Copy & Waste
A Short Story
By Stephen O'Neil
Part 6 of 9 - First Page - Previous Page - Next Page
“Yes. I will do it.”
“Excellent. You can see for yourself what it has done for me.”
“Yes. You look, amazing.”
“And I feel it too. Have you spoken with your daughter?”
“Yes. Elly is flying from Australia. Her husband Brett is coming too. They will be staying in Lehi.”
“Good, I’m glad they will be close. Pass their details on to my secretary and they will have one of my personal drivers at their disposal.”
“Thank you. Arty you must tell me. What is it like?”
“The procedure?”
“Yes. What does it feel like?”
“It doesn’t really feel like anything. I went to sleep in an old body and woke up in a young body.”
“That simple?”
“That simple. Well almost. It’s taken me some time to get used to it. I expect it will for you also. You will have therapists and other specialists on call to help you through that. It’s not like the old transplant patients though. You’re not getting some foreign part tacked on. It will be you in every way.” He saw the look on Grigori’s face and smiled warmly. “I know it’s daunting. I had my doubts, but not anymore. If I still had any doubts I would be talking you out of it, not talking you in to it.”
“My old body?”
“You’re still concerned about that?”
Grigori smiled crookedly, “Well I’ve kinda grown an attachment to it over the years.”
“Yes of course you have. Well it’s not as if you’ll be dying so I don’t think there’s any need to give your old body a funeral or anything.”
“Oh I know. It may seem strange but I just want to be sure it’s treated respectfully.”
“Oh I understand that. I promise you it will be.”
“So when will it happen?”
“As soon as you’re ready. Everything is prepared.”
“I would like to wait until Elly is here.”
“I thought you might. I think it is good that she will be here. She won’t be able to be in the room when it happens.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sure she will like to be there before though. And afterward, when you awake. Vermisa too.”
“Yes. That is what I wish.”
Grigori felt a strange, tingling sensation gradually welling up in the depths of his bowels and quickly spreading to his limbs. He could feel. He could hear also. There were people around him.
He was debating whether or not he dare open his eyes when he heard a nearby voice. “He’s coming to.”
A closer, more familiar voice also spoke, “Greg. Can you hear me? It’s Arty. If you can hear me, you have bandages over you eyes. Just hold still and the nurse will remove them.”
What else could he do? He sensed the approach of what he assumed was the nurse. A hand was gently placed under his head, raising it from the pillows as another pair of hands carefully unwound the bandages from his head.
Arty spoke again. “You can open your eyes now.”