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The best place to start is the beginning, but I wasn’t here for that part. I’m twenty years old, although I was born thirty-one years ago. Confused? I’m not surprised. My whole life is sort of confusing, and I’ve only just put all the pieces together. I’ve lived all my life in America, Florida to be precise. But I was born in Scotland, and am still a Subject of the Crown. I know, your head is starting to hurt. Maybe this would be easier if I let Herb tell what happened thirty-odd years ago. I’ll be back later.
I was born Herbert Wells in 1950 in the city of Glasgow. I basically had a normal upbringing; I was happy playing and being with my friends. In March of 1969 I applied and was accepted to join the Royal Army. I was placed with the RAMC (the Royal Army Medical Corps) and by the end of 1969 I’d completed all my training.
The only thing left was to pass out from training. I was in the top one percent and very proud of having done so well. There were even mutters about the possibility of my being sent to Sandhurst, the Officer’s School.
On the 3rd of January I passed out from training. My parents were in the audience to watch me march past. As soon as the parade was over the new soldiers all got their postings–except for me. A general came over with my captain and requested me to come with him. Maybe this would be my posting to Sandhurst. I was hopeful as I excused myself from my parents and followed him and the captain.
We went into a little room, and the General cautioned me that I wasn’t to say anything about what went on in that room. Nothing. To anyone. Ever. I agreed and he said that he was looking for a volunteer for special duty. If I refused it wouldn’t go on my service record. That’s what they said, but I knew the truth. If I refused, they would remember, and it would dog me for the rest of my career, if I had one left at all. If I took the special duty I would receive a letter of commendation in my service record but that would be it. It hardly seemed fair, but then the Army didn’t have a reputation for fairness. The general told me that "if" I took the assignment I would have a six-week leave of absence and then I would be taken somewhere secret.
I asked if I had to decide right away, thinking about the two- week leave that I had earned by completing training. The General said that he needed an answer within 48 hours. I told him I would think about it that night and let him know the following morning. The General said that was fine and he gave me a number that I could use to reach him.
As I left, he made a point of reminding me that I couldn’t tell anyone about our discussion. And the captain hadn’t said a word. Why was he there? As soon as I had left the room and found my parents they asked me what the general had wanted. I told them that I couldn’t talk about it and that I had some thinking to do. My dad immediately said "Okay, I understand.", but my mother kept trying to get me to tell her what had happened. Father stuck up for me saying "Leave him alone, Susan, he told you that he’s not allowed to talk about it." My mother wasn’t happy but let it go. The following day I decided that I would take the special duty and called the number. After all, it’s not as though I had a choice. Once I had this voice at the other end of the phone, I just said "Yes" and hung up.
A few moments later my phone rang. It was the General, saying "As of this moment you are working for me. If you have any problems call me on the same number and I will deal with it. You are now on 6 weeks leave. When your leave ends, report to Redford barracks in Edinburgh." And with that he hung up. What had I gotten myself into?
I decided to just enjoy my six weeks leave and let it go at that. Just before I was due to begin my leave, I received a letter addressed to Lance Corporal H. Wells. I wondered why it had given me the rank of Lance Corporal. I decided that it must be a mistake, and opened it.
"Private Wells, you are hereby Promoted to the rank of Lance Corporal and ordered to report to General Jones at Rexford Barracks on the 18th of February 1970." It was signed with a name that I couldn’t read.
Six weeks. It seems like a long time, but this particular six weeks flashed by. I had a tearful farewell with my mother whilst my father just shook my hand and reminded me to write to him and keep them both informed. I said that I would write when I could, but that he had to understand that the nature of my assignment was such that it might make letters infrequent. He seemed to understand, but made me promise to try to keep in touch. And on February 18th, 1970, I reported to the commandant’s office at Rexford Barracks.
They were expecting me. As soon as I presented my orders, I was hustled behind the counter into the commandant’s office. The commandant told me to leave my kit in the Guard room and report directly to General Jones. I couldn’t figure out why he would get personally involved in something as unimportant as this. I left the guard room and marched directly to the General’s office. Once I got there I stopped for a moment to make sure my appearance was passable. After all, I had been traveling for the last twelve hours. That does a lot to degrade a person’s appearance, but in the Royal Army that is never an excuse for a slovenly appearance.
I knocked on the door to the office and the General called me in immediately. Obviously he’d been notified that I’d reported. I marched into the office and came to attention and saluted him. "Lance Corporal Wells reporting for duty sir!" The General told me to stand easy then he told me to sit down. I took the chair in front of his desk and sat there nervously, waiting to hear what he had to say. "I am going to tell you now what your duty is. If you don’t understand anything at any time you are to ask me. We need you to try out a new drug that will hold you in stasis for a time."
I interrupted him at that point and asked what he meant by ‘stasis’.
"By stasis," he continued, looking annoyed at being interrupted, "we mean a deep sleep like the hibernation some animals go into. That’s basically what we want to test." Then he asked if I had questions.
Well, he said that he wanted me to question things I didn’t understand, but he acted like they were most unwelcome. Still, I had to know what I was getting into before it was too late. "How long will I be kept in stasis?" I asked. "we expect the initial experiment to last six months. At that point we shall bring you round and make sure everything is all right." He paused a moment before continuing, as though he had reservations about telling me the rest. "After that we may put you back under again for a longer period, depending on what happens the first time around."
I asked about my family. They would certainly become suspicious if they didn’t hear from me for all that time. The General replied that my family was the least of their worries. I could write some letters in advance and we would send them over the time I was in stasis."
This didn’t sit very well with me, but if I turned down the assignment or made an issue of this, it would likely end my military career before it had even started.
"I think that’s all my questions sir, and may I thank you for my promotion."
The general just laughed and said "Actually I am just about to promote you again to Sergeant as you may need the rank." I was pretty well flabbergasted at this. Two promotions in less than two months, especially just out of training, was unheard of. "As of tomorrow morning you are Sergeant Wells, so make sure that your uniforms are correct. That’s all for now, Sergeant. I’ll see you tomorrow at 1000 hours."
I stood up, saluted, and left the office to pick up my kit from the guard room. When I got there I asked where I was to be billeted. They told me to go to the sergeants mess and find the orderly on duty and ask him where my room was to be. When I arrived at the sergeant’s mess I found the orderly. He asked what I was doing there but once I told him my name he showed me where my room was and told me about the meal times. I went straight to my room and settled in. I was thinking the entire time about the procedure that I was going to undergo, whilst I was thinking about that I was altering my uniforms again to reflect my new rank.
I enjoyed the thought of the new promotion, but I have to admit that I was somewhat aggrieved about the necessity of altering my uniforms again.
The next morning I was outside General Jones’s office at 0955, waiting for the appointed hour to arrive. In the army, especially when dealing with generals, you are neither late nor early. At precisely 1000 hours I knocked on his door and was told to enter. I marched in, came to attention, and saluted. The general said to sit down until he was through with some other work.
I’m not sure I could even begin to describe what happened next. When the general was ready, he led me to secure part of the installation, one I hadn’t even realized was there. I was brought before some doctors, and ordered to strip. With some degree of trepidation, I did so, and was immediately given an injection.
One doctor apologized, but told me that they preferred for me to not know too much about what was to happen. The injection took good care of that. I have vague memories of being poked and prodded, being forced to give specimens from virtually every bodily orifice, and having what seemed like an inordinate amount of blood drawn.
I was X-rayed, fluoroscoped, and scanned in myriad ways, but nothing of what they were doing was explained to me. Once I vaguely recall a technician making a comment about needing additional genetic material before anything could be grown, but he was immediately shushed by the others. I couldn’t even say whether the testing took hours or weeks, but eventually they took me into a different laboratory, one with what appeared to be large tanks that seemed to be sucking all the heat from the room. I was laid onto a gurney, and an IV drip was started.
I weakly looked up at the doctors, and saw the general standing in the middle of the group. As I faded out, I heard him mutter "Goodbye, Sergeant Wells, and may God have mercy on both of us." That’s the last thing I knew before my world ended.
Interlude: HELEN
This is Helen. I’m back.
I know, Herb isn’t the most colorful guy. But he changes. And you needed to know all that for MY story to make sense.
Permission is granted to archive or repost this story as long as the text is unaltered, and my copyright and this notice are included. Oh, and this permission is conditional upon it's being available only on free sites. No membership fee, "Adult Check", or other means of skinning money out of people are allowed.
We’d love to hear from any readers with comments. Email us at:
Debra Rachel: [email protected]
Kim EM: [email protected]
Succeeding chapters and other stories are available at http://www.kimem.net
It felt good, the feeling of the linens against my body, the weight of the covers, the warmth of the pillow against my face. The room was cool, almost cold, and I really didn't want to get up. I could feel the internal pressure, though, and knew that it was time to head for the bathroom or mess up those wonderfully comfy sheets.
Without a thought I pulled the covers off me, swung my feet off the edge of the bed, and found-- nothing-- on the floor. No slippers. I looked around and there was no robe or other clothing evident. As a matter of fact, I looked down and realized I was naked. Well, I wasn't going to let it bother me; I had to get to the bathroom before I peed myself.
The room was your run-of-the-mill cheap hotel. So I knew exactly where the bathroom was, and scurried right over. I went through the door at supersonic speeds, slid right onto the seat and released a high-pressure spray into the bowl. *Ahhhhhh*
That need completed, I wiped things up, moved to the sink, and began washing my hands. I looked into the mirror and stopped. Frozen. I saw my face, but, well, it was a face I'd never seen before.
The person I saw was female, about 6 foot tall, long and thick blonde hair (and I did check, the blonde was natural), kind of Nordic-looking. I looked down at my body. Well-shaped from what I could tell, large breasts, narrow waist. Great. But this was the wrong body for me. I should be-- what?
It was only then I realized that I didn't know what I was supposed to look like. I had no idea whatsoever. All I could tell was that this body was unfamiliar. Not better nor worse than what it should have been, but different. What _was_ I supposed to look like, anyway?
I stood, and thought, and thought, and thought. Nothing. Finally I decided that standing naked in a cold bathroom might not be the smartest thing to do, and returned to the bedroom.
Still no clothing in sight. That made sense; if there hadn't been any there when I went to the bathroom, how would it get there now? The brownies came in and stocked the wardrobe whilst I was in the loo?
The wardrobe. Nothing in the closet. Nothing in the dressers. No bags, nothing under the bed. Damn. This could be awkward. No clothing, in the wrong body. Why wasn't I panicking?
Hookay, let's look around. I walked over to the window, and noted the sway of my breasts with even the slow, short walk. Hmmm. I was going to need a bra. From somewhere. Soon.
I pulled back the curtain to discover that it was mid-day, or at least the sun was high in the sky. The view outdoors-- I was several stories up, and outside the window was a grassy area with scattered palm trees. About fifty yards away was a two-lane road with a steady flow of traffic. There seemed to be something wrong, though. I stood and watched the cars for about 20 minutes before it dawned on me. Of course! They're driving on the WRONG side of the road!
I decided that I might have to rethink the hotel theory. No car park. Across the road was what appeared to be an abandoned orange grove, and beyond that a lushly overgrown area that looked as if it might be swampland. Then I looked above the trees and went a bit faint. Above the tree line I could see some large metal frames at quite a distance. I'd never seen anything like them before, and then realized that there was a rocket upright on one. I instantly knew what it was, and by extension, where I was.
I looked at them and started to think about what I had seen so far.... The cars driving on the wrong side of the road-- the swampland-- the palm trees-- and last but not least the rocket. It had to be Cape Kennedy in Florida.
I backed away from the window, and fell backwards across the bed. I landed heavily and just lay there, trying to figure this all out. Trying. Nothing came to me, though. I knew where I was, more or less. And again, it's not where I was supposed to be. I should be... um... merde. Again,I didn't know where I should be, only that this wasn't it.
I sat up and looked for the room phone. Nothing. No phone? That was curious. This was definitely not a hotel. I started to wonder if I was locked in.
I rose and walked to the door. I turned the latch and the knob, and gently pulled the door open. No problems there. I poked my head out, and looked left and right. No people were in sight, and it looked just like a hotel hallway. No guards or nurse stations or anything like that. I looked at my door before withdrawing my head, and there was a small plastic plate on the door: "417".
I stepped back in and let the door close with a gentle 'snufft'. I paused a bit at that. It didn't sound like any door closing noise I'd ever heard. Which would be... when? My memory seemed to be pretty well shot.
I sat back down to think some more. It was still cold in the room, and I looked around... no thermostat. Figures. I snuggled under the covers and tried to assess my situation. Naked, in the wrong body, no clothing, no idea how I got there, in what was Not-A-Hotel located at Cape Kennedy, the place where the United States launches its moon flights.
Terrific.
*What do I do now?*
Um...
Someone could show up here at any time. On the other hand, maybe nobody would show up. But _someone_ had to know I was there. And with luck, they could tell me why I was there.
I lay, for a good two minutes. Patience was apparently not one of my virtues. I got up and wrapped the sheet around myself. I stepped to the door in my improvised toga, opened it and stepped outside.
As the door went 'snufft' behind me it occurred to me to check the lock from this side. Locked. Great. Well, I was committed now. I walked the hallway from one end to the other, with no sign of life, no sounds, and no indication that I wasn't the only person left in earth. No, that couldn't be true. There'd been cars on the motorway outside.
I returned to the area of the elevator and pressed the 'down' button. After a short wait, the wheezing elevator arrived and I stepped in. Floors numbered one through four. Okay, I was at the top. Should that make me feel good?
I pressed the "1" button as the doors noisily closed. The elevator was as rough going down as it sounded. It jolted to a stop on the first floor, and the doors rattled their way open. I stepped out, into a small shabby tiled lobby. No 'front desk' as such, as though this had been a hotel, but instead a guard post with two bored Air Force personnel sitting behind a desk.
One turned and saw me, his mouth dropping in surprise. The other started to ask what was wrong and then he spotted me. He stood suddenly, his folding chair falling over backwards with a loud clatter.
The first guard put his foot into it then, with the first instinctive question. "Who're you?"
"I'm... I'm... I..." *Hooboy* Who was I? I had no earthly idea. I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me, with as many unanswered questions as were swirling about me. Why shouldn't I have no personal memory? "I really can't say."
The voice that came out of my throat was unfamiliar as well. It was a pleasant voice, just not mine, if I had any clue what mine should have sounded like. It was a bit high-pitched, soft and slightly breathy. Not really a little-girl's voice, but rather like one that hadn't been used in a long time.
We were sitting in a small, shabby interrogation room. Oh, that's not what they called it, but it wasn't that hard to figure out. Tile walls, a big mirror on one side of the room, gray metal table and two profoundly uncomfortable chairs.
On one side of the table, facing the mirror, was me, still wrapped up in my improvised toga. On the other side was a general - an American general, of course, General Fitzsomething-or-other. And standing, leaning casually against one wall was a woman who had only been identified to me as Elle. Dark suit, kind of mannish, medium length auburn hair, and a sardonic expression as she listened to the questioning.
The general seemed to be taking it as a personal affront that I couldn't explain who I was or how I got there.
The general spoke, disbelievingly, "You have NO idea who you are? Do you take me for an idiot?"
Elle coughed gently, and the general colored slightly and looked just a bit embarrassed. Something was going on here, but I had no clue what. It was getting a bit old; this having no idea what was going on.
I leant forward, palms flat to the table, and told the general, "Look, you don't have to like it, and you don't have to believe me. But the fact remains that I have no clue as to who I am or how I got here. You can bluster all you want and it's not going to change those facts."
Elle straightened and walked up to the table, looking down at me expectantly. "Do you know where you are?"
That one I could handle. "I'm somewhere at Cape Kennedy."
"How..." the general began, but I cut him off.
"Before I came downstairs I looked out the window. Even I can recognize rockets when I see them. And with the palm trees that puts me at Cape Kennedy."
Elle smiled and said, "Actually, you're on the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. The Kennedy Space Center is just north of us."
The names were familiar, but slightly twisted, like in a funhouse mirror. "I thought they changed Cape Canaveral to Cape Kennedy a few years ago? Surely I didn't miss anything?"
Elle bent at the knees to bring her head down to my level, her eyes narrowed. "Apparently you did. Errm. May I ask you a slightly strange question?" I had a bad feeling about this, but nodded anyway. She continued, "What year is it? Right now, that is."
The general leaned back, a disgusted look on his face, and I leaned back, but for a completely different reason. There could only be one reason for asking a question like that, and it didn't bode well for me or my peace of mind, what little mind I had left.
"I think... well, no. If its when I think it is, your question wouldn't have had a point. So it's got to be somewhere, somewhen else."
Elle nodded, smiling expectantly.
"It's, or at least it should be, Nineteen-Seventy."
Her face went blank for a moment, then recovered. "Hookay."
I knew she was waiting for it, so I had to ask. "When it it? Today, I mean."
"It's, well, I think you're in for a bit of a shock. Today is Monday, August Twenty-eighth, Two Thousand."
I slumped down in my chair. Thirty years. *THIRTY YEARS?*
I think that's about when I fainted.
Permission is granted to archive or repost this story as long as the text is unaltered, and my copyright and this notice are included. Oh, and this permission is conditional upon it's being available only on free sites. No membership fee, "Adult Check", or other means of skinning money out of people are allowed.
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I weakly looked up and asked, "Did I hear you right? You said that today is Monday the 28th of August TWO THOUSAND?"
Elle looked me straight in the eye. She paused (for dramatic effect, I’m sure) and said, "Yes, it is. And that puts today some thirty years later than you said you thought it is. That’s, well, it’s been puzzling me. You’re obviously nowhere near thirty years old. So why do you think its Nineteen Seventy?"
I sat back and thought about it for a while. Thirty years... where had I been? This body, it didn’t seem right to me. Could I have been someone else thirty years ago? But that didn’t make sense. How could a person turn into a different one? Still, it would neatly explain why I was unfamiliar in my body. I roused a bit from my speculations to see Elle still standing, calmly waiting for my answer. "It, it just is."
She kept looking at me, waiting for more, I suppose. I retreated back into my head to think some more on this. Why was I not hysterical at the possibility that I was someone else, and had-- somehow-- been changed into the person I now was? Because the thought was so ludicrous? Maybe. It would take a lot more thought, that much I knew. Once I had thought about it a little more I realized that I was going to need help getting some answers, so I decided that I would need to start asking some questions.
I turned to the General, who was sitting unmoving and silent, staring at me as though I were some alien come to visit. From his point of view, maybe I was. Beautiful naked women probably don’t magically appear at Cape Kennedy every day. I giggled at the thought. "General, this "Cape Canaveral Air Force Station", it’s a secure facility, right?"
He opened his mouth, closed it again, shot a quick look at Elle, who gave him a slight nod, and only then did he speak. This Elle must be pretty important to be giving generals orders, I realized. "It’s secure. At least, it’s as secure as it can be with hordes of tourists wandering around every day."
"Tourists?"
"This is still America’s prime launch facility, but NASA and the National Park Service have turned this into one of Florida’s main," he spat out the words, "_tourist attractions_. Right over there," he nodded at one wall, "is the old training center. There’s another busload of tourists stopping there every seven minutes."
Urrm. That meant that just about anyone would have access. Damn. I tried another tack. "This building is secured, right? So there’s no way I should be here without someone knowing about it, right?"
The general thought about it, and Elle backed up to the wall, leaning with her arms folded, interjecting, "You shouldn’t, no." The general nodded in agreement, looking disgruntled.
Well then, general," I continued, "I’d suggest you start asking some pointed questions of your security people. Someone should have an idea where I came from." I looked to Elle, then back to the general. "I want some answers as much as you do. Probably more so if I took the time to think about it." He rose sullenly and I’d swear he was marching to the door. Some things never change. "General," I asked sweetly. HE stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Do you suppose you could find me something to wear? This ‘toga’ is just a touch drafty."
He seemed about to refuse when Elle jumped in. "I’m sure the general can find you something a bit more stylish." The general huffed a bit and then silently marched out the door. As it closed firmly behind him, she said, "He’s not as bad as all that. I think it’s just what he thinks people expect from generals." She paused a moment and sighed. "It’s a shame, but he really is quite good at what he does."
I looked at her silently for a moment, then, when it was clear she wasn’t going to continue, asked, "Which is what?"
She looked back at me and then said, "It’s a long story, dear," as the door reopened and a soldier entered sheepishly, carrying a pair of regulation Air Force coveralls. As he handed them to me, Elle said, "These should do for the moment, until we can get you something better."
Elle directed me to the other door, and it proved to be the entrance to a small loo. Upon entering, I quickly shucked off the bed sheet and pulled on the coveralls. Of course, they were too big for me. Typical military, everything is too big or too small. Hey, wait a minute! What did I mean, typical military? When did I, I mean, how did I know... umm...
My mind went blank for a bit as I rolled up the sleeves and legs of the coveralls. No point in letting them drown me. I reached for the door and then stopped suddenly. From the room came the sound of raised voices.
"YOU were supposed to be watching her," the general almost screamed, "How the f- hell did she get out? That door was supposed to be locked and guarded?"
"General," Elle said softly, "remember, the goal is to get your point across," her voice took on a hard edge, "WITHOUT swearing!"
Damn! Why couldn’t they stay on the point? This was getting interesting.
The general wasn’t cooperating. Damn. "Without... Damned civilians."
Elle’s voice took on a warning note. "I wasn’t always a civilian, General. And I haven’t forgotten who it is that forced my change in status."
"I felt you were a security risk, and honestly I still do."
"Well then, General, it’s a good thing the President disagrees with you, isn’t it?"
He made with a harrumphing noise, and then belligerently asked, "So what DID happen with the room’s security?"
"I decided, and you concurred if you remember, General, that there shouldn’t be an overt presence. The room was fully monitored with micro-cameras."
"They would have worked one HELL of a lot better if there had been people monitoring them," the general grated.
"General," she sighed, "Helen wasn’t supposed to awaken for another six hours. Had she woken on schedule, everyone would have been in place."
"So now what?"
"I wish I knew, General. This would all be so much easier of we had some idea who she is or how she got into KSC. Her first appearance, in the VAB itself, shook a lot of important people, especially with the Endeavour mission in only two weeks. That one HAS to go..."
The general broke in. "Damn it, ‘L’, I know all about the importance of that mission. And I wish you wouldn’t patronize me by telling me things I already know." He paused for a moment, as there was the sound of someone moving about. "Look, you don’t like me any more than I like you. Big deal. We have to work together, so we might as well try and cooperate."
The room fell silent at this point, and I thought it might be a good time to re-enter. My brain at this point was overloaded with questions and no answers were coming to mind.
An hour or so later, we were in Elle’s car heading west towards Orlando.
"Why Orlando?"
"Why not?" Elle looked my way with a smart-ass grin. I sighed and returned to staring out the side window. After a pause, she started speaking n a serious tone. "Helen, we don’t have any clue who you are, no idea how you got into secure areas of KSC, and especially no idea why."
I interrupted. "I don’t know any more about this than you do! Probably less! I don’t remember a bloody thing about myself. Think what it’s like to wake up naked in a strange country with no idea how you got there, no memory, and no possessions."
"I can imagine. Believe me, I’ve been closer to your situation than I’d normally care to admit."
"What?"
"Maybe I’ll tell you sometime. In the meanwhile, we’re heading for my local office, which is located just outside of Orlando. I want to run a physical on you and see if we can find any abnormalities."
I looked sideways at her, now intent on her driving. "We need to go to Orlando for that? NASA doesn’t have doctors?"
"Oh, they do. It’s just that this physical is going to contain a few non-standard items that I don’t want their doctors to observe."
Non-standard? Their doctors? A suspicion began growing in my mind. "You, you don’t really work for NASA, do you?"
"I’m on the NASA payroll as a security officer. But," she paused for effect, "I do have additional responsibilities."
"For?"
"I really can’t say. Not yet anyway."
"Oooooh, that makes me feel so much better." I slid down in my seat and closed my eyes. I still didn’t have any notion what I’d gotten myself involved in, and it didn’t seem as though things would be improving much.
We drove long in silence for another fifteen minutes or so until the land changed from swamps to suburbs, and finally ahead loomed the downtown of a large city. "This is Orlando?"
Elle nodded.
"It’s, it’s different. The Orlando I knew of was a small district, maybe some forty thousand in population?" I sat there gawking at the city.
Elle gave a small laugh and said, "It’s grown a bit over the past thirty years. Between NASA, Disney, and the other attractions, this is now one of the fastest-growing cities in America. I think it’s now fair to call Orlando a major city."
We drove through and out the other side, then exiting the expressway and following several highways towards the south. At one point near the end of our journey we passed some built-up parkland, something Elle called "Universal". A short distance past we turned onto another road and Elle said we were approaching the "Sand Lake" office.
The building looked like a typical suburban office block, and we entered the lobby and rode up to the fifth floor without passing through any security. When I mentioned this to Elle, she grinned wolfishly and said "Our security is somewhat more subtle than that." Whatever that means.
She keyed an unmarked wooden door, totally ordinary from all appearances, and we entered. Inside was what looked like a standard-issue doctor’s office. Elle turned to me and asked me to strip off the borrowed coveralls. "Shouldn’t we wait for the doctor or his staff first?" I asked.
Elle laughed and shook her head. "No staff, not for this. And the doctor is here."
"You?"
"Amazing, isn’t it? Believe it or not, I’m a M.D., graduate of the Medical College of Wisconsin, interned at Doyne Hospital, residency at Bellevue, and practiced for several years as an Assistant Medical Examiner in Manhattan."
My head swam as I looked at her. I’d have sworn from her appearance that she couldn’t be older than about twenty-five. "You- but- you-" I finally gave up and sank to a chair. "How?"
She laughed a short, bitter, barking sound. "You mean my age? I look too young for all that, short of being Doogie Howser?"
"Who?"
"Never mind. It’s something old and ugly and not worth the explaining."
I looked at her, mindful of how rapidly her mood had shifted, as though an old pain had resurfaced.
Elle turned to a cabinet and pulled out a small metallic gadget. After a moment of fiddling with some controls, she turned and pointed it at me. I must have looked nervous, because she grinned again and said "Don’t worry, it’s not going to hurt you. I’m just scanning for some things." She looked down at a small indicator light on the handle and then looked up at me. "One down."
"What?"
"That was a test looking for mechanical components. You’re not a robot..." I interrupted with a nervous laugh. She said seriously as she put the device aside, "It was a possibility I had to check out."
"That’s possible? Technology’s gone that far?"
"Ummm," she temporized.
"What else did your little gadget tell you?"
She looked directly at me and said, "You’re not wearing a body suit..."
"A WHAT?"
"...and there’s no bionic components," she continued, unfazed, as she drew on a pair of thin latex gloves.
"That means I’m really me?"
"Well, it means we haven’t ruled that out as a possibility yet."
"Yet?"
"Oh, there’s lots of possibilities we haven’t pursued yet," Elle stated as she fiddled around with a small syringe. "Stick out your arm." I did so, and she gave the inside of my elbow a quick swipe with an alcohol wipe. She deftly inserted the needle, drew some blood, and placed a piece of cotton over the puncture. Disposing of the needle into a red plastic container for some unfathomable reason, she plugged the ampoule of blood into the receiving socket on another strange device.
As it started vibrating and whirring, she stripped the gloves and tossed them into a receptacle lined with thin red plastic. What the fascination with red was, I felt without a clue. I stood still, still pressing the cotton to my arm as she stepped to a keyboard and began swiftly typing. The television screen before here displayed her notes. It must have been one of what I recalled from somewhere as the new computers that didn’t need card decks to use.
After a few minutes the device with the blood "dinged" and she stepped over to check it. Her eyes widened in surprise as she read something on a small display panel. "Damn. I would have sworn..." She trained off into silence.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing much. It came up negative."
"What does that mean?"
"I could have sworn it would have shown the presence of HuggleBugs." She sighed. "Back to the drawing board."
"HuggleBugs?"