Bill didn’t doubt Skaggs had no use for education. “Since you don’t care, I’ll just write it anyway.”

“Yeah, well if I write enough about you, maybe you won’t get any credit for being here at all.

That happened a few missions back. Some longhaired college type came back and got arrested for not paying his student loans. Seems he wasn’t taking his research duties on the ship seriously enough.”

“Get out of my room,” Bill said.

***

Bill sat on a boulder that served as the front stoop for the church of Jugtown and played

“Foggy Mountain Breakdown.”

Old Earl rested beside him and did her best to keep up with the hambone that Bill had taught her. She did not have the energy of her younger self. She slapped her hands against her legs and chest, trying to maintain the beat of the tune, but it wasn’t as good as a few days before.

A young boy stopped in front of Earl and clicked his tongue and made a sound like a long low belch.

Earl clucked back and nodded.

The boy marched into the church and sat cross-legged. He picked up a gourd and blew into it, making a high pitched squeak.

Then with increased speed the boy picked up gourd after gourd, blowing into each one, making a range of sounds. The boy was playing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.”

When Bill switched chords, the boy followed. It was a jam session. And then the boy started to lead, jumping quickly from chord to chord, almost too fast for Bill. The notes were strange, but deep in the music’s roots.

Bill wondered what it would be like to listen to music with elfen ears like the Carnegians. How much fuller and richer it must sound.

Like most banjo pickers, Bill played fast, because the plucky notes faded quickly with little resonance. One had to be replaced by another or there would be a break in the song. The noise of the gourds lingered, creating a rich tapestry of sound.

Finally Bill had to rest. He put the banjo on his lap and wiped sweat off his brow. He laughed. “What a hootenanny!” He ran up to the boy and stuck out his hand. “Nice playing, son.”

The boy stood up and walked away.

“That boy’s got some talent,” Bill said to Earl. “I didn’t know y’all could play.”

Earl smiled. “That boy is the oldest among us.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Bill whispered. “How old are you, Earl.”

Earl picked up the banjo and strummed it gently. “Old enough to know it would not be unjust for me to die in this form. I have lived several lives, far longer than I should.” She crinkled her nose. “A storm is coming.”

Bill looked up at the sky. Today there was not much fog, just blazing sun. He could see no clouds, just brilliant blue. “It looks fine.”

She pointed. “There.”

Bill squinted. He could see the faintest hint of color on the horizon. Tiny pops of red and blue and green shot up into the sky, like sparks from a burning log. The flashes were growing.

The storm must be coming closer. Bill pointed to the communal building behind them. “Should we go inside?”

“Return to your ship. Unless you want to switch. You might end up like me.”

Bill grabbed the banjo and ran onto the pathway.

***

A football field’s length from the ship, Skaggs blocked Bill’s way. He held a laptop. “Thought you might be coming back, you son of a bitch.”

Bill panted. “We need to get on the ship. It’s not safe out here.”

“Yeah, I know all about the electromagnetism. Captain ordered us all on board. Like I give a crap what a Captain has to say.”

The sky was a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors that seemed to push the extremes of the spectrum. Ocean blue. Sapphire. Blood red. “I don’t have time for this.” Bill tried to step around

Skaggs.

The Galactic stooge stepped in front of him. “I’m been looking at your report.”

A flash of indigo lightning pierced the jungle. “Give me back my laptop,” Bill demanded.

Skaggs taunted him by holding it over his head. “Can’t say I like what you wrote about

me.”

The sky was a montage of dancing colors. Trees as tall as skyscrapers swayed. “I don’t care what you think,” Bill yelled over the roar of the wind.

“You ain’t gonna ruin my rep, pal.” Skaggs heaved the computer against some rocks. The device cracked. Skaggs grabbed it before Bill could get to it. He smashed it several times.

Bill knew the machine was useless. Without his notes, he couldn’t get student loan forgiveness. “Bastard!”

Skaggs smirked. “Guess you’ll be going to jail, pal.”

Bill wanted to hit Skaggs. Before he could do anything he heard a loud crack of thunder. The sky filled with a blinding tangerine light. Then he was overcome with nausea. He blacked out.

He woke up and saw himself. He must be dead. But he felt queasy and his head ached worse than a hangover after a college drinking binge. Dead people couldn’t feel pain, could they? God, he hoped not.

He stood up on wobbly legs.

He saw his body move.

Looking down, Bill realized the storm had affected him. He was in Skaggs’s body. Which could only mean Skaggs was in his. “Skaggs, you okay?” Bill called out.

Bill’s old body groaned.

***

Bill leaned back in the leather chair in Skaggs’s quarters and played “The Ballad of Jed Clampett.” His fingers still hurt. It would take him a few weeks to build up the calluses that experienced banjo players needed. It would take many months to work off Skaggs’ sizable gut.

The airlock hissed. Beth entered.

“I didn’t know you played the banjo.”

Bill grinned in his new body.

“I’m pickin’ it up.”

“Isn’t that Bill’s banjo?’

Bill put the instrument down. “I bought it from him.” When he realized he and Skaggs might never switch back he had arranged for Galactic to give his old body a share of the bonus.

Then he had paid off all his student loans with Skaggs’ money.

Beth sighed. “I guess he doesn’t want it anymore. The professor still says he’s you. That you stole his body.”

Bill felt sorry for Skaggs. He didn’t ask to switch bodies, but there was no reasoning with him. Skaggs just threatened Bill every time they spoke. “It’s really sad.”