"As a bloody woman. You mentioned that it was reversible, that doesn't sound it to me."
"I never mentioned it, the doctor did. He wasn't talking about your face, but the rest of your body. We'll see what we can do about your face when the time comes."
"There's more?"
"Oh yes, a heck of a lot more. Your face had laser treatment to prevent beard growth, as has most of your body. You have a cute pair of C cup breasts, and a nice butt to match. These were formed using the latest implant technology. These can be reversed and removed whenever you want them out."
"Like now!"
"Don't be stupid Robert, you know that isn't possible."
"So, educate me, why as a woman?"
"You have to realise how police forces and intelligence agencies operate. You see they are all looking at ways to make the job quicker and easier, so they use basics to reduce their workloads. So, when they take a set of fingerprints from a male, they check them against a database of male suspects, effectively halving their operating parameters. They can also reduce their search -parameters by race, rough age and other similar characteristics."
"Don't tell me, you've made me Chinese?"
Maryanne laughed with some relief. "Thank God, you've still got a sense of humour."
"Bugger my sense of humour, I was serious."
I could tell she was uncertain how to take me, which suited me. The whole situation was taking on a surreal aspect, so I needed to take back some form of initiative.
"You aren't oriental, although it did occur to us. However, your bone structure and skin tone is generally unsuitable. You have the general appearance of a Caucasian female of around thirty years of age. Thankfully, your height is within normal parameters for such a person, another reason an oriental would have been unsuitable."
"I don't believe it; you actually considered making me Chinese?"
"We considered many variants, some seriously. The result we sought is not some mannish looking travesty - an obvious transvestite, but a natural and personable young woman."
“Personable?”
“You’d never forgive me if I’d made you ugly, would you?”
“Perhaps, but why couldn't I be given a choice or had some input into who or what I was going to become?"
"There was no time, you needed serious medical and dental treatment as a matter of urgency, but also you were psychologically wholly unable to deal with the issues rationally."
"And I am now?"
"Probably not, but then we're not asking for your input, are we?"
I was silent again.
"Robert, it's not as if we've taken anything away, I assure you that we'll make you as good as new once you've got the diamonds."
I nodded, slowly coming to terms with the logic and necessity of what they'd done. Certainly, no matter how much cosmetic surgery they'd done to me, had they left me obviously male, I’d still be exceptionally vulnerable and exposed. This way, at least I had an opportunity to risk going back and doing the job. Then I could start again with a clean sheet, eventually.
"I'm a bit concerned about these hormones, why do I need them?"
"You will pass any cursory examination, but should you become aroused, then there is a risk of popping your stitches and that would ruin everything."
"I've read somewhere that hormones can bugger your chances forever. I don't want to screw with my future."
"For the brief time you will be exposed, the doctor assures me that the dosage is sufficiently low so that all side effects will be reversible and you will suffer no long term damage. You’ll still be fertile and capable of performing, so to speak. Besides, we’ve taken a sperm sample, just in case."
"That sounds like there will be short-term damage," I said.
"As I said, you need to be able to walk into a room full of naked women and not become aroused in any physical sense."
"You're assuming I'm not gay."
She stared at me for a moment, but then smiled. "No, I'm not assuming anything. I know from my research that you're not. But then, you haven't had any relationship for a very long time, have you?"
"Maybe not, but then I've been busy."
"Everyone is busy; Robert, but most of us still make time for people. You don't seem to have done so."
I fell silent again.
"What about my DNA, you can't change that, can you?"
"No, we can't. So don't leave any lying around, okay?"
I nodded, actually accepting the situation. For all the madness of the situation, it all made some form of sense, particularly as Robert Carlisle was dead. I had no deep regrets over that score, as I was more concerned about who or what I was going to become.
I wasn't allowed to reflect for long, as the doctor appeared and, with the nurse, started to remove the bandages and dressings.
It was a tricky operation, as catheters and blood encrusted gauze pads had to be carefully removed. Once free of all dressings, I noted I'd been painted yellow.
"Are you sure I'm not Chinese?" I asked.
"This is antiseptic, to stop infection," the doctor replied, somewhat sourly, I thought.
I’d been completely shaved, or lasered, or whatever, so could see no body hair at all. I felt my tender jaw line with one hand and could feel no evidence of beard growth. The most disconcerting features were two perfect breasts jutting out from my chest, there were two arcs of scars underneath, and the whole area was exceptionally sore and tender.
From where I sat, the area between my legs looked just like the few females I had encountered. I had to hand it to the doctor, as he knew what he was doing. I also felt tender in my buttock region, so understood that a more female shape had been achieved by inserting some form of implants in the cheeks of my arse.
The nurse handed me a mirror, allowing me to look at my face for the first time in ages.
"Bloody hell! I thought you'd repaired my looks, not mangled me completely."
"There is extensive bruising and swelling after the surgery. All will go down in several more days," said the doctor.
I had a dressing over my nose, and I had two black eyes, with swellings all over the place. I didn't look like me, but then I hardly looked human. I certainly didn't look like an attractive woman.
"I think I looked better in prison," I muttered.
"No, Robert, you didn't, trust me. For a start, the dental work alone would have cost around fifty thousand dollars,” said Maryanne.
With everything else, I hadn't noticed the lack of pain from my teeth, which had been an ever-present part of my life for the past few months. It's funny, but when pain goes, one takes it for granted until you think about it. I grinned at the reflection, and perfect white teeth gleamed back at me.
"If I'm not Robert Carlisle anymore, who the hell am I?"
"Who do you want to be?"
I shrugged, it didn't seem that important.
"You mentioned that you'd put money into a bank under my new name, you must have already thought up one."
"I had, but it wouldn't be hard to alter."
"So, what is it?"
“How’s your French? I understand you were almost fluent at one time.”
“My French? Okay, I suppose, a bit rusty, why?”
"I thought Julianna Blanchard would be suitable."
"Okay, it sounds French. Why?"
"It is French, or French-Canadian, to be more precise. Julianna, because it can be easily masculinised to Julian, and Blanchard because it has the effect of a clean sheet."
"Why Canadian?"
"Because you can't be British ever again. Our records tell me you’ve been to Canada, so Canada is a fair compromise, or would you disagree?"
"No, just curious. Just how official is this?"
"As official as your last identity, you see, I have some very useful contacts. Rest now, as the doctor needs to tend to you and then we can talk more tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks for saving my life, by the way."