Quiet. That is all I hear as I lay down on my back, my body aching from my head to my toes. Absolute quiet. Have I gone deaf? Why is there no noise? I realize I have yet to open my eyes. Slowly, I blink them open, taking in my surroundings. Where am I? I think, as I peel back the blue sheets of what appears to be a hospital bed. Was I in an accident? Sitting on the edge of the bed, I struggle to stand, holding on to the railing, I pull myself up. I survey the room, taking in the strange medical equipment that looks like something out of a sci-fi film with its robotic machines and screens and flashing green lights. Everywhere I look, everything is white. What the hell? There is no window. No clock. Nothing to give me any indication about what time of day it is. I feel like I am in a space shuttle, that’s how advanced and clean everything is. Not your average hospital room at all. Why am I here and where are my parents? Suddenly, a sharp excruciating pain hits me. It feels like my brain is on fire. I sit back down, holding my head in my hands. The door to my right opens and a nurse walks in. The pain stops. I start to ask her questions. “Thank god, where I am? What happened to me?” I say to her, my own voice unfamiliar to me. She stares at me with cold blue eyes, her mouse-brown hair tied tightly in a bun behind her head. She hands me a pile of letters, nods once, turns, and leaves. Confused, I call after her: “Wait, what am I supposed to do with these?” I look at the small chair in the corner of the room and the desk in front of it. Reaching for a glass of water on the side table, I realize I am parched. I quickly drink the water, watching my hand in the process. As I hold both hands in front of me, my eyes widen because these are not my hands. “Who am I?!” I cry aloud. Frustrated, I grab the glass and smash it to the ground. The noise is so loud, I let out a shriek. I need to get out of here; find out what the hell happened to me. Letters in hand, I turn on my heel, careful not to step on broken shards of glass in my bare feet and swing the door open. It’s only when I am halfway down the long corridor, do I realize I am dressed in an aluminum gown. Looking at my reflection through a small window, I see someone that is not me. I stare into the brown eyes that are not mine. I touch the face that is not mine. I pull at the curly blond hair that isn’t mine. My eyes are green, my hair is brown and straight as an arrow. Carefully, I back away from the reflection that is not mine. I am not myself. I am dreaming. This is all a dream, a nightmare if you will. But, deep down I know this is not true.
Memories come flooding back. Flashes from my childhood; my sister and I playing at the park; my parents smiling at me at my graduation; my friends laughing at a party; my parents looking at me and crying … That’s when I let out an ear-piercing scream.
The accident comes rushing back to me like treacherous waves. The red car, the terrified eyes of the driver, the shock of being hit. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was a Friday afternoon, warm and sunny. I was happy because Spring had finally arrived. I was walking home from campus when a car smashed into me so hard I went flying. “Miss, miss, are you ok? Can you hear me? Someone call 911! She can’t move!” I hear in the distance. Flashing red lights, a gurney, multiple paramedics, and my parents’ crushed faces was all I could see. “Everything is going to be ok. You’re going to be ok!” They said as tears stained their pinched faces. Then why are you crying? I wanted to ask them questions, tell them I love them, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t see my body, all I knew was that I couldn’t move anything or feel anything, so it must’ve been bad. The last audible word I heard was “brain transplant” and then everything went black.
I run. I run down stairwells until I find an exit. I run until I am outside, breathing in the scents of an alien world. The sun beats down on my skin, making me sweat. It is unbelievably hot. I run until I can’t run anymore, stopping to catch my breath and look around. I see a world that has completely changed. The buildings look futuristic and seem to brush the clouds in the sky. I squint my eyes and peel off the aluminum gown to reveal a white long-sleeved shirt and pants underneath. Cars whiz by me at the speed of light, with no drivers and no wheels; they hover above the road. What is this place? The sky is filled with mini colourful planes flying between the buildings, some landing on the rooftops. People walk in all directions dressed in peculiar outfits with bright colours and big floppy hats, all of them wearing sunglasses. None of them stop to look at me. I don’t know where I am or when I am; all I know is that I have to read the letters. I sit down on a white metal bench in a small park area under the shade of a large artificial-looking tree and begin to read with shaking hands.
Dear Julia,
By the time you read this, it will be 100 years in the future. You will have woken up in another girl’s body but with your brain and your memories. You are still you. We know how hard and confusing this will be for you but please try to understand. We have given you a second chance at life by preserving and transplanting your brain into another body. When you died in that terrible accident, we saved you the only way we knew how. Your body was inoperable, but your brain was unharmed. You will know through our work in bioengineering that we have been experimenting with this for years, and that you will be the first of many to receive a brain transplant. Julia, if you are reading this then you are the only one in the world to have successfully undergone and survived this magnificent procedure.
Your accident, honey, was tragic but we will live on knowing that you will be able to live again one day, even if we are not there. Julia, we want you to live your new life, to be happy, joyous, and free. The world will be different, but you will adapt because you, sweetie, are the most precious advancement in bioengineering yet! Never forget that. We miss you and we love you forever.
Love always,
Mom and Dad
Unstoppable tears roll down my face as I struggle to walk. My parents are dead. My sister is dead. My friends are all gone. There is nobody left. I have nobody left. 100 years have passed? What did they do? How did they die? Were they happy? A million thoughts go racing through my head. I am flooded with memories of my past: riding my bike for the first time down my street in the spring; our family vacations to the cottage in the summer; my sister and I laughing as we splash each other in the pool; and the four of us gathered around the tree on Christmas morning. Once again, I begin searching all around me for something or someone familiar in this strange world. Frantically, I gasp for air, falling on my knees onto the hot hard pavement. I don’t notice the dark clouds rolling in above until large raindrops begin to fall, burning my face. A lady with a pink hat and green scarf gently bends down to me and asks “Honey, are you alright? You don’t look too well.” Her white robotic-looking dog stops to sniff me. I stare blankly ahead, unable to answer. “You should be wearing your hat, you know, or you’ll be dead within the hour. This hydrochloric acid rain is toxic after all.” She says, pulling out a bright red hat from her large blue purse and placing it on my head. Then I remember. Not my head. Someone else’s head. I am stuck in another girl’s body. What happened to her? Where did her brain go? Is it waiting to be transplanted into someone else’s body, like mine was? This isn’t right. How could they do this to me? HOW CAN I LIVE LIKE THIS? How could they expect me to go on? I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I am overcome with grief for my family, my loved ones and everyone I have ever known. I do not want to be a part of this strange world. I would rather have been left for dead. People are not supposed to be brought back to life, it goes against the laws of the universe and… I am going insane.
The lady in the pink hat is still standing there watching her dog pee on a tree. Softly, I whisper so that only she can hear: “You have to help me. I am stuck in the past.” I say, desperately in need of someone to understand, to take away the pain, to make the world stop spinning. Her reply comes breezily as she taps aways on a device in the shape of an apple: “Well then, hun, all you have to do is live in the present, like the rest of us.”
“Wwhat, what if I can’t? Live in the present, I mean. I am in someone else’s body!” I cry. Swallowing my tears, my body shakes as I stand up. She looks at me then as if I am an annoying ant crawling on her shoe and responds with a sigh: “Look, I don’t have time for this, my 12 o’clock is waiting for me, Princess needs her kibble, and these constant acid storms are giving me a headache. Oh and, your welcome for the hat, by the way!” She calls over her shoulder as her silly little dog trods along after her. I take off the red hat and throw it aside.
I can’t go on like this. It hurts too much. My sister’s and parents’ faces keep popping up in my head. Haunting me. I hear their voices and see their faces that I know are not there and never will be again. The accident plays over and over like a broken record in my brain. I don’t belong here. I stare at the futuristic cars and at the world that I am not supposed to be in. 100 years in the future. I should be dead. Lightning flashes and thunder claps high above in darkening sky and before I can stop myself, I am walking towards the speeding hovering cars. “I’m sorry Mom and Dad” I say. “I know you wanted me to live but I can’t live without you, without anyone, in this strange world. I need to be free. I need to be able to rest in peace.” Then all of a sudden, the familiar pain hits my side and I fly like a bird, once again to the other side.
FADE TO BLACK.
Written by Emily Mack