“Hey, Harry!” called my sister Dede from the living room. “I’m going to the grocery store. Need anything?”

“I’m fine!” I yelled back from my bedroom. “Thanks, though.”

I heard the door close. I mentally chastised myself for not going with her. I get tired of sitting in my bedroom watching TV all the time. I grunted a laugh. Three years ago, I was sitting in my bedroom playing computer games all the time. Not much difference, really. I shook my head and sighed. Why was I wasting time? But how could anyone possibly anticipate what happened to me?

I scowled at the TV. Has it already been three years? Three years since I had the bulk of my life stolen from me? I walked into the bathroom and glared at the mirror. I started to cry. I was twenty-five and just walked out of Game Stop with that hot new game when that infected criminal ran into me and I swapped bodies with him. I instantly became a sixty-two year old man. All those years stolen from me in a heartbeat. Gone forever.

The government provided me with a new identity. Wasn’t that nice? Fuck. My sister, who lived alone with her cat at our old parent’s house, graciously agreed to provide me with a place to live. Our parents had both died a year before in a bizarre sand surfing accident. Anyway, two days ago with my new birthday, I hit sixty-five. I qualify for Social Security. Super.

When she presented me with a cupcake with a single candle, Dede threatened to toss me out if I didn’t stop being a twisted, bitter old man. I told her to fuck off. How happy would she be losing forty years of her life in the blink of an eye?

“You gotta be kidding!” I shouted at the TV when the program I was watching was interrupted with a screen stating “News Alert!” Why don’t they halt the program during such alerts? The face of a generic news reader popped on the screen wearing a grim expression.

“There’s been a new development this afternoon with victims of the international criminal Ron Simon, popularly known as The Switcher.” The newsreader spoke in a serious tone, his eyes fixed on the camera. Behind him a black and white graphic of Ron Simon filled the background. “Though deceased three years, Simon and the artificial virus he spread is back in the news. Oliver Davies reports from the U.K. Oliver?”

The scene switched to a thirty-something man with thick glasses and wearing a trench coat. He was standing outside a building and it had been raining. The man holding a microphone said, “Thank you Terrance. I’m standing before the lab outside London where the Switcher saga began three years ago where Ron Simon, after murdering the lab’s staff, injected himself with the artificial virus the lab was working on. This virus somehow allowed Simon exchange bodies of with whomever he came in contact. Thus started a reign of terror that ended with Simon’s death. Or so it was thought.”

Oliver stepped over to a nebbish looking fellow in a white lab coat. “I’m standing here with Professor Melvin with the London Institute of Virology. He has some disturbing news about the switcher virus. Professor?”

Looking nervous as Oliver pushed a microphone in his face, Professor Melvin shifted back and forth on his feet. He said, “Right. What we appear to be dealing with here is essentially a re-activation of the synthetic virus spread by Mr. Simon. Hospitals across the U.K. at first and then France were hit with a surfeit of cases of people suddenly falling unconscious. As the cases spread across Europe, it was determined these people were falling into a coma. These people attracted the attention of the Home Office when airline pilots, lorry drivers and military personal began being stricken.”

To let the audience know he was still there, Oliver stepped closer to the professor and asked, “Has your investigation turned up anything?”

The professor adjusted his glasses. “Indeed sir. We began to notice a correlation between these people being stricken and the victims of the switcher virus. A closer examination of the victims confirmed they were all victims of the switcher virus. The virus seems to have mutated. It no longer causes spontaneous body switching.”

Looking at the camera, Oliver said, “This is terrifying news, professor. Any idea what it means or what will happen to these people currently in a coma?”

Looking deflated, Professor Melvin shook his head. “We have no idea.”

Oliver looked up from the professor and said, “Back to you, Stan.”

The screen returned to the newsreader. “Thank you Oliver, for that report. There are scattered reports here in the US of people collapsing into comas. The DHS has announced it’s reforming its Switcher task force. A press conference is scheduled for an hour from now.”

From the living room, I heard my sister Dede slam open the door and shout, “Harry! Harry! Have you heard the news?”

I shouted “Yes!” as I stood up. Oh my God, I thought. People are dying from this thing. Will it hit me? How much time do I have?

I walked out into the living room as Dede was rushing to my room. She gave me a quick hug. “Thank God you’re still okay! I thought we were done with that stupid switcher shit.”

“I was just watching the news about it. This is scary as hell,” I said as fear started to grip me. “Is this going to kill us?”

Dede shrugged. “There have been a few deaths reported from what I’m hearing. But they’re all those who were switched into very old people… like in their nineties.”

I sat down on the sofa. “It’s bad enough to have forty years of your life stolen and now this.”

Dede sat beside me and took my hand. “I’m here for you, Harry. Harry? Are you okay?! Harry!”

I was vaguely aware I was lying down. I detected shadows moving around despite closed eyes. I could hear strange, distant sounds.

The voice of a woman near me said, “Doctor. This patient is coming out of it.”

A man’s voice said, “Excuse me, ma’am. I need to check.” One shadow moved to be replaced by another. “Nurse. Note the time for this patient.” The voice then seemed to point away from me. “Ma’am, you’re a close relative to the patient?”

A different, but familiar female voice said, “Yes, sir.”

The man’s voice said, “Excellent. I need you to stay close by. It’s best if they hear everything from you. Excuse me, I have to check another patient.”

The female voice said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

I seemed to drift back and forth from consciousness. I felt a coldness and an awareness that I had a body. Suddenly, I was fully awake. Despite the brightness, I tried to open an eye.

The familiar woman’s voice said, “Hey. Welcome back.”

There was a person leaning over me. Their image finally started to coalesce. “Dede?”

She smiled. “Yep. It’s me. You didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?”

I tried to smile. Not sure if I succeeded. I still felt disconnected from my body. I said, “It did cross my mind. Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” said Dede flatly.

Squinting in the bright light, I said, “How long?”

Dede forced a smile. “Four months! The medical staff assured me that was normal for folks like you.”

I tried to sit up, but I felt restrained. “Four months! That’s gonna cost a fortune!”

Dede laughed. “Don’t worry about that. DHS is picking up the tab. You got poked and prodded by them while you were out.”

I tried to sit up again. “Can you help me up? I can’t seem to sit up.”

A pained expression crossed Dede’s face. “I can’t. Not yet anyway. The medical staff has you restrained. Don’t feel special. It’s been done to all of you.”

“Restrained?” I asked, confused. “Why?”

I felt Dede take my hand. “It’s a precaution. Many Switcher victims don’t react well when informed of the changes that happened to them.”

I felt a cold shock pass through me. “Changes? H… have I um … changed?”

Dede bit her lip and nodded slowly. “Mmmhmmm. There’s good news and bad news. And I don’t think the bad news is really all that bad.”

I squeezed Dede’s hand. “What’s happened to me? Am I a monster or something?”

Dede chuckled. “Sorry. No. You’re not a monster. The good news is that your Social Security benefits have been canceled.”

Frowning, I asked, “How is that good news?”

Dede grinned sheepishly. “Because… well, believe it or not, you have gone through an age regression. It’s happened to all of you. You are now physically ten years old. I’m not joking! All of you have become ten year olds.”

I tried to pull against my restraints. “I’m a kid? That’s bullshit, Dede! That just isn’t possible!”

Dede smiled wryly. “Just like it’s impossible to switch bodies? No, believe it. The authorities still aren’t sure if there’s a corresponding regression in emotional and intellectual age as well.”

I shook my head. “That’s just unbelievable.” I looked at Dede sideways and asked, “You said there was bad news. What’s the bad news?”

Dede took a deep breath and sighed. “Like I said. I don’t think it’s all that bad. But some people are reacting extremely negatively.”

I frowned. “Tell it to me straight, Dede.”

Dede looked away for a moment and then back to me. “You’re now female. Just like all switcher victims, you’re a little girl.”

To be continued…