Xchange

by Stan Mason

  ‘He’ll be taken care of,’ returned the Minister of Science flatly.

  A hush came over the committee as the comment ran around their minds. They were beginning to mistrust the Minister of Science who seemed determined, at all costs, to retain the secrecy of the programme at the highest level, using every available method of making certain it happened.

  ‘I have another question, Minister,’ advanced Devereaux finding his voice. ‘What if the secret does become public? There’s no certainty it will remain so for ever.’

  ‘We’ll simply deny everything,’ stated Ratcliffe smartly. ‘It’s up to the accuser to prove it. If the Press get hold of it, we’ll claim that the reporter flew a kite and wrote a fictional story for his own benefit. If it’s on television, the Government will take the studio to Court for presenting false information to the general public. Any story of this kind requires proof, and no one will be able to provide it.’

  ‘Do you really believe we would get away with that?’ asked Jones, considering the Minister’s remarks with distaste.

  ‘We represent the Government,’ stated Ratcliffe bluntly. ‘We can get away with anything!’

  Without hesitation, he opened the door and disappeared from the room leaving the other five members of the committee discussing the issue in depth among themselves. It was true. The Government could do anything it wanted to regardless of any exposure to the public. And, indeed, it often did!

  ***

  Monday was bleak, Tuesday was blue, Wednesday was painful. That’s how it was for Calvin McBain. He was a leading scientist who approached the major pharmaceutical company from which he had retired twenty-three years earlier. His aim was to seek employment with the same company even though his true age was eighty-three. His past claim to fame was the discovery of a treatment for nephritis... a kidney disease... but more importantly, he discovered an antibiotic which helped to ease pain and discomfort caused by malaria. For the latter work, he received a Nobel Prize for medicine but eventually time caught up with him and he was forced to retire at the age of sixty with a bad heart. Now, at the age of eighty-three, he had been through the exchange process and his body felt light and athletic, notwithstanding he had a sound heart. Despite this, his mind was still alert and all the experience he had gained in the past remained with him. However, it was most unusual but he began to suffer side effects that had not been expected. Until the present time, the process had been direct and no one expected that there would be repercussions of any kind, other than the fact that the stress on the prisoners would bring heart failure or strokes. The beneficiary of the new body was not expected to show any side-effects whatsoever. In McBain’s case, some of the functions of the body seemed to be misaligned with those of his brain causing him to become unbalanced with regard to walking, talking, and general movement of his arms and legs. Strangely enough, he also began to experience heart palpitations. He made an appointment with his doctor, Claude Chambers, but the local practitioner failed to understand how his patient’s body could be so young and relatively healthy at his great age. He asked him to undress so that he could examine him thoroughly noticing the white mark around his neck and asked him for an explanation.

  McBain had been sworn to secrecy before he underwent the exchange under pain of death and he took the threat extremely seriously, not wishing to come to any harm. Subsequently he was more than reticent to provide an answer. ‘I don’t know why my body’s so lithe,’ he lied to the doctor. ‘I guess it’s because I keep fit and diet well.’

  Chambers shook his head slowly. ‘No,’ he returned. ‘This is not normal. Your body is no longer aged as it should be. Look at the skin on your arms. It’s as smooth as silk. You have no trouble breathing and there’s no evidence of anything wrong with your organs. You should feel tired much of the time but you’re not and you’ve no signs of arthritis. Your body is that of a much younger man. Either you’re a phenomenon or something strange has happened to you. Tell me, what is that white mark around your neck?’

  ‘It was there when I woke up this morning,’ continued McBain still lying.

  The doctor was unimpressed with the answers given to him and he made copious notes on a pad. ‘I’m going to send you to a hospital so that they can take some x-rays and a series of blood tests,’ he said, trying to connect his patient’s symptoms with any other rare medical situation however he was unable to find one. ‘But first I want you to take off your clothes and lay down on the bed,‘

  McBain complied with the request and Chambers ran his hands over his patient’s body. ‘That’s quite a scar,’ he uttered staring at a wound which stretched from the top of the man’s buttock to the knee down his right side. It had happened a long time ago and had healed although the scar remained. ‘How did you do that?’

  McBain was at a loss for words. ‘A scar,’ he managed to say, not knowing how to explain the details of the wound.

  Chambers began to lose patience, telling the man to dress. ‘Until you tell me what’s going on, I’m not prepared to treat you,’ he declared adamantly. ‘You’re not suffering from any mental disease so your mind’s in full working order. Speak to me or leave the surgery!’

  The patient realised that the game was up and he decided to reveal is secret to the doctor. ‘My body’s been exchanged with that of a prisoner in Lancaster jail,’ he spouted. ‘The Government’s running a programme by which body-swaps take place. It cost me ten thousand pound to have it done but it’s been worth it until now. They transfer the body... not the head,,..,which is why there’s a white mark round my neck.’

  Chambers stared at him with astonishment for a few seconds trying to digest the information ‘I said your mind’s in full working order but now I’m beginning to doubt your sanity,’ he retorted.

  ‘It’s the truth,’ bleated McBain. ‘It’s the truth.’

  ‘That’s why I couldn’t tell you about the scar. It belonged to the prisoner who swapped his body with me.

  The doctor blew out his cheeks as he realised that the man was telling him the truth. ‘Clearly something’s gone wrong in the process which is the reason why you’re having problems,’ he predicted. ‘I really don’t know what to say about this but someone ought to report the matter to the authorities. Do you have any proof that this is going on?’

  This time it was the patient who became concerned. ‘I have a letter which invited me to go to the ASA Headquarters in Lytham St. Annes. It doesn’t say anything more really. Just that I would hear something to my advantage,’ he told the doctor resignedly. ‘It was signed by a man named Jordan.’

  ‘I suggest that you get in touch with him immediately,’ stated the doctor firmly. ‘Otherwise you might fall seriously ill in a short space of time.’

  ‘But what can I say?’ blurted McBain helplessly. ‘I’ve already had a body transfer. I can’t afford to pay for another one.’

  ‘Tell him it hasn’t worked properly and you want to reverse the process..

  ‘But then I’ll be old again,’ persisted the patient in despair. ‘I want to be young and go on living. That’s why I paid them the money.’

  ‘The best you can do is to ask them to give you another one,’ advised the doctor curtly. ‘I want to see this process at work myself. It’s something I’ve never heard of before. I’ll come with you if you don’t mind.’

  McBain left the surgery with a cloud over his head and he returned home. He searched for the letter sent to him by Jordan noting the details carefully. Without hesitation, he produced his mobile telephone from his pocket and rang the government agent.

  ‘Mr. Jordan,’ he began as soon as the call was answered. ‘Calvin McBain here. I went through the transfer of body exchange recently but I’m having some serious side-effects. My doctor tells me they could shorten my life.’

  ‘What do you want me to do about it?’ enquired Jordan unsympathetically.

>   ’I think it might be the body you’ve given me. I want to exchange it with another one,’ advanced McBain flatly.

  There was a long pause at the other end of the line. The government agent had never faced a problem like this before and he was at a loss as to whether the process could be effected more than once. ‘I suppose that could be arranged,’ he muttered.

  ‘I’d also like my doctor to accompany me,’ the caller informed him. ‘Would you mind if I brought him along.’

  ‘Have you told him what happened?’ Jordan’s heart was in his mouth.

  ‘I didn’t have much choice in the matter. He asked me so many questions when he examined me.

  ‘That’s okay,’ lied the government agent with a plan forming in his mind. Bring him with you to ASA Headquarters tomorrow if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Fine,’ returned the scientist happily. ‘I’ll contact my doctor and make arrangements. If all goes to plan, we should be there n the afternoon.’ He had expected to have to wait weeks before he could be fitted into the programme. To his surprise, no time was going to be wasted.

  The following day McBaina and Dr. Chambers arrived at Lytham St. Annes. Jordan met them at the entrance of the building and took them inside to the room where the exchanges had been made.

  ‘I’m glad you could fit me in,’ greeted the scientist. ‘This is Dr. Chambers who’s come to view the body transfers.

  The doctor stared at the cubicles and the equipment with a strange expression on his face. He had believed that his patient was leading him up the garden path but his curiosity had got the better of him. Now he realised that the man had been talking the truth.

  ‘So it’s all true,’ he muttered with surprise. ‘You can actually exchange bodies leaving the head intact!’

  ‘That’s about it, Dr. Chambers,’ retorted Jordan with not expression of shame or glory on his face. He turned his attention to McBain. ‘When do you want the exchange to take place?’

  ‘Any time that’s convenient,’ came the reply. ‘As soon as possible.’

  The government agent nodded to a scientist standing nearby with a hypodermic needle in his hand. He moved across to Dr. Chambers and, without warning, plunged it into his arm, penetrating his clothing, causing the doctor to wince with pain.

  Chambers stared at the government agent with astonishment and almost instantly felt faint from the effects of the serum and collapsed to the floor. Two of the security guards picked him up and began to undress the doctor before placing him in one of the cubicles. McBain was stunned at the action believing that Jordan had got the wrong end of the stick. It was he who wanted a rerun of the exchange process not Dr. Chambers! Before he could react at what he thought was an error, the same scientist then injected him with the serum.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded, beginning to feel overcome by the injection.

  ‘We don’t have another prisoner with whom you can exchange your body,’ explained Jordan briefly. ‘It was just as well you brought your doctor with you.’

  As McBain’s legs gave way, he was undressed and carried into the other cubicle. The government agent nodded to the scientists who wrapped the metal coat containing the electrodes around both bodies, closed the cubicle doors, and then turned on the current. It was yet another experiment for them and they awaited the result with eagerness. No one who had his body transferred had returned to have it done again. This was something unique and they were extremely interested to find out how it would work out.

  An extraordinary bright light flooded both cubicles and continued until the process was completed. Dr. Chambers was taken out and laid out on a stretcher. He looked normal but he had suffered a cardiac arrest and he lay stiffly, at peace with the world. McBain on the other hand, staggered from the cubicle, aided by the security guards to one of the chairs. His hand moved towards his neck, rubbing it vigorously. There was clearly a high element of pain in that area which caused him a great deal of suffering. In a short while, he was examined by the Chief Scientist who turned to Jordan with a strange expression on his face.

  ‘This man’s neck has been extended by about four inches,’ he explained curtly.

  The government agent moved across to check the evidence. Indeed, McBain’s neck was very much longer than before and his hands remained under his chin as though he had trouble keeping his head up. Very soon, the strain proved to be too much for him and he slumped to the floor dead as a doornail.

  Jordan shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘Pity,’ he commented. ‘He was a great scientist. Won the Nobel Prize for the malaria antibiotic in his prime. He saved the lives of millions of Africans with it. Never mind!’

  He recalled the book written by H. Rider Haggard entitled ‘SHE’ where Ayesha, the one who much be obeyed, passed through a pillar of flame which gave eternal young. She went through it a second time which caused her to age and wither instantly and die. It was the same with McBain and the exchange programme. Apparently, no one could stand going through the process twice. McBain lay dead on the floor with his neck extended in a grotesque fashion. At the same time the doctor had failed to survive the process as a result of a cardiac arrest and he remained laid out on a stretcher.

  Jordan was absolutely delighted at the result. It couldn’t have turned out better for him. The secret was sustained for a further period of time at least and that was the most important factor in the exercise. It was more important than the lives of people... more important than life itself!

  ***

  There are days when things go well and days when everything goes terribly wrong. In between there comes a time when boredom occupies the mind because nothing of any importance occurs. Bill Preston began to suffer from the latter. He sat tiredly behind the desk in his office with his head in his hands wondering how he might pass the time. The walls of the room seemed to echo the silence and he felt completely jaundiced about his future. His mind recollected the moment when Wane Roberts shot himself in front of him. The body of the dead man had been removed earlier and his blood had been scrubbed off the stained wall. It had been horrendous to witness. Not a sound could be heard as all the warders had been dismissed or transferred elsewhere and the jail was totally empty. The fax machine lay idle on its table on one side of the room and the only reason why the morale of the Governor had not shrunk to its lowest level was the fact that that he was still being paid for his role as Governor of the jail even though there was no one to govern. There was nothing left for him to do. He was convinced that he had been let down badly by Jordan. Firstly the government agent had promised him the role of managing the exchange programme. Secondly he had told him that he would send a fax message on what he needed to do once the prison was empty of inmates. Neither of those promises had been honoured and Preston felt both undermined and underwhelmed by their absence. He was certainly not an ambitious man but the events leading up to the present situation were totally unwarranted. He picked up the telephone receiver and dialled a three-digit number. The voice at the other end of the line related the exact time of day. He shrugged his shoulders aimlessly as he listened. At least it was a voice of someone speaking to him instead of the intolerable silence.

  After a short while, he stood up and walked slowly to the open area of the prison. It was cold, uninviting, impersonal and austere... just the sort of prison he desired to manage but no one was there any more. He was alone, bereft of control, idly passing his time with a book of crosswords in his silent office or his private room. However he reconciled the situation by continued to focus his mind on the fact that he was still being paid for his services whether or not any prisoners were under his charge. Nonetheless, the treatment meted out to him by his superiors smelt to high Heaven.

  As he stood staring vacantly at the empty cells, the sound of footsteps and voices rang out behind him. He turned to find a young man and an even younger woman carrying cameras. The
front gate had been left open and they had entered the prison without warning.

  ‘Can I help you?’ enquired the Governor, annoyed that the Chief Warder had left the gate open when he was clearly ordered to close it.

  ‘We’re from the student college,’ related the young man. ‘We’re freelancing to earn some money to pay for our student loans.’

  ‘Why have you come here?’ demanded the Governor sternly.

  ‘We heard about some strange things that are going on here,’ continued the man looking around to see if there was anything worth photographing.

  ‘Then you heard wrongly!’ snapped Preston sharply. ‘This prison is now closed. All the inmates have been transferred to other jails. It’s empty!’

  ‘That’s odd,’ intervened the woman. ‘At a time when the jails in Britain are bursting at the seams, this one is empty. What’s the reason for that?’

  ‘You shouldn’t be asking me such questions.’ retorted Preston ‘Contact the Home Secretary and ask him. He’ll explain to you why it’s been closed.’

  ‘I presume you’re the Governor,’ said the man.

  The flash went off in the camera held by the woman blinding him and annoying him intensely.

  ‘Will you stop that!’ he reproached. ‘Yes I am the Governor and I’m currently waiting instructions as to the future of the prison. If you really want to know, the facts are that there were five hundred prisoners serving life sentences who were transferred from here.’

  ‘How could that happen when all the jails are full?’ asked the woman bluntly.

  ‘As I said,’ returned Preston flatly, ‘you should ask the Home Secretary that question.’

  ‘We heard that a number of the prisoners died,’ advanced the man fishing for information.

  ‘That’s news to me. All the prisoners were taken by security guards to be transferred to other penitentiaries. I know nothing about any of them dying.’