The Alliance Forms
The New World of SwapTech
chapter 11
by
deleted_user
The kitchen smelled like seared steak and coconut sunscreen. Javi stood at the island, scarred forearms flexing as he carved meat with a blade that looked borrowed from a ranch. “I’m just saying,” he said, not looking up, “anyone touches my body, they’re losing teeth. Even if it’s technically ‘my’ hand hitting ‘my’ face.”
Alejandra sat cross-legged on the counter, neon nails drumming her own defined abs through her crop top. “Exactamente. I didn’t do three thousand crunches to end up in Charlie’s hairy gut. No offense to him, but hard pass.”
Ruth hunched over a bowl of pasta, four-foot-eleven even on the barstool, oversized hoodie swallowing her hands. “From a medical standpoint, the swap carries massive risks. Synaptic rejection, proprioceptive dissonance... I’d rather be voted out than wake up in someone else’s endocrine system.”
Laurel looked up from her book at the end of the table, thick-rimmed glasses catching the light. “Agreed.”
Magnus set down a skillet the size of a hubcap, Viking braid swinging. He wiped his dinner-plate hands on a dish towel embroidered with daisies. “We five,” he rumbled, looking at each of them. “We make pact. No swaps between us. We are... Originals.”
“Los Originales,” Alejandra repeated, liking the taste. “I’m in. Sovereign bodies only.”
Javi pointed his knife at the center of the table. “The Originals. No Machine use on each other. Ever.”
“Agreed,” Ruth said quickly.
“Agreed,” Laurel nodded.
“To Valhalla and back,” Magnus said.
They bumped fists, knuckles to knuckles.
“So who goes?” Alejandra asked, sliding off the counter. “Because if someone else wins—say, Ken, or Bruce again—they’re gonna swap two of us just to watch us scream.”
Javi’s jaw tightened. “Walt.”
“Yes,” Laurel said immediately. She closed her book with a snap. “He’s the oldest. Highest medical risk. Lowest mobility. And if any of us get swapped into his body...” She shuddered visibly. “Forty-eight years of yacht wine and midlife crisis. I’d rather be Polly in Charlie’s grease trap.”
“He is poison,” Magnus agreed gently. “And he would not respect our vessel. He would run my body into the ground with cigar smoke and bad vibes.”
Ruth pushed her glasses up. “Eliminate Walt, we eliminate the risk of inheriting his... situation. His BMI is artificially maintained, his joint integrity is compromised, and his psychological profile suggests early-stage narcissistic collapse.”
“Plus,” Alejandra added, cracking her neck, “he was staring at my chest earlier. Pervert. Adiós, viejo.”
Javi wiped his blade clean. “Then it’s set. First vote, we send the silver fox packing. Keep our bodies ours.”
“Originals stick together,” Ruth whispered.
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January 29
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