Eduard lay on his narrow bed, cocooned in damp sheets, his pores seeping a cold feverish sweat. He was all alone, shuddering, as the sickness coursed through the body. He hadn't expected the symptoms to be this bad when he'd volunteered his services.
In a single week he'd already spent four days in someone else's body, a limited-term hopscotch, enduring a miserable round of the flu just so some businessman wouldn't miss his meetings. Unglamorous, maybe, but it was a way to make a living.
The newsnet stories had called this a particularly virulent strain of influenza. It had much of the population worried, but Eduard knew he would get through it. He would survive. After all, he had asked for this. He had no one to blame but himself.
Trembling, he squeezed his puffy green eyes shut, seeing little explosions of Technicolor behind his lids. He sat up on the mattress, clutching his stomach, squeezing the middle-aged flabby potbelly as his intestines knotted up. He swung off the bed and lumbered toward the bathroom.
He could have hurried faster in his own young and healthy physique, but this aging form had trouble just moving about, doing normal daily activities. Encumbered by the flu as well, Eduard had even greater trouble. If the man who actually owned this body had kept himself healthier in general, he might not have been so susceptible to getting sick in the first place.
But the man was a busy executive, with more credits in his account than he could spend. And such an important person couldn't afford to be laid up for an illness. He had board meetings to attend, fund-raisers to throw, decisions to make, and publicity to spark. After only one day of feeling the flu grow worse and worse, the exec had become desperate.
And so he'd hired Eduard, who offered to be sick for him.
For an exorbitant fee, Eduard agreed to live in the exec's body for the time it took to recover. A hell of a way to earn spending money beyond his dull daily job, but also a great way to take advantage of the system. It was only pain and physical discomfort, after all--and it wasn't even his body. He could endure it. No problem.
With the amount of money he'd get paid for this ordeal, Eduard wouldn't have to work a real job for weeks, perhaps even months if he was frugal. And he'd certainly learned how to be frugal in the orphanage.
In the ailing body, Eduard staggered into the bathroom and managed to splash cold water on his face. The cheeks and skin felt oily with sweat, too soft from the extra fat padding his jowls. He looked in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at him through his own eyes.
The exec's wife probably wouldn't mind him coming home to her in a virile young body....
His stomach clenched again, and he vomited explosively into the sink. After a few moments, holding himself and shaking to get over the wave of nausea, he splashed more water, rinsed the facilities, then lumbered back to the bed, breathing shallowly. His lungs seemed smaller despite the largeness of this body.
Eduard kept telling himself he could put up with this. Only a few more days, then he could be back to normal once more. He considered contacting his friend Daragon--they'd grown up together in the orphanage--but Daragon's weird ability had made him a prime candidate for the Bureau of Tracing and Locations. Right now, he'd be too busy learning odd law-enforcement techniques to come see a miserably sick man.
It was just a minor nuisance, regardless of how bad he felt. No problem. Eduard was a survivor. He did what needed to be done.
He slumped onto the sheets and wondered if he would be able to nap. He doubted sleep would come. He would toss and turn feverishly for hours as this weak body struggled to fight off the virus.
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