You clink the rings together, prepared for your swap with Onur Karacan. Suddenly, the magic takes hold, and you and your brother are standing in a different room. You blink and twist your neck to survey your surroundings. It's the back room at City Zip Taxi, the room that was once Onur's office. But as you look around the room is very different. Instead of fading, half-disintegrated newspaper articles from Turkish newspapers and dusty wall-rugs, the office looks clean and modern. Two desks sit inside, each with a shiny nameplate -- one for you, and one for Kadir.
You grin, turning to look at your brother, but are shocked to see he has become much older. You examine him closely, his body basically a mirror to examine your own with. You're not sure how old Onur was, but certainly it was close to double your old age. (And nearly triple the age you were a few days ago, you remind yourself, sinking more and more into your new life as Asil.) He's certainly in his late 50s, at least, and maybe even in his early 60s. The thought makes you shudder. The man didn't take care of himself well, and it looks like you and Kadir didn't fare much better. Your faces are creased with many branching wrinkles, especially around the corners of your eyes and your forehead. Your forehead quickly transitions into a deeply receding hairline -- the bald spot you inherited days ago from Eric having expanded greatly too. Your hair is beginning to gray, also, light-gray wisps of hair mixed in with faded black ones. You see that it's true of your body hair as well. Wisps poking out of Kadir's unbuttoned polo collar have the same salt and pepper appearance. Your body weight seems to have slowly dragged itself downwards with time, creating sagging man-tittites and drooping rolls of neck fat. "Lanet olsun!," you shout. "My back fucking hurts." Kadir nods in sympathy, the both of you collapsing into cushy leather office chairs.
"Sirs?" Pinar and Toygar knock at the door to your offices, each holding something. "Your documents, Kadir Dayım," says Toygar, setting several papers onto your brothers desk. You cringe, hearing how Toygar addresses him. Although the word means uncle, it implies a great age difference. If you had been close with Onur, you might have called him 'Dayı' too, you suppose. Still, it makes you feel like an old fart. Pinar moves to your desk too, holding a glass of cold water and a small bottle of pills. "And perhaps it is a good time for your back pain medicine, patronlarım."
You know Pinar, of course -- she was Onur's old secretary. She looks much more youthful and pretty today. Perhaps the stress of dealing with Onur every day was rubbing off on her, you consider. Not that you're opposed to rubbing a little with Pinar yourself, you think with a grin. The glint in your brother's eye as she sets a second glass of water on his desk says he is thinking the same thing. Pinar's brown hair is silky-smooth, and is resting on her shoulders in soft curls. Her soft-looking lips are coated with glossy pink lipstick, a shade that matches her well-manicured nails exactly. She has pretty, sculptural features and healthy, thick proportions. She looks like a lusty goddess.
Toygar, however, is someone you've never seen before, although you seem to know his name. In fact, you know more than that. You know that he has been your and Kadir's secretary for a few years, along with Pinar. Toygar is very gay, you remember, although this is clear even from your first impression. A mop of curly, dark hair sits on top of his head, and his slight body is wrapped tightly with a pink silk shirt and pinstripe slacks. He has a pointy, lupine face that seems to suggest some devious tastes. His posture is floppy, one leg bent slightly, a limp-wristed hand placed against his thin hips. Frankly, you're not sure whether you want a go at Toygar or Pinar first. Perhaps you and Kadir can flip for it? You accept the documents from the two secretaries, quickly realizing your second change. "Teşekkür ederim," you say cheerfully, dismissing the pair.
As soon as the door to your new office is shut, your eyes lock with your brothers. Kadir speaks first, a note of distaste in his voice. "Well we certainly can't stay like this. Who even knows if these cocks still work?" He gestures fretfully towards his crotch. "Sarkık hıyar," he mumbles, "past expiry." You agree, but what is there to do? As if reading your mind, your brother continues.
"Well, Asil, if we are to fix this then..."