Expiration Day by William Campbell Powell

and Dad stepped in.
    â€œThat’s right. It was all handled by the local hospital, though. We dropped her off and collected her when it was all done.”
    â€œQuite so, quite so. And of course, Miss Deeley, you remember nothing about it.”
    â€œNothing,” I admitted. “How is that?”
    â€œA small device,” he explained. “It comes by post. It’s 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 you’ve been unconscious.”
    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 couldn’t 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.
    â€œWill it be the same, this time?”
    â€œNo, Miss Deeley. You will sleep, as before, but there’ll be no fakery with your mind. You’ll wake, feeling as if no time had passed, but the date will be wrong.”
    â€œAnd I’ll be in a new body.…”
    â€œYes, and a considerably more mature one, according to your file, one more suited to your chronological age. It’s not usual to leave it so long between revisions. May I ask why, Reverend Deeley?”
    â€œWe’ve 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, there’s no escaping the truth.”
    â€œBut you always did revisions before, every two years or thereabouts. Why have you let them drop?”
    â€œI suppose it all changed when Tania found out what she was. She didn’t need the pretence of the revisions anymore, so it became less important to us, too.”
    Doctor Markov scribbled a bit with his stylus, then turned back to me.
    â€œSo now it’s become important to you again, Miss Deeley, that you should look your age. I find that quite interesting. Would you mind telling me why?”
    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 I’d 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 I’d 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.
    â€œIt’s straightforward enough choosing a new body. We’ve programs to simulate the growth of a child into her teenage years, so it’s easy to project Miss Deeley’s current appearance into the future. We can simulate the various effects of diet and exercise, and your parents’ 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 wouldn’t 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.”
    Mum blushed and Dad gave her shoulders a little squeeze.
    â€œAs I say,