Public Purchase - Part One

 Sitting up in the hospital bed I can't help but forget and shift in place. The sound of my paper gown fills me ear, the subtle beeps from nearby rooms grounding me in the clinical clean environment.

The coarse and crisp sheet shift against my exposed behind, the hairs catching on the material and acting as a constant reminder of just how little the tiny garment I wore really covered.

"Mr. Hughes?" Calls a firm yet warm voice from the doorway into the shared room, the other beds thankfully being empty for the time being.

My gaze snaps to the dark-skinned man standing by the doorway, his hand knocking at the frame in lieu of any real door to tap at. The man, in his late thirties, stands dressed in a pair of green scrubs beneath a practically glowing white lab coat that catches almost too much light from the fluorescent sitting the ceiling.

His hair is sharply styled, short shaved sides fading into a swooping curl that wouldn't be lasting long beneath any sort of headband or covering. As he shuffles into the room I get a sense for how tall the fit doctor truly is, the man standing only around an inch short than myself though bearing a far more athletic build.

"That's me" I chuckle nervously, fidgeting with the gown I had been told to wear as I try to hide my awkward form.

Catching my shifting the man chuckles, waving his hand dismissively as he wanders to the end of my bed to fetch my cart.

"Please, please just get comfortable" he coos, his eyes darting over the sheets of paper attached to the cheap plastic clipboard as he flicks through the pages. "I've seen plenty from both sides of..." He muses softly, only just audibly enough for me to catch the start.

For a moment I simply accept his words, figuring it was about his profession. However, as I watch him I notice a slight scar no bigger than an inch resting at his left temple.

"Have you..." I begin to mutter, pausing as I realize how rude I was about to be. "I mean, sorry but..."

"No need to be sorry" the man chuckles, looking up from the clipboard. "I've been open this for years, more than a decade now, It's definitely no secret that..." He states, pausing as he looks back at the chart and chewing at his lip.

"You have notified everyone, correct? This procedure is meant to be known by all affected."

For years, the idea of a full brain transplant had been but a flight of fancy. The mechanics of it all seemed too challenging, from the immense number of veins and arteries to repair to the nerves that would be severed and even the risk of horrific rejection.

Even as medical technology advanced the matter was still beyond the pale of reality. Nerves could be repaired through new gene therapies and surgical techniques, organs could be transplanted without fear of rejection. The sheer complexity of it all was just too daunting.

How would the surgeons know what nerves linked up to what? The neural pathways in the brain being grouped similarly but each being unique. First attempted in mice and rats had worked to a degree, but resulted in months of fumbling attempts to even move and eat as the implanted brain remapped itself to the rewired nerves.

Something more was needed, something to translate the instructions correctly post-surgery. Many attempted to find a solution, some technological innovation that could not only assist with this niche field but to also help with those suffering from other medical conditions.

However, it was not some piece of technology that solved the problem but rather an innovative or some said lazy scientists. During one of the experiments involving mice and rats a team decided to only partially move brains around, leaving large portions like the brain-stem parts that handle complex motor functions before bathing the whole mangled mess of gray matter in the revivifying gene therapy.

Much to everyone's shock, the rats and mice seemed to move about just as they had before whole retaining any training and memories from their former selves. The blended brains, doused in the nerve reforming solution had seemed to communicate as they healed in order to firm just the right connections in just the right places.

Suddenly the market for this procedure seemed to explode overnight. While the tests on human subjects were measured and slow in most developed countries, others were all too happy to attempt the procedure so long as there was money to be made.

Before long, after it became apparent that the procedure was safe, the next step became to regulate the helm out of it. By the time most Governments sought to impose rules and restrictions on the process there had already been numerous accusations of identity theft or court cases demanding assets for turned over due to the 'mind and soul' of the owner simply being housed in a new asset, a young and healthy purchased body.

So the system of Public Purchases came into being. Claims against former assets were immediately shut down, the ownership remaining with the body as something physical and tangible and not mind.

Secondly, in order to maintain all manner of legal continuities, the pair would need to simply live out the lives of their new body. Of course, changes could be made from the moment the procedure was completed though any previous obligations or commitments would need to be honored.

To further help with any confusion, both parties to the procedure would need to undergo an informing process as they publicly announced their intent and date of their swap. While it was not necessary take out an ad in the local paper, so long as groups such as family, friends, employers or other interested parties were informed in some demonstrable way the swap could go ahead.

But why would people even do this? For some it was the thrill, to become and experience being another completely. For others it was simply a way to cheat death or recover their lost youth. In many cases there was some monetary component, with people agreeing to swap only after seeing the wealth inherent in their further body.

For many young people it was seen as a chance to rocket into wealth, or at least to not languish for years grinding out in an office and school to just make ends meet or to find financial comfort. Of course, most 'purchasers' didn't leave themselves high and dry. Some of their money would be enclosed in some sort of trust, gifting it to their new self only once the swap was completed or when some other action took place.

"Yep" I chirp nervously, rubbing the back of my neck as I crane to try and see the chart. "I ..uh..."

I had been wondering whether to go through with this for quite some time. With a recent death in the family combined with my severance package I had somehow stumbled into a surprising sum of money. Despite this I hadn't found the idea of it all that fulfilling.

Sure, I could use it for a mortgage but then I would be back working to pay it off.

Sure, I could buy a cramped studio apartment outright but then what would I do in my uncomfortably small space?

Sure, I could travel but to what end?

With the career I had built up now gone, my severance package including a hefty non-compete clause, all that was left was to meander and spend time and money without an apparent purpose.

It was in this funk I had found a site designed for Public Purchases, matching those looking for new bodies and lives with those looking to give their up for the right price.

"Oh, yes! Right here" the doctor chimes excitedly, his dark brown eyes darting back and forth over the various sheets of paper. "Emails to former employer... Texts to friends and... Letters to your parents?" The doctor mutters, cocking an eyebrow.

"I... Yeah..." I mutter, gritting my teeth. "Didn't want to deal with the... Is that alri..."

I'm cut off by the doctor as he lets out a low and deep belly laugh. He wipes some tears from his eyes as he places a hand over his stomach, his fingers roaming the firm abs hidden beneath his green scrubs.

"Don't worry" he manages to get out, walking around the bed to my left side. "Registered mail counts from when it's sent, it won't delay anything if you're worried about that" he explains, soon standing next to me and looming over the bed.

The doctor grabs some nearby implements, checking my temperature and gauging various dials and screens sitting around the bed as he takes my vitals.

"I did the same thing" he muses absentmindedly, sticking a small scope into my ear. "Didn't want to explain to the hubby or the kids why I was becoming some dropout in the inner city. Hope he enjoyed retirement, Matthew was never this..." the doctor huffs, whipping himself up into a larger before catching himself.

"Wait...were..." I blurt out, a wooden popsicle stick-like paddle quickly slipping into my mouth to hold down my tongue.

"I was a damn fine doctor" the man chuckles, shining a light into my mouth and looking at my throat. "Still am, though getting into med school again was... A challenge" he groans, his shoulders dropping as he glances at his hands. "Still, earning more than a did as a..."

"Dr. Jones?" Calls another voice from the door, my eyes darting to look at a young blonde woman standing in the doorway. Despite her exhausted expression, heavy bags resting beneath her bright emerald green eyes, it's more than obvious her gaze at the doctor is more than professional.

"Yes Susie?" The doctor calls back, flashing the young blonde a smile as he keeps my head in place with the tongue press.

"The... The other paired patient has just arrived" the exhausted young woman chirps, stumbling a little as she catches the doctor's smile.

"Thank you Susie" the doctor coos softly, giving the young woman a concerned look. "When was the last time you took a break? Go have a lay down in the on-call room you, I'll be with you soon" he states, the caring tone turning to something more suggestive as the blonde seems to suddenly wake up.

"Ye... Right... Thanks bab... I mean Mich... Dr. Jones..." Blurts out the flustered nurse, the fit young blonde racing off to go take a break.

The doctor watches as she moves away, his eyes glued to her peers behind as she gives it a little shake before slipping from view. Looking back at me he gives a little wink and a nod, a knowing gesture of what he was going to do once we were done here.

"We're overworked" he muses, his lips curling into a sly grin. "We need stress relief every now and then" he further explains, standing up tall as he slides the wooden stick from my mouth. "And with my decades of know-how and this huge..."

The doctor cuts himself off, racing around as he begins to tick boxes on my charts. It was as though he was eager to get someplace else, the shifting inside the leg of his scrubs likely acting as a clue as to just where he'd prefer to be and with whom.

"Look at me, gabbing like some old gossipy woman" he chuckles, the laughter taking a nervous tint to it. Before I can say anything the doctor quickly moves to get things back on track, placing the chart back at the foot of the bed as he races off to stick his head out the door.

"James, do you mind fetching Doctor Rhodes to prep this patient for his surgery?" He asks, a man in bright blue scrubs soon passing the door to head towards a nearby desk.

Leaning back into my room the doctor straightens up, his mind racing as he looks up at the plain white ceiling.

"Right, your partner has shown up so I need to see to them quickly" he mutters, as if planning a schedule in his head. "Then James will take... I can have a quick... And then we can start..."

The doctor quickly paces over to me, grabbing my chart as another man slips in through the door. The shorter, younger man wears a mask and a bandana to cover his hair. All that is visible of him is a slight tan and his muddy hazel eyes as he wheels in a small cart.

"Thank you Doctor Rhodes" calls Doctor Jones, his eyes glancing over my chart once again. "Let's get a start of his drip, it should make prep a little smoother and faster."

The masked man boss along, gesturing for me to give him my arm as he eases me back into the bed. I'm forced to look away as he begins to swab at the sensitive skin at the inside of my elbow, my gaze turning to the man with my chart as I feel a sudden pinch puncture my flesh.

Before long I feel a cool sensation permeate my arm, the building numbness leaving me slightly light-headed and paradoxically warm inside.

Doctor Jones quickly places my chart back at the foot of the bed as he paces towards the door. He pauses briefly in the white wooden frame, looking back in at me as Doctor Rhodes seems to finish up.

"We're on the clock now" he chuckles, leaning into my room through the doorway. "You just sit tight, I'll be back soon enough once I've checked on..."