"No," Dr. Russell said. "Not exactly. The DNA has been heavily modified. You can see the most obvious difference—your new body's skin."

I looked back over and realized that in the shock of seeing a younger version of me, I missed a rather obvious and glaring difference.

"He's green," I said.

"You're green, you mean," Dr. Russell said. "Or will be in about five minutes. So that's one 'how' question. The second one is, How do you get me into there?" He pointed to my green-skinned doppelganger. "And the answer to that is, we're transferring your consciousness."

"How?" I asked.

"We take the representation of brain activity that's tracked by your sensor array and send it—and you—over there," Dr. Russell said. "We've taken the brain pattern information we've collected over the last couple of days and used it to prepare your new brain for your consciousness, so when we send you over, things will look familiar. I'm giving you the simplified version of things, obviously; it's vastly more complicated. But it'll do for right now. Now, let's get you plugged in."

Dr. Russell reached up and began to maneuver the crèche's arm over my head. I started to move my head away, so he stopped. "We're not putting anything in this time, Mr. Perry," he said. "The injector cap has been replaced with a signal amplifier. There's nothing to worry about."

"Sorry," I said, and moved my head back into position.

"Don't be," Dr. Russell said, and fit the cap over my skull. "You're taking this better than most recruits. The guy before you screamed like a pig and fainted. We had to transfer him over unconscious. He's going to wake up young and green and very, very disturbed. Trust me, you're a doll."

I smiled, and glanced over to the body that would soon be me. "Where's his cap?" I asked.

"Doesn't need one," Dr. Russell said, and began tapping his PDA. "Like I said, this body's been heavily modified."

"That sounds ominous," I said.

"You'll feel differently once you're inside." Dr. Russell finished playing with his PDA and turned back to me. "Okay, we're ready. Let me tell you what's going to happen next."

"Please," I said.

He turned the PDA around. "When I press this button"—he indicated a button on the screen—"your sensor array will begin transmitting your brain activity into the amplifier. Once your brain activity is sufficiently mapped, I'll connect this crèche to a specialized computer bank. At the same time, a similar connection will be opened to your new brain over there. When the connections check out, we'll broadcast your consciousness into your new brain. When the brain activity takes hold in your new brain, we'll sever the connection, and there you are, in your new brain and body. Any questions?"

"Does this procedure ever fail?" I asked.

"You would ask that question," Dr. Russell said. "The answer is yes. On rare occasions something can go wrong. However, it's extremely rare. I've been doing this for twenty years—thousands of transfers—and I've lost someone only once. The woman had a massive stroke during the transfer process. Her brain patterns became chaotic and consciousness didn't transfer. Everyone else made it through fine."

"So as long as I don't actually die, I'll live," I said.

"An interesting way to put it. But yes, that's about right."

"How do you know when consciousness has transferred?"

"We'll know it through here"—Dr. Russell tapped the side of his PDA—"and we'll know it because you'll tell us. Trust me, you'll know when you've made the transfer."

"How do you know?" I asked. "Have you ever done this? Been transferred?"

Dr. Russell smiled. "Actually, yes," he said. "Twice, in fact."

"But you're not green," I said.

"That's the second transfer. You don't have to stay green forever," he said, almost wistfully. Then he blinked and looked at his PDA again. "I'm afraid we have to cut the questions short now, Mr. Perry, since I have several more recruits to transfer after you. Are you ready to begin?"

"Hell no, I'm not ready," I said. "I'm so scared my bowels are about to cut out."

"Then let me rephrase," Dr. Russell said. "Are you ready to get it over with?"

"God, yes," I said.

"Then let's get to it," Dr. Russell said, and tapped the screen of his PDA.

The crèche gave a slight thunk as something physically switched on inside it. I glanced over to Dr. Russell. "The amplifier," he said. "This part will take about a minute."

I grunted acknowledgment and looked over to my new me. It was cradled in the crèche, motionless, like a wax figurine that someone had spilled green coloring into during the casting process. It looked like I did so long ago—better than I did, actually. I wasn't the most athletic young adult on the block. This version of me looked like he was muscled like a competitive swimmer. And it had a great head of hair.

I couldn't even imagine being in that body.

"We're at full resolution," Dr. Russell said. "Opening connection." He tapped his PDA.

There was a slight jolt, and then it suddenly felt like there was a big, echoey room in my brain. "Whoa," I said.

"Echo chamber?" Dr. Russell asked. I nodded. "That's the computer bank," he said. "Your consciousness is perceiving the small time lag between there and here. It's nothing to worry about. Okay, opening connection between the new body and the computer bank." Another PDA tap.

From across the room, the new me opened his eyes.

"I did that," Dr. Russell said.

"He's got cat's eyes," I said.

"You've got cat's eyes," Dr. Russell said. "Both connections are clear and noise-free. I'm going to start the transfer now. You're going to feel a little disoriented." A PDA tap—

—and I fell

waaaaaaaaaaaaay down

(and felt like I was being pressed hard through a fine mesh mattress)

and all the memories I ever had hit me in the face like a runaway brick wall

              one  clear  flash  of  standing  at  the  altar

                watching  kathy  walk  down  the  aisle

                  seeing  her  foot  catch  the  front  of  her  gown

                    a  small  stutter  in  her  step

                      then  she  corrected  beautifully

                        smiled  up  at  me  as  if  to  say

                          yeah  like  that's  going  to  stop  me

*another flash of kathy where the hell did i put the vanilla and then the clatter of the mixing bowl hitting kitchen tile*

(god damn it kathy)

And then I'm me again, staring into Dr. Russell's room feeling dizzy and looking straight at Dr. Russell's face and also the back of his head and thinking to myself, Damn, that's a neat trick, and it seems like I just had that thought in stereo.

And it hits me. I'm in two places at the same time.

I smile and see the old me and the new me smile simultaneously.

"I'm breaking the laws of physics," I say to Dr. Russell from two mouths.

And he says, "You're in."

And then he taps that goddamned PDA of his.

And there's just one of me again.

The other me. I can tell because I'm no longer staring at the new me anymore, I'm looking at the old me.

And it stares at me like it knows something truly strange has just happened.

And then the stare seems to say, I'm no longer needed.

And then it closes its eyes.

"Mr. Perry," Dr. Russell said, and then repeated it, and then lightly slapped me on the cheek.

"Yes," I said. "I'm here. Sorry."

"What's your full name, Mr. Perry?"

I thought about it for a second. Then, "John Nicholas Perry."

"What's your birthday?"

"June tenth."

"What was the name of your second-grade teacher?"