By John Cosper

Jim stared into the mirror at a face that was not his. Certainly, this was the image with which he was born. He grew up looking at this same reflection, seeing it evolve from that of a tiny child into a man. He remembered when the face started sprouting whiskers. When he first discovered that he could cock one eyebrow higher than the other. The speckled-brown eyes, the small ears, the nose with the slight hook, the brown hair on top... this was Jim's face.

And yet it was not HIS face.

A few feet behind the young man, the doctor drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. To him the scene was far from unique. He dealt with it several times in a week, when the day of transformation came. He wished that such counseling was unnecessary, but to make the transfer without first convincing the shell to go along would be catastrophic, causing the loss of both the shell and the original patient. Jim had to agree... but like so many, Jim was not eager to go along.

"Who is it you plan to stick in my head?" Jim asked.

"Your true identity, Jim," the doctor replied.

"I know who I am, Doctor," Jim said, clenching his teeth. "What imposter do you propose to put inside my head?"

"Your original name was Jim Travers," said the doctor. "You're a computer software tycoon from California. You founded a little company called EmpireWare, ever heard of it?"

Jim did not even look back. The name was familiar enough.

"Simply put, you wrote the code on which our entire society functions, operational software for government, business, science, and home use that is secure and stable, unlike the primitive programs of the past. At the time of your hibernation, you were one of the five wealthiest men in the free world."

"Will you stop addressing me like I am this total stranger?" Jim snapped.

"But you are, Jim," said the doctor. "I'm sorry. Actually, I'm not. Any person should be so lucky to learn they have a destiny such as yours."

"To have my body commandeered in the prime of life?"

"To go home to a huge estate, still fully staffed and awaiting your return. To own five vintage sports cars, a yacht, and a private jet? Jim, this is not exactly prison I'm sending you to."

"You're asking me to be someone I am not."

"I'm telling you to be who you really are. Jim, you don't ever have to work a day. Just manage your company well, as you did for four decades--"

"I never managed a thing, Doctor," said Jim. "I've spent my twenty-one years in here learning, studying about the world. I've mastered three languages in the hopes of seeing foreign countries. I'm a black belt in karate. I've become a chess champion, and even written a few games on the computer myself."

"And how do you think you achieved all that?"

"With my mind and my imagination."

"With Jim Travers' mind and imagination," the doctor said flatly. "Jim, this same intellect that you have experienced the world with is the one that made you a wealthy, powerful businessman. One who could afford to make all his dreams come true. Including immortality."

"That's not my dream," said Jim. "It's the dream of a mad man!"

"He was a genius," said the doctor. "A man ahead of his time who frankly, deserved to see more of the future. That is why we produced you, sharpened your mind and body until the day he could be reunited with his body. Jim had too many dreams for one life span."

"I have dreams too you know, Doctor," said Jim. "I've dreamed of the day I would escape from this school for the gifted and talented. I want to see the world, to study art and architecture. I want to study music, and learn how to play... well, anything I can get my hands on. There's so much out there I've waited patiently to see and do and now..."

"There's nothing that says you can't."

"But there is!" Jim snapped. "Some other ego, another mind is going to take over and tell me how the rest of my life will be ordered!"

"It's your own mind."

"It's not my mind, Doc!" Jim felt his hands beginning to shake. "It's the mind of a coward."

"You are not a coward."

"I am not Jim Travers!!" Jim shouted. "Jim Travers is a coward, a man afraid of his own mortality and death. So he has himself cloned, and his ego stored as a cheap way of cheating death. Now I have to pay for his fear and cowardice!"

"Jim Travers was a great man," the doctor replied. "What's more... I considered him a friend. I've waited a long time for the day I could see him eye to eye again."

"I'm sure you have," said Jim. "He must have paid a pretty penny for this service."

"He's not the first," said the doctor. "And you are not the first student to have trouble coming to grips with their identity. You're a football fan, right?"

"What if I am?" Jim said.

"Emilio Wright, New York Jets, the name ring a bell? The man was a brilliant star thirty years ago. Now, thanks to science and technology, he's back out on the field, winning more championships for his beloved Jets. Jacque Renault of the Toronto Maple Leafs is the same story."

"You've done this to others?" said Jim. "Not just me?"

"Emilio and Jacque are former students here, like yourself. We trained them, kept them in top physical form."

"So when the day came, their bodies could be usurped as well?"

"They didn't seem to have a problem with it, Jim. Who wouldn't want to be a super star athlete? I realize I'm not giving you that kind of a life, but Jim, this IS your life. It's who you are."

"NO!!" Jim shouted, tipping the table over. "You cannot tell me my life up to now has been forfeit! I have grown into a man, with hopes and a plan for the future. And I will not let you take it away!"

"Jim, settle down."

"I want to be let go, Doc! I've finished my education here, I've been denied my freedom long enough. Now that I know the truth, I want out of here."

"I can't do that, Jim."

"Why not?"

The doctor sighed. "I have an obligation to you. To our client. To my friend, Jim Travers."

"Jim Travers is dead!!"

"He's standing directly before me!" shouted the doctor. "I've been patient as long as I can with you, but you have to understand, this was why you were created."

"I have a life of my own!"

"Your life is Jim Travers," said the doctor. "Apart from him, you are nothing."

"The only thing Jim Travers and I share in common is a name!" Jim shouted. "And that can be changed."

Jim reached for the door, only to find it locked. The doctor stood calmly, unphased and unmoved by Jim's urgent pleas for life.

"Jim, there is no escape. You wouldn't want to escape this anyway. I'm giving you so much life and wealth at an age that... well, if you walked out of here as you are now, it would take you a lifetime to amass what is yours already."

"Maybe that's my choice," said Jim.

"You made your choice twenty-five years ago," said the doctor.

"A mad man made a choice, not me!" said Jim. "I don't want to live forever. I just want to live the years I have!"

"Your years were bought by Jim Travers," said the doctor. "Without him, you are nothing but a shell."

The doctor glanced over at the mirror and nodded. Jim knew immediately he was being watched through the looking glass, and was not caught off guard when the door opened a few moments later and two of the school's security officers (the reason for their presence all these years was now much more clear to Jim) entered. Jimm offered no resistance as the men took firm hold of his arms.

"Jim Travers was a great man," said the doctor. "If ever a man deserved immortality, it was him. And by him I mean you."

Jim said nothing as he was led from the room. The security detail led away from the warm, wood-paneled and carpeted environment of the school toward the outside.

It was night, and by the outside lights Jim saw a truck, warmed up and waiting for him. A driver sat with his eyes forward in the front seat. The guards opened the rear of the vehicle. Jim glanced back at the old school he had known as home since his earliest memory. His head never shifted focus as he was packed into the truck along with one of the guards.

Lies, he thought as the wooded surroundings of the school gave way to the highway. All lies. I'm nothing more than a medical experiment. A body transplant for some rich kid afraid of death.

Jim had never even contemplated dying. It was not dealt with in classes, or discussed. But he knew it existed. Man was a mortal creature, and like all things on earth that lived, Jim knew he would die.

And then he decided. Jim did not know if his namesake was actually a karate master, but the skills he had gained in the school gave him all the resources he needed to do something about his situation. With one quick swing of the leg, Jim knocked the guard's head into the wall of the truck. He slumped forward unconscious.

The driver didn't have the time or the instinct to stop what happened next. Jim grabbed the wheel and pulled, causing the truck to slam into the center barrier. Sparks flew as the truck grazed the concrete and then tipped over, flipping five times as it rolled into oncoming traffic and slammed into another car.

Jim and the guard were hurled from one side of the vehicle to the other. Jim flew through the back window out into the street, bouncing across the pavement and skidding off the highway.

Jim was never aware if he was out or not. His next memory was the sight of flashing lights as an ambulance arrived. He sensed people standing close by, looking. He could feel pain, and along with it, an urgent sense to make himself scarce.

He tasted blood in his mouth. His arms were badly scratched, but seemed undamaged inside. The right leg definitely felt broken as he crawled to his feet. Had he been in the moment, Jim might have heard the paramedic who shouted, "Hey, buddy, wait for us!" But Jim was already staggering off into the night.

He had no idea where he was. He did not know where he would go. Someone would have to treat his injuries, and he had no idea where to turn.

But Jim knew who he was. And as he struggled to take his first steps in real freedom, that was all that mattered.

Copyright 2005 by John Cosper