***

Jeremy Ratcliffe, the Minister of Science, sat in his office poring over some technical papers related to another invention passed to him by a Committee. It concerned the development of a new scientific laboratory intended to deliver a specific type of chemical which could be used effectively against enemy troops at a time of war. The Committee had recommended the development at a cost of many millions of pounds and they had presented it in detail to the Minister for his final decision.

As he began to read the notes accompanying the proposal, there was a knock on his office door.

‘Come in!’ he called out and Jordan entered.

‘You wanted to see me, Minister,’ claimed the government agent with an element of concern in his voice.

Ratcliffe pointed to a chair on the other side of the desk and Jordan seated himself nervously. He had no idea why he had been summoned to the office and his mood was sombre as he anticipated that whatever it was would not be favourable to him.

‘The body exchange programme,’ advanced the Minister. ‘What’s happening with it now?’

‘I’m afraid to say it’s fallen to a trickle,’ replied Jordan with a sad expression. ‘It the result of a two-way problem, sir.’

The Minister stared at him over the rims of his reading glasses. ‘Go on!’ he pressed as though in a hurry.

The government agent swallowed hard before continuing. ‘The first problem is that we don’t have enough people. All the prisoners servicing life sentences and others with very long sentences, have all been put through the process. Most of the inmates in asylums and sanatoria are relatively too old. We’ve used up all the younger ones. The second problem is that we’re having difficulty finding recipients to accept the younger bodies. We can’t seem to find people who have made a great contribution to the nation or society any more. As far as the future of the programme’s concerned, it’s a lose-lose situation. I recommend that we close it down immediately. The details can be sent to the archives to become revealed in fifty years time. By then, all those involved in the programme will be beyond redemption.’

Ratcliffe closed the file in front of him, removed his reading glasses, and looked up at the ceiling as if seeking divine providence. After a short while, he returned his attention to his visitor.

‘There must be a source of supply and demand,’ he insisted in disbelief. ‘There has to be! Are you telling me that this country of sixty-six million people can only find a thousand or so recipients worthy of having their lives extended by thirty or forty years? It beggars belief! If so, it’s a pretty poor show! No... I think you ought to extend the range of your searches to find them. I mean there are so many young people who are homeless, living in cardboard boxes at night time in doorways, especially in the London area and in other main cities. A broadcast on the radio the other day predicted that over twenty thousand people are homeless in Britain... most of them are probably young. Surely that’s where your next supply can be furnished. And there’s another angle. Some people would be willing to give up their bodies for cash. I don’t suppose you’ve tried that tactic, have you?’

‘No, sir,’ responded Jordan glumly, cringing under the wave of criticism directed against him. ‘The reason we haven’t spread out wings on this issue is the need to establish total secrecy. Once we embark on wayward tactics, the truth will be known to the public. We don’t want that to happen.’

The Minister moved his head from one side to the other in a casual manner as if he didn’t care before coming to the true reason for summoning his subordinate. ‘That’s not the reason why I’ve asked you to come here,’ he revealed candidly. ‘There’s a Government-run unit in a location near Leeds where some brilliant scientists are let loose to work on unusual projects. One of them, by the name of Franco Germaine, has come up with a doosey. He was extremely interested in the body exchange programme but was puzzled by the fact that the heads were never transferred when the bodies were swapped. He considered that there had to be a possibility whereby the whole of each individual was transferred with the exception of the brain. That was a remarkable discovery to say the least. It means that the recipient receives all the body and the head of the donor. But not the brain An eighty-five year old man can emerge from the cubicle looking forty years younger with a completely different face.’

‘Wouldn’t that make his family and friends suspicious?’ cut in the government agent with concern. ‘I mean they wouldn’t recognise him.’

‘He could always say that he underwent cosmetic surgery,’ ranted the Minister blandly. In his wisdom, Germaine worked on a procedure by which it could happen and he succeeded in coming up with a theory.’

‘A theory!’ gasped Jordan, nto wishing to upset the other man. He could hardly believe his ears that another kind of experiment would be added to the exchange programme.

Ratcliffe ignored the interruption and carried on in full flow. ‘As you are aware,’ he went on in in a boring tone, ‘the medical profession has always been baffled by the workings of the brain in toto. They can identify all the parts of it but some areas are beyond their ken. Germain has discovered a part of it that no one has recorded before. He calls it the Censory Cortical. It’s located between the temporal lobe and the cerebellum.. Apparently, in technical terms, it’s a conjunction between that, the pituitary gland and the hypothalamus. The latter is the part of the brain below the thalamus which regulates, body temperature, hunger, thirst, and other autonomic activities. The pituitary gland is attached to the base of the vertebrate brain with secretions that influence growth, metabolism and maturation. He’s not actually certain that if a person’s an artist, he will retain all the talent he gained in his lifetime. However his notes indicate that it is possible to retain both talent and drive after the exchange process has taken place.’

Jordan stared at the Minister in the silenced that prevailed trying to absorb the information before speaking. ‘Are you really telling me that the head and body of a young person can be exchanged with that of an older person so that the recipient will look exactly the same as the donor and retain all the knowledge he gained throughout his life.’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ retorted the Minister flatly with a satisfied smile.

A frown appeared on the face of the government agent as a horrid thought entered his mind. ‘Does Germaine identify what the state of the brain will be on transference. I mean part of it will be retained by the donor. Will this be the part which resulted in criminal activities? I’m not sure that the right part of the brain can be exchanged. What happens to the mind of the donor? Does he become reduced to that of a child with practically no knowledge whatsoever, having to learn to read and write all over again?’

‘Come off it!’ rattled Ratcliffe angrily, his blood-pressure rising at the question. ‘Most of the prisoners and those mentally disturbed can’t read or write anyway. They’re a burden on society, costing the taxpayer a fortune for their keep. It’s ridiculous. Far better to get rid of them once and for all!’ The veins on his forehead stood out as he continued his tirade.

‘But all this is only theory!’ bleated the government agent, trying to stem the flood from the dam which was beginning to swamp him. ‘None of it has ever been put to the test.’

‘They’ve done it with monkeys... chimpanzees no less! That’s where you come in. I want you to make certain that the operation works. Germaine had developed a machine which he’s nicknamed ‘Capella’ which is, apparently, significant in retaining all the other parts of the brain I mentioned. It will be fitted at head height inside the cubicle. At the same time the current is switched on, a special beam of radiation will be sent through the Capella allowing a complete exchange to be made.’

Jordan twisted his face as he pressed his lips together with an element of disbelief.

‘Do you really want me to go ahead with this experiment?’ he asked nervously. In his mind he prayed that he was dreaming... that it was all a nightmare... but it was too much to hope for.

‘I thought I made myself clear!’ challenged the Minister bluntly. ‘I want you to start the full exchange the moment the Capella machine’s delivered. I’d like your report immediately after the first run. Is that clear?’

Jordan nodded his head although he was outraged by the order. How could the Minster subject human-beings, whatever they had done to others in the past, to an experiment of such a horrid nature. It mean that

Every part of the body of those being exchanged would be transferred to the other person, with the exception of a tiny part of the brain which encapsulated the criminal element in those serving life sentences. As the idea was only a theory, it was practically certain that things would go wrong especially with such a delicate process affecting both the volunteer and the donor. Yet the cold-hearted Minister of Science demanded that he, Alan Jordan, should be responsible for carrying out all future body exchanges by this method. It had already started to weigh on his shoulders like a giant yoke. He felt like an assassin ready to undertake a contract on people on his list for an experiment that he didn’t believe would work. However, despite his reservations, there was little that he could do about it. If he failed to react according to the order of the Minister, he would be out of the loop for promotion for the rest of his life, branded as irresponsible and unsuitable for duty. Subsequently, the die was cast!

Three days later, two Capella machines were delivered to the laboratory. They were small units, the size of a tiara, which were fitted inside the cubicles. The government agent had arranged fro two people to be exchanged and they were injected with the serum and put into place. The metal coats were placed over their bodies and everyone stood back with baited breath to see whether or not the theory worked in practice and the complete body exchange took place.

When the recipient, an old man by the age of eighty-eight years of age, named Matthew Thomas, was removed from the cubicle, he was placed on a chair with a large blanket wrapped around him. To everyone’s amazement, the body exchange had worked perfectly for he had assumed, in total, the body of the donor. He became the centre of attention as the scientists waited patiently for him to recover his senses to the full. It took almost ten minutes before he came round to stare at the scientists bleakly.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked inquisitively.

Jordan sighed with relief that the man was compos mentis, able to talk cogently. He stepped forward with a concerned expression on his face. ‘What’s the capital of France?’ he asked quickly.

Thomas stared at him looking somewhat puzzled. ‘There are two answers to that,’ he responded. ‘Paris is the geological one; ‘F’ is the other one.’ He burst into laughter at his own joke and then licked his lips which had become dry in the exchange.

‘What was the name of the horse of Alexander the Great?’ persisted the government agent to make certain.

The recipient thought for a moment, closed his eyes, and then replied. ‘Bucephalus,’ he muttered. ‘I think.’

‘And what’s nine times nine?’

‘Eighty-one,’ replied the man. ‘What’s going on. I would have sharpened up my knowledge if I knew I was going in for a quiz.’

There was a roar of approval from the scientists who regarded the experiment as a total success. One of them brought out a bottle of champagne and poured the liquid into a number of glasses. Nothing untoward seemed to have affected Thomas in the experiment and, despite the fact that he looked exactly like the other man had done when he first went into the cubicle, his senses and knowledge appeared to be intact. All the fears that had built up in the government agent’s mind were vanquished in an instant. They all relished the champagne but after a while, Jordan tugged on Thomas’s sleeve as he held up a mirror in his hand.

‘I think you should be prepared for a shock, Mr. Thomas,’ he told him candidly. ‘You’ve turned into a young man of forty-two. Just look at yourself.’

The man raised the mirror to stare at himself and took a pace backwards without speak for quite some time. ‘My God!’ he exclaimed eventually. ‘I look like the young man who exchanged his body with me.’

‘And you’ve still retained your faculties,’ cut in Jordan. ‘You were famous for marketing in your day. How do you feel about it now?’

‘Marketing... yes,’ returned Thomas tiredly. ‘I can think of three products that ought to be presented to the public,’ he went on. ‘Better still, I have a great idea how they can be promoted.’

The government agent could hardly suppress his delight before turning to the donor who was seated a little further away. The man had been a mentally disturbed patient suffering from manic depression, being cared for in sanatorium. As a result, it was extremely difficult to determine whether the man had recovered from the exchange. Jordan realised that a man with such problems was the worst kind of person to exchange with anyone but he happened to be the only one available at the time.

Jordan contacted the Minister for Science without delay, informing him of the success of the experiment.

‘I recognised that you had certain reservations about Germaine’s theory when you were in my office,’ declared Ratcliffe with overbearing confidence. ‘You really must accept the decisions of those in control, Jordan. We know where we’re going.’

The government agent ended the conversation as fast as he could, replacing his mobile telephone into his jacket pocket. He doubted very much whether the Minister of Science had a clue as to what was right or wrong with regard to anything that affect the human race. The man clearly had no conscience, however Germaine could be regarded as a genius for the experiment had proved to be a gigantic success. Subsequently, most of the desperate problems Jordan had anticipated were rapidly fading from his mind. Yet he still doubted the decision to go ahead with the Capella machines. It was true that only time would tell if his assumptions were correct. He was sure that it would leave behind a host of disappointed people who disliked their appearance and had difficulty facing themselves each morning in the mirror. For those who gave up their bodies, they would probably go back to their childhood... unable to read or write to live a very sad and daunting future for the limited number of years left to them!