In the far future, a despotic leader of a colony on one of Saturn's moons punishes a young man named Elliot by placing his mind into a notorious woman's body. Now a 38 year old woman, Elliot must learn to live with his sexy new body as a civil war brews around him in Exile of the Mind 1, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon.
Prime Minister Vaughn runs the colony on the surface of one of Neptune's moons with an iron fist. He's recently begun punishing dissidents with mind isolation, an insidious punishment whereby the person's mind is removed from their body and stored in an isolation chamber while their body is repurposed for hard labor, to be returned to them when their sentence is up with whatever injuries it has sustained.
Elliot is a young protestor who is one of the first dissidents to undergo this process. He's been arrested, stripped of his body, and isolated. But after his time is served, he finds that his body has been lost and he's been given a new one: That of a 38-year old female serial killer.
Now Elliot is thrown back into the colony with his new identity, belittled by his family and scorned by those who have watched the news feeds of his sexy new body's notorious deeds. He tries to make sense of his new life, slowly exploring his body even as the colony around him begins to collapse in chaos.
From above, the colony of Salopia appeared to be a dirty bubble of soap on the surface of Triton, ready to burst at any moment. Beneath the dome, gleaming towers hundreds of feet high poked up towards the underside of the bubble, as if reaching for the nearby planet of Neptune. The skies above were a reddish-grey haze from the light filtering through the constant wash of nitrogen rain outside.
Richard Marsh sat at the waiting area of the Isolation Chambers on the four hundred and fifty first floor of the most imposing tower. The large floor to ceiling windows across from him looked out on to the sprawling, towering mess that was Salopia. A vast nation-sized colony of millions squeezed into such a small land area that the only way to build was up.
Outside the window, red lights of warning beacons pulsed on and off while the steady yellowish glow of various tower rooms blazed out from the distance. Millions of others living their own lives. Every now and then an air car would burst through the gloom, lights flashing as it separated from the long line of vehicles below and brought some important person to one place or another.
Richard Marsh – fifties, balding, short and stocky – shifted in the light gray couch on which he sat and it shifted to match, the sensors reacting to his shape in order to provide optimal comfort levels. The reception area of the Isolation Chambers was decorated in an inoffensive beige and grey. A bland secretary sat behind the desk typing away. On a more progressive colony in the system she would have been an android, or a fully automated system. But not on Salopia. Here she was a flesh and blood person, the better to ensure there were no digital systems that could be compromised.
A screen on the wall kept trying to grab Richard’s attention. On it was a closeup of Prime Minister Geoffrey Vaughn, his meticulously slicked-back black hair and trimmed goatee looking impeccably plastic. “This attack by the UN is not just on me, but on all of us. They don’t get to decide who leads Salopia. Let the Salopians decide!”
It was almost enough to stir Richard to anger once again, if he wasn’t distracted by his impending reunion with his son. He’d voted for Vaughn’s party in the last three elections, where he’d solidified his hold on power with a tough-on-crime message, enforcing radical punishment measures on lawbreakers and dissidents. Even though Vaughn’s policies directly affected Richard’s son, the Prime Minister had kept his word and eliminated the violence that had plagued Salopia, at least as far as Richard could tell. For that, Richard would vote for him again. Assuming there were any future elections. And if not, well, there were worse permanent leaders than Prime Minister Vaughn.
Behind Richard came the soft whoosh of a door sliding open.
“Mr. Marsh?”
Richard stood and turned to find a skinny man with the healthy rosy cheeks that only came from surgery. The collar of his jacket was the deep glossy black that symbolized the Manager class. He peered down at an electronic clipboard held in thin fingers.
But what checked Richard was what stood beside the man. It, too, had been a man, once. It was tall and broad. Its left eye had been replaced with an ocular implant that connected to the metal cap that covered it’s head, giving half of its face a robotic appearance. It’s right arm was a solid metal lump, capable of being reformed into any manner of useful tools. It’s face bore a neutral expression but looking at it made Richard’s skin crawl. That was someone’s body, repurposed into a tool, the mind that used to be inside probably kept somewhere in this very facility. He understood on a theoretical level that other servitors had been much more drastically enhanced until they were little more than living tools. But those were far below in the surface levels, not up here staring at him.
“You have a servitor,” Richard said to the skinny man.
“Ah, yes. Yes. Orders of the Prime Minister. Their organic brains are much more reliable than any computer. Are you Richard Marsh?”
“Yes.” Richard replied after a pause.
“Ah, yes, good. I’m Manager Tez. Please follow me.”
Richard followed Manager Tez through the doors and down a corridor that curved around the outside of the building, giving them a panoramic view of the city below as they walked. Skycars zoomed around the building in an orderly queue.
“This is a, ah, unique case,” Manager Tez said, consulting his notes. “Your son is Elliot Marsh. Twenty one years old. Male. Yes?”
Richard’s gaze kept going to the servitor as it kept step silently beside them. “Yes,” Richard agreed absently.
“Ah, Prime Minister Vaugh himself showed an interest in the case. Have you been, ah, briefed on your son’s status?”
That got Richard’s attention. “His status? He’s to be released, isn’t he?”
“Ah, yes, ah.” The man’s vocal tic was getting on Richard’s nerves. “Step into my office and we can discuss.”
Richard followed Manager Tez and the servitor into a grand office. A plush grey chair faced an ornate metal desk. Manager Tez gestured Richard to sit in the grey chair as he took place behind the desk. The servitor stood silently next to the desk, his empty gaze seeming to pass right through Richard.
“Your son, Elliot Marsh,” Manager Tez began. “Arrested for, ah, sedition against the government of Prime Minister Vaughn.”
“He was a protestor, that’s all! And I told him not to do it. He was a young idiot taken in by idealists.”
“He was convicted for, ah, leading and masterminding a protest that, ah, greatly embarrassed the PM.” Manager Tez clarified.
Richard had the sense that Manager Tez was stalling. “I know all that. Just return him so we can leave.”
“It, ah, seems there was, ah, an incident.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” Tez typed something into the keyboard on his desk and read the screen, then turned to Richard and folded his long, spidery fingers. “It appears that his original body is, ah, irretrievable.”
Richard blinked at him, not comprehending. “What do you mean?” He repeated. “The punishment has been completed hasn’t it?’
“Ah, yes—”
“My son’s mind has been put in isolation while the Prime Minister has done god knows what with his body.” At this, Manager Tez’s eyes flicked briefly to the servitor standing beside him. “Now you put his mind back into his body so we can go home.”
“It’s not that simple. You see his body has been, ah lost.” Manager Tez typed some more and peered at his screen. “It appears there was a mining accident. Your son’s body was minimally modified as it was intended his mind would be returned to it. Perhaps why he did not survive the accident. However, his body is no longer available to return to.”
Richard sat back in his chair, stunned. “No longer available? Prime Minister Vaughn promised fair punishments. Now my son is trapped in this mind exile forever?”
Manager Tez turned to the servitor. “Servitor, fetch us some drinks. The gratcha from my special collection.”
The servitor nodded and headed out the door.
“I don’t want a fucking drink. I want my son back!” Richard pounded the arm of the chair.
As soon as the servitor left, Manager Tez tapped a button on his chair that made the door whoosh closed. He leaned forward and whispered hurriedly to Richard, his aloof manner set aside for the moment.
“The servitors function as Prime Minister Vaughn’s eyes and ears. He’s embedding them in every department.”
“What?” Richard was taken aback by the sudden change of topic.
“The PM doesn’t trust electronic devices because they can be remotely hijacked by the United Nations. Something impossible to do with organic humanoids.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I recommend you not criticize the PM when the servitor returns. Criticism could be considered dissident behavior. Accept your son’s condition and move on. It’s best for everyone.”
“What is my son’s condition? Permanent isolation?”
“No—” Manager Tez was interrupted by the door sliding open heralding the servitor’s return.
The servitor carried a tray containing a carafe of gratcha and two elegant glasses. It poured the purple liquid into the two glasses and handed them to Richard and Manager Tez. Richard sipped his, allowing the bubbly liquid to soothe him slightly.
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