Author: Shannon O’Connor
Which one do I want? Which one is best for me?
How about the former astrophysicist? That would be a smart one. Maybe too high-end for me? But a nice change.
How about the woman who climbed Mount Everest? An endurance brain! One that’s been to the top of the world. A possibility.
How about a high school English teacher? I’d have read a lot of books, and I’d have dealt with misbehaving children. I don’t know if that’s the one.
There are so many brains to choose from, but they’re not all right for me. I have to find the correct size for my head, and I have to make sure we’re physically compatible. It’s not all about what I want.
I might want a fresh brain, but there aren’t that many. The pure, untouched brain that does not contain a bad thought or a misdeed, one that is wiped clean of all mistakes and memories, clean as a shiny penny, is rare and expensive. I don’t have the means for that, and I don’t have the qualifications. You have to be a person who has never lived a life in reality, one who has only lived in fantasies. I have lived on Earth and I have seen some things. Some drastic things, some heavenly things. I need a new brain to help me forget what I have known.
I want a hopeful brain, but not too hopeful. I want a brain that fits my needs and desires. I want to see new things, and go new places, and not be afraid of the world around me. I want to be transformed.
At the brain bank, I stop to admire the merchandise in different tanks floating, almost beckoning me to take them. There are so many, I can’t decide.
“You have time to choose,” the brain dealer said. “You can spend a day deciding which one you want. They will be here tomorrow.”
“It’s not a decision to be made lightly,” I said. “I will become another person. I will have a new life.”
“You have to decide what you want most in life,” he said. “Choose what your future will be. The future is like the ocean that never ends. You think you can see where it terminates, but it goes on and on.”
“I want to live a beautiful life.”
“I think I have the brain for you.”
“Which one is it?”
“I have the brain of a surgeon who quit to become a poet. He wrote lovely poetry about birds and avocados.”
“That sounds like the brain for me.”
“Here, read the description.”
He handed me a flyer about the brain for sale. It was compatible to me. The former surgeon was happy when he died because did what he loved most. I would have a contented, brilliant, interesting brain.
“Come back tomorrow, and we can finalize the sale,” he said.
“No, this is the brain I want.”
“We never make same-day sales. This is a new brain, not a pair of shoes.”
“If I must. But hold it for me.”
I stayed up all night, considering the new brain I would purchase the next day. I had never had another. But I was ready for a fresh start.
I went to the brain bank, and made my purchase. It would be implanted within a week.
I exploded with joy. I believed my brain would illuminate secrets, and direct me down the path to my true potential with a brilliant brain.