Len Spencer

“ Jane made no comment, but asked other questions. They became increasingly intimate, and Overman could not answer most of them. But Horner, of course, answered them all.
Finally, Jane said, "I—I don't know how it can be." Her eyes were filling with tears as she looked down at Overman. "You—you're my husband. You should be. But you don't know the things he would know. It's impossible, but you're not—not—"
Her voice trailed off. She turned to Horner. "While you—you're just a boy. You don't look anything like my husband, but you know all the things he knows." ”

“ Jane said. "I have a vague memory. She—she wouldn't tell you...."
Jane's body—auburn-hair-in-Jane—was crying bitterly. It sounded as if she would go on crying forever. Overman was still unconscious.
"It's like fingerprints or retinal prints," the new Jane said.
"What is? Hurry up!"
"An electroencephalogram. An E.E.G. Each person's is different. There aren't any mistakes, ever."
"I once had one—in the Army!" Horner cried. "I can prove all of this, as fantastic as it sounds. And there's this machinery." ”

“ Jane told him. "And you," she said to Horner, "when you let go of me I knew I was going to hit you with the pitcher and I couldn't stop it, even when I wanted to when you said that about Jones Beach. We—we were alone, my husband and me. But how could you be my husband? You don't look like him. You—you're young enough to be my—my son."
"Ask him," Horner said, pointing at the bound Overman, "ask him about Jones Beach." Horner smiled grimly, waiting. His own memory of Overman's life was only fair, and spotty, and certainly not very good on particular details. Overman's of his would be the same. ”

“ Horner got out of there very quickly. He took a cab home, which was unusual for him. If George and his nameless friend had been playing an elaborate practical joke, they had also been playing hob with Horner's digestion. For now a hot sensation flooded his middle—his damned ulcer acting up. Ulcers, he thought with a sudden wry smile, ulcers and what else? You're forty-seven, Horner. A mildly successful life, a good marriage, a middling business, no children, no outstanding debts—any regrets? ”

“ I don't know how many suckers you trapped in convict's bodies. You deserve whatever you get—like, for example, losing twenty years."
Jane said, "But—but what is wrong with growing older the way we're growing older?"
"Nothing," Horner told her quietly, "if we'd allowed ourselves to live. But we didn't. We just existed, always promising to do the things tomorrow—the things we always wanted to do—which somehow we never got around to. ”

“ Horner had tasted them. He was suddenly reminded of a magician who makes diverting passes with one hand while performing his magic with the other. "Money," the girl said laconically.
"Money? But I'm only paying three thousand dollars. Surely a man wouldn't surrender his youth for such a sum!"
"Our regulations call for a man's total savings. In your case, three thousand dollars. But most of our clients are extremely wealthy, Mr. Horner. Now, since half of the fee goes to the youth who will become Hugh Horner while we keep the other half...." ”

“ Horner said, "you have a point." He was alone in the massage room with the attendant. He felt worn and drained out, as he always did at the end of a heavy week's work at the office. A steam bath and a massage helped, but he had to admit it: he wasn't as young as he used to be.
"Of course I have a point, Mr. Horner," said the attendant. "Folks spent all that money on machines, what I mean, and almost nothing on themselves. Tell me what happens when a guy develops a bad ticker—Wait, I'll tell you what happens. ”

“ Naturally, Jane isn't exactly the same girl she was twenty years ago, when we were married. She's put on some weight and she's got wrinkles and she's not exactly a sweater girl—"
"I see. Any children?"
"No, we were never blessed—"
"Blessed, is it? Well, that's good. No children. I think you'll do, Mr. Horner."
"Do? Do for what?"
"Congratulations, sir," the rub-down man said, smacking some oil on Horner's abdomen and squashing the flesh around to show Horner how soft he'd become.
Horner said, "Say, what happened to George, anyway." George was Horner's usual attendant at the Gotham Baths. ”

“ The shaft was barely wide enough to admit him and angled sharply several times where Overman, Jake Halrohan and Forbish must have encountered large rocks.
Horner estimated the distance at fifty feet or more before he came up against Jake's back. He had expected complete darkness here at the nether end of the tunnel, but faint light seeped in from somewhere.
"Made it!" Jake cried hoarsely. "Listen to the river."
Horner heard it, a faint rushing of water. "The guards," he said. "I took care of one, but not before he blew his whistle. We don't have much time." ”

“ Horner's grip on Overman's arm was like iron. He was much stronger than the little middle-aged man, and both of them knew it. But Overman was desperate, and they both knew that too.
They got into the car. "You drive," Horner told his wife. Overman sat between them and Horner told Jane to head out to Long Island. It would be a long drive and Horner knew he would have to watch Overman every mile of the way. ”

“ If you live, there's nothing wrong with growing old. But we haven't lived. And now, now Jane darling, we have a second chance. Jane—will you?"
She looked at him. There were tears in her eyes. "Yes," she said finally. "Oh, yes, Hugh!"
Horner gave Jane the Luger. "Take her inside," he said. "I'd better get Overman."
The girl said, "You'll never get away with it," as Horner lifted the unconscious Overman to his shoulder and entered the house. "I've already called the police. They're on their way."
"Then we have nothing to lose," Horner said. "If you don't work fast, I'll kill you. ”

“ She looked at the Hugh Horner body, unconscious, on the floor. She sobbed hysterically and Horner said:
"You're both coming with me, in your car."
"A murderer! You'll kill us."
"Janey, listen to me. That time in Jones Beach before we were married and the top of your bathing suit came off while we were swimming—"
It was something only she and the real Horner would know, but he had waited too long. He had been staring down at the unconscious Lionel Overman while he spoke, and when he looked up it was too late to ward off the green-glass pitcher which Jane was bringing down over his head. ”

“ But his shoulders shrugged and he said, "When you get like that, Lonnie, I guess you got to have your way." He added one word. He added, "Murder."
"Murder," Horner said slowly.
"Hell, yeah, murder. Now snap out of it, will you?"
"Murder. Why didn't they electrocute me?"
"You was young at the time. Twenty, I think. Hey, what's the matter with you? Will you leave go the shirt so I can go down there?"
"Yes," Horner said. "Yes, of course." There was more on the river of memory now. There was Jake. And Lonnie Overman—Horner. And a man named Forbish, another convict. ”

“ Once made, the change is irrevocable because the electromagnetic impulses which make up a human mind are delicate and could never stand the shock twice. It looks like you're trapped, Mr. Horner. Or, should I say, Mr. Overman? ”

“ The attendant wiped his hands on a large towel and tossed its twin to Horner. From somewhere, he plucked a neat white business card and gave it to Horner. The card said:
BODIES, INC. By appointment only.
There was a telephone number and an address out on Long Island. There was nothing else.
"Three thousand is what it will cost you," the attendant said. "You're lucky it's a joint account you have."
"Three thousand dollars!" gasped Horner. "For what?"
"For a new body, naturally. Twenty-five years old and in sound health. Fit as a pin, you're guaranteed that. I think it's a bargain." ”

“ It's a darned shame that just when we get past the experimental stage and learn how to have fun, the old body starts wearing out. Now what if there were spare parts for sale? What if you could get them installed on demand? ”

“ My old man will be up an' to the barn a few minutes fum now an' all you can do is talk. Caleb Wilson if you don't ... ah...."
The gloom inside the barn was less complete than it had been outside, only moments ago. Rain drummed on the roof as Horner groped slowly forward, found the foot of a ladder which probably went up to the loft. The boy named Caleb and the farm girl were up there and, from the tone of their conversation, probably undressed. Horner needed Caleb's clothing. He wondered for a moment if it would be tell-tale farm clothing, a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, perhaps. ”