Hopscotch by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

around with personal problems? Is she your mistress, maybe?”
    “She needs DNA-matching therapy. Your body is the only one they can use for the procedure. You have the appropriate genes, and they need to extract some samples.”
    “Not from my body they won't.” Stradley raised his arms. “I've got a burgeoning business here. Check your records—this is
my
body now. I acquired it free and clear, permanent lease, a year and a half ago. And even then, that wasn't from its original owner. This body has been bounced and bounced. Who knows how many other people have lived inside it?”
    “Mr. Stradley.” Daragon tried again. “The only thing I care about is who
presently
owns the body. That is you. You have the precise genetic match required. Can you find it in your heart to save someone's life?”
    “I need this body. I use it every day. I can't find it in my heart to give up what I'm doing here to endure any excruciating medical work. I've heard about this kind of treatment.” Stradley made no move to invite him into the office.
    Daragon mentally searched through what he had studied. The law remained murky in this area: Stradley was the legitimate current owner of that body, and even former family members couldn't force him to undergo a medical procedure he didn't want to have.
    As an idea dawned, Daragon folded his hands in front of him. “Since you bought that body anyway, sir, and you've been in it for a year and a half, perhaps you would consider switching with someone else?”
    “I can't afford a new body just at the drop of a hat—that's quite an investment. Besides, I'm working here.”
    Daragon continued. “Perhaps, sir, I should put you in touch with the family. The parents and the sister may offer enough credits for a replacement body. A better one. That way you can be someone new, and they'll have access to the DNA they need, while you continue your work uninterrupted.”
    Stradley blew air through his lips. “Might be acceptable. Okay, I could do that—as long as it's a trade
up.”
    Daragon nodded brusquely. “I won't take up any more of your time today, sir. I will provide the family with your contact information. I'm sure they'll be able to resolve this matter to your satisfaction.”
    “No promises,” Stradley warned.
    As he traveled back to BTL Headquarters, Daragon mulled over the different ways he could have handled the problem, but he could think of no better solution. He had done well, and he knew it. He would tell the Data Hunter Jax all about it, as he had promised.
    Then, smiling, he decided to check up on Eduard, Garth, and Teresa. It had been so long since he'd seen them.

13
    “While other people call these
apart
ments,” Rhys said to Teresa, raising his arms to encompass the Sharetaker enclave, “we name them
together
ments. In our philosophy we all come together and do not move apart.”
    He flashed her a winning smile, and his words made her feel warm. Teresa had already spent days settling in, working hard to be part of the group. Under Rhys's ambitious leadership, the enclave had grown until it took over much of the building, combining separate domiciles into one interconnected hive.
    As a new member, Teresa's daily labor involved ripping out walls and tearing down doors between rooms. The Sharetakers left only a framework of areas where people could sleep or cook or amuse themselves through conversation, games, or lovemaking.
    The group insisted that everyone was equal, every body interchangeable; however, they recognized that some physical forms were better suited for certain purposes than others. Teresa hopscotched among the believers, from a tired body to a fresh one, just so she could work extra hours.
    Rhys watched the labor and swapped bodies as often as anyone else. He even made a point of spending days inside Teresa's young and fresh female form, while she went about doing the harder tasks, using the muscles of people whose names she didn't even know.
    Rhys had taken