Lease Agreement for a Daydream Body

The body arrived in bubble wrap, the return label reading '24-Hour Free Trial.'

Nina Columbo traced her fingers along the packaging. After thirty-nine years of inhabiting the same tired skin—skin that had witnessed sixteen-hour trauma ward shifts, a near-marriage, and years of prescription sleep aids—she was about to step into someone else.

The body would need calibration before tonight's wedding reception.

Nina's reflection watched from the hallway mirror—bloodshot eyes, hair that hadn't seen proper conditioning in weeks, skin with the dull pallor of hospital lighting. A nurse whose hands had saved countless lives, but who couldn't rescue herself.

"Just for twenty-four hours," she whispered. "Just long enough to show them I'm fine."

Them meaning Marco and his perfect new wife, Alessandra. Them meaning everyone who'd witnessed her breakdown in the hospital parking lot six months ago.

Nina's hands trembled as she unzipped the body bag. The smell hit first—antiseptic with an undercurrent of something floral, masking the unsettling scent of synthetic tissue.

The DreamSkin™ Premium lay in perfect repose. Female, with lithe musculature Nina's body had never possessed. Its complexion held a subtle luminescence—the "subdermal biolight glow" that had cost Nina three months' salary.

The wedding reception started at 7:00 PM. She had twelve hours to acclimate to her rental before facing Marco's scrutiny.

The product manual lay atop the body's stomach. Nina scanned the activation instructions under "Initial Neural Transfer."

A warning in red text caught her attention: DreamSkin™ Premium models may contain residual proprioception data. Minor muscle memory artifacts are normal and will dissipate within 2-3 hours of activation.

Nina positioned the body on her bed. Delicate features, high cheekbones, lips with a natural upward tilt suggesting perpetual amusement. Nothing like Nina's own face with its perpetual worry lines.

The neural port behind the left ear gleamed—a small QR-coded rectangle embedded in the skin. Nina scanned it with her phone.

Welcome to your DreamSkin™ experience. Please confirm your identity and review the Terms & Conditions.

Forty-eight thousand euros for a twenty-four-hour rental. Every cent she'd saved after medical leave.

The memory surfaced—Marco's voice on the phone. "Nina, hey... Alessandra and I, we're getting married. I'd really like you to be there. For closure. We've all been worried about you."

His voice had been gentle. The voice you use with emotional invalids.

Nina jabbed "Accept Terms" and positioned herself next to the body. The app began a countdown. She closed her eyes.

Just twenty-four hours of being someone else. Someone beautiful. Someone unbroken.

A tingling sensation began at her skull, spreading through her limbs. Her consciousness stretched, thinned, then snapped like an elastic band.

When Nina opened her eyes, she was staring at the ceiling. Her first breath came as a shock—deeper, smoother, without the slight wheeze she'd developed.

She raised hands that responded with fluid grace, each movement precise, without the familiar ache of overworked knuckles.

"Oh my god," she whispered, her voice melodic, lower than her natural register.

Nina sat up carefully. No back pain. No stiff neck. No heaviness. She felt... weightless.

But as she stood, text flashed across her vision, then vanished. She blinked, disoriented.

The text flashed again, more persistent:

HEIST: 1:30 AM, VATICAN ARCHIVES.

Nina's borrowed heart raced. She stumbled to the mirror, staring at the stranger's face housing her consciousness—watching fear transform features too perfect to be real.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no..."

***

Nina's fingers trembled as she called the DreamSkin™ helpline.

"There's something wrong with my rental," Nina hissed, watching her borrowed face shift subtly in the mirror. "It has internal messages about a heist."

A pause. "One moment while I access your rental agreement."

Nina studied her new hands. Perfect cuticles. No calluses from hospital-grade soap. These hands were made for cocktail glasses, not saving lives.

"Ms. Columbo," the voice returned, cooler now. "According to your rental agreement, DreamSkin™ holds no liability for residual content stored within leased shells."

Nina's borrowed heart stuttered. "Residual content? We're talking about a crime."

"Early termination will result in substantial penalties. Your security deposit would be forfeit, with additional identity entanglement charges."

"So I might suffer brain damage if I return this body early?" Nina whispered.

"That's essentially correct. Additionally, interfering with pre-scheduled activities would implicate your biometric signature with authorities."

Nina ended the call. Twenty-four hours. She just needed to get through them before anyone realized what had happened.

The notification flashed again:

HEIST: 1:30 AM, VATICAN ARCHIVES. TEAM EXPECTING KEIKO. CONFIRMATION REQUIRED.

A response interface blinked: Yes or No. The borrowed body hummed with anticipation, muscles tensing without her conscious command.

Nina took a deep breath and focused on 'Yes.'

Immediately, information cascaded through her consciousness—floor plans, security protocols, guard rotations. Knowledge she hadn't possessed seconds ago felt intimately familiar.

Muscle memory twitched through her borrowed limbs. Her fingers flickered through safe-cracking gestures. Her legs tensed with the remembered precision of someone who knew how to scale walls in darkness.

"Oh god," Nina whispered, watching as a stranger's smile curved across her lips without permission. "What have I done?"

She glanced at her watch. Four hours until the wedding reception. Ten hours until the heist.

The mirror reflected something subtly wrong—a calculation in her expression that disappeared when she tried to focus on it. Nina wondered if she was truly alone in this body.

She turned away and began dressing for the wedding. As she slipped on the black gown, the body moved with liquid grace, preening before the mirror in ways Nina had never moved.

"Stop that," she hissed, but the body continued its elegant pirouette, admiring its reflection with satisfaction.

When the movement ceased, the notification blinked again:

PREPARATIONS COMPLETE. TEAM WILL CONTACT AT RECEPTION. WEAR THE DIAMOND.

"What diamond?" Nina asked aloud.

Her hand moved independently to the jewelry box—a box that had contained only a pearl necklace when she'd packed it. Now, when her fingers opened it, a teardrop diamond pendant gleamed up at her.

Nina hadn't put it there. The diamond hadn't been there yesterday.

Yet her borrowed body recognized it instantly, fastening it around her neck without fumbling.

The woman in the mirror—beautiful, dangerous, wearing Nina's terror on features too perfect to be real—touched the diamond with reverent fingers.

"This isn't me," Nina whispered, but the words sounded hollow even to her ears.

***

The Grand Terrace floated above Lake Como like a fever dream. Nina entered on legs that moved with confidence her own never possessed. The diamond pulsed against her skin—matching her heartbeat, as if listening to her fear.

Conversations hushed as she passed. She felt their eyes—admiring, hungry—and something within the borrowed body preened even as Nina's consciousness shrank from attention.

Marco spotted her, confusion flickering across his face before recognition dawned.

"Nina?" He approached cautiously. "I almost didn't recognize you."

If only you knew, she thought, but her lips curved into a smile she hadn't formed. "Marco. Congratulations."

Her voice emerged melodic—the voice of someone who knew her own allure. Nina felt herself a passenger in a performance she hadn't rehearsed.

"You look... different."

"New job. New lifestyle. People change."

Was that her speaking, or had the residual personality seized control? The boundary between voluntary and involuntary response blurred with each passing moment.

Marco's wife materialized beside him, radiant in ivory lace. "You must be Nina. I've heard so much."

"All good things, I hope," Nina's mouth replied without her intention.

Alessandra's eyes narrowed. "Your necklace is stunning."

"Thank you. It was a gift."

"From whom?" Marco asked, his tone casual but eyes sharp.

Before Nina could answer, a man's voice interrupted. "There you are."

A tall stranger appeared at her side, his hand settling at her back with intimate familiarity. "I've been looking everywhere for you, darling."

Nina's body leaned into him even as her mind recoiled. The man was handsome in a severe way—high cheekbones, dark eyes, a scar along his jawline.

"I don't believe we've met," Marco said, extending his hand.

"James," the stranger replied. "I'm Nina's plus-one."

No, you're not, Nina thought frantically.

"I didn't realize Nina was bringing anyone," Alessandra said, her smile cooling.

"Last-minute decision. I couldn't bear to be apart."

A notification flashed: FOLLOW MY LEAD. MAINTAIN COVER.

With horror, Nina realized she was standing beside one of the heist team members. The operation had begun.

"If you'll excuse us," James said, "I promised Nina a dance."

He guided her toward the dance floor. Nina's legs moved in perfect synchronization with his, as if they'd danced together a hundred times before.

"You're not Keiko," he murmured against her ear. It wasn't a question.

"No. I'm a renter."

His expression didn't change, but his fingers tensed against her waist. "Inconvenient timing."

The music swelled around them. Nina's body moved flawlessly through steps she'd never learned, while her mind raced with panic. The clock showed 9:47 PM. Less than four hours until the heist.

"What are you going to do with me?" she finally asked.

James executed a perfect turn. "You've already accepted the mission parameters. The body knows what to do. You just need to stay out of its way."

"Stay out of—"

"The muscle memory is programmed. Keiko's been rehearsing for weeks. Just let the body drive when the time comes."

Nina stumbled. "That's not possible."

"It is with these high-end models. Neural partitioning. The consciousness is temporary—the body remembers." His hand traced the neural port at her spine. "The transfer is never complete. There's always something left behind."

The music ended. James stepped back, then whispered: "Midnight. Meet me by the boat dock. Don't be late, or we activate the failsafe."

"What failsafe?" Nina hissed, but he was already walking away.

Nina touched the diamond at her throat and felt a subtle vibration—not a heartbeat, but a pulse of data.

The diamond wasn't just jewelry. It was a device.

In the ladies' room, her reflection in the compact mirror looked wrong—features asymmetrical, as if the face were being pulled in two directions by competing wills.

"Who are you?" Nina asked her reflection.

The lips moved with her words, but the eyes held cold amusement she wasn't feeling.

Nina blinked hard. When she reopened her eyes, the mirror showed only her terror. But something had shifted internally. She could feel it—a presence sharing the neural pathways. Not a full consciousness, but fragments of Keiko embedded in the muscles and nerves.

Nina returned to the reception with strange double awareness. Part of her observed with a nurse's detachment. But another part catalogued escape routes, camera positions, security weaknesses.

"Midnight," the diamond whispered against her skin.

Nina moved to the terrace railing, looking over dark water. Lights from distant villas reflected like stars fallen to earth.

"Beautiful night," Marco's voice said beside her.

Nina nodded, not trusting whose voice might emerge if she spoke.

"I'm glad you came. I was worried about you, after... everything."

The concern in his voice pierced through her panic. For a moment, she considered telling him everything.

But her vision flickered. Images superimposed over reality—Marco shouting into a phone, police swarming, her body convulsing as the neural connection destabilized.

"I'm fine," she heard herself say. "Everything worked out for the best."

Marco's expression softened with relief. He believed this façade of wellness.

The clock struck midnight. The diamond pulsed hard enough to make her gasp.

"Excuse me," she said. "I need some air."

Her legs carried her toward the dock with increasing urgency, each step feeling less like her choice and more like inevitability.

***

The boat cut through black water, nearly silent. James navigated while two others—a silver-haired woman and a broad-shouldered man—studied Nina with suspicion.

"She's not Keiko," the woman said. "The micro-expressions are all wrong."

"We have no choice," James replied. "The shell knows what to do."

"And if I don't?" Nina asked.

The woman leaned forward, moonlight catching an implant at her temple. "The failsafe triggers automatically if the shell detects resistance. Neural feedback loop. Potentially fatal to both your consciousness and original body."

James cut the engine as they reached a secluded dock near Vatican City.

"Time to get into position. Let the shell lead."

Nina felt the shift—her consciousness being gently pushed aside. The body accepted equipment: gloves that melded with her skin, a device at her wrist that sent filaments beneath the surface.

Her heartbeat slowed, breathing regulated. The body was preparing itself. Nina tried to protest, but her lips wouldn't move. Her consciousness receded, becoming observer rather than controller.

Is this what drowning feels like? This slow surrender to forces beyond resistance?

They scaled walls she knew she could never climb, navigated security systems with dancer's precision. Her body twisted through laser grids, fingers dancing across keypads.

This isn't me, Nina thought desperately, watching her hands perform tasks she'd never learned.

Her consciousness flickered between awareness and strange gaps when the programming took complete control.

In one gap, they reached their destination. Nina's awareness snapped back to find her hands disabling a final security measure—a glass case containing a book bound in silver, its pages glowing with inner light.

"The Codex," the silver-haired woman breathed. "Perfect condition."

Nina watched her hands lift the ancient text. Something about it tugged at her awareness, making the diamond pulse in response.

"Keiko?" James's voice sounded distant. "Something's wrong."

Nina realized her body had frozen, the Codex clutched against her chest. The muscle memory had encountered something unexpected—or was responding to a deeper directive.

Nina felt another consciousness brushing against hers—not fragments, but a complete awareness. Keiko, somehow witnessing through the neural connection.

I'm sorry, Nina projected. I didn't know.

A sensation like laughter rippled through her mind, neither kind nor cruel—simply amused at her naiveté.

And then her body moved again, but not as expected. Instead of handing over the Codex, she tucked it into her gown and ran—sprinting through corridors with inhuman speed.

"Keiko!" James shouted behind her. "Protocol breach!"

Nina was merely a passenger now, watching as her borrowed body executed escape maneuvers too precise to be improvised. This was a contingency plan embedded in the neural pathways all along.

Minutes later, Nina found herself on a different dock, boarding a different boat. Her hands started the engine, navigating away at reckless speed.

The diamond pulsed once, hard, and Nina gasped as her consciousness surged forward, regaining control suddenly. She stumbled, clutching the wheel.

"What just happened?" she whispered.

A countdown timer appeared on her retina. 00:47:23. Forty-seven minutes until the end of her rental period.

Now Nina realized she had no idea where she was or how to get back to her apartment—back to her real body.

The communication interface flickered:

MISSION COMPLETE. RETURN TO EXTRACTION POINT DELTA.

But Nina had no idea where that might be. This was Keiko's knowledge, not hers.

She guided the boat toward distant shore lights. The timer continued its countdown. 00:42:17.

The diamond pulsed again. A new message appeared:

NEURAL DISCONNECTION IMMINENT. RETURN TO PLATFORM FOR SAFE TRANSFER.

"I'm trying!" Nina shouted. "I don't know where to go!"

Her legs carried her up unfamiliar streets, the body moving with increasing desperation as the timer counted down.

Nina found herself before a nondescript door, her hand punching a code she hadn't known until her fingers moved across it. The door opened to a sterile room containing a reclined chair surrounded by medical equipment.

"Welcome back, Keiko," an automated voice greeted. "Please prepare for neural extraction."

"No, wait—I need to get back to my body. My real body, in the apartment on Via Dolorosa."

"Transfer destination unrecognized. Proceeding with standard extraction protocol."

The timer reached zero. Pain lanced through Nina's skull—blinding, absolute.

When consciousness returned, Nina was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. The hum of medical equipment surrounded her.

"Welcome back," a familiar voice said.

Nina turned her head with effort. A woman stood beside the bed—beautiful, with features Nina had worn hours ago.

"Keiko?" Nina whispered, the word emerging in a strange voice.

The woman smiled, touching the diamond at her throat. "In the flesh. Well, in your flesh, to be precise."

Horror dawned as Nina raised freckled, calloused hands. Her hands. Her real hands.

Except she wasn't in her body. She was in another rental.

"What have you done?" Nina croaked.

"I needed a decoy," Keiko said. "Someone who could attend that wedding, create a perfect alibi while I acquired the Codex. And you were perfect—desperate to be someone else."

"My body—"

"Is being well cared for. I have a client who requested the 'authentic civilian experience.' Your body was perfect—the medical knowledge, the trauma reflexes."

Nina struggled against restraints. "You can't do this. We had a contract. Twenty-four hours."

Keiko laughed. "Check the terms and conditions. DreamSkin™ reserves the right to extend rental periods in case of unforeseen circumstances."

She leaned closer. "If it helps, I left a one-star review on your QR code. 'Body too anxious, prone to moral qualms. Would not recommend for complex operations.'"

"This isn't what I signed up for."

"Nobody ever reads the fine print," Keiko sighed. "The agency will contact you with options for recovering your original body. It might take time—my client paid for a multi-week lease."

At the door, she paused. "In the meantime, enjoy your complimentary rental. Basic model—no enhancements, no charisma subroutines. Just enough functionality until we sort out the paperwork."

Nina lay in the unfamiliar body, staring at the ceiling with unfamiliar eyes. Somewhere, someone else walked in her skin, lived her life. And here she was, consciousness adrift in temporary flesh she hadn't chosen.

The tears that leaked from her eyes weren't even her own.

On her wrist, a small tattoo: a QR code accumulating star ratings from previous renters of this shell.

Nina closed her eyes. As consciousness faded, a notification blinked across her vision:

WELCOME TO DREAMSKIN™ BASIC. YOUR ESTIMATED WAIT TIME FOR BODY RETRIEVAL: 37 DAYS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

And beneath it, a cheerful prompt:

WOULD YOU LIKE TO BROWSE AVAILABLE UPGRADES WHILE YOU WAIT?