and Dad stepped in.
âThatâs right. It was all handled by the local hospital, though. We dropped her off and collected her when it was all done.â
âQuite so, quite so. And of course, Miss Deeley, you remember nothing about it.â
âNothing,â I admitted. âHow is that?â
âA small device,â he explained. âIt comes by post. Itâs uniquely keyed to your brain, and puts you into a deep sleep. I imagine your parents would have waited until you were asleep in your bedroom. They take you to the hospital. The hospital performs a routine brain transfer into your new body, and sends you back. You wake up in your own room, a day or so later, with vague, forgettable memories to account for the time youâve been unconscious.â
It all sounded vaguely sinister, that I could be so easily switched off like that. He was quite right. Even knowing when it had happened, I really couldnât pin it down to a day or two. That summer holiday had been full of unmemorable days, and the place in my mind where my revision belonged was blurred and fuzzy, just like each of the weeks before and after.
âWill it be the same, this time?â
âNo, Miss Deeley. You will sleep, as before, but thereâll be no fakery with your mind. Youâll wake, feeling as if no time had passed, but the date will be wrong.â
âAnd Iâll be in a new body.â¦â
âYes, and a considerably more mature one, according to your file, one more suited to your chronological age. Itâs not usual to leave it so long between revisions. May I ask why, Reverend Deeley?â
âWeâve always disliked the revisions, Dr. Markov. We find the sudden change upsetting. In every other part of our family life, Tania is our daughter, human in every way. In this, thereâs no escaping the truth.â
âBut you always did revisions before, every two years or thereabouts. Why have you let them drop?â
âI suppose it all changed when Tania found out what she was. She didnât need the pretence of the revisions anymore, so it became less important to us, too.â
Doctor Markov scribbled a bit with his stylus, then turned back to me.
âSo now itâs become important to you again, Miss Deeley, that you should look your age. I find that quite interesting. Would you mind telling me why?â
So I told him about learning to play bass in a band. It turned out Doctor Markov had quite an interest in modern music, and I found myself telling him about the meeting in the café with John and Siân, and the band, and Amanda. I mentioned that John and I had always shared an interest in music, so then the conversation turned to how Iâd met John in the first place.
He was really easy to talk to, and I quite forgot Mum and Dad were in the room. I suppose they were listening, too, and it was stuff Iâd never really mentioned to them. But eventually I heard a yawn. Poor Mum. She apologized, saying she found traveling so tiring.
Instantly Doctor Markov turned to her and in turn apologized profusely for keeping me talking for so long. More coffee and biscuits were summoned, and Doctor Markov began to explain what would happen.
âItâs straightforward enough choosing a new body. Weâve programs to simulate the growth of a child into her teenage years, so itâs easy to project Miss Deeleyâs current appearance into the future. We can simulate the various effects of diet and exercise, and your parentsâ own physical appearance, and we can produce any number of plausible Tanias. We could even start from scratch, and give you the body of a film star, but I really wouldnât recommend it. It rarely works out happily. Besides, Mrs. Deeley is an attractive lady, speaking purely professionally, and you should be proud to derive your appearance from her.â
Mum blushed and Dad gave her shoulders a little squeeze.
âAs I say,
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