By William Miller
I stepped into the chilly hallway, a blue glow reflecting off the wall opposite me. I picked up yesterday's newspaper and looked to the left and then right. A long row of red light bulbs hung over my neighbours' doors.
"How does it look out there?" my wife, Cassandra, asked as I returned.
"Looks like the Hendersons opted to get switched out," I said, shuffling through the newspapers. "Damn shame."
"Yeah... shame," she said. "Soon enough, we'll be the only blue light left on the block."
An advert slipped out of the stack of newspapers and skidded across the floor. It read:
Don't let this opportunity pass you by! Be the next to gain everlasting life! Get your ConsciouSWAP done today! Our patented, state-of-the-art technology will carefully extract and implant your consciousness into a new, immortal body. Our team of dedicated experts will then dispose of your old form. And the best part? It's all free!
With the release of ConsciouSWAP 5.6, we've worked out all previous bugs in the Body Optimization Technology, and we guarantee that the ConsciousB.O.T. that replaces you in your household will be indistinguishable from your original self! Even the B.O.T. will think it's real! And always remember, with ConsciouSWAP, 'They'll never know you're gone!
In smaller letters at the bottom of the page, it read:
All sales are final. Refunds are impossible.
Disgusted, I crumpled up the advert and tossed it in the trash.
"'Never know you're gone,' I mocked. "But your neighbours will know as soon as ConsciouSWAP comes to your house and puts that goddamn red light outside your door, ‘informing’ the neighbourhood. I don't see the point, considering we're the last people in this building with a blue light."
"I would know right away if someone replaced you, honey," Cassandra said.
I smiled and held her closely.
"As I would you," I said and kissed her head.
"Although..." she said.
"Hmm?"
"It's just that I was talking to Mrs. Johnson the other day," she said.
"Mrs. Johnson?" I asked. "You mean that thing that took her place?"
"It's just that she seemed so real," she said. "It got me thinking that maybe —"
"Honey," I said. "Please don't tell me you've been entertaining this horrible idea."
"I mean, if we did it together, we could —"
"I don't care how lifelike those things are. I can't prove it, but that company is up to something. If it’s free, then we’re the product. Besides," I said, embracing her firmly. "When I hold you, don't you want it to be the real me?"
"I'm sorry," she said, nuzzling her head in the crook of my arm. “I only want you — the real you."
"Promise me you'll never think about getting the procedure done?" I asked.
She promised, which soothed me until Cassandra returned home from the grocery store later that week with a sling around her shoulder and a bandage around her head. I entered the kitchen quietly as she placed boxes into the pantry.
"What's this?" I asked, startling her.
"Oh," she said. "Silly me, I just slipped while I was at the store and bumped my head. Nothing's broken or anything."
"And you just went to the doctor and got patched up on one grocery store run?"
"It wasn't that busy at Dr. Braun's office —"
"Dr. Braun? Babe, he died years ago."
She paused momentarily and closed her eyes, searching her mind intently.
"I mean, Dr. Miller!" she exclaimed. Hah, sorry. The bump on my head must have been worse than I thought!"
She strode over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
"Don't worry, dear," she said. "I'm fine."
I couldn't sleep that night, so I got a glass of water from the kitchen. I sipped the water, eyes fixated on the trash can. My suspicions got the best of me, so I started digging through it, but to my dismay, I couldn't find the CounsciouSWAP coupon I had discarded earlier that week.
Panicked, I rushed out the front door into a hallway entirely bathed in red light. The bulb above our door had been changed. Cassandra was gone. I was overwhelmed and heartbroken but mostly disappointed in myself. My wife wanted to get the procedure done, and I put her in a position where she felt like she had to lie to me.
I had failed her, but I decided to make things right as best as possible. I left the house right then, travelled to the nearest ConsciouSWAP facility, and signed away my rights. It didn't hurt at all. That's my memory of it, or at least the one they installed in me.
When I returned home, my wife, with a full bedhead, came out of our room in her pyjamas.
"Good morning," she yawned. "Did you grab the paper?"
"Silly me," I said. "I forgot. One moment."
When I went outside, two men wearing ConsciouSWAP uniforms were collapsing a ladder under the red light under our house.
"Oh, I'm sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you," the other said. We'll be going now. Sorry for all the back-and-forth."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, Ol' Jim and I did a little mix-up and accidentally installed a red light over your house yesterday, but that was a mistake. We came this morning to fix it and put the blue light back, only to find out someone in your household did get their swap done just this morning," he said. "Ain't life funny like that? Anyway, here is an up-to-date receipt."
He handed me a slip of paper that read:
112 Capulet Ave
Red Light Installation
One human resident - Adult female
One ConsciousB.O.T. - Adult male
From inside, Cassandra called, "Who's there?"
About the Author
William Miller
William Miller is a writer based in Atlanta, Georgia who enjoys creating and consuming fantastically weird horror and sci-fi stories, baking bread, and tinkering with fermentation projects.
His work has been featured in Sci-Fi Lampoon Magazine and Altered Reality Magazine.