It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles… The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood.

  ~ Theodore Roosevelt

  The next day, Sarah could barely contain her growing excitement as she headed for the transfer lab after lunch. She walked as fast as the old body she wore would allow.

  The renter would be pleased. Sarah had improved the body’s strength and overall health during the rental period through the company’s carefully designed exercise and nutrition program. Hopefully the old lady had returned the favor.

  Sarah pushed through the door into the transfer station, unable to suppress a grin as she scanned the room for the renter and her precious body. The smile faded to a frown. Instead of the renter, a tall, dark-haired man she recognized as Alterego’s head lawyer waited in the room. He dressed in an expensive suit and carried a black leather briefcase.

  She’d met him once when she first signed on as a donor, but couldn’t remember his name. Jill called him Lawyer Guy and despite how shallow the label was, it had stuck in her mind. Seeing him there could not be good.

  Lawyer Guy smiled, just a movement of the lips lacking any warmth, and stepped forward with an extended hand.

  “Hello, Sarah.”

  She hesitantly took the proffered hand. “What’s going on? Is the renter late?”

  “Not exactly.” Lawyer Guy turned and placed his briefcase on the nearest gurney, popped the locks, and extracted a sheaf of papers.

  She scanned the documents and her frown deepened. It was the rental agreement.

  Lawyer Guy held up a pen. “Don’t worry, miss, your body is in perfect health. We just need to finalize some paperwork.”

  “I’ve already signed the contract. The return date is today.”

  “Of course,” he said smoothly, “but you failed to initialize every section.”

  Sarah flipped through the document, confirming her initials were scribbled beneath every paragraph in the appointed space. “It all looks good to me.”

  “Page nine, paragraph four.”

  Sarah flipped back to the page and her heart sank. She thrust the papers at him, and this time her hand shook a little.

  “That paragraph is optional. I chose not to sign it.”

  “I am afraid we need your signature now.”

  “Why?”

  He held up the pen again. “Legalities, miss. I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

  She shook her head and decided anger would work better than fear. “I know the contract. I know I don’t have to sign this section, and I’ve always made it very clear I am not interested in permanent corporal transfer.”

  The very thought of selling away her body forever made her shudder. How they could even suggest such a possibility had always seemed ludicrous. Who would ever sell their body? Of course, before Alterego’s revolutionary technology that allowed for the transfer of minds between bodies, it never would have been possible.

  Lawyer Guy’s smile faded. Sarah continued despite the growing fear that threatened to rob her projected anger of its force. “I signed a three month lease and expect my body to be returned as promised, today, in good working order per the signed agreement.”

  “Miss, there has been a development.”

  She held up one wrinkled hand. “Not my problem. I want my body. Now.”

  Lawyer Guy sighed and snapped his briefcase closed. “I am afraid we have a slight problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “Follow me.”

  Chapter 3

  A Bad Deal

  Do not pray for an easy first life, pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.

  ~ Bruce Lee

  Lawyer Guy led Sarah through the plush halls of the facility to the administrative offices, situated in the rear of the main building. They took the elevator to the fourth floor where the senior officers worked. Sarah had never visited that part of the facility.

  What could possibly have happened? She thought of the terrible damage done to Tawnya’s body just a couple days prior. Could it be something like that? The thought filled her with dread and left a foul taste in her mouth worse than the old crone’s daily medicine cocktail. All she wanted was to be herself again and leave forever.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Lawyer Guy took her to the office of Michael Fleischer, CEO. The secretary stationed outside the office immediately waved them through the wide, wood-paneled door.

  Sarah paused in the doorway, taking in the view. A full fireplace took up part of the right wall, with several overstuffed chairs and two couches facing it. A complete wet bar lined the opposite wall.

  On the far side of the room, Mr. Fleischer’s huge mahogany desk squatted before full-length windows that offered a spectacular view of the sprawling corporate facility with its many inter-connected buildings and beautifully-manicured grounds. The facility perched atop one of Maryland’s forested hills, with sweeping vistas of the surrounding countryside.

  Mr. Fleischer rose from his overstuffed leather chair to meet them as they crossed the cavernous room. He was an overweight middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a clean-shaven face. He wore an expensively tailored gray suit that matched his eyes.

  He took Sarah’s hands in both of his and said warmly, “Sarah, I’m glad you came.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, her discomfort at facing the company CEO magnified by the fact that she’d had little choice but to come.

  “Call me Michael.” He directed her toward one of several leather chairs situated around his massive desk.

  “What’s going on, sir.” Sarah asked as she gratefully settled her aching old bones into the soft chair.

  While Lawyer Guy seated himself next to Sarah, Mr. Fleischer leaned back against the desk and fixed Sarah with a grave expression. “Sarah, you may not know this, but your renter is a very influential person. She couldn’t be happier with the rental experience. She’s a tremendous asset to Alterego in helping promote the work we do here.”

  “I am glad to hear that.”

  He smiled. “You have helped our efforts more than you know, and now we have an unexpected opportunity to achieve one of our principal objectives. With your help, we can do it, and in the same stroke we can silence some of our most dangerous critics in the legislature.”

  Sarah could not help but be moved by his words. She sat a little straighter despite a twinge in her back. “I’ll do what I can to help, sir.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  Lawyer Guy passed the contract over again.

  “I don’t understand.” She did not reach for the papers.

  “Your renter has elected to exercise the permanent corporal transfer clause in the contract.” His words confirmed her worst fear.

  “With all due respect, sir, I did not agree to that clause. I’ve made it clear that I am not interested in—”

  Mr. Fleischer interrupted, his smile harder, less friendly. “I understand this is a shock, Sarah, but your renter has agreed to pay a substantial settlement, from which you will receive a generous bonus.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I am not interested in a bonus. I just want my body back.”

  “Listen, Sarah,” he said, frowning now. “You can help make history here. All we need is your cooperation.”

  “No, sir,” Sarah said, growing angry at his condescension. “All you need is my body. I am not willing to give it away forever.”

  “It’s not like you’d be an orphan. We have a dozen top-rated bodies you can choose from, bodies as young and fit as your own. You can be whoever you want to be, and become a very wealthy woman.”

  Sarah met Mr. Fleischer’s penetrating gaze. “Have the owners of those bodies agreed to permanently surrender them to me?”

  Mr. Fleischer smiled. “Thank you, Sarah. I know you’ll be pleased with the arrangement.”

  Lawyer Guy extended the contract and pen again.

  “You didn’t answer my question, sir.”

  Mr. Fleischer stood and waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll get photos to you within the hour. You’ll be given top priority for transfer.”

  “So it’ll be a temporary transfer?”

  “Don’t worry, Sarah. We’ll take care of everything.”

  “But I still lose my body and don’t get a permanent replacement.”

  Mr. Fleischer sighed. “Listen, Sarah. We will arrange for a permanent transfer as soon as we possibly can. In the meantime, I promise you, we’ll take care of you.”

  Sarah shook her head slowly, amazed at his audacity. In the same breath he was asking her to permanently, legally surrender her body to another person, without anything more tangible than his word that she’d ever own a body of her own again.

  She couldn’t do it. Just thinking about it made her shiver. What would she be? She’d be no one. Just a mental awareness shuffled between different bodies, the ultimate orphan.

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. But I’m afraid I have to decline your offer.”

  Mr. Fleischer’s expression became dangerously neutral. He returned to his chair and leaned forward over the shining expanse of polished wood. “I thought you were smarter than this, Sarah. Do you have any idea how much money is at stake? How critical the timing is for this? What an opportunity this is?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just—”

  Mr. Fleischer spoke over her. “I don’t accept excuses, Sarah. Only results.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  “Think about it, Sarah. You don’t want to make this hard on yourself.”

  “What do you mean?” Sarah had to fight to keep her voice calm. Mr. Fleischer’s face was hard now, angry. Dangerous.

  He pointed at her, at the decrepit old body she wore. “You enjoy great privileges here in this facility. Don’t put those privileges at risk.”

  Sarah rocked back, barely fighting down a wave of terror at the implied threat. They couldn’t leave her in this old body, could they?

  Her hands started to shake and she clasped them in her lap to hide the telltale sign. All they really needed was a scribbled initial in the contract. If she refused, would they fill in the blank for her?

  She could protest, take the matter to the police. Would anyone believe her?

  Would they give her the chance?

  Mr. Fleischer sat behind his desk, watching her. She had no doubt that he could read her fear, was measuring it, calculating how far to push before she snapped.

  How much more would it take? The thought of losing her body terrified her, but the alternative was even worse. She couldn’t fathom being stuck in that old body until it died, of really being old.

  Mr. Fleischer nodded as if reading her mind, a little smile on his lips. “You’re as smart as I hoped.” He pointed at Lawyer Guy, who slid the documents toward Sarah.

  She looked at the pen, and the trembling in her hands worsened. What could she do?

  I can’t believe I’m really considering this! What choice do I have?

  “Do we understand each other?” Mr. Fleischer pressed.

  Before she could reply, the intercom on the desk beeped and the secretary’s voice rang through the office. “I am sorry for disturbing you, sir, but the auditor is here from the congressional oversight committee.”

  Mr. Fleischer glared at the intercom for a second before speaking. “Send him in immediately.”

  He rose as Lawyer Guy smoothly retrieved the documents from in front of Sarah and slipped them into his briefcase. “You’ll excuse me, Sarah.”

  “Of course, sir.” She staggered to her feet and headed for the door with all the speed propriety and her arthritic joints allowed.

  The outer door of the office opened to admit the secretary and a balding, middle-aged man in a poorly cut suit that only seemed to magnify his pot belly. He squinted at Sarah through thick glasses.

  Before Sarah could escape the room, Mr. Fleischer called out, “Sarah, think on what we discussed here. We will talk again soon.”

  As she slipped out the door, Mr. Fleischer greeted the auditor like a long lost friend. “Charles, so good of you to come.”

  “Thank you.” The auditor had a thin, nasal voice.

  “I can’t wait to show you our facilities.”

  The heavy door closed, blocking the rest of the conversation. Sarah headed for the elevator, her heart aching with the choice she faced.

  She all but ran for the transfer lab.