Just a heads up for anyone who wants to start reading this story - it is very much an incomplete work. I had gotten started on it, but just couldn't seem to wrap it up effectively. For all of you who have read what I have written, and were expecting some sort of completion, I sincerely apologize. Next time, I will finish the story before posting it.

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Gradually, consciousness returned after what had felt like a days-long sleep. I moved my hand to my face, rubbing it, and then removing most of the grit from the corners of my eyes. I stretched, attempting to remove some of the dull ache from my body.

“Gawd, I feel like hell,” I thought. “Last time was I felt this rough in the morning was when I drank, and that was close to a decade ago.”

Any further speculation on my physical condition was interrupted by a deep male voice, with a slight accent that I couldn‘t quite place. Midwestern U.S., perhaps? “Ah, good morning, sleepy head. Did you have a good rest?”

I started at the sound, and then surreptitiously reached under the other pillow to retrieve the cheap hunting knife that I kept handy for such unlikely events as someone breaking in to my apartment and watching me wake up. My hand went to close around the hilt, but found nothing. Where was it? I move my hand around a bit, but the knife was nowhere to be found.

A slight humour tinted the man’s voice as he said “You won’t find your weapon there, or anywhere nearby. Besides, I mean you no harm, and I am not here to take your belongings.” His voice took on a curious tone at the word “belongings”, as if they weren‘t worth stealing.

I slowly rolled over, slowly opening my eyes against the all too bright illumination in my bedroom. I wanted to have a look at the person who had invaded my space. I needed to size him up, to see if I could get in a quick kick to his groin before dashing out of bed to call the cops.

As my brain started to process what I was seeing, I began to realize something was wrong. The ceiling was too far up. The walls were a light blue, instead of the white I was accustomed to seeing. The posters were gone. The room was way too large to be my bedroom, or even my living room, for that matter. The furniture, despite having a slight institutional air about it, was much nicer than the department store offerings that I was accustomed to. Was I on some bizarre reality show, where decorators sneak in and remodel people’s apartments while they slept?

“Okay, smart guy, if you aren’t here to harm me, or swipe my stuff, then what DO you want? And what happened to my apartment? Or is this my place? And if not, where the hell am I?” I stopped at that, and cleared my throat - my voice sounded a bit off.

“Well, you are entitled to know that, I suppose. I am Doctor Westham, and you are in my clinic. I am preparing you for a bit of a... journey, you might say.” He paused at that.

I sat up in bed and looked up at him. “A journey, you say? Did I win a trip? Perhaps to the Bahamas? Or a cruise to Alaska? An all expenses paid trip to Europe? I’m just here to receive my immunizations before leaving, right?” The amount of sarcasm increased with each word I spoke.

“No, my dear, you are here to prepare for a trip into... well, the future, you might as well know. You, and many like you, will be heading off to the year 2137.”, he stated, then added hesitantly, “You are needed to ensure the survival of the human race.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? And I suppose you have a time machine set up in the next room?” I was starting to get a little bit worried. Here I was, and who knew exactly where ’here’ was, in a room with no way out. No way out, except past this slightly crazy doctor who abducted people to send them into the ‘future‘.

He coughed slightly, and had the good grace to look a bit ashamed of what he had done so far. He looked down at the floor, and then at me, and said, “If there was any other way, I would not have to resort to these actions. I am a man of morals, and it pains me to do this. However, my era is suffering, and the people of this planet are in danger of becoming extinct. Given that, I have no choice but to help my government with this project.”

Clearly he was upset about all of this. Still, while I felt for him - either because he was insane, or because there was a small chance he might be telling the truth - I did not volunteer for his ’project’. So, I got up out of bed, and walked over to him. “Doc,” I said, putting a comradely hand on his shoulder, “I can appreciate your predicament, but you have put me in a bit of a spot. I have friends and family that may be worried about me. It’s only fair that I should be able to let them know that I am okay. So, if you can take me to a telephone, I would be ever so much obliged.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be worried about that.”, he responded, looking even more ashamed than he was a minute ago. “As far as they are concerned, you are already... dead.”

I removed my hand from his shoulder, walked over to a plush chair in a corner of the room, and sat down heavily. This was getting to be a bit much. I could feel myself begin to hyper- ventilate.

“Dead?” I managed to squeak out (what was with my voice, anyways?). “What do you mean, dead?”

“Just what I said, I’m afraid”, he replied. “The airplane you were piloting had a malfunction, which resulted in a crash landing, and a horrific fire. They were barely able to find any remains, but did locate a piece of your lower jaw. By comparing it to your dental records, they were able to confirm that you were aboard that aircraft.”

“But I haven’t flown for years. And how would they manage to find part of my... Oh. My. God.”, I said as I felt my jaw with my hand. It felt completely different. And the skin felt incredibly smooth. I felt the rest of my face, and noticed how low my hairline was. And how much thicker my hair was. My hands went to the back of my head, and I felt an elastic band holding my much longer hair in a pigtail. How did I miss all of this when I first woke up?

“Is there a mirror here?”, I asked, becoming a bit more panicky.

“Yes, just through that door in the corner”, he responded, pointing the way.

I quickly got up, and practically ran to the bathroom. Reaching in, I fumbled for a second or two to find the switch. Flipping it, the room filled with light. I scanned about for a second - toilet, huge bathtub, sink, full length mirror. I approached it slowly, dreading what I would see. I stepped closer, and the reflection confirmed my fears.

I was simultaneously in shock and awe - the face I saw was that of a woman maybe twenty-two years of age. Dirty blond hair, with just a shade of copper in it. Well shaped eyebrows above beautiful dark, dark brown eyes. The nose, while scarcely petite, was much smaller and more refined than the one I used to have. Full lips. Teeth that were in excellent condition, and appeared even more white against the tanned colour of my skin.

As for the rest, I undid my pyjamas and noticed the camisole and somewhat feminine underwear. I was definitely much lighter than I used to be - maybe 135 pounds or so - and had no body hair. Lifting the camisole, I noticed... not much. My nipples looked a bit larger than normal, but that was about it. I still had my full ‘gear’ under the neutral coloured panties.

After I finished my visual exam of myself and accepted what I saw as real, and not some drug induced illusion, I put my p.j.’s back on. Walking back into the main room, I noticed Doctor Westham was sitting in the armchair opposite of the one I had temporarily occupied. I sat down across from him, gathered my thoughts, and started to speak as he was finally able to meet my gaze.

“Maybe an explanation is in order, Doctor Westham. A very detailed explanation.”