Honey

My body felt trapped and frozen while sitting in that chair. I couldn’t move or speak, but I could see. I could see the scientist fiddling with the knobs on the machine; I could see them poke at me with various medical instruments and feeding tubes. From time to time, I would black out -- I assumed those were night and my body was simply tired.

But things changed one day when a man came in. He also fiddled with the knobs and suddenly I could move again. He hugged me in a way that was oddly intimate that made me uncomfortable before speaking in a soothing tone in a language I couldn’t understand.

“Do you speak English?” I asked.

He seemed confused, but he began speaking with a heavy accent in broken English, “Honey, did machine...hurt you?”

“Honey? I’m --” I paused as I looked down at two thing, smooth legs. I reached up to feel my face. My beard was gone and it was even smoother. Even if I had been shaven when I first got in this chair, there should be substantial stubble by now. As the realization sunk in, I continued speaking, “I’m not your ‘Honey.’ I’m not your wife or girlfriend or whoever you think I am. This machine must be some sort of body swapping machine, which means my body has to be around here somewhere. I’m not sure if you know enough to use it to get her and I back to normal?”

The man looked confused. I had probably spoken too quickly in a language he just didn’t understand too well. But I needed to explain that I wasn’t who he thought I was!