The man sat back in his chair, taking a moment to scratch at his well groomed beard, while twitching his head like a seizing patient. "N-n-now, let's see..." He stuttered with his eyes closed, seeming to think about the process in his head. "It's true -- I mean it's certainly real that there is a flaw in the process right now. It's... possible -- I mean it's conceivable that perhaps down the line, when your body has had time to heal the damage done to your brain, that maybe..." The way he phrased everything, I was on the edge of my seat. I actually felt like there was hope in my life for a moment.
"But no, you could never be David again." My heart shattered from the words. Yet they were specific. "You said David? Does that mean I can be someone else?" I asked him, some skeptic hope returning. "Possibly, yes."
Relief... pure relief rushed over me, as I realized I might not have to spend the rest of my life as my aging mother. Then he prattled on about why... "The flaw in the process is -- is such that -- I mean it's quite like... a flash drive. You see your brain is made up of nothing but electrical signals, and each memory just requires a different amount of spark in this area and another. When we -- my assistant and I -- switched your bodies, we send the exact same signals at the exact locations and quality to trigger all of the same memories. Every person is different you see, so doing it between two people doesn't share much overlap in areas of memories. In-fact, we mostly do not even touch the areas unrelated to what make you who you are -- that is to say, you may both experience some mild cases where your new body seems to remember things that you do not. It will feel like... muscle memory, or so I theorize. But yes, it is -- it's just too risky to tamper with those sections of the brain."
"I think... I'm following." I said between his breaths. "Wait, so does that mean I can't throw a baseball? But I remember how to throw one." I asked him. "You have the memory of throwing one, yes, I'm sure, but don't have the memory of how to actually do it. That is -- as I may say, the memory of your body, and the act of throwing one. Of course, your mother may have also thrown a ball, so your instincts would default to that."
"So I'm going to throw like a girl...?" The comment seemed to get some laugh out of him. "Until you relearn how to do it properly, and teach your new body how to throw one, yes. Think of it this way, you've probably never worn heels before, yes?" He asked, I was embarrassed to say that I have, because my mother told me to before this. "Well, I doubt you were any good at it, but I saw you walking the hall, it was -- well, it seemed to be quite natural to me." As he told me that, I stood up and walked about, sure enough, despite struggling for a moment at first, I really didn't have any trouble walking around despite how different my mother's body was to mine. "So, I have my mother's muscle memory? I wish I really knew what that meant. I think I get it, but..." He chuckled and stood up from his seat.
"I have always wanted to try these new things, so this is -- it is fun for me, so come here, let me show you -- witness it. Now close your eyes." He stuck me in-front of a full length mirror, a sight I wasn't eager to see, so I was happy to close my eyes. I waited, and waited, expecting him to tell me something more. Finally, he simply said... "Open your eyes." I did. All I saw was my reflection, still showing my mother, but I will say, she somehow looked even more like... herself, which I found off-putting. "So what am I looking at?"
"I cannot say I know your mother as well as your father, but... how do you -- no, perhaps a better question would be... have you ever had a posture like that before?" He was implying something, so I looked further at it. My shoulders were slightly risen, my elbows completely 90 degrees, tucked underneath my bust, where my hands laid on the elbows of my each other's arm, whereas my weight was all left on my right foot, while the other seemed to be slightly bent, toes to the floor, at the side of my other one. I got it. "T-this is... this is how my mother stands sometimes! Just what the hell did you do to my hea--" In my anger, I turned towards him, my hands shifting to grip rigidly at my hips, my chest bellowing forward to show both my cleaveage and authority. I reeled back, nearly slamming my head against the wall. "Shit, n-no, that's... how my mother yells at me, putting her hands on her hips, and putting her stupid big rack in my -- er... s-sorry..." I pulled up my dress, a bit embarrassed to be showing this cleavage to someone I loosely knew. ('I can't believe I'm moving like my own mother, this sucks! Wait, no! What am I doing!?') Lost in my thought, I found myself, in my panic and desire to calm down, rolling my hair to one shoulder and layering my hands through it over and over again. "No! My mother does that too! Dammit, how much of this is there?"
He answered my question with a video, one taken of my mother walking down the hallway to this office, the other... seeming to be the same thing. "Which one is you?" He asked. ('One of those was me!?') I couldn't believe it. "The second one, obviously." I told him with more assurance than I should've had. "You were the first." He informed me. "Hah... I can't even tell the difference. I... I look like, walk like, and probably talk like my mother, no one is even going to know I'm not her!"
"Ah, yes, you picked up on that. Yes, you may speak differently too. Your words are your own -- yes, of course, but how your mother used to sound out vowels and position her tongue or lips is entirely her own."
"I--I was just joking, I didn't think that actually happened! Please tell me that's a..." I had picked up on the voice before, but not the way I presented it. My mother often spoke slightly more out of the left side of her mouth, which... I was also doing. With the video of my mother and myself still walking, I couldn't help but feel defeated. "I'm... I'm my mother, no one is going to even be able to tell that I'm not her. I can't even tell! Why did you have to give me her damn memories!?" The idea of pieces of my mother inside of me, even if it was just part of her body -- it wasn't, it was how I was moving, and presenting myself. I was mom even in how I expressed myself...
"Muscle memory can be retrained. It will take some doing, especially for ones already learned, but it can be done. A few weeks of active training should do the -- should achieve the results you want. The fact you are already consciously aware is a good start. But, yes -- absolutely, yes, we needed to keep her memories in-tact for her body. If we didn't, you and her both would be hung up here for weeks, possibly months just trying to learn how to -- experiencing -- no, learning was right... how to move each other's bodies. Then with the risk of your muscle memories conflicting with her own, it runs the risk of error, very big error -- massive error." It should be noted, that after only a couple seconds into his lecture... I defaulted back to my mother's pose, hands under my bust, weight to one side -- I had no idea I was even doing it, and the only sign that could have ticked me off was the small smirk he gave during his speech. "I think I get it now, thanks."
"Now then, we've gotten -- we are very off-topic, but that is fine. That was a conversation we needed to have. I am sure Sylvia is giving your mother a similar lecture. Back to why you can't return to being David then. As I said, the shock we give to your brains is essentially a perfect imprint of your memories, first to erase them, then to put them onto your mother's brain. The issue is -- it is quite -- very much so -- that I would consider it very likely that someone's brain would be at quite a risk to have the same neurons fired off in the same way. If we put your memories back in your original body, it may well fry your brain for good." He explained. I didn't like hearing it, but I asked him to continue about how I could be someone else.
"If you choose someone else, their brain wouldn't have the same issue. I would say also -- yes I would, that... the less familiar that person is with you, the better." It was as if he was begging me to ask him why, so I did. "The reason being, is that certain memories like names that you both share, might override each other and burn out the memory completely. That said, you are living example that perhaps that is a non-issue, but it was a concern. Afterall, every person remembers things differently. Simply because you remember -- that you recall the name David, you also do so under the guise that it is yourself, so it is remembered differently, likely with different neurons, while your mother, likely recalls your name as her son, or perhaps she knows another David, who is another memory trigger. That said, I do think -- I believe that issues could arise, so the more distant the better."
"I think... I get it. I'm just happy to hear I don't have to be my mother forever. When can I do it?" I asked a bit excitedly, even if I had no idea with who. The look he gave me filled me with a bit of despair however.
"I would love to have more results, especially on a patient who has already undergone it once. You would be the first for a second time. However, it will take time for your brain to recover from any damaged neurons from the procedure. Once that is done, I would consider it a possibility to attempt the procedure again."
"How long do I have to wait?"