Body Swappers 2
In which characters doubt the existence of magic.
The tension in Maya’s back lessened as she felt Ruth’s attention turn away from her and toward getting ready to leave. Maya tuned out all the background noise and settled down at her desk to fill in her report of her transference. By the time she’d finished, the door chime was bangling again. Ruth was gone. Maya breathed a small sigh, and more tension left her frame.
“Hear you had to stop a beating?” Jeff asked as he set up his laptop on the desk beside hers. “Let me guess: you may have hit back a little?”
Maya smirked. As far as coworkers went, Jeff was her favorite. Competent enough to be one of the shift managers, without being so sugary sweet as Ruth. And it helped that he got her. “It was self-defense.”
“Uh huh. I’m sure it was completely necessary self-defense, too. Couldn’t have defended your host body any other way.” Jeff chuckled. “Oh, right, Donna reminded me we have a prospective client touring today, so we should find respectable-looking things to be doing. Want to spar?”
“I’m not really feeling that, given earlier.”
“Right.”
“Ruth flagged a bunch of articles on communication strategy I suppose I should read.” Maya felt her lip peeling back from her teeth as she spoke, and forced it back down.
Jeff’s aura welled with yellow and purple as he smiled. “Your favorite. Alright, I’ll find my own thing to do. For now, I’m going to listen to the news while I meditate. Should I use earbuds?”
“Doesn’t that defeat the point of the meditation?”
Jeff’s eyes crinkled as more yellow sprinkled through his aura. “If I let it bother me, it would.”
Maya thought about it, then said, “You can listen out loud. I could use the distraction.”
Jeff unrolled a yoga mat in the middle of the room, sat down cross-legged on it, and got his phone out.
“…insists he’s innocent despite the overwhelming evidence against him.”
A second voice joined the first. “Maybe he really is innocent, Levi.”
“How do you mean?” Levi asked.
“Maybe it was…magic.”
“You know, there could be a lot of claims like that rolling in, Derrick, depending on whether or not this new initiative passes.” Jeff’s aura, which had been filling with a calm blue, suddenly spiked with an alert orange.
“Initiative 1511?” Derrick asked.
“Yes. This initiative would acknowledge magic as being real, allow for magic to be identified as a weapon in court cases, and even allow for certain magic users to be expert witnesses in court.”
“I mean, you’ve got to admit, if magic is real, we kind of need that to be law.”
Levi chuckled. “That’s the question though. Is magic real? Here to talk with us about this is Congressman Rivera. Congressman, thanks for joining us today.”
“Hello, Levi. Thanks for having me.”
“Tell me, you’ve seen lots of initiatives come and go over the years, but you’ve said Initiative 1511 is different. What is it about this initiative that strikes you as different?”
“The difference is it’s the first initiative I’ve seen get past the petition stage that is entirely full of nonsense. I’ve seen initiatives get through petitioning based on half-truths, or with pseudo science, and I’ve seen initiatives you wouldn’t believe that never get close to the necessary signatures to reach the ballot. This is the first time that an initiative has qualified for the ballot when it is fantasy from head to toe.”
Derrick said, “I take it you don’t believe in magic.”
“No.”
Levi said, “A recent study shows that 63% of your constituents do believe in magic. You aren’t worried about saying you don’t believe in it?”
“I am worried,” Congressman Rivera said. “Not about my career, which I think is what you’re getting at. I’m worried that so many people have fallen prey to the charlatans on the other side who are using this hoax as a means to their own political ends.”
Maya groaned. “Would you turn that off?”
Jeff did so, grinning. Yellow was thrilling through his aura again.
“What’s so funny?”
“That you let it bother you so much.”
“How does it not bother you? Rivera’s an idiot, calling magic a hoax!”
“You said it. He’s an idiot. Why should I care enough to be bothered?”
“Because he’s spreading it around!”
“But most people recognize the truth. And this initiative is on the ballot. Unless something crazy happens, it’s going to pass into law.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like listening to him.”
“Fair.”
The door chimes went off again, and Donna used that gratingly higher-pitched voice that she used with clients. The tour was about to begin. Jeff moved to the punching bag and wrapped his hands.
Maya pulled up the articles Ruth wanted her to read and made a conscious effort to sit with good posture. Be professional. Like a gnat coming around again, she thought about how greatly professional behavior differed between women. Some, like Donna, got into a production on being girly as a method of serving their clients. Just stop being so fake, Maya thought in Donna’s direction, so I don’t feel like I have to be. She could imagine a steam cloud of red and purple rising off her head at the thought.
As Jeff started his workout, the repetitive sounds of thwacking and breathing filled the room. Maya took a breath, trying to concentrate on the words she was looking at. Instead, she found herself wondering if people found her off-putting because she refused to perform femininity, or if it was because of her left cheek. It was sunken compared to the other despite the efforts made to restore it. Would it be better or worse if that were why people seemed to prefer women like Donna to Maya?
Instead of dwelling on that, Maya thought about what it was that Donna would say while still in the lobby, before starting the tour. She would go over why people might have Crisis Management Agents on retainer. They could immediately deal with a crisis, without needing transportation time. They were a discreet option, bound by client-patient privilege. They were trained in martial arts, CPR and the Heimlich maneuver, a smattering of various languages, plus other skills they were constantly acquiring.
Donna led a man into the room. His aura was largely gray. Bored? By this? Maya went back to pretending to read the article.
“This is where the agents work while they wait for someone to need them. They have computers, where they keep up-to-date on their study of languages, the law, and psychology. There’s a punching bag, which Jeff is currently using, and a mat for practicing their fighting skills by sparring.” Donna’s voice moved around the room as she showed the client different things. “Since this is where the agents’ bodies are, during a full transference the clients come here, too. In consideration of this, we’ve provided areas specifically to comfort those who may be upset, such as this corner with comfortable chairs, and a television with various streaming platforms. There’s also a kitchen fully stocked with food and drinks the agents are comfortable with their bodies eating while they’re away.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Maya realized that the sounds of Jeff’s practice had stopped. She turned to look, and saw that he was standing still, arms fallen to his side and a vacant look on his face. His energy was mostly gone, leaving only the faintest outline of blue, green, yellow, orange, and red.
Donna smiled reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about—he called away on assignment is all. Looks like it’s either a first or second level transference, since his body’s been left inert. Imagine a car left idling while you hopped out.”
Donna turned toward the balloon model. The man’s aura was simmering with yellow, while a frown line appeared on his brow. That doesn’t track.
“Speaking of transference levels, we have this model to help visualize the process.”
The model was composed of two identical stands. They each had a volto mask fixed to them, with a string tied behind the mask, a balloon on the other side of the string. Each balloon was clipped behind each mask, leaving a slack loop of string.
Donna stepped behind the model. “In this model, your body is represented by the mask. Your energy and self are represented by the balloon. When we sign a contract, there are three options for the level of transference you may select.”
She unclipped one balloon, and clipped it behind the other, on the other stand. “In the first level of transference, the agent’s self is called to sit behind your own. They are an observer in your body, and you remain in the driver’s seat.” She unclipped the balloons, flipped their positions, and clipped them back on. “In the second level of transference, the agent’s self is called into the driver’s seat. You’re still there, watching, but the agent is the one acting through your body.” Donna unclipped the balloons, and clipped the first one behind the second mask, and the second one behind the first mask. “In the third level of transference, the agent’s self is called into your body, while your self is called into the agent’s body. This allows the agent to work without distractions, and without you having to experience whatever your body is going through.”
Transference still didn’t make sense, even with Maya’s more nuanced knowledge of the process. We displace people’s auras. Their energies. Yet their whole self gets transferred—memories, habits. Surely we are more than the colors flashing around our bodies?
“This concludes our tour. Do you have any questions?”
Maya could feel it coming—the question that was always asked first. What happens if my body dies? They weren’t thinking about the agent’s self; they were asking about their own self. The answer would disappoint them. The clips come off, and the client’s stand is knocked over. Their balloon shares the fate of their volto mask, while the agent’s balloon returns to their own mask.
But that wasn’t the first question, this time. The man’s aura was flaming more and more yellow, and his voice was terse and constrained as he asked, “Would you mind reading my energy?”
Donna blinked. Her hands were already halfway to the model. She threaded her fingers together, resting them in front of her, and said, “I can have Maya here help you out with that. I’m not one of the agents, personally. Maya?”
Maya stood and strode over. “It’s a trick question.” His aura jolted with blue, and that was all the confirmation she needed. “Everyone reads you wrong, don’t they? They assume you’ve had a happy childhood when you had a bad one, or they say you were miserable when you were fine. I can’t tell right now. To me you appear to be feeling extremely proud of yourself, and it’s swamped your baseline. But you aren’t feeling that, are you? You’re angry. You think this is all a big hoax that most people buy into, and only you know the truth.”
The yellow had tampered, with gray, blue, and white flashing out. It was all nonsense.
“I can assure you, energy reading is real. You just have strange energy.”
The flashes stopped, and yellow roared out again. “You almost had me there. Very convincing.” He turned and strode toward the door. After a moment’s hesitation, Donna followed him.
As the door chimes announced his exit, Jeff came back to himself, shaking his head a little. “Oh, he’s gone? Did he sign on?”
Maya settled back in front of her laptop. “Hardly. He just came to complain about how magic isn’t real. Thought you were faking.”
Yellow thrilled through Jeff’s aura, and he smiled. “I didn’t assume he was that insecure.”
Despite herself, Maya snorted. Then she got back to skimming over the infantilizing mush Ruth had sent her.