Ask for an explanation

“Dr. Burbank?” you ask, in confusion.

He looks at you in surprise. “‘Dr. Burbank’? Since when is that the way you address your father?” He looks at the woman and laughs nervously.

“He’s probably just overwhelmed by everything. Aren’t you, Dear?” She puts her hand on your forehead before kissing it.

You look at the two of them uncomprehendingly. “‘Father’? I don’t — What’s going on here? Where are my parents?”

The woman looks worriedly at Dr. Burbank and asks, “Should we get a doctor?”

Burbank takes her hand and squeezes it before sitting down next to your bed. He gives you a **** smile that seems to betray concern.

“Jeremy, this may be hard to take in all at once — they said there may be some memory issues — but you were in an accident. You’ve been here in the hospital for several days, but you’re going to be alright.”

You put your hand to your head, touching the bandages. “Accident? What are you talking about? I want to speak with my parents!”

The woman attempts to speak, but bursts out crying. She stands abruptly and rushes from the room, leaving you with Dr. Burbank.

“Do you honestly not recognize your mother and me?” he asks.

You stare at him before saying, “You’re Dr. Burbank — from the university. The one who is in charge of the experiments that made me into a freak!”

Worry darts across Burbank’s eyes. He says, “I am Dr. Ronald Burbank, and I do work at the university, but you haven’t been involved in any experiments. Why would I allow that on my own son?”

You look at him as if he is insane. “Don’t fuck with me! I’m not your son! I’m Justin McIntyre — and you’re trying to mess with my head!”

Just then a young woman rushes into the room. You look up and recognize her as Amy, the graduate student who started all of this by hooking you up to the machines — and the first person whose body you took over.

Before you can say anything, she rushes over and throws her arms around you. “Justin! Thank goodness! I was so worried! I came over as soon as Mom told me you were awake!”

You pull her arms off you and stare at her, open-mouthed. “What the fuck?” you say. “Seriously! What the fucking fuck?”

Amy looks at Dr. Burbank, who puts a hand on her arm and says, “Your brother is having a few memory issues, honey. Don’t worry; the doctors told us that could happen, but they won’t last.”

“Brother?” You lay back against the pillow and take it all in. Surely you must still be dreaming.