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She woke up with a jackhammer headache.
She was no longer in the Switch Chamber. Standard protocol had her moved to her private office to recuperate. Even though she knew this, she still felt disoriented like a patient waking up in post-op.
The Association had learned that an operative seeing their own body with someone else in it immediately upon switching could have a shock factor, and it was better to ease them into it by having them examine their new reality – their new body – before having contact with their switch counterpart.
Jean slowly sat up.
“Here, drink some water,” said Worley, who’d been standing by the door watching over her. “It’s important to stay well-hydrated for the next twenty-four hours.”
He handed her a glass and she took it.
The first thing she noticed was her hand.
It wasn’t hers.
No real surprise there – but it still felt bizarre to see someone else’s hand under her control.
She downed the whole glass, then carefully stood and walked to a full-length mirror. The body in which she now moved felt different, responded differently – like driving someone else’s car. Jamie’s body was a tiny bit taller than Jean’s, and the small difference seemed somehow amplified – like when you step off a one-inch step you didn’t know was there, and it totally throws you off balance.
“How do you feel?” asked Worley.
“Fine,” said Jean, noting how odd it sounded for Jamie’s voice to be speaking her words. “I’ll get used to it.”
“It usually takes a couple hours for mobility, a day or so for complete dexterity, and up to two weeks psychologically,” said Worley. “But you’ll be fine. And this way, you’ll be safe. You’re no longer compromised and you can get on with the case.”
Jean moved close to the mirror and looked in her own eyes – but not her eyes. So strange. She knew she was in there, somewhere. She could feel herself inside this body.
“Oh,” added Worley, “try to take good care of that body. Jamie does want it back, you know.”
“Can I see her?”
“Sure. Let’s go talk to her. You’ll need to do a debrief before continuing anyway. You’re going to be living her life – you should know something about it.”
“And vice versa,” said Jean.
“Well, yeah,” said Worley. “Though she’ll pretty much be laying low until the case is closed. That body – that identity - is still a target.”
“Right.”
Worley escorted Jean down the corridor to another private office, and knocked.
“Come in,” Jean heard her own voice reply through the door.
Worley opened the door and Jean and Jamie just stood there and stared at each other for a few silent moments.
“Come on,” said Worley, “let’s get down to business, there’s no time to waste.”
They sat down across from each other on a set of low, brown leather couches separated by a glass-topped coffee table, and exchanged the basics of their private lives, so they could more easily fit into their cover roles. They’d been fairly good friends in the past, but they hadn’t caught up for several months.
“You’re engaged?” asked Jean, some alarm mixed in with her happiness for Jamie. She didn’t want to have to deal with that.
“Well, yeah,” said Jamie, using Jean’s lips. “We just set a date last week – the wedding is in three months.” She turned to Worley. “And by the way, this case better be wrapped up by then because I do not want Jean in Gavin’s bed on my honeymoon! No offense, Jean.”
“Don’t worry,” said Worley, “I’m sure everything will be wrapped by then, and the two of you will be back in your own bodies.”
“Good,” said Jean, relieved.
“Now listen,” said Worley. “It is absolutely critical that you not reveal to anyone that you’ve been switched. The only people who know are the three of us, my immediate supervisor, and of course Q’Tal. There can be no breaches of security here. It is vital to this case and to the continuing mission of the Association. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” the operatives said together.
“All right, then,” said Worley, standing up. “Jean, it’s time to pick up the trail of our man David Talley. His last known location was a plastic surgeon in San Mateo. We’re certain he’s changed his appearance. You need to lean on the surgeon to provide you the after pictures, and go from there.”
“Okay,” said Jean. “Jamie, I’ll need your purse, your keys, and some of your clothes. And I’ll give you mine.”