Wealth Trumps Death Every Time

Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer

Senator Reginald Wadsworth lay in his hospital bed; his biphasic artificial respirator hissed rhythmically as it expanded and contracted every six seconds. Dozens of electrical biosensors monitored his vital signs, while a miniature tubular highway of transparent hoses pumped fluids into, and out of, his body. Doctor Clive Colin stood next to the bed and studied the latest medical report. “Senator,” he said solemnly, “modern medicine cannot keep your body alive much longer. You need to make a decision concerning the memory transfer procedure that we discussed last week. Tomorrow, the state of Texas plans to execute Gilberto Escobar. He’s the drug kingpin that killed six DEA agents during a raid in ‘56. I’ve been in contact with him since he lost his last clemency hearing. He says that if you agree to give his family ten million dollars, he’ll give you his body. The procedure is called a cerebral cortex transfer. We use a high frequency neuroreprogrammer to overwrite his frontal and temporal lobes with synaptic data that we record from your brain. I know that’s a little oversimplified, but the bottom line is that we’ll erase his brain and imprint your memories. In essence, we replace your old dying body with a young healthy one. Senator, you are a very influential man. Say the word, and I’ll notify the Justice Department. We can make this happen.” Wadsworth closed his eyes and nodded his head once.

The following day, Wadsworth and Escobar lay side-by-side in the “operating” room. Wadsworth’s skull was capped with thousands of Electrocorticographic receivers. Escobar’s head was surrounded by a large bank of Electrocorticographic imprinters. The procedure took eight hours, and while in recovery, the body known as Wadsworth died. When Escobar regained consciousness, he smiled. “Doctor Colin,” he whispered, “It worked! And there’s no pain. I can breathe on my own. I can move my arms. This is fantastic. Thank you, thank you.” He openly cried.

After an extensive interview/interrogation by the District Attorney’s office, it was reluctantly determined that with the exception of a few minor inconsistencies, the knowledge and mental attributes that had been in Wadsworth brain were now in Escobar’s brain, and everything that was Escobar was gone. After the attorneys completed all the necessary paperwork, the new Wadsworth walked out of the hospital to a waiting hoverlimo.

A month later, Senator Wadsworth strutted into Doctor Colin’s office. He plopped down into one of the large leather chairs that faced the doctor’s desk. “Well, my friend, I as agreed, I deposited twenty million dollars into your offshore account. I never thought that we could pull it off. The detailed information that you provided me concerning Wadsworth’s personal background was invaluable. We fooled them all.” Escobar stood up and walked toward the door.

“Are you going back to Colombia, Escobar?” asked Colin.

“No, Clive. Not right away. I think I’ll stay in the US Senate for a while, and make an honest living.” He chuckled as he strutted out of the office.