I sat on my bed, while I was thinking through my whole weird situation. Finally all the tranquilizers they'd pumped up my veins last night finally slowly wore off, but still remained active enough to not let me completely freak out again.

I was kind of calm... settled... while I allowed my mind and thoughts to freely wander around. They roamed about, trying to get a grip of all what had happened, to rationalize, realize what was now, what had become not to be denied facts.

I was a woman now, that I knew. Well, at least I had the body of one. The weight of my bosom which I felt heavy on my chest made it obvious. It was a strange, unkown feeling to have these unfamiliar extras on my body. But I figured I had to learn to deal with them.
I had miserably failed in my attempt to kill myself and therefore now knew that I simply wasn't able to do it. At least for the moment...

In the morning they had even handed me plastic cutlery to have my breakfast, just in case that I would try again to commit suicide. A quite useless attempt, as I could have thought of countless things and ways to end my live only using the stuff and things being around in that very room. I could have had myself hung on stripes of the bedsheet or some other fabric around. I could have crushed the ceilings neon throwing something at it and then cut my Aorta open to bleed to death and so on and so forth...

But I realized I seemed not be able to do something like that. And I guess I wasn't even willing to. Last night had become the best proof for that. Maybe it was 'cause I grew up in that orphanage. The idea of religious believes and seriously even CONSIDERING that there was a god above just passively watching the whole load of shit going on and on on this world of our's was all absurd in my oppinion. - We ARE. Here and now... - And after that there comes nothing but blackness... blankness... To put it short: Non-existence.

I tried to fight the urge, the basic instinct to live... but finally over and over always had to surrender. I just couldn't make my mind go for it. I told myself that I had to die to at least get out of this horrible scenario with some dignity instead of staying in this humiliating state.

I was a MAN, for christ's sake! And now I was sitting here, touching and probing one of my big breasts from time to time again, still in diesbelieve feeling the strange stiffening of these large nipples of mine.

I had managed to kind of blank out any thoughts to the area between my legs totally and succesfully. I just didn't want to think of it. Something like a defensive mechanism of my mind I suppose. I didn't look at it, I didn't touch it, I didn't even think about it. At this point it seemed like my overwhelmed mind had decided on to forget about that this part of my body even existed.

But against all my suicidal tendencies which I had at that time there was this animal, this beast inside me standing up against it. Something which must have become a part of the nature of our race over those uncounted centuries of evolution through the ages. A creature which modern mankind always tries to hide, to bury under tons of logical thinking, rationalizing and countenance.

It manicly whispered, growled into my ears, through my very brain: "We HAVE to SURVIVE!" it said. "We ARE healthy now! We CAN go on! - We HAVE to go on!" I actually sometimes thought I could even actually hear it's voice in my head. It repeated it's point over and over, not as to start a discussion about it but more as to confront me with a simple fact.

"We ARE alive! We have to STAY alive! NO MATTER at what cost! 'Cause after this life, there'll only be EMPTYNESS!"

The beast resolutely fought my thoughts about ending my live. It battled my dark intentions with all it could come up with, mental and emotional working 'fangs and claws'. It was spitting, scratching, winding inside me all howling and screaming in anger, salivating out it's unrestrained rage.

It was myself... - I became aware that this image of this beast in my head was my very own beeing, my conciousness, which fought and wouldn't let go of it. - I realized I didn't want to, yes was unable to die voluntarely.

"We CAN breath! We ARE able to move our feet! We ARE NOT hurt! We CAN go on! - AND WE WILL GO ON!"

This thing really had to be my own beeing, myself talking inside my head. Was it in fact my instincts for survival, which seemed to materialize like a voice in my head? I actually wasn't sure anymore, when I was sitting there on the bed looking down on that woman's body which now was mine and ironically laughed out my desperate uncertainty.

"I will go on..." I muttered.

"So, let's be frank to each other." The doc said while he turned the chair around took a seat and rested his arms on it's back. "Let me tell you that I understand well that a situation like yours could overwhelm one and maybe I should have forseen that this could end up in a reaction like the one you chose last night." I looked in his eyes kind of ashamed, not really knowing what to answer.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not mad at you for what you did. Who knows who I might have reacted in a situation like yours? - So let's just call it a 'short circuit-decision' and go on as if it never happened. But I have to know what you are up to, what I have to deal with. - So please tell me and be honest: Do you really want to kill yourself?"

I stared at the floor. It wasn't easy to answer as I was still figuring this whole thing out for myself. "I... I don't think so. I simply... can't. ... Somehow... As it turns out my urge to survive seems to be to strong." I breathed out heavily as I made my statement, my commitment to both the doctor and myself.

"I will go on." I nodded. "At least I will give my best to try, that's all I promise."
The doctor also nodded along, satisfied and even, if I interpreted his facial expressions right, kind of releaved. "Good. Believe me, life's always worth the effort. You made the right decission here, young la... friend."

I was well aware what word he intented to use, and sighed. I figured I had to get used to be adressed with phrases like this anyway. "Doc? - May I ask you something?"

"Feel free to."

"I don't want to be unthankful or something like that. But I... I just wonder..."
I hesitated a little, but Soerenson made a encouraging move with his hand, which seemed to mean "Go on".

"You know if your skills have been capable of implanting my brain to another body... Then... Well, why were you not able to simply fix my spine?"

The doctor seemed to be quiet uncomfortable with the question. He drove his hand through his blonde hair, supposably thinking about how to best formulate his answer.

"Well look, sweety. I... - Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... It's just the looks and..."
As difficult as my situation was, but the startled look on his face was priceless and I couldn't help to giggle a little. But then pulled myself together again and eased him, saying
"No offence taken. Go on..."

"You know that I work for the military." - I nodded. - "And they invest a lot of money to make me able to work on my research of new techniques and practices in the art of surgery.
The price I have to pay in that deal besides my work itself, is that I have to work on the projects they're interested in. The thing is: Brain surgery and those of the spines are quite different fields. If we WOULD have focussed on spine surgery over the last decade, then yes: Then I possibly might have been able to help you in the way you implied.

But as I consider you to be an intelligent young person I guess it will not come as a big surprise to you when I tell you that the army isn't much interesed in repairing the spine of some paralyzed individual soldiers. Soldiers can be replaced."

"Brain surgery on the other hand..." his eyes wandered into the distance "Brain surgery like I do it holds an unimaginable potential of possibilities. - Imagine how many lives could have been saved if the Allies would have been able to replace Hitler's brain with one of their agent's. Just think of an Ahmadinejad declaring peace and democracy..."

He was obviously passionate about this and, when he realized he got a little to euphoric, pulled himself together again and cleared his throat while he readjusted the knot of his tie.
"I get your point." I replied understanding, swalling down some comments on what a 'double-edged sword' his vision might become some day. But that was not my problem. God knows I had enough of my own at the time.

"But enough of of all that scientific topics. I don't want to bore you. - We have to get a new life for you, young friend" he grabed his clipboard and a pen from the little table nearby. "So, I guess we have to think of a new name for you. Have you thought of anything yet?"

So here I was, picking out a chick's name for myself. Deffinitely hadn't seen that day coming. But what the hell, I thought. It had to be done. I wouldn't pass as a Brandon anymore.

"Actually no... - But I think the female version of my name would do."

"Brandine? - Yes, It does have a nice sound. So Brandine it is?"

I nodded, god revealed. "Yap. Let's got for it, whatever..."

"Then would it be O.k. for you if I call you by that name from now on."

"Well, I guess it'll be more fitting now." I sighed, pointing with my fingers at my chest.
"So, next thing: What's your profession, Bradine?"

"I am..." I looked at my now all small, filigree arms. "...well, WAS a mechanic." The term seemed more to hit the point now. I heavily doubted I ever again would be to go back on my old job, doing the hard physical work with muscles like these. And women are kind of deplaced in the rough, testosterone filled athmosphere of a service station anyway. - Great, another problem. That's what I really needed right now.

The doctor seemed to have similar thoughts as he looked me up and down. I guess he was just trying to not put more pressure on me when he just "o.k."ed it and wrote it down in the form.
The whole questioning went on for about twenty minutes and the doc explained to me that it was necessary to get me proper papers for my new life.

"O.k. Brandine. Thanks for your patience. There's only one thing left to do." He held up a camera. "I have to take a photograph of you for your passport." - He stood up and walked over to me, starting to fumble with the bandage on my head. "But we better get this off before."

"Oh god, thank you. This thing was driving me nuts anyway." I was releaved when I felt fresh air around my head's skin and hair for the first time since the accident. "It was really quite itchy."

*Clik* - Soerenson had a look at the display of the camera and seemed to be satisfied with his work. "That will do." He held the display into my direction so I could get a look on the image. It was a picture of the woman that I knew I was now. The doc had combed my short a little before taking the shot to hide the scar from the surgery that was visible around my skull. And I had to admit he had done a pretty god job there. On that picture it was barely noticable, if one didn't know what to look for. I noticed that she... I had two different colored eyes. One was blue like mine had been, one was green.
"Brandine..." I muttered. - "Doc, what did she die of?"

"Do you really want do know? - She was a soldier in Afghanistan, U.S. Army. - You have got a small metall plate implanted to the right backside of your skull and..."

I scanned the described area with my fingers and learned he was telling the truth.
"I understand."

"Well, Brandine. We're done here so far. - And if you are allright with it, Nurse Weinstein will come in now to give you a little tutorial of how to deal with your new life.

As much as I liked Alison I actually wasn't really looking forward to this.

Once more I sighed when I waved my hand saying "Ah, whatever. Bring her on."

-End of chapter 2-

To be continued...