wall of the store to stay standing when Barkley let him go. He turned back towards Barkley to plead for more time and was met with a woollen beanie and a small piece of paper that were thrown at him.
“Put that on your head and keep a low profile until your hair grows back and the wounds on your head heal up, unless you want everyone to know you just had an illegal body swap. Go to this address to pick up your new identity.”
Lester fumbled the beanie and the piece of paper. He had to lean hard against the wall and slide slowly to his knees in order to pick them up without falling flat on his face. As he did so the door slammed shut and he was alone in the alleyway. He ran his hand over his freshly shaved head. It was dotted in small bandages where all of the microelectrodes had been inserted directly into his brain to affect the transfer.
Barkley was right; it was a sure fire way to attract attention so he gingerly put on the beanie and pulled it down over his ears. His head hurt like hell and he was exhausted despite his euphoria so he sat without moving for probably another hour.
Finally he was able to rise to his feet again and stagger haphazardly out to the main street. With each new step taken he felt stronger and more in control.
He looked up and down the street and spotted, amongst other things, a barber shop. He rubbed his chin and the rough three day growth was stark contrast to the smooth of his bald head. For the first time since the swap he also noticed how badly he smelled and how furry his teeth felt. His finger nails were well gnawed at and a strange off yellow. His eyes still stung and that strange physical craving he felt in his body was getting worse, like he was desperate for something.
He considered stopping in to get a shave, but decided against it and instead read the address on the piece of paper. It was not far and he decided to walk. It was slow at first, but he did not care, he was walking! Something that he had never dared dream of. The simple art of placing one foot after the other was genuinely wonderful.
By the time he had walked the few blocks he could not repress the grin on his face. He was almost skipping as he came upon the nondescript laundromat. Lester stepped inside and handed the woman at the counter the piece of paper, which was also a laundry ticket.
She was skinny with sour look on her face. She checked something on her computer typing with one hand as she sucked deeply on the cigarette she held in the other. Her eyebrow rose slightly when the number came up.
“Looks like we had a bit of a problem with your suit darl,” she said exhaling smoke as she spoke. “You will have to see the manager in the back about a refund.”
The woman led Lester out into the back of the laundromat to a small office. She opened the door and gestured for him to go inside and sit down. Inside was a small unoccupied desk and one other chair. Lester sat down and waited.
Suddenly there was movement from behind him and before he realised what was happening he was in a choke hold. He struggled hard against his assailant, but the arm around him was huge and firmly locked in place. It was exerting just enough pressure to subdue him without cutting off too much air.
“Well, well, well, Ferret. Barkley wasn’t full of it for a change. He told me you were trying to get out of dodge.”
Lester looked up through his eyebrows to see the source of the voice, his head being on a funny angle due to the grip his assailant had on him. In front of him was a sturdy bald man who was dressed in a luminescent suit and absolutely covered in luminescent tattoos, including a thorough covering across his face.
“I’m not who you think I am,” managed Lester. “Barkley just swapped me into this body, just take off my beanie and you will see.”
The immediate response was derisive laughter and a hard hit into the solar plexus from the man in the suit.
“How stupid do you think we are Ferret? Barkley ain’t got that type of technology, he ain’t nothing but a forger.”
For good measure the bald man ripped off Lester’s beanie and violently tore off the bandages, gouging roughly and intentionally at the wounds as he did so.
“My, he did do a realistic job on you. I bet you paid a lot for that. Tough luck that Barkley owes me quite a lump of cash. Not nearly as much as you owe me though, you thieving little Ferret. Barkley’s all squared away now though by delivering you to me. Now it’s your turn to pay up”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, I’m not Ferret!” cried Lester desperately, pleadingly.
“Last chance Ferret, I want my money or the merchandise you stole!”
“I swear to God I’m not Ferret! My name is Lester! You have to believe me, all I wanted was a chance at a normal life!”
“God? Ain’t no God where you’re going.”
Lester heard, rather than felt, the crack as his neck broke. His last vision as he was dropped back into the chair was everything at a depressingly familiar odd angle.
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