"Did you get it?" Brian asked his friend Peter.

"I got it. No problem."

"Great I have wanted to try this thing out. This is going to be so funny."

"If you pick the right target it'll be."

"What did you get exactly?"

"I got it from a woman at the salon I work at. All she ever thinks about is her appearance."

"No one knows?"

"Of course not. I put the collector into the hair dryer. No one suspects a thing,"

"Great."

Peter and Brian were boys in their upper teens looking for a thrill. They selected the first man with a beard, pointed their boot legged device at him and fired. The victim froze for a second and then continued as if nothing had happened.

The boys followed the man for a while. Nothing seemed different. He seemed the same as before. He wasn't walking differently or anything. There wasn't any hint that his personality had changed in any way.

"What a gip. I thought something would happen. Are you sure this even works?"

"It worked on us, I don't know why it wouldn't work on someone else."

"Maybe he has protection. I don't know. I don't see any protection. Let's try it on someone else." Brian suggested.

But it did work. Later that night, the victim John Oakley shaved his face clean for the first time in over a decade then he used his wife's moisturizer on his face for the first time in his life.

When his wife caught him the next morning using her makeup to fix his face (He had already expertly applied concealer and foundation and was in the middle of putting on blush.) His wife made him stop. They had to call a specialist to return his personality back to normal. Neither one of them ever left the house without some form of 'protection' again.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Can we help him?" Detective Deana Sathre asked.

"I don't think so. Maybe if the original pattern was stored somewhere. Or at least some fragment of his personality or his memory. But that all seems gone, totally gone," Dr. Debra Pantano replied.

Detective Sathre and Dr. Pantano looked through the one-way partition at the poor unfortunate. The room was an interrogation room. The walls were a dirty blue, under the dim light they looked gray. Or were the walls gray with a slight blue tint? It didn't matter. No real furniture, a long table with a synthetic wooden top stood perpendicular to the observation window. There were two chairs on opposite ends of the table, hard straight back chairs. Chairs that would offer no comfort to the people sitting in them. Chairs that said, we mean business so you had better tell us what we want to know. The floor was as gray as the walls. Overhead was a single light that shown directly down on the table. On the far wall was a clock. A digital clock wouldn't have looked right in a place like this. A round clock a foot in diameter with spartan hands over a white clock face with black numbers and a black round face was seemingly built into the wall. Over the clock face was a beveled glass covering made dull with thousands or maybe millions of microscopic cracks. It was a dreary room as it was meant to be.

Sitting on the floor, instead of in a chair, was a man. This was the person the detective and the doctor were talking about. He was a white man, nicely dressed in a gray suit. The suit contrasts with the walls. Even though the suit was also gray, it was still bright in its way. The slacks were made of a material such that even though the man was sitting on the floor, the fabric didn't crease. The pants were slightly lighter than the jacket. The jacket itself had three buttons, although only the button in the middle was fastened. He wore an oxford shirt in a blue tone. It was buttoned to the top. A dark blue tie with white streaks was securely tied around his neck in a Windsor knot. There was a blue handkerchief peeping out of a pocket on his lapel. That was the brightest article of clothing he wore. His shoes were black and polished and his socks were blue to match his suit. Despite the formality of his outfit, he was completely comfortable in it, a testament to the soft materials and extreme value of the suit. Although not seen at this moment, the man wore a watch under his shirt sleeve that was several times the worth of his expensive suit.

The man was sitting with one leg crossed one on the floor in an Indian style and the other with his knee in the air and soul of his shoe flat on the floor. He held a stuffed bunny in his hands. He was talking to the plush animal in tender tones.

"Mr. Keith," the man said softly to the plush bunny. The man decided upon a name for the bunny and that the bunny was lost. Continuing the man told the bunny, "don't worry I'll make sure nothing happens to you. If we can't find your Mommy, then I'll keep you forever and ever. I promise."

Back in the observation room.

"What happened?" Dr. Pantano inquired.

We don't know exactly. He simply walked up to one of the officers at the airport and asked him, "Can you help me find my Mommy? The officer told him, 'Sure, I can' and brought him here." Then a moment later Detective Sathre continued, "They never should have created that technology."

Detective Sathre didn't have to explain, everyone knew what she meant. It all started innocently enough. It was an idea right out of The Matrix. A device was created to put knowledge directly into a person's brain. Want to know how to Karate? No problem the knowledge of an expert could be fed right into your head and you would know it as well as he did. It wasn't perfect, you could learn to fight, but the didn't mean your body was flexible enough to perform the kicks.

Soon there were lots of skills one could learn instantly from baking pastries to flying helicopters. That is how it started. The better the expert information the higher the price. But soon people realized that information wasn't the only thing that could be transferred, experiences were just as good. A person didn't need to know Karate to remember being in and winning a tournament.

As the technology became cheaper, the general population used the device to transfer experiences and other information from person to person. An external shop or technician was no longer necessary.

The next leap was quite the opposite, people didn't want to gain experiences, they wanted to forget some of the things that happened to them. This was rarely used and only by highly trained psychiatrists.

The authorities didn't know where it was heading. It would take time for laws to catch up with the technology.

When the first 'crime victims' found they couldn't remember anything that had happened to them, suspicions grew. Did they really not remember or were they being frightened into not saying anything?

But when the first ordinary people started being found with strange experiences in their head and those experiences were the same for several people it was too late.

First, it was several women who said they were exotic dancers at "Club Cherry Pop". They insisted they had been working in the industry for years and at the club in particular for months.

Their minds were cleared of these memories and sent home. It kept happening, not just to women, but to men too.

Now it was an all too common occurrence. The general public doesn't know how widespread it is, nor do they know what could really happen. As far as the public knows, an errant experience or knowledge can simply be removed to make a life return to normal. Besides, a protective device could be used to keep one's mind safe.

The public didn't know a complete 'mind swap' could be performed and that type of transfer might be irreversible. Not that there weren't rumors to that effect going around.

"Do you know anything about him?" asked Dr. Pantano.

"No, he didn't have any identification. If his fingerprints are in the system, we'll know his name soon.

"It probably won't make a difference. We'll have to talk to him to see how much of himself is left. But I don't suspect much. Some demented fool probably removed his entire personality and gave him this one. It's a sick time we are living in."

"Yeah, it's awfully sick out there."

The doctor entered the room. It was time to ask a few questions. To see if this man could be saved.

There was one thing that Dr. Pantano did know, was that there were only two ways for this to end. Either they could find his personality and return it to him or he would be left with the personality he had now. He couldn't give him a new adult male personality (or any other) that would go with his body. His mind was in flux, to try and put a new personality in was impossible, his brain wouldn't handle it and he would end up a vegetable. The only hope was to find his original personality and put it back where it belonged.

"Hello honey, I'm Dr. Pantano," the doctor said in a sweet tone she used for little children. "Can you sit up here so we can talk?"

"Did you find my Mommy?" the man asked.

"You have to help us find her. I want to ask you some questions. It'll help me if you can sit with me."

"OK," the man said. He instinctively trusted the doctor. He trusted all adults actually. He then pushed himself off the floor and got into the vacant chair. He kept hugging Mr. Keith in his arms. He never let go even after sitting down. Before getting into the chair, the man reassured Mr. Keith, "This nice lady is going to help us."

"That's much better honey. What's your name?"

"I'm Desiree and this is Mr. Keith."

"That's a pretty name," the doctor encouraged. Desiree smiled. "Do you know your last name?"

"Ut uh," Desiree said with a shake of his head.

"Really, you don't know your last name?"

"No."

"What's your mommy's name?"

"It's Mommy, of course," Desiree said with a smile and a giggle.

"How old are you Desiree?"

"I'm four, but I'm going to be five real soon. That's what Mommy said."

"Wow, you are going to be five. You are getting very big."

"I know. Mommy says I'll be going to kindergarten soon. That's how I know I'm going to be five. Only five-year-olds go to kindergarten. Don't you know that?"

"Really? How soon."

"I don't know. But I can wait."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know if I'll like kindergarten. They'll be boys there."

"Don't you like boys?"

"No I hate boys, they are mean and they like to do stupid stuff. They don't play nice."

"Are all boys like that? Isn't Mr. Keith a boy?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Mr. Keith is different. He's a bunny."

"What about Daddy. Is you daddy like that?"

"Well Daddy is nice, but not boys."

"Would you like to be like Daddy when you grow up?"

"Sometimes daddies don't let you do what you want to do. I want to be like Mommy. Mommy is so pretty. I want to be like her."

"Why?"

"Mommies are nicer. They wear pretty things."

"Your Mommy wears pretty things?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like to wear pretty things?"

"I do."

"I like your suit. Does your daddy wear a suit like that?"

Desiree looked down at what he was wearing. It was as if it was the first time he noticed.

"I don't know if I like this. I would prefer something nicer. Maybe something in yellow or light green. I like those colors the best. Don't you like yellow and green?" Desiree started to look a little distressed. He hugged Mr. Keith tighter for reassurance.

Dr. Pantano decided to move on. "Do you know where you live?"

"Yeah, I live at the yellow house at the top of the hill. Not the one on the very top, but one below that."

"Do you know what's its address?"

"A dress? I'm not wearing a dress."

"Do you know what street that is?"

"Mommy told me. But I forgot. I'll ask Mommy when I see her."

Dr. Pantano asked question after question, there wasn't any hint of a personality that would go with an adult male. His personality and knowledge were absolutely appropriate to that of a young girl. If this had been an actual young girl, Dr. Pantano would say she was well adjusted, which was strange in these troubling times. He was happy, friendly, sweet, funny in a girlish way, totally adorable even in his facial expressions and mannerisms. But physically he wasn't a little girl, he was a grown man in his thirties.

"Whoever did this to him was sick," Dr. Pantano thought.

The results from the fingerprint analysis were returned. Detective Sathre entered the room to give the doctor the information. He was escorted by one of the police social workers who would occupy Desiree while the two talked.

The social worker was young, only 22, and enjoyed her work. She said, "Hi, I'm Emma, would you like to play?"

"Do you know how to play Pretty Pretty Princess?"

"What's Pretty Pretty Princess?"

"It's a game. It has a board and pieces and you have to know how to count to play. I know how to count. Wanna see?"

"I would like that."

"1..2..3..4..5...6..."

"We have lots of games in the other room. Maybe Pretty Pretty Princess is one of them. There are also lots of toys and stuffed animals. Want to come and see?"

"Let's go."

They left the room leaving Detective Sathre and Dr. Pantano alone.

"We know who he is. His name is Keith Martin. He is a defense lawyer. He's very good and very expensive," Detective Sathre said.

Continuing, "We think one of his clients...or should I say former clients must have done this to him. They are all very powerful men. They'd have to be to afford him. Maybe they didn't think he would live up to his attorney/client privilege and say something. The way he is now, he certainly can't say anything to anyone."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hours before.

Keith Martin had heard about the tragedy. One of his clients who he had gotten off had done it again. He badly hurt a little girl. Desiree Loura was in the hospital in a coma. She wasn't going to make it, everyone knew that. She had already received her last rites. Although what sins a little girl like that could have done was anyone's guess. Was stealing a cookie without telling your Mommy a sin? He didn't know.

The difference between this little girl and all the rest of the victims was that Keith knew her. She was the sweetest little girl. She didn't deserve that. She deserved to live. She was a ray of light in a dark world.

Desiree's mother Vivian got into trouble that wasn't her fault. Vivian didn't have much money, but Keith's law firm had a policy for doing pro bono work. It wasn't done for any real altruistic reasons, it was done for publicity reasons. The money spent on free services was dwarfed by the money spent on the promotion stressing those services.

The firm needed to talk to Vivian privately and due to a string of coincidences, Keith was left alone in a room with Desiree.

Desiree didn't know what was going on and certainly didn't know Keith but she took to him right away. Her smile was infectious and her heart was pure. Keith let down his own guard.

"Do you want to play with me?" Desiree asked.

Keith couldn't resist. They started to play together. Desiree was so innocent, so kind, so happy to be just playing.

Keith lost himself in the play. He remembered when he was just as young as Desiree, there was another girl who wanted to play. It was 1992 and Keith was four years old. He was still a sensitive child back then. They didn't have to look the same, but Keith even at such a young age could tell the sweetness in the little girl. There was a joy of life back then that the little girl had. The girl was a little older than he was, she was five or maybe five and a half.

Much like in this circumstance, Keith was left alone with this little girl.

"Hi," the little girl said brightly.

"Hi," young Keith replied with a little hesitation.

"Come and play with me," she asked innocently.

Keith got down on the floor and played dolls with the little girl.

"Your dress is a pretty as your dolls." The girl wasn't really wearing a dress. It was more of a top with a flared bottom like a skirt that was designed to be worn over pants or leggings.

"I think your shirt is nice too."

"Your dress is prettier."

"Would you like to try it on?"

"Sure," Keith said tentatively. The little girl took her shirt off and handed it to him. She was willing to share her clothes as easily as she was willing to share her toys. Keith put on the girl's top and the girl got another top from her drawer. This was her room, she had many tops here.

They played with her dolls for a little while longer. The girl made sure that Keith had the best dolls in her collection. Keith realized the girl's generosity. He imagined that if this was his room, he would be just as generous. Which at the moment would have been true.

After a while, the girl asked him, "Do you want to play Pretty Pretty Princess?"

Keith agreed and he had a lot of fun. But that stopped when Keith's father entered the room. Seeing his boy in an obviously girlie top and playing a game such as Pretty Pretty Princess, Keith's father decided he should put a stop to this right there. Keith wasn't a baby anymore, he was almost five years old.

"Boys don't play like that!" Keith's father admonished.

It was from that point on that Keith realized there were things that girls do and things that boys do and they were different.

Keith's father was a high-powered lawyer (as Keith is now) and from that time on, Keith suppressed any quality within himself that wasn't a hundred percent masculine.

Playing with Desiree, opened a small crack into his macho exterior. Since then, Keith's image of himself was crumbling. The person who was more like that of the girl he played with almost three decades ago (a girl who Keith didn't even remember her name) was coming through. He wanted to be that sweet person again. The one who could find pleasure and joy in playing with dolls.

The person who would never stand for what he was doing. He didn't care if the people he represented were guilty or not. All he cared for was if they could pay. He didn't make the world better, he made it worse. He got criminals who should be in jail out.

If anyone deserved to die it wasn't this little girl who hadn't hurt anyone, it was himself.

On his desk, Keith saw his own picture. It was taken just after he graduated from law school. Keith sighed. He had come a long way from that brilliant young lawyer who left law school on his way to the public defenders' office.

"You and I may look the same," Keith thought. "But we are very far apart."

"I can't do it. I can't represent you. You'll have to find someone else." Keith told his client who was still talking on the phone. Then he slammed down the phone on his client. It was satisfying that he was using the phone on his desk instead of his cell.

"There is violence in my heart!" Keith realized. He had to rid himself of it. The only way was the rid the world of himself.

Keith couldn't save the girl, not her body anyway. He couldn't give her a body she deserved, that of a sweet little girl. That would be killing a different girl. The only thing he could do was give her his own body. That was the only one that belonged to him. The only one that he could give freely. It wasn't the best, but it was all he could do. He would transfer himself into Desiree and she would transfer into him.

He didn't know if this would transfer the soul, but maybe this was enough. The personality, the memory, the knowledge, the wants and needs, and desires. He would swap them all. He had the device that would do it. He got it from one of his clients. It was top of the line.

He had used it before on one of the lowest settings just for fun.

Then he used it in his business, it was easier to provide a defense if you could remember firsthand the alleged crime.

Now he was familiar with the device thoroughly and knew all it could do. Not that he had ever set it to be that extreme.

He was going to use it in its extremest mode. It could do what he wanted it to do perfectly. When it was done there wouldn't be a trace of its use. Well not a physical trace, he would be acting like Desiree which would be obvious.

With the device, which was oddly called "Violent Heart", thoughts, memories, personalities and other mental traits could be transferred from one person to another.

There were two parts, one for each participant. It took a while to warm up as it had to copy everything from both minds independently into itself like charging a cell phone. When done, the device would activate, and instantaneously the swap was made.

It didn't have to be a complete swap. This was a state-of-the-art model in which not just complete swaps, but also small things like experiences or knowledge could be exchanged. Another advantage of this model was you didn't have to be together when the thing powered up. You didn't even have to be together when the device was activated. You could set it for any time and it would work no matter how far the participants would be.

Keith originally planned to make it a complete swap, so that nothing left of his old personality or memory would remain in his body. But at the last minute, Keith decided to leave one memory in his own body. It was the last time he felt young and innocent. The time when he played Pretty Pretty Princess with that girl 28 years ago. The last time he was truly happy with himself and the universe in general. The time when he still had his innocence. Up until the moment when his father entered the room and changed his life forever.

Keith left his office. He wore his expensive imported suit. He didn't have time to change. He didn't know how long Desiree would last. Besides what does one wear on an occasion such as this. He rushed to the hospital. Since he had no right or any good reason to see the girl, remaining in professional attire probably would be best if there were any problems there.

Desiree was lying in her hospital bed unconscious when Keith saw her. She would never wake again. It broke Keith's heart. Keith had already charged his end before getting to the hospital. It would take his part longer to charge as his mind was more complicated and contained more 'thoughts'. It needed maximal time to make sure that all his thoughts were removed when activated. Also, he set it such that it couldn't be reversed. Certainly not without knowing who he was swapped with.

Keith feigned fluffing Desiree's pillow to put the device under her head. It would disintegrate after its job was done, just like the one attached to his own head. It had already been programmed. It would swap everything from Desiree's head to his, although he put a block on Desiree's last name, her parent's names, and other identifying information. The longer that the authorities didn't know who was involved the better. Once Desiree was gone it would be too late.

Keith kissed Desiree once on the forehead and left the room.

He had to get away, out of the city before the swap took place. The farther the distance the less likely anything 'could be done' in time. He couldn't get too far. Three hours was the limit. It would take a little less than much time for the device to charge. Besides, Desiree probably wouldn't last much longer than that.

Before entering the plane, Keith threw his wallet and all in identification in separate trash cans. He did so in the food court a place he was sure that would be emptied regularly. He entered the plane only carrying his boarding pass. The boarding pass, the last thing he owned that contained his own name was left on the plane.

Two hours and 58 minutes later, Keith was in an airport in another city. Keith was grateful that the plane took off and landed on time. He was hoping the swap didn't happen while he was still on the plane. He looked for a police officer and headed towards him. He looked at his expensive watch, it was almost time.

A moment later, looking around, Desiree didn't know where she was. But she saw a man in uniform. Desiree walked up to the officer and asked, "Can you help me find my Mommy?"