Newlife Inc

"I want to experience life as a woman."

Sonya looked up from her computer and blinked in surprise at the man staring at her from across the counter. Usually when someone born into a male body braved the imposing, grey cinderblock building that housed Newlife Incorporated to request a female body, they came in female dress and wearing full make-up, having taken hormones and lived as a woman for several months.

The man before her now looked more like he had escaped from a Mad Max movie in his black jeans and T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and several days beard growth. His greasy, dark hair looked as if he used his fingers to comb it back and gave him an old James Dean sort of look. He breathed in short, sharp gasps, yet held her gaze unblinking.

"A change you choose to make today will be something you have to live with for a long time," Sonya quoted in her steady, professional voice. "Choosing a future life with too little experience of what might be entailed isn't something to do on a whim. Would you like to discuss it with one of our counsellors? Here's a list of our services."

She slid a price sheet across the counter to him. The six-figure price tag for the company's transfer services should be enough alone to give the man pause. He glanced at the sheet briefly, then looked up at Sonya and smiled. At that moment she knew it wasn't his first time.

The question was, did his decision to seek a new body result from a brush with the law, or was he one of those rich people who chose a younger shell when the old one reached a certain age? Some made the choice because of a debilitating physical condition, but this man looked strong and healthy. He didn't look older than maybe thirty-five, but Sonya's job was to make accurate assessments based on evidence, rather than assumptions.

"If you'll come with me Mr..."

"Anderson," the man supplied.

Sonya nodded. It was no surprise to hear he had a common surname. Their own policy for providing paperwork favoured names like Smith, Jones, Brown and sometimes slightly less widespread choices like Williams, Anderson and Foster. The ethnic names also followed the same protocol.

"We'll get a reading of your current body's condition and determine a trade-in price."

She stood up and gestured for Mr. Anderson to follow.

"Can't we have a look at the available female shells first?" Anderson tugged at his ear in a nervous gesture.

Sonya met his gaze with steady, unblinking eyes.

"I have to follow procedures in a prescribed order, Mr. Anderson. My job depends on it." She turned and dropped her plastic smile, trying to ignore the prickling sensation from having a probable criminal following behind her back. It never got easier.

She led him into an exam room with a scanner table already set up, ready for the next client. The receptionist smile returned as Sonya turned and invited Mr. Anderson to lie down on the table. He hesitated for just a moment, then complied. The moment of inattention as he settled down into position gave Sonya an opportunity to press a button on a wifi connected device she kept in her lab coat pocket.

"This is routine," she reassured him. "It will check your heart, liver function and other internal organs in just a few seconds. You won't feel a thing. Please keep your hands on the pads provided. I'll be right through that window there." Sonya gestured to the protective window behind the radiation-proof wall.

She had hardly gone through the door when Anderson moved his hands. Sonya appeared a few seconds later in the window.

"Hands on the pads please, Mr. Anderson. We must get your pulse and oxygen levels." And fingerprints.

The tension in the man's features as he slowly moved his hands back in place convinced Sonya she had assessed him correctly. She pushed a button in the control room and metal cuffs slid securely over Mr. Anderson's wrists.

"Hey!" he shouted. "What's this? I've got claustrophobia! Let me out!"

Sonya had already pressed another button that took his various bodily function readings. She saved the vital signs, but brought the fingerprints, read through the sensor pads on the hand rests, up onto the computer screen. As she had suspected, Mr. Anderson had bought new shells from Newlife Inc twice before. They kept meticulous records with fingerprint identification. He was also wanted by the police in relation to a murder. Her instincts had been spot on. Sonya wondered what crimes his previous two transfers had covered up, but there would be time to look into it later.

"You can't do this to me! I've got rights! Let me off this thing!" The shouts continued to come from the exam room. "I can sue this company! I've got money, lawyers! Let me out or you'll pay in ways you can't begin too imagine!"

Sonya ignored Mr. Anderson's protests. She had seen the gruesome report of how he had mutilated his latest victim. The man was nothing more than a vicious animal to be dealt with. She stepped into the hallway between the radiation booth and the exam room where two orderlies awaited her instructions.

"Wheel him down to the transfer room," she ordered them. "Don't let him loose. He's a murderer. Killed his girlfriend. Be sure to get his wallet and leave it on my desk."

The orderlies nodded their understanding and entered the exam room. They released the brakes and wheeled the exam table and its screaming occupant down a corridor. In his last moments, words, threats and cajoling all failed to elicit any response from his captors. The man who had lived as Mr. Anderson for the past three years howled like a trapped animal.

As she listened to the wailing fading down the hall, Sonya indulged in a genuine smile. In a few moments, the shell would be registered back to stock and could provide a healthy body for a client who wanted to be younger and healthier. The charge on Mr. Anderson's credit card would put an end to the police search. The man had very likely killed before and used the services of Newlife Inc to evade capture, but this time, he would disappear for good.