Ray led Tom down the hall past an endless array of doors. Some rooms were occupied. Some were not. Ray went to go get the key to open the unit door and a voice called out, “You pre- or post-op?”
“Huh?” said Tom.
“Did you just have the Mind Storage procedure done or are you about to?”
“Oh, uh, I already did it.”
“Damn,” said the voice as an old man wheeled a chair out into the hallway. “You made out like a bandit. What’s your name?”
“Nick,” said Tom. Wait, that wasn’t his name, was it. “Um, I mean Tom.”
“Uh-oh,” chuckled the old man. “I’m Chacho, I’m about to have to procedure. I’m about to become a woman, apparently. Not sure how that’s gonna feel. But I guess I’ll find out once the memories mesh.”
“Huh? Mesh?”
“Damn, son, you look like a terror on the field but you’re a little slow on the uptake, huh? Didn’t they explain about the memories meshing together?”
“I’m still working off my anesthesia, the doctor said. Doctor somebody. Finkelstein? Pink?”
“That’s what they tell everybody, my friend. But it ain’t true. Most people swap some of the mental attributes, too. And it looks like you’re not gonna be much of a thinker. Good thing you’re strong!”
“What do you mean, mental attributes?”
“Things like memories or abilities. Like this. ¿Dónde naciste, chamaco?”
“Nací en Juárez pero mi padre es duranguense.”
“See? Could you speak Spanish before? And were you born in Mexico?”
“No! Oh my God.”
Just then, Ray returned with the key and opened the door. Still flustered, Tom wandered out onto the visitors’ patio, where his fiancée Alice, his son Matt, and his roommate Steve were waiting for him.
“Well?” said Ray. “Aren’t you going to say hello to your family?”
“Hey,” said Tom, looking down at his feet.
“Oh, my God, Dad!” cried Matt. “I thought I was never going to see you again. No one was ever going to call me ‘mini-me’ ever again. And here you are. It’s a miracle.” He threw himself at Tom and hugged as much of him as he could.
“I guess I don’t look much like you now, huh.”
“That you don’t,” said Steve. “I don’t believe it. You’re like three inches taller than I am!”
But Tom was staring at a vision in a blue dress, standing with her hands clasped on front of her, looking worried.
“Alice,” rumbled Tom’s deep voice. She ran to him and he swept her up off her feet with ease. He planted his lips on hers and the two embraced for a long time. Tom couldn’t remember the last time kissing a woman felt so good, and he found himself getting hard.
“I am SO happy to see you, my love,” she cried aloud, then whispered as she nibbled his ear around his earring, “and I can see we’re gonna have a lot of fun later.”
“Ah, there you are,” said Dr. Pinkerton from the doorway. “Getting reacquainted? What do you all think?”
“I’m just glad to have my fiancé alive and well,” said Alice.
“I feel like I’m back in college,” said Steve. “This young Turk can definitely drink me under the table.”
“Dad… did your old body play football?” asked Matt. Tom nodded.
“Defensive end,” he said. “I tackled Mo Higuera from Northside by picking up Bobby Chavez and running him into Mo.” Wait… where did that come from?
Dr. Pinkerton smiled. “There may be some intrusive memories. The higher the compatibility, the more likely that is. But as you get used to this body and make it your own, those memories will fade. Now… we have some papers to fill out. You need new ID, because obviously you’re not a 6’1” middle-aged white guy anymore.”
Tom grabbed a pen and started filling out the form. He grunted a bit as he drew his finger along the line. “Fill… out… in… tri… trip…”
“Triplicate, dad,” said Matt. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just tired, mang.” He started filling in the blanks but the result was illegible.
“Tom… are you left-handed now?” asked Steve. “Try with your left hand.”
Tom grabbed the ballpoint pen in his huge left hand, then wrapped his hand around awkwardly. The result was messy but at least readable.
“Um… dad… your name isn’t Nicolás Martínez,” Matt pointed out. “And your birthdate isn’t 7/31/2003.”
“Yes it is!” yelled Tom. “And I hate being called Nicolás, only my mom does that when she’s mad! Everyone calls me Nick.”
Three worried pairs of eyes alighted on Dr. Pinkerton.
“This isn’t unusual,” he said, “though it’s not usually this strong. Take him home, and if it doesn’t resolve I’m a week, bring him back.”
And with that, he went back inside. Alice went to go pull the car around. Tom opened the box of stuff, and found his beloved Callaway Golf snapback. He put it on his head and swore. “Chit!” He stared at the hat.
“It’s too small, dude,” said Steve. “Here, let me—“
Tom shoved him back, causing Steve to fall over a planter. “I can do this myself!” He fiddled with the snaps, opening the hat to its widest setting.
“Whoa, dad,” said Matt, as Steve got up and dusted himself off. “You gotta be careful. You’re really really big and strong and you could hurt people.”
Alice pulled up in her Ford Focus at that point. Tom had to move the seat all the way back and down and tilt the seat back to get in, and his size-18 feet still barely cleared the door. “This is going to suck,” said Matt’s voice from behind him. “There’s no room!”