Another reason that made Elliot such a an obvious target for their plan to steal his body, was that he lived alone. Unlike Elizabeth's family, his was broken. With both his parents divorced and prevented from court order to come near him within a 100m vicinity, he lived alone with his mexican maid. It was she who maintained the house and whom raised Elliot. Yes, few would miss Elliot if he had disappeared from the earth and reappeared as someone else...
It was was also she who cheerfully opened the front-door and let them inside. Declining her generous offerings of cake and tea, they asked for Elliot and was directed to his room upstairs. There Elizabeth and Angela breathed and entered Elliot's room.
Visiting Elliot's room was always an interesting experience for Angela. She always had the feeling that she had entered a mad scientist's underground domain. His room was certainly always in a state of anarchy, but most notably it clearly displayed for all to see that the resident was a child raised within the digital-age.
Half his floor was a spider-web mesh of cables spanning the length of the room and back. Lan-cables, power-cables, network-cables, USB-port cables. So many wires containing optical vibers of all colours and thickness were strewn across his room that they formed a series of tripwires that forced one to tread carefully when walking in there.
In one corner a PC box was mid-way being dismantled, dissected and cleaned. The contents of its brains were carefully laid out on sheets next to a complete set of screw-drivers. In the opposite corner another computer was literally being run off the floor; its motherboard, CPU, graphics card, sound card, memory cards, excetera, were interconnected with the power supply unit and themselves in a jumbled heap in the absence of a case to contain them.
His book rack contained instruction manuals to a great many programming languages. C++, JavaScript, Phython, Delphi, Shell.
And in the west side of his room ,his large mahogany desk resided. On it stood his heavily optimized, customized and overclocked computer. 2 widescreen monitors and a laptop gave it company. Behind the desk was a billboard with diagrams and scetches of braincharts and blueprints nailed and stapled to it.
In front of the desk sat our dear Elliot on a wheeled rotating office chair. His feet were on the seat, his knees to his chin in what looked like a most unhealthy and uncomfortable sitting posture. He was dressed plainly: barefoot with a green shirt, blue shorts and his favorite black cap pulled over his eyes, covering his short spiky brown hair.
In front of him his hands danced across his keyboard similar to that of a passionate pianist, creating a symphony of continious clacking and clicking as his fingers pressed the keys with the speed of greased lightning.
Elliot was in the midst of programming, constructing the codes that formulated little poems of logic.
Angela and Elizabeth watched him in amazement.
Elliot had always been a bit withdrawn. It wasn't that he was anti-social, only that his head was always in the clouds. Often he was so withdrawn from reality, constantly daydreaming, that during his tests he would forget where he was and start doodling in the back of his sheets, sometimes for a long as 15 minutes! His friends always made sure to sit close to him so they may alert him and get his attention back into focus whenever it was clear he was lost. Still, none disputed his intelligence. Even having started most of his tests late he would still get perfect scores. He really was a mad genious...
Still he was kind and sincere, and was their good friend at school. He could be counted for in trouble if he didn't actually FORGET where he was and where he was going most of the time...
Elizabeth eyed him critically, inspecting his body thoroughly. What a waste, she thought jealously and bitterly. He hid his athletic frame well. He was light, skinny, lean and fit. He was immensely tall, something not made obvious by him sitting in such a curved ball, and he had lengthy slender grasshopper legs. The perfect build for an athlete. The perfect build for a track sprinter.
Alas he had aspired to become the greatest of computer scientists and programmers, never having put his body to great physical use. If Elizabeth had his body, then she would use those agile grasshopper legs of his for what they were truly intended for: to obtain certain victory on the track!
Elizabeth also had a second strange source of jealousy directed at her cousin. Specifically: his flat chest. You see, Elizabeth had a paradoxical relationship with her own chest. She was exceedingly well developed for her age, sporting a pair of DD-cups at the mere age of 14. To say she was healthy before her age, would be to state the euhpenism of the century. But in contrast to the steriotype of most girls and their breasts, Elizabeth actually wished she could have shrunk them, where other girls would have killed for her own spectacular pair.
The reason was that her breasts were the most impractical, useless and inconvenient of organs when she ran. Their weight constantly threw her off balance. They flopped and bounced at the least of provocations; it might be crude, but the fact remained they were a dreadful source of air resistance. Being busty was a significant disadvantage to her on the track. She had grinded her teeth in frustration many times from her (at least in her own mind) oversized bosoms.
She could only hope Elliot would find the trade of their bodies as appealing as she found the gain of his.
It was Angela this time who made the first move. She tapped Elliot on the shoulder to gain his attention. The silence in the absence of his furious typing was almost deafening. He turned, saw them, and smiled brightly.
"Ah, hi Angela. Hi Elizabeth." When they didn't respond, he frowned. "What's eating you guys?"
Elizabeth looked at Angela, opened the box containing the bracelets, and spoke...
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