He picks an athletic twenty something

"Ah, this one will do." The body is of a young man, bronzed skin, and even in its loose, skin-like state you can tell it's toned. He brings it out, and motions for you to get in. You're so used to the drill that you're slipping on the large, powerful legs before Gunther has time to reveal his next surprise. He pays you absolutely no attention as you replace your own body with the skin's, instead walking off to another corner of the lab, then back again.

"Now, pay attention, Type 2. This is a prototype we are working on. As part of your test you'll be using it in the field. We'll be monitoring your progress through it too."

You look up, your body replaced with your new flesh from the chest down, and pause donning the skin for a moment as you take the proffered item. It looks like a black pen... only it is subtly different, with a white stripe. This one has three buttons; one is separate, and two are joined by a switch, as on the white pen.

"A new pen?" You ask, passing it back. You can never remember what pseudo-science name Gunther dribbles out for the devices. Neurostimulatoryquantumpocketmoleculartransductive... it's all science to you, and you spent most of those classes staring at Ms Martinez's amazing rear.

"A prototype 'pen'," Gunther chews over the word, "yes. We have been working on combination pens for a long time. Ultimately there is no reason to keep black, blue and brown separate; they are all used to create your new identity. Rather than clumsily switch between the three, this combines the effects. 'Zap' someone, as you insist on referring to it, and gain their skin, name, mannerisms, memories combined. Far neater."

"So I can't use the brown pen to find out personal information, anymore?" One of the boons of a separate brown pen was gaining personal information; access numbers, things like that. Gunther narrows his eyes.

"Maybe you'll just have to use your intellect to do that, hmm? Instead of zapping everyone randomly like an idiot? I give you my latest invention and immediately you begin with criticism! I would like to see you develop..."

"Whoa, sorry!" Your new, gruff voice drawls. You're Kurt Williams, 26, working admin for a tractor engine parts company. For all your new found looks, they've given you a remarkably dull backstory. "I didn't mean to insult..."

"Whether you mean to does not matter! Still, you may have a point. Perhaps. But for now you will have to adapt. There is no red button function either. No morphic capabilities. You have memory adjustment, skin removal, and skin creation complete with memories. That should be all you need for the task at hand."

Gunther pauses, and looks at you with disdain. "And clothes, Mr Williams. You will need those, too."

*****

Your taxi drops you off at the resort reception. So far you haven't seen your supposed handler; no contact has been forthcoming at all, although you've been given a stupid code to identify yourself with, and for you to identify them. Otherwise, you've felt distinctly on your own since arrival in town. The documents are committed, largely, to memory, and you've been working up a plan. The easiest way to get the Scarlet Bloom is, of course, to replace Alexandra Vincent. The only problem is that brides are notoriously busy at wedding receptions being congratulated. That's why you've arrived before the ceremony.

Cedar Pines is a stunning locale: an expansive resort dressed like a European manor house, surrounded by immaculately trimmed lawns and picturesque rows of - perhaps unsurprisingly - cedar trees. Beyond you can see a golf course, what pools like an indoor pool, and tennis courts. Far away, across a sweeping lawn, a marquee is being erected, large enough to seat a hundred guests. Silk ribbons are being hung from trees.

You walk into reception, smile at the receptionist as you walk past, and keep going into the resort's corridors. Perfect; nobody has even questioned who you are, just assuming you're another guest. The resort, you know, is catering for other guests too, but it will be much harder to get into the wedding. Apparently it's going to be an open-air affair in the "Harmony Garden", whatever the hell that is. It's all been planned meticulously for months, and you've read the plans cover to cover.

Right now, in suite 407, Alexandra Vincent will be getting ready for her big day. This is the ideal time, you know, to make a switch - as she's putting the finishing touches to her look and wedding dress, largely alone, occasionally interrupted by a stylist or fussy relatives. That will mean impersonating her at her wedding, which is your main point of hesitation over the simplest plan. Does a marriage count if the bride is only a costume? It's hard to say. Of course, there's an arousing thrill of replacing the bride at the wedding, enjoying the adulation on a day where everyone tells you how lucky, beautiful and perfect you are. And this could be part of your assessment - to see how far you will go in your mission and how perfectly you can hold up a masquerade, even in the most unique circumstances.

Alternatively, there are plenty of other possible candidates. The bridesmaids are options, and so are some of the Vincent relatives: her cousin Ophelia, for example, has appeared on TV shows about her home in The Hamptons, and you'd have no problem borrowing the 25-year-old socialite's appearance for the day. Some of the Parrys have already arrived too, although groom Holden and his gaggle are staying at a separate hotel overnight, to keep the tradition of the bride and groom not seeing each other.

And then there's the hotel staff. A wedding isn't a small business, and if you assumed the appearance of one of them, you'd have unlimited access to the wedding. You might even be able to locate the Scarlet Bloom before the wedding even begins, although that defeats the purpose. Your instructions explicitly state you must steal the Bloom during the reception. It's part of the test, and you suspect you'd be marked down if you made the switch without even stepping into the tricky social scenario.

You grasp the pen in your jeans pocket, reassuring yourself it's still there, and come up with a plan.