Chapter 8
Carta had saved for fifteen years in order to purchase a transplant. The rules were quite strict; the one who desires a brain transplant must show reasons that he or she is totally mediocre, without any pleasure in life, and desirous of changing his or her life no matter what the cost.
When Carla had appeared before the Board, she had broken down competely. She told them of the loneliness of her life, the terrible, dreary dullness which seemed to infect every day of her life. They listened calmly, dispassionately, without a visible sign that they were moved.
Then there was the long waiting period until finally she received a brief note to the effect that her request was granted and that she must report to the hospital laboratory in five weeks time. In the interim, the note read, she must choose the type of brain transplant she wanted.
She smiled as she read the note and went to her bookshelf and removed the copy of a book. It was written by an obscure author who had died only two years before. The novel was a tale set in the North Woods, concerning itself with a couple's struggle to create a new life in the wilderness. But it was not the plot or characterization which interested Carla; it was the vivid description which the author used, the way he had painted colors and the human body, the way he was able to describe life. It seemed to pulse and throb and to be filled with invisible colors which burst out the moment he had picked up his pen.
Carla wanted his mind. She wanted to be able to look at an object or a person or an event and see it the way he had seen it. She wanted to be able to sleep with a man and when he touched her there would be a burst of color a burst of feeling and sensitivity which had escaped her all her life. The author's name was John Pavel and she wrote the name on the letter she sent back in response to the note.
The next five weeks passed slowly, so slowly that she often despaired of the transplant. But finally, the day arrived and she presented herself at the hospital laboratory.
First there was a whole series of preliminary medical examinations during which they decided whether or not she was healthy enough to endure a transplant. After the tests she was ushered into a small waiting room, completely naked except for a white sheet which she wrapped around herself. There was a cup of tea and some biscuits on the table in the room but she was too nervous to eat.
A few moments later the surgeon walked in, carrying a clipboard which he was studying:
"Carla, you're in perfect physical condition."
Her relief was almost physical in its intensity.
"Would you like to come with me into the Cold Room."
She looked at him with a blank stare.
"The Cold Room," he laughed, "is where we keep the transplants."
She followed him through the halls of the laboratory until they came to a massive steel door with an electronic combination lock on the outside. He took out a small transistor and opened the lock.
"We can only stay in here for 90 seconds-after that there is a danger of contamination."
She shivered once she was inside and gazed at the row upon row of glass tubes which held the transplants.
"Here, Carla, come here. This is what is left of John Pavel."
The brain seemed to be swimming in the tube, turning over and over in the preserving liquid. She could only look at it for a moment and then she began to shiver. He noticed that she was disturbed and they quickly left the room.
On the next day the operation was performed. They wheeled her into a large room, the walls painted a dull blue. The surgeon winked to her beneath his mask as they placed the mask over her face and sent her into a deep sleep.
After the operation she was sent into an artificially induced coma in order to give the new brain a chance to begin working while the body was at a low state of activity in order to avoid malfunction.
The coma lasted three days and then she woke up.
The surgeon was at the foot of her bed. He smiled at her and said:
"Now remember, you are still Carla. All we have done is grafted the key areas of John Pavel's brain into yours, removing enough of the original gray matter in order to give you a synthesis of feelings and desires. But you are still Carla. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she said, too excited to speak more.
She peered out the window at a morning sun. At first all she could see was the shattering rays but then she began to pick up the more subtle colors tpink threads of light which seemed to filter through the room the tiny specks of dust which seemed caught up in the whirlwind of rays.
"Yes," she murmured again, happier than she had ever been in her life, secure in the fact that in her head was grafted the sensibility of John Pavel.
She recovered from the operation quickly and soon she left the hospital. Upon stepping out of the building she was accosted by a whole new world of colors and feelings and stances. Every leaf, every person seemed to have a new aura.
By the time she arrived home she was exhausted. She threw herself onto the bed and slept.
The next day she prepared herself for her great adventure; the sexual one. It had been her secret fantasy that once the brain was installed the erotic world would open for her like a flower.
She dressed carefully and left the house, hailing a cab to take her down to the Strip. This section of ten blocks or so had been set aside by the City as a form of open space where all types of sexual encounters were openly encouraged. During any day or night, hundreds of single men and women, or even married couples, could be seen walking up and down, sizing up each other for possible sexual episodes.
The city provided small rooms in adjoining hotels where the couples could go. Homosexuality, incest and every form of erotic behavior was rife and encouraged. Vendors lined the streets handing out free food and drink as well as various ahrodisiac equipment.
Carla moved quietly down the strip, accepting the stares of the other walkers, taking her time in her selection. At first she looked only at the men but as she passed the central fountain of the strip she saw a young girl sunning herself, letting her hair fall loosely in the sun.
The light fell on the shimmering strands and Carla felt a chill in her body as the brain of John Pavel began to translate those strands into erotic imagery. She felt her whole body yearn for the girl, the idea of touching her flesh almost transported Carla into a realm of total awareness; the ability to see everything, feel everything, love everything.
Walking closer to the girl, she looked at her figure, at the firm round breasts which were pressing against the flimsy fabric. She wanted to slip her fingers under that dress and feel the glory of her nipples.
"Excuse me," she said, trying to control her passion and speak in a normal voice.
The girl turned her face toward Carla and it was obvious right away that the girl was available, that she was willing to experiment.
There was no longer any need for words. Carla took the girl's hand and they both walked slowly toward the door of the closest hotel. Up the stairs, into the room, almost as if in a dream. Carla felt a new-found power surging through her.
She led the girl to the bed and made her lay back. Then, slowly, gently, she began to undress the girl, marveling at the images that the girl's body were beginning to elicit from her mind. In a moment, the girl's breasts were naked. Carla bent over and filled her mouth with the flesh, swallowing the juicy mound, pushing it deep in her mouth. Her tongue made small circles on the juicy nipple until the girl was moaning with lust.
As she tasted the nipple, as she let that point pierce her mouth, she felt a series of images almost overwhelm her. She was doing more than playing with the young thing she was in a cherry orchard tasting the young fruit she was in a field of fresh flowers, picking the buds with her passionate tongue rammed it deep, using it like a spear and then savaging her nest with a series of powerful swipes. Carla felt her tongue being pulled up into the girl and the further she went, the more she needed the new delights which waited for her there. She sucked out the hidden pools of lust, she pierced the moist but trembling darkness of the girl's body.
And the further she went the more passionate became her movements. The girl had her thighs around Carla, crushing her head.
Her tongue was doing more than bringing love; it was exploring the possibilities of the transplant. Carla felt herself caught up in a whirl of imaginative innovation the girl's vagina seemed a storehouse of technicolor vibrations which moved backwards from the tip of the tongue to the mouth and to her own body.
The girl was trying to escape her trying to rid her body of the tongue which was so cruel. But Carla had impaled her like a butterfly on a slide, her tongue the most powerful weapon at her command. She needed more, she was insatiable in the use of the new brain, in the images which were bursting upon her. The girl lifted herself by the buttocks and drove her vagina into the submerged face. Carla welcomed the thrust and began to weep with joy the tears mingling with the saliva of her tongue.
Then she needed more, she needed something else desperately. As her tongue continued those erotic thrusts, Carla took her own hand and began to rub her flower. She felt herself growing wet and sticky and then she thrust her finger into her own steaming nest.
The finger and the tongue moved in unison, the former in her own body and the latter never relenting in its rape of the girl's body. Soon, both of their moans filled the room and the thick odor of their love seemed to waft across the bed like a bouquet of spoiled flowers.
They were reaching their climax together, the forces in their bodies were beginning to come to a head. The sweat poured off both their bodies as they moved together. Her tongue wanted to taste every bit of moisture that the girl could give her and her own finger was like a buzz saw in the body, not relenting, always driving in a sort of insane rhythm. The bursts of sun flowers and the visions of the fields of splendor which the transplant brought to her, made her grow faint, but she only increased the lust of her activity.
They burst out a tremendous roaring of internal juices, churning, exploding, forcing their bodies into orgasm and then they lay, exhausted, and gasping, entwined in each other's arms.
Carla said nothing for a long time. Her head ached and she felt tiny prickly movements up her spine. At first she was panicky, afraid she had injured the transplant by participating in the sexual act too soon, but gradually the ache diminished and she felt a total peace with the world.
For the first time the girl spoke, turning her beautiful sloe-eyes toward Carla and asking:
"Who are you?"
Carla turned her face from the girl for the question tormented her. The girl asked the question again and this time she lay her hand on Caria's nipple.
"I am John Pavel," she finally said.
"What a funny name for a woman," the girl said and laughed softly.
Carla closed her eyes, thinking of the images that had been her joy for the few moments in bed.
"But you can call me Carla," she said to the girl.
There was silence and Carla could think only of the strange mass within her head. Am I really him? she thought and then turned away from the girl, trying to catch a glimpse of the sunlight which seemed to bounce against a vase near the bed.