[This is a work in progress.
The title is a placeholder and only refers to the song I was listening to when posting this story.]
First time
My name is Barry, my wife is Cass, and this is the first time for both of us.
We're in the living room of our small house on the outskirts of Seattle.
Cass is sitting on the couch and I'm in the recliner, our usual spots for watching TV or reading, though today we're doing neither.
We both have bright-blue "swimming caps" on our heads.
Twin tangles of wires come out of each cap and snake over too-old carpet to a thick silver case that sits on the coffee table between us.
"We're ready on this side," a tech by the name of Alexis speaks into a phone as she watches over us and the case.
Alexis is standing on the opposite side of the coffee table, facing us, and the three of us form a rough equilateral triangle, with the suitcase smack in the middle.
I look over towards Cass and give her a smile.
I want to go over to her, hug her, hold her in my arms and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, but the tech said we shouldn't be touching at this point.
Something about messing up the connection.
The cap is starting to itch, but we're not supposed to mess with those either.
"Starting sync," a voice announces from the tech's phone, and I start to hallucinate.
The image of our house, of the living room where we are sitting, is now being overlaid with strange fluctuations, weird patterns that shift and meld and attempt to bend the straight lines of our home.
Then I remember that our Hosts are, likely, sitting and watching the ocean, and things make a bit more sense.
I breathe in, slowly, counting upwards slowly, 1 2 3, exhaling on the count of 4.
Once more, and again, and another time.
Each inhale brings with it a clearer view of the ocean, and each exhale makes some small detail of our house evaporate, as if I'm transferring the sea here a lungful at a time.
Hawaii
The last vestiges of our house have been replaced by sand, water, and sky, and I find myself sitting on the beach.
A stiff beach chair replaces the soft recliner beneath me.
I can feel the plastic straps dig into my thigh.
The air is full of salt and organics.
A mild breeze comes along and moves the hair on my Host's head, but it feels like it's my head.
The level of sensation is amazing!
I glance around and, first things first, I look at "my" body.
I'm wearing a pair of neon-green swim trunks and a bright red rash-guard shirt, and underneath these is a bronze body of a gym rat.
I turn my head to the right and notice a woman in a similar getup, a red rash-guard shirt over a bright neon swimsuit.
The woman is in her twenties and has a similar complexion as my Host: bronze, tanned, and looks like she can do promotional videos for a gym.
She smiles, and in her smile I can instantly see my wife, Cass.
It's something about the way her mouth elongates, her eyes crinkle, and her lips part as she glances towards me.
Two decades together and I still can't take my eyes off her.
"Welcome to Hawaii," a voice greets us from behind and we both twist in our chairs to find the source, which turns out to be another tech.
This tech is a man, and he wears the tropical version of the outfit that our local technician (Alexis) has on.
"My name is Troy and I'm going to help with your sync today," the man says as he watches a tablet and taps on it once in a while.
"You may be feeling disoriented, so take your time, watch your breath, and try to acclimate.
These first few minutes are particularly jarring, so we've asked our Hosts to hang back for a bit.
For now, just sit there and look around."
So I do exactly that.
We're sitting on a pair of beach chairs under the expansive canopy of a nearby banyan tree.
Behind us a tech is tapping away at his pad, running diagnostics or whatever it is they need to do.
The waves lapping at the golden sand are a bright turquoise, a coloration I've never seen before, not in real life anyway.
I look at the woman on my right and my heart swells.
I smile, beam at her, and she smiles back, similarly excited and awestruck.
"You're doing great," our tech speaks up.
"Now, I'd like to ask the Hosts to introduce themselves.
Barry and Cass, you're going to hear a voice in your head-"
I briefly think: "Aren't we the voices inside their heads?"
"-and while you'll eventually learn to respond subvocally, you should respond now simply by speaking, out loud."
Hey, Barry,
a voice talks to me from somewhere and nowhere, or everywhere.
My name is Kai and I'm your Host today.
I look around, try to find a non-existent speaker, and notice that Cass is doing the same.
Despite knowing the truth, it's hard not to search for an external source of the voice.
"Hi Kai, pleasure to meet you," I say.
"Hello Mele!" Cass speaks to — and through — her Host.
And I hear her, through my Host.
Warm-ups and a dip
I chat with Kai for a few minutes, as Cass talks with Mele.
Each of us is having a strange conversation with ourselves, while also overhearing one side of a different conversation that happens between a person and the strange spirit that temporarily occupies them.
And we're the spirits!
Welcome to the future, it's weird here!
After we get the intros out of the way, the tech asks both of us to stand and do some stretches.
He wants us to take it slow, to make sure that we understand the limits of our interaction before we get sent out into the world.
To test out Kai's physical range, Kai walks me through his typical warm-up regiment, talking all the while, providing helpful suggestions about properly using his body.
We do stretches, push-ups, squats, lunges, an unfamiliar exercise that Kai calls "burpees", and a bit of jogging.
Kai's body is strong, responsive.
I think "jump" and it does!
I attempt a push-up – something my body hasn't been able to do in a while – and Kai's body responds instantly.
But when I push too much, when I try to reach too far, I can feel my grasp slipping and my control on the body loosening, as Kai expertly takes over for just a moment and corrects my actions.
Mele is going through a similar exercise routine with Cass.
Or is it the other way around?
Before I have a chance to ask Kai about the appropriate terminology, Troy the tech chimes in and suggests we go in the water.
I look over and see Cass' exhilarated smile on Mele's face, so of course I start walking toward the surfboards that are stuck upright in the sand next to Troy.
Mele takes her board first, carries it on the top of head, and I follow her example.
I also notice the metallic disc at the base of Mele's head.
An identical one must be similarly attached to Kai.
The FTL communicator.
"There's about thirty minutes left," Troy helpfully reminds us as we walk towards the water.
Let me get us through this next part,
Kai says to me as we start running.
Kai's legs hit wet sand and he takes control of his body, metaphysically shoving me out of the way, and runs into the surf.
For the next little while I hang back and Kai takes us out into deeper water.
Mele follows close behind.
Surfing
I don't have to see Mele to know that she is there.
My Host Kai seems to possess this knowledge of Mele, perhaps even unconsciously, and somehow and I get to have access to it.
As Kai is paddling out into the water, I strain and listen, and eventually I can hear the splash of Mele's paddle, ten feet behind and to the left of us.
Even information like distance, even that comes through the Host directly to me.
I just have to listen for it.
Once we've swam a good distance, Kai and Mele sit up on the boards, and we hang out in a nondescript region a bit off-shore.
Troy the tech looks tiny and is almost unrecognizable from this distance.
After a few moments, an awareness comes through and somehow I know that this is a good spot to catch a wave.
Kai's inherent knowledge seeps in once again.
"We're going to catch a few waves, then we'll head back to the beach," Kai talks to Mele, but of course his comments are mostly directed to myself and Cass.
"Mele and I will do most of the surfing, this first time, so all you have to do is hang back and watch."
So we get front-row seats to some fun surfing as Kai and Mele catch a handful of waves.
They start out slow, just riding on top of the waves, then catch a few more and start tube riding.
Mele leads us through a collapsing wave, Kai follows closely behind her, and I hear an excited scream from Mele, a celebratory yell that clearly belongs to Cass.
I whoop in excitement as Kai trails a hand through the glass-like wave we're riding.
The wave changes shape, a part of it coming down over our heads, and Kai uses this opportunity to shoot himself past Mele.
Using his extra velocity, Kai surfs up the wave and hangs for a moment on its crest.
The term floater
comes through a subconscious channel and I realize instantly what this move is all about.
The sudden slam of information throws me, metaphysically, and I unconsciously grab control from Kai for just a split second.
A split second is enough, though, to destabilize us, and Kai plunges down into the roiling sea.
Mele shoots past us and I wonder about asking her for help, somehow, but a calmness spreads through Kai and just like that I am reassured that everything is going to be fine.
I relax and yield to Kai.
He kicks and after a moment we are back up on the surface, the wave past us.
No worries, mate,
Kai tells me as we catch our breath and mount the surfboard once again.
Mele paddles over.
"Doing good?" Mele (not Cass) asks, with just a hint of worry in her voice.
"Aye," Kai responds and gives a wave.
"Just tripped over ourselves a bit.
Which brings up a good point!"
Kai is excited about this teaching opportunity, I can feel it.
"There will be times that your reflexes, your impulse will kick in, but it'll be counter-productive," Kai is speaking to Cass and myself.
Mele nods along with the lesson.
"Because your reflexes are not a surfer's reflexes, not yet.
So once in a while you'll accidentally take over one of our bodies, at the wrong moment, and we'll end up wiping out.
It's not a big deal, honestly, and your bodies will learn, very quickly, but you do have to be aware that every once in a while it might happen.
Your reaction may not match our reactions.
Just be aware of it, and with time things will improve."
Kai glances down at his watch.
"And that's about it for today, let's get back to shore."
Back in Seattle
I remove the wired swimming cap and put it on top of the silver case that sits on the coffee table.
Cass does the same.
Alexis, the technician, puts down her pad.
"Your vitals were good for the entirety of the run.
Even that tussle toward the end, you handled it well," she directs that comment to me.
"How was it?"
Cass and I look at each other, briefly, then we both begin to talk at the same time: "so realistic", "the water and the sand!", "the wind!", "I loved riding through the wave!".
We go on for a bit, then sheepishly quiet down.
But Alexis is grinning at us, she clearly understands what we've just gone through, and is happy for us.
"Wonderful, I'm glad!
Your next appointment is in two days, on Wednesday, at the same time.
You already know how to use the system, so I won't be around for that.
You might encounter Troy, on the other side, but it's unlikely."
Alexis covers a few more little things about the rig, discusses the insurance, and heads out after a few minutes.
There's a smirk on her face as she closes our front door.
The smirk perplexes me for a moment, then Cass turns the lock behind Alexis, then grabs me and practically shoves a tongue down my throat.
The excitement of the session has put Cass into quite a mood, so we quickly retreat to the bedroom, lips pressed together, shedding our clothes on the way there.
Second time
The second time, we sit in the same spots in our living room and fit the wired caps onto our heads a few minutes before the scheduled start.
The wires run into the silver case that sits on our coffee table.
The case is open and looking toward us is a tablet that is both the device's screen and its control pad.
We press our respective READY buttons on the tablet and the small screen informs us that we are waiting for our Hosts to be ready.
We wait, both of us a bit nervous, and exchange shy and scared and excited looks with each other.
The tablet dings and shows a "STARTING" label, with a countdown timer below it that starts at 10 seconds and counts down.
When it reaches zero, I start to hallucinate and the beach invades my senses once again.
Kai and Mele are our hosts again.
Just as we did the first time, we take a few minutes to get used to the shift and just sit.
I ask Kai about his life and he tells me that he's a vet technician.
I overhear Cass following suit and learn that Mele is going to grad school for marine biology.
The two have been surfing all their lives, and the BodyShare program is a good way for them to teach others.
At least, that's what Kai says, Mele nodding along as he explains.
We chat a bit more, then Mele (driven no doubt by Cass) walks over and gets her board, and it's time for our lessons.
An hour later, we log-off in our house on the outskirts of Seattle and once again make wild, passionate love.
We schedule a series of recurring appointments to go surfing in Hawaii every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
The first few weeks are scheduled with Kai and Mele, and after that we'll get whoever is available on that particular day.
The diagnosis
We've always talked about learning to surf, but never made the time for it.
After the diagnosis, things swam into focus, and a lot of the aspects of our miserable lives just dropped away.
Thanksgiving and Christmas invites were pared down, and we finally found time to go into Seattle and try a few restaurants that we've always talked about, but never felt adventurous-enough to try.
We looked into surfing, in those first few weeks, and quickly saw that I wouldn't be up for it, physically.
I'm on medical leave from work, and Cass gets an exemption from her boss to work at home.
A month ago, Cass saw an Instagram ad for BodyShare, and that was it.
She researched it for an hour, then an hour more, and came to the decision that we needed to get it.
She knew we had to do it, so we sold the car, and bought the silver case with two hookups.
This thing was going to help us travel, not our old Toyota.
The chemo has me moving slowly.
But not when I'm using BodyShare, not when I'm sharing Kai's body.
We perform an upside-down flip inside a wave, and my back doesn't immediately go out.
It's amazing and for the first time in months, I feel alive.
Cass is happy with this recent injection of "spice", as she calls it, into her life.
I am happy that she is happy.
It has been a long time since I've seen her genuinely smile, the smile that lights up a whole damn room.
So we pay up and schedule the most trips we can afford: three times a week.
Three times a week we get to live out our dreams in young, strong bodies.
Three times a week I forget about the cancer and fly through the waves an ocean away.
3-14-2025
It's a cold evening.
Cass and I are sitting out on the deck and the fire-pit is off, for a change.
We're both dressed for the cold, and in our gloved hands we both hold mugs of warm cocoa.
We're reclined in the zero-gee chairs, so that we're facing directly up.
It's a clear evening and the moon is overhead, half of it is covered in shadow.
It's the March 2025 total lunar eclipse.
Possibly the last one I'll ever see.
The next one is in September, half a year away, and my doctor can't even give me that much time.
I glance sideways to Cass and see her weeping.
I reach a hand towards her and she takes it, holds me.
The planet blots out more of the moon and-
Out
The planet blots out more of the moon and the neighborhood loses power, all the lights turn off as one.
Cass and I exchange a glance.
"It'll come back in a minute, I'm sure of it," Cass reassures me, then freezes.
I glance back into the house and note a strange blue light emanating from the living room.
Cass gets up and with the light of her phone enters the house, then helps me find my way over.
I walk toward the living room as Cass mumbles something about connection and fiddles with her phone.
In the living room, the BodyShare tablet is alive.
A moving sea of blue is peppered with half a dozen icons.
One of these, a phone icon, has a red outlined around it, and is jumping up and down like a madman.
Someone is trying to call us.
I look back to Cass.
"The network is down, I'm getting zero bars," Cass says.
Our house is on top of a hill.
If we're not getting a signal, it's because all the towers around us are down.
A chat message pops up on the BodyShare tablet.
It reads: "Both coasts nuked, Vegas, Chicago..."
Then the text disappears.
I glance at Cass, start to ask WTF, but she preempts me.
"It must be the FTL transmitter, it's the only radio that doesn't rely on any infrastructure," she explains.
I tap the phone icon on the BodyShare tablet.
This may be the last call I will ever handle.
Boy! This could go any number of interesting directions! One possible typo on this draft: I think you mean “You may be feeling…” not “You may be filling…”. One contextual item: He can’t take his eyes off his wife’s smile after two decades when she is smiling out of the body of a twenty-something? Pretty cool, but may want some context.
Thanks for the feedback, Ned!
Fixed the typo, d’oh, thanks for catching that. And I’ll be adding more context and explanations to this story in the near future.