“Serve your next customer,” you say, the implication evident. The heels are going to be tricky, but there's something about her body that's drawing you to her. She looks interesting, as though her life is going to be an adventure to embrace. Jimmy's trademark smirk transfixes itself across Elena's dusky lips. And, just like that, the show is on.
“Mysteries await!” he says in Elena's thick, mellifluous voice, flicking his body's fingers in the air and twirling, eyes gleaming with mischief. The waiting victim smiles. “This way, young lady, future surprises lie within!”
The woman enters the booth, her lithe figure slipping behind the cloth, Jimmy lingering outside. “Wendy my dear... you may depart. Do not fear, Denise here is an old friend. We shall close after the reading, so close the doors behind you.”
The goth attendant nods, eyes you with some suspicion, but complies. “OK, I'll see you tomorrow.” With that she leaves, closing the door behind her, and twisting the hanging sign to closed.
Jimmy has now moved behind the curtain too, so you head over. There's an eerie silence from inside.
You cough. Silence.
“Uh...Madame Elena?” you ask, edging closer but staying in character. Still silence. You step up to the curtain, and are about to head inside when...
“Eek!” Denise Hunt's high-pitched squeal comes out of your lips as you try to move back. Suddenly you're falling, tumbling on the heels, landing hard on your shapely ass. From the floor you stare up in horror. Elena's deflated face hangs loose through the curtain, sagging around the mouth. Jessica's head pops out immediately afterward, bursting with laughter.
“Come inside, dude,” Jimmy says, Elena's head hanging from Jessica's chest like a Halloween mask. You stagger to your feet, appalled.
“Jimmy! You're...wearing both of them?”
Jessica shrugs, parts away Elena's locks, and ducks her head back inside. With a few pats and presses later, and a quick reshifting of her jaw, 'Elena' has returned. “So?” she asks, eyes gleaming.
“So? Jimmy! Where's the respect? These are people! People with real lives.”
“So is Mrs Hunt, doesn't stop you walking around in her body, wearing her clothes, right down to her bra and panties. Don't be a hypocrite, we're playing with different rules now. Come on. Get inside and check this out.”
Once more you straighten yourself, and, rubbing your sore legs, shift Mrs Hunt's body behind the curtain. Inside the customer's collapsed body hangs off the chair where she had been sat.
“Found out what the brown pen does,” Jimmy confides, flicking his robes as he walks around to take a seat opposite the woman. He gets out the brown pen, points it at her, and clicks. He shakes for a moment, as if receiving an electric shock.
“All right. This is how you improve your disguise! The brown pen does some kind of... scan. You point it at someone, and it gives you... not their memories. But you get the essential information. She's... her name is Phoebe. Phoebe Callis. Age 26. She's a photographer... and lives with her girlfriend Sam. Her cell's pin is 6790. And...” he frowns. “It doesn't stay, the info begins to fade pretty quickly. It only fixes when you put the skin on, I think. Like, I know how to act like 'Madame Elena'. Her real name's Helen Morrison, by the way. If you scanned Phoebe here, took her form, you could pass for her well enough. And you should totally do it!”
This was always the plan, but as you dig your nails under Denise Hunt's bob and pull her flesh loose, you can't help but worry about Jimmy. This is going straight to his head. You unbutton your blouse, slip off your dress, get out of the heels, and begin to peel away Mrs Hunt's body. Jimmy doesn't seem to think this requires any privacy, but eventually leaves you alone, closing the store as Elena would – it closes several hours earlier than the rest of the mall for some reason - and raiding her till. You brush down Mrs Hunt's shapely thighs and belly fat, pulling the skin down your legs, before finally stepping out of her skin. You reach for the brown pen, pick it up, point it at Phoebe and...
The shock startles you. You had seen Jimmy's reaction, but it's as if you've stood on a live wire. Then, as soon as its over, you find your mind flooded with information. Facts, figures, dates, measurements, pin numbers, passwords. Not memories – there's nothing about Phoebe's life – just her personal data, as though you've tapped into some kind of personal intranet. It's already beginning to fade as you pick up the skin, holding up the empty, hollow husk close to your own face, breathing in her perfume. In a moment, this will be your face; is this what identity is? When you step in, are you really David, or Phoebe? You will certainly be strikingly attractive: a thin, proud nose, high cheek bones, and curled hair still fixed with spray. Phoebe's look is pretty unique, although with your knowledge you know how to replicate it. You look at the rest of the skin, and its slight imperfections: the mole on her neck, a spot on her back, roots revealing where she dyes her hair to achieve its luminous orange. Then you step inside, and find your own body vanishing before you.
“So, here's the deal,” Jimmy says from behind the curtain, his words muddied by Elena's European flair. “I'm thinking of staying as Elena for a while. This is one hot body, after all, and the store is ideal as a base. Plus, if the pens are real, what else is going to be real? I need to find out more.”
“You're sure the pens are magical?” you ask, tugging Phoebe's head over your own, coughing slightly as your voice transforms into her chirpy tones and your face pinches into her form. “It could be some kind of government technology.”
“In my attic? Dude. Actually... shit. Why was this in my attic? Good point, man.”
“It's a mystery,” you say, checking your reflection in the crystal ball, patting your hair into place just as the real Phoebe would to make sure her appearance is just right, before beginning to don her clothes. “We should find that out.”
“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “I need to look into that; maybe ask my mom. Look dude, how about you take the pens for a while, see if you can't create some trouble? Learn how to be someone else.” He pokes his head through the curtain, appraising your half-naked body. “Nice, dude. She's a real find.”
“You're not so bad yourself,” you tease, emulating Phoebe's most seductive grin. Wow...that brown pen really did work. You have her muscle memory too, you think. Heels won't be a problem now. You finish donning her bra, and reach for the sun dress.
“Ha! Anyway, get dressed, go home, see your girlfriend, live 'your' life. I'll stay here for a bit, see if I can't find out what's going on. We'll meet outside Jessica's at midnight. I'll bring Jessica and Denise here so we can restore 'em.”
An evening as Phoebe is a tempting prospect, and you'll have the pens – there's no reason to stay as her if you don't want to. On the other hand, you're getting worried about Jimmy. He's messing with something neither of you understand, and seems keen to abandon his own life. And the way he's talking about the skins... it's like he's forgotten they are not costumes.
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