THE BIG SWITCH by Christopher Leeson Chapter 13

Posted 07-07-23 

THE BIG SWITCH

By Christopher Leeson

Chapter 13

The General Narrative, continued

The darkness already becoming dense, Leigh turned the Ford Taurus off the Washington street. A bumpy lane led them up to the iron-gated driveway of an industrial site. Putting the car into park, Leigh got out and opened the barrier. Schitz, watching from the back seat, stared dubiously at what was a closed-down factory.

When Leigh resumed driving, she parked behind the main building building of the derelict property. Callahan assisted Schitz in exiting the car’s back seat and then the detectives ushered her indoors by way of a rear entrance accessed by way of an electronic key fob.

“What is this place?”  the black girl asked.

"It's an abandoned mob hideout," he replied. "My underworld contacts recommend it highly."

“Are you sure the mob’s actually abandoned it?" the politician asked.

"Don't worry. We'll be the only ones here," Callahan assured Schitz. "And the insides of the building will look a lot better than what what you can see from out here. Anyhow, we don't have much choice, not with the aliens scourging the city looking for us. Dewitt and Miss Coffin must be inside already, setting things up."

"Okay, okay. I just want a safe place where I can rest."

"Yeah, you look worn out, Congressman. Have you gormed a decent meal lately?"

Schitz shook her head. "No. I've never been so hungry in my life."

"If Sheila’s done the shopping she’s supposed to, we’ll have a couple hundred dollars of groceries stashed inside."

"Do you have any other clothes I can wear?" she asked.

"No problem," Callahan said with a grin. "When our secretary overnights, she brings enough baggage to stock a Saks Fifth Avenue; maybe something of hers will fit you."

Schitz frowned. "Callahan, how long will we have to hide? Do you have a plan for getting us out of this? For getting my old body back?"

"Martin and I were working on that angle before we split up. We’ll do our best, but we'd prefer not to get your hopes too high too soon."

"Don't do me any favors, Mister," she replied grumpily. "What I need more than anything is hope!"

"We'll talk about that when we’re settled in," the sleuth responded ambiguously.

The detective duo led the hooker-dressed girl down an aisle to a security door. Callahan used a key-card to open it, revealing a hall that was without decoration of any kind, except for old company posters ballyhooing decade-old announcements. It must have been inhabited, though, since the floors were cleanly swept.

Suddenly, the girl noticed that the detectives were wearing strange and alarming expressions. "Well, you gave us a run for our money, Congressman," Leigh suddenly said, "but we always get our man."

The black girl gasped. "What are you saying?"

Callahan's tightened his grip on her arm. "We're saying that we've already taken out your detective pals. We're the same big bad aliens that you've been trying to get away from all this time."

The blood drained from Schitz's face. "No, you're putting me on!"

Spielman shook her head. "No way, José. We got hold of Callahan a half hour after he left you off at his hotel. You're all alone, Senator. Now we're going pick up where we left off."

"No!" Schitz cried, pulling away, her precarious heels almost tripping her. “There’s no place to run, babe," said the Callahan alien. "By now your wife is sleeping with the teammate of ours who's wearing your skin."

"Why are you hounding me?" Schitz demanded. "Are you Republicans? Non-RINO Republicans, I mean."

"Not hardly.”

"Look, I can pay you people off!" Schitz pleaded. "I've taken in millions from influence peddling payoffs and nobody knows about it!"

"Our guy already knows, baby doll, because he knows every thought in your head," said the false Callahan. "You've got that killer body and that micro dress you're wearing, and that's about it."

"W-What are you going to do with me?" the prisoner stammered.

Callahan looked her up and down. "We’ll keep you around in case we have a use for that sexy body of yours again. But in the meantime, you won’t be sitting around eating bonbons. On our planet, everybody has to work!"

"What kind of work?" asked Schitz. She hadn't held a real job since before entering law school.

"In your case, streetwalking, baby, streetwalking," Leigh clarified.

She dug her heels. "I'll never do that for you! You'll have to kill me first!"

"We won't kill you as long as we have a use for you," the blond replied. They started dragging her along again, but her yells caused a man wearing a lab coat to come out of a door up ahead. 

 "So you finally brought Schitz in?" he remarked acidly. "What took you so long, and where did you two come up with the new bodies you're wearing?"

"The snatch wasn’t a clean one and we had to lie low,” said the false Callahan. “It's a long story. Gerrog will be making the formal report when he checks in."

Lab Coat shrugged; it wasn't his job to supervise the field squads. "You're lucky that we have enough time on our hands to process her immediately. Otherwise, you four would have all your classes in a sling – or however it is that the human say that. Hurry up. Bring her along."

The three aliens manhandled Schitz into a lab lined with computer equipment and shoved her into a chair rigged with an electrical apparatus of some sort. The false Leigh and Callahan bound the black girl's wrists and ankles to the chair with straps before the white-coated one fitted an awkward metal helmet over her head.

"W-What's this for?" asked Schitz, her stomach twisted into hard knots.

"The helmet allows us to feed information directly into your memory cells," the lab guy explained. "When the process is completed, you won’t have much of a future, but you’re going to have one hell of an enjoyable past to remember."

She tried to shake the helmet off without success. "Don't try messing with my mind, you monsters!"

The Lab Coat turned a dial that sent a wave of static into Schitz’s mind, making it hard for her to think. After fifteen seconds of struggle, she passed into a quiet state of altered consciousness.

The technician then told her, "Schitz, you will hear my questions and will answer them with absolute truthfulness. Do you understand?"

"I -- do," the black girl replied somnambulantly.

"Good. When I ask you to repeat an answer that you've already given, you will do so. You must try to answer with the same words you remember saying the first time. If you understand, nod."

Schitz nodded.

"First question: Do you want to be cooperative?"

"No!" Schitz answered truthfully.

"I see. Now tell me again, do you want to be cooperative?"

"Yes!" Schitz exclaimed.

Lab Coat nodded in satisfaction. The Congressman was proving to be a good subject. Most humans of low intelligence were good subjects.

"How many siblings do you have? What did your mother and father do?" asked the tech.

"Five," Schitz replied. "Mother was a society lady. Dad started out as a mob man. He did a hit for the Johnson Administration and that landed him a job at the White House for the rest of the term."

"Fine. Now repeat what you just said."

"I'm an only child. Mother was a whore and dad was one of her johns. She never knew which one of them had knocked her up, but it boosted her welfare check and that was all she cared about.”

"Are you male or female?"

"Male!"

"Repeat!"

"Female. Isn't it obvious?"

"What is your profession?"

"I'm a U.S. Congressman."

"Repeat!"
 

"I'm a ho."

"What's your name?"

"Adam Bennett Schitz."

"Repeat!"

"Latisha D. Jones. The D stands for Delilah."

"Which do you prefer making love to? Men or women?"

"Women, of course!"

"Repeat!"

"I’ll put out for anyone who pays me, but I always prefer men."

"What color are you?"

"White. I get slightly red in July."

"Repeat!'"

"Didn't you notice that I was black and beautiful, honey pie?"

"If an employer of yours ever struck you physically, what would you do?"

"I'd pay off MS 13 to crush his bones to make my bread!"

"Repeat!"

"I'd try to figure out what I did wrong and fix it."

"What is your greatest ambition?"

"To be President of the U.S.A."

"Repeat."

"To be a famous actress with my picture in all the movie magazines."

"Who do you most trust?"

"Myself."

"Repeat!"

"My sweet man!"

"How would you feel if your sweet man took all your money and spent it on himself?"

"I'd want to shove an ice pick through his eye!"

"Repeat!"

"I want my fancy man to have the best of everything. If everyone can see that he's the best, that makes me hot stuff, too!"

"What is your favorite pastime?"

"Golf."

"Repeat!"

"Fucking!"

"What would you like to see engraved on your tombstone?"

"'Here lies a patriot of gracious heart and noble soul, a transcendent spirit who dedicated his life to the betterment of Mankind. His tireless labor has left the world a better and kinder place for all the generations that are yet to come.'"

"Repeat!"

"'Here lies a pretty woman who could really suck and fuck!'"

"What fashions do you prefer?"

"Three-piece English suits, worsted fabric especially, worn with silk shirts and Italian wing-tips."

"Repeat!"

"I don't care what I wear as long as it shows off my my boobs and my gams. But I do want to wear heels so high that they let me touch the sky!"

After many another question, Lab Coat instructed “Latisha” to read from a computer screen, instructing her to repeat each word that she saw out loud.

"Child, time, them, boy, on, honey, tell, they, wishing, thing..." she recited.

"Now read them again, Miss Jones."

"Chahl, taam, dem, bawee, awn, huun-ee, tail, dey, wishin', thang . . . ."

Before the scientist was finished, he had implanted about a thousand Eubonic pronunciations into Latisha's vocabulary.

"Now, Latisha, I want you to read each sentence that appears on the screen."

The first sentence she saw was: "Right after the music, this man comes on the radio shouting about something amazing that he wants to sell.'"

"Say what you read in your own words."

"Right after de music, dis man he come on de radio shoutin' 'bout sumpin' 'mazin' dat he wanna sell."

After two more hours of instruction, Schitz was speaking a passable dialect of black urban English. It wasn't perfect, but after a few months of street living she’d be sounding like a kid raised inside a government housing project.

 'Now,' Lab Coat mumbled to his companions, 'for the finishing touch':

“Miss Jones, can you read or write?”

"Sho-nuf, Ah kin! Ah went ta Havard."

"Would you repeat that?"

"No, suhr! Ah ain't nebber cared much fo school! Nebber wanted ta any o' dat head stuff. Mah stepfoddah, he were a haaaandsome man. He taught me jes' 'bout awl a workin' gal will ebber need ta know."

The alien technician at last switched off his equipment. His department would set her up with one of the several alien agents operating streetwalker stables for the benefit of the invasion. The subject was Latisha now, remembering a new past life history. She would not have a clue that she had ever been been anyone called Congressman Adam Bennett Schitz.

TO BE CONTINUED....