The Replacements - Part One

The screeching of my alarm clock cuts through the quiet night air. I quickly turn it off however, having been relatively prepared for it to go off as I sit at the edge of my bed. Despite the hour being closer to the middle of the night that the next morning I'm wide awake, fully clothed and filled with anxious anticipation.

Hopping to my feet I try to shake out my nerves, giving my arms and legs a quick jostle inside the black hoodies and jeans I had decided to wear for the coming events. No matter how much I try though, I can shake the deep and unabiding tension that grips me from with as my mind wanders to my phone in my left pocket.

With hurried steps I begin to walk out of my apartment, keeping my head low in case I run into one of my neighbors. Thankfully, I'm able to climb down the stairs without incident with not a hint of another person being around at this hour on a Sunday night turning Monday morning.

As I slip into the garage I pause, a thought hitting me as I creep through the eerie space.

"Should I drive?" I whisper to myself, shuffling in the extremely low light of the overhead lamps towards my beat up and aging sedan. "I mean... how are they going to get it..." I continue, pausing as I unlock the small white car at the back of the garage nestled between the wall and a concrete pillar.

"...That'll just be their problem..." I muse, racing over to the driver's side door as I slide inside. 

As I start up the engine in the cool night air I fish around inside my pocket, quickly pulling out my phone as I try to find the original message. As the motor splutters to life I find the text, a small message from an unknown number.

Replacement Offer

We are pleased to inform you that you may be ideal candidate as a Replacement

Please come to 12/51 City Way to complete the offer 

 

 

When the first brain transplant had been performed the public outcry was intense. People loathed seeing the outcome, of two people leaving in each other's bodies and returning to their normal lives. The fears of theft and, or realistically, coercion through cold hard cash allowing the ultra rich to live forever were enough to ban the practice only after the first or second procedure being performed.

For the longest time the outlawed practice simply sat on the back burner, with small corollary advancements being made that also worked to improve the safety of these banned procedures. However, even as the dangerous day long procedures theoretically turned into a relatively safe one that took a few hours at most it was still outlawed.

That is, until the Replacements Program was suggested.

 

What if it was an emergency? What if it would save a life? The idea was to treat it like an organ transplant, bringing a mind from a body injured beyond repair to a body with a mind beyond recovery. Rather than having to make the decision to pull the plug, why not let their body get a 'second' life.

However, a question was soon brought to public attention. Who exactly is the one walking away in those circumstances?

The tension of the question threatened to kill the program, with people struggling with the metaphysical and legal ramifications of the situation. The solution was crude but effective, if it looks like the right person then that's who they are.

Before long, rebranding itself as 'The Replacements' people were soon leaving hospitals and clinics with new legs, new faces, and new lives entirely. Whatever could be salvaged in terms of gray matter that might help with the transition, though often it did little beyond leaving them with a mixed range of feelings they couldn't quite pin down.

Not everyone was happy though.

Staunchly 'child-free' men leaving with triplets inside them, wealthy trust fund wielders suddenly living out of their car, youthful athletes sudden thrust into bodies as old as their now former parents.

To remedy this as much as they could soon more then just the battered and beaten, those at death's door, were allowed to take part. Other's could sign up, eager to help out and to escape their own lives, creating a chain of swaps to shuffle about those willing to take part in these randomized exchanges.

However, before long a seeded underbelly formed as information of the procedure and how to perform it was slowly disseminated. What if people didn't want to be placed in some random body, one that had mere moments before hand been at the brink of death and likely supported via machines?

While selling bodies never quite took hold, at least outside of purely closed doors, tricking people into these swaps or forcing them became a known element in underground markets. People never did it themselves of course, it was always to solve a problem.

Perhaps a business rival needed to turn down an upcoming promotion, a spoiled brat needed to buckle down act like an adult, a star athlete looking to stop needing an attitude adjustment, or perhaps a trophy wife or trust fund spouse needed to decide not to leave. All these could be solved with one thing, a new driver behind the wheel.

As the market grew, albeit remaining relatively small, 'brokers' started seeking out minds to suit these bodies as future replacements. Those with the right skills, intellect, or attitude who were down on their luck and who might be receptive to a secret like swap and quick disposal.

 

 

My car creeps out into the street, easing around the corner and towards the distant address in the other suburbs. It had to be done this late of course, especially on a Monday, since life would have to continue like nothing happened at least in the eyes of those watching.

I drive in silence, my mind focused on the road and where I was going. Empty streets pass me by, the towering buildings turning to mid-rises and then family homes. The dark windows send shivers down my spine, the sight of the quiet shell with nothing going on inside causing me to shudder at the thought of what I was about to do.

"I'll just... check it out..." I mutter, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. "I can back out if I need to... right?"

As reach the outskirts of the suburbs I finally spy my destination, a now largely defunct strip of big box stores with only a scant few lights on inside the looming long buildings. As I approach, easily finding a parking space right near the building marked as number twelve.

In the darkness I squint, looking out as I spot...