"Now, I want you to relax," Dr. Russell said to me.

The Colonials had wheeled the younger me to the other crèche and were in the process of placing the body into it. It or he or I or whatever offered no resistance; they might as well have been moving someone in a coma. Or a corpse. I was fascinated. And horrified. A small little voice in my brain told me it was good I had gone to the bathroom before I came in, or otherwise I'd be peeing down my leg.

"How -" I began, and I choked. My mouth was too dry to talk. Dr. Russell spoke to one of the Colonials, who left and returned with a small cup of water. Dr. Russell held the cup as he gave the water to me, which was good, because I don't think I could have managed to grip it. He spoke to me as I drank.

"'How' is usually attached to one of two questions," he said. "The first is, How did you make a younger version of me? The answer to that is that ten years ago we took a genetic sample and used that to make your new body." He took the cup away.

"A clone," I said, finally.

"No," Dr. Russell said. "Not exactly. The DNA has been heavily modified. You can see the most obvious difference - your new body's skin."

I looked back over and realized that in the shock of seeing a younger version of me, I missed a rather obvious and glaring difference.

"He's green," I said.

"You're green, you mean," Dr. Russell said. "Or will be in about five minutes. So that's one 'how' question. The second one is, How do you get me into there?" He pointed to my green-skinned doppelganger. "And the answer to that is, we're transferring your consciousness."

"How?" I asked.

"We take the representation of brain activity that's tracked by your sensor array and send it - and you - over there," Dr. Russell said. "We've taken the brain pattern information we've collected over the last couple of days and used it to prepare your new brain for your consciousness, so when we send you over, things will look familiar. I'm giving you the simplified version of things, obviously; it's vastly more complicated. But it'll do for right now. Now, let's get you plugged in."

Dr. Russell reached up and began to maneuver the crèche's arm over my head. I started to move my head away, so he stopped. "We're not putting anything in this time, Mr. Perry," he said. "The injector cap has been replaced with a signal amplifier. There's nothing to worry about."

"Sorry," I said, and moved my head back into position.

"Don't be," Dr. Russell said, and fit the cap over my skull. "You're taking this better than most recruits. The guy before you screamed like a pig and fainted. We had to transfer him over unconscious. He's going to wake up young and green and very, very disturbed. Trust me, you're a doll."

I smiled, and glanced over to the body that would soon be me. "Where's his cap?" I asked.

"Doesn't need one," Dr. Russell said, and began tapping his PDA. "Like I said, this body's been heavily modified."

"That sounds ominous," I said.

"You'll feel differently once you're inside." Dr. Russell finished playing with his PDA and turned back to me. "Okay, we're ready. Let me tell you what's going to happen next."

"Please," I said.

He turned the PDA around. "When I press this button" - he indicated a button on the screen - "your sensor array will begin transmitting your brain activity into the amplifier. Once your brain activity is sufficiently mapped, I'll connect this crèche to a specialized computer bank. At the same time, a similar connection will be opened to your new brain over there. When the connections check out, we'll broadcast your consciousness into your new brain. When the brain activity takes hold in your new brain, we'll sever the connection, and there you are, in your new brain and body. Any questions?"

"Does this procedure ever fail?" I asked.

"You would ask that question," Dr. Russell said. "The answer is yes. On rare occasions something can go wrong. However, it's extremely rare. I've been doing this for twenty years - thousands of transfers - and I've lost someone only once. The woman had a massive stroke during the transfer process. Her brain patterns became chaotic and consciousness didn't transfer. Everyone else made it through fine."

"So as long as I don't actually die, I'll live," I said.

"An interesting way to put it. But yes, that's about right."

"How do you know when consciousness has transferred?"

"We'll know it through here" - Dr. Russell tapped the side of his PDA - "and we'll know it because you'll tell us. Trust me, you'll know when you've made the transfer."

"How do you know?" I asked. "Have you ever done this? Been transferred?"

Dr. Russell smiled. "Actually, yes," he said. "Twice, in fact."

"But you're not green," I said.

"That's the second transfer. You don't have to stay green forever," he said, almost wistfully. Then he blinked and looked at his PDA again. "I'm afraid we have to cut the questions short now, Mr. Perry, since I have several more recruits to transfer after you. Are you ready to begin?"

"Hell no, I'm not ready," I said. "I'm so scared my bowels are about to cut out."

"Then let me rephrase," Dr. Russell said. "Are you ready to get it over with?"

"God, yes," I said.

"Then let's get to it," Dr. Russell said, and tapped the screen of his PDA.

The crèche gave a slight thunk as something physically switched on inside it. I glanced over to Dr. Russell. "The amplifier," he said. "This part will take about a minute."

I grunted acknowledgment and looked over to my new me. It was cradled in the crèche, motionless, like a wax figurine that someone had spilled green coloring into during the casting process. It looked like I did so long ago - better than I did, actually. I wasn't the most athletic young adult on the block. This version of me looked like he was muscled like a competitive swimmer. And it had a great head of hair.

I couldn't even imagine being in that body.

"We're at full resolution," Dr. Russell said. "Opening connection." He tapped his PDA.