core sentient rights, theyâre not allowed to torture or brainwash meâand I canât be discharged from my obligation without the consent of the experimenters.
I find myself hyperventilating, as I oscillate between weak-kneed relief that Iâm not a victim of identity theft and apprehension at the magnitude of what Iâve signed up for. They have the right to unilaterally expel me (Well, thatâs all right, then, I just have to piss them off if I decide I want out) , and they have the right to dictate what body I can live in! Itâs a ghastly picture, and in among the draconian provisions I see that I also agreed to let them monitor my every action. Ubiquitous surveillance. Iâve just checked into a dark ages panopticon theme hotel! What can possibly have possessed me toâoh. Buried in the small print is a rider titled âCompensatory Benefits.â
Aha.
Firstly, the Scholastium itself guarantees the experimenters against all indemnities and will back any claims. So if they violate the limited rights theyâve granted me, I can sue them, and theyâve got nearly infinitely deep pockets. Secondly, the remuneration is very satisfactory. I do a brief calculation and work out that what theyâve promised to pay me for three Urth years in the rat run is probably enough to see me in comfort for at least thrice that long once I get out.
I begin to calm down. I havenât been hacked; I did this to myself ofmy own free will, and there are some good sides to the picture. My other self hasnât completely taken leave of his senses. It occurs to me that itâs going to be very hard for the bad guys, whoever they are, to get at me inside an experimental polity thatâs only accessible via a single T-gate guarded by a firewall and the Scholastiumâs shock troops.
Iâm supposed to act in character for the historical period weâre pretending to live in, wearing a body that doesnât resemble me, using an alias and a fake background identity, and not discussing the outside world with anyone else in the study. That means any assassin who comes after me is going to start with huge handicaps, like not knowing what I look like, not being allowed to ask, and not being able to take any weapons along. If Iâm lucky, the me who isnât in here will be able to take care of business within the next hundred megs, and when I come out and we merge our deltas Iâll be home free and rich. And if he doesnât succeed, well, I can see if theyâll let me keep this assumed identity when I leave . . .
I pull the carton of clothes out from under the bed and wrinkle my nose. They donât smell bad or anything, but theyâre a bit oddâhistorically accurate, the tablet said. Thereâs a strange black tunic, very plain, that leaves my arms and lower legs bare, and a black jacket to wear over it. For footwear thereâs a pair of shiny black pumps, implying a strongish grav zone, but with weird, pointed toes and heels that converge to a spike three or four centimeters long. The underwear is simple enough, but I take a while to figure out that the filmy gray hose go on my legs. Which, I notice, are hairlessâin fact, Iâve got no hair except on my head. So my bodyâs ortho, but not undomesticated. I shake my head.
The weirdest thing of all is that the fabric is dumbâtoo stupid to repel dirt or eat skin bacteria, much less respond to style updates or carry on a conversation. And the costume comes with no pockets, not even an inconspicuous T-gate concealed in the jacket lining. When did they invent them? I wonder. Iâll have to find an outfit with more brains later. I put everything on and check myself out in the bathroom mirror. My hair is going to be a problemâI search the place, but all I can find is an elastic loop to pull it through. Itâll have to do until I can cut it back to a sensible length.
Which leaves me with
Susan Wright
Briana Gaitan
Augusten Burroughs
Mindy Klasky
Paul Torday
Duffy Brown
Marie Force
Honor James
Cameron Harvey
Sabrina Morgan