A Mile in Her Pants The New World of SwapTech chapter 3 by witeja9199

Empathy, according to the Swaptyx brochure, was "the capacity to understand another's experience from within." According to Jack Hollis, it was what you felt when a friend's cat died, and it did not require a waiver, a restraint chair, or a lecture hall smelling of anxiety and vending-machine pretzels.

"Sit, Mr. Hollis," said Professor Oyelaran, a small, brisk woman who had swapped so often she called herself "a rental." "You're the oldest person here by three years. The freshmen think you're a mugger."

"Good."

"They've started a pool on whether you'll cry."

"Also good." Jack sat. The chair had a headrest, wrist straps, and a cup holder, the last being the only part he approved of. "Look, I'll swap. I'll write the essay. I just don't see why I have to become someone else to learn that other people exist."

"Nobody does, Mr. Hollis. That's why it's mandatory." She consulted her tablet. "The algorithm has paired you with Delphine Vasquez. It matches by maximum contrast."

"Contrast in what?"

"Everything the university could legally measure."

Across the room, a woman in a rugby jersey was eating a muffin with the serene focus of someone who had never once been embarrassed. She was built like something that had won arguments with doors. She waved with two fingers.

"Hi, Jack," she said, dropping into the neighboring chair. "I read your file. Do you really have a spreadsheet for your sock drawer?"

"It's a system."

"It's a cry for help." She buckled herself in, beaming. "Relax. I'll take good care of your body."

"Please don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Fondly."

"Straps, please," said Professor Oyelaran. "You may experience vertigo, déjà vu, and the sudden, unwelcome knowledge of what it is to be someone else's knees. You will live each other's lives for three weeks. You will honor each other's commitments. Your partner signs off on your semester, or you fail."

"Fail?" Jack stared. "That's not in the syllabus."

"Page nine, footnote four. Nobody reads the footnotes. That's why we put the important things in them."

The machine hummed. Jack's last coherent thought was that he should have read the footnotes. Then came a sensation like being poured, quite slowly, through a funnel into a slightly different bottle.

When the world stopped sloshing, Jack looked down. There was, he noted with the calm of a man in profound denial, a great deal more down than there used to be.

"Oh my God," said his own voice, from his own mouth, across the room. "It's so flat in here. And wait. Wait. You people just walk around with this? All day? Unsupervised?"

Jack opened his mouth and a voice like warm honey over gravel came out. "Stop touching that!"

"It's mine, technically."

"It's mine!"

"Rented." Del stretched Jack's arms, cracked Jack's neck, and looked deeply, worryingly pleased. "Right. Rules. Your thesis defense is Thursday, yes? I skimmed your slides. They're a sedative. I'm going to fix them."

"You can't present my thesis!"

"I'm you. Legally, I'm the only one who can." She patted Jack's pocket and produced his phone, wallet, and flash drive with a conjurer's flourish. "Your turn. I've got two dates tonight. Marcus at seven, Priya at eight-thirty."

"Two?"

"Opposite ends of campus. Each thinks they're the only one. Don't cancel. Commitments, remember?"

"I am not going on a date with—"

"Marcus is a grabber, Priya bites. Both are enthusiastic." She paused at the door, delighted. "Wear the good underwear. Top drawer. You'll know it. It has a theme."

"What theme?"

"Ambition," said Del, and left, whistling, with Jack's shoulders, Jack's wallet, and, he realized, Jack's entire future.

"Professor!" Jack lurched upright and nearly fell, his center of gravity having relocated somewhere he'd never visited. "Switch us back! Now!"

"Return swaps require both parties to agree." Professor Oyelaran didn't look up. "Ms. Vasquez signed a waiver stating she 'may need convincing.' Page nine—"

"Footnote four. I know."

The phone in his borrowed hand buzzed. Then buzzed again.

Marcus: Can't wait 2 see u. Wear the thing. 😈

Priya: bringing the handcuffs. don't worry, they're the fuzzy kind