The Upgrade from Old to New
by William Quincy Belle
part 1
Teddy became aware of being aware. An overhead light was on, its glow filtering through his closed eyelids. What a pain. It was difficult for him, almost impossible, to fall asleep with the light on. How had he managed it this time?
A chill rippled through his body. He felt cold. Had he kicked the covers off? Had it gotten cooler during the night?
Teddy’s eyes flickered open, staring blankly upward. He struggled to make sense of what he saw. Blinking, he waited for his vision to sharpen. He was lying on his back and instinctively assumed he was in his bed. But when had he gone to sleep? Something didn’t add up. Had something happened?
No, that wasn’t his bedroom light.
So where was he? In the living room on the sofa? But no, that wasn’t the overhead light in the living room. Where the hell was he? Was he at a friend’s?
Teddy turned his head.
A naked man lay on a table to his right. His eyes were closed. His chest didn’t appear to rise. Was the man dead? He wasn’t lying on a bed, but on a metal table. Teddy touched around his hips and realized he, too, lay on a metal table.
Teddy raised his head and propped himself up on his elbows. He experienced a momentary light-headedness and waited for his equilibrium to return. Head still, calm breaths, patience.
A tag dangled from his left foot. A plastic filament wound around his big toe, linked to a rectangular piece of cardboard. Teddy glanced at the man laid out beside him. He, too, had a tag on his left foot.
Teddy brought his foot up and slipped the tag off his toe, holding it face-first. Name: Edward Bachmier. ID # B9363-40715-21020. Age: 72. The word stage appeared three times, with a checkbox beside each. Stage one and two were checked in ink, while the third was blank.
He shivered again. It was cool here, but not cold. However, he was naked and needed something to cover himself with.
Ahead of him, several lockers and a row of coat hooks lined the wall. A white smock hung on a hook.
Teddy turned to his right, sat up, then slid onto the floor. The hard surface felt icy on his feet, and he shivered again.
He looked at the man next to him and realized there were two more bodies laid out on a row of metal tables beyond him, a tag on each of their left feet. Where was he? What horrible thing would put him together with dead people?
Teddy shuffled over to the lockers and glanced at the smock. He opened the first locker and found it empty. The second had a pair of work boots. The third held scrubs, a short-sleeved green top and trousers, and a pair of white soft shoes, like loafers. He put on the top and trousers, then fiddled with the shoes. They were tight, but he got them to fit. His bare arms made him shiver, so he put on the smock.
He stood at a counter with a sink and examined himself in a mirror. There was a name tag pinned to the front of the smock. He angled it up and read Dr. Ian Wilmut. He furrowed his brow as he stared again in the mirror. Nothing seemed to be different. He looked the same.
A lanyard with a plastic card hung on the coat hook from where he’d taken the smock. He examined the card. Dr. Ian Wilmut. A logo bore the name St. Michael’s Hospital: Somatic Transfer Facility.
He turned around and leaned against the counter, holding the card up and looking at both sides. Something blinked on the opposite wall. A digital clock showed 3:35 a.m. He read again the Somatic Transfer Facility, paused, then let his eyes wander the room, noting several work areas with counters and equipment.
Putting the lanyard around his neck, he walked to the man beside him and turned up the tag on his left foot. Name: Alan Rosenberg. ID # C6495-19263-83845. Age: 66. All three stages had a checkmark. He walked to the other two men. They, too, had all three stages checked off, although their ages were 83 and 80.
Teddy walked back and picked up his tag. He stared at it for a moment, then gazed at the other three men. What was stage three? Then again, what were stages one and two, and what did they do to him? He pocketed his tag.
He walked to the door and peered through a small rectangular wired glass window. An empty hallway showed other doors to the left and right. Turning the handle, he pulled the door open a crack and listened. Silence. He pulled it wider and stuck his head out, looking in either direction. On the outside wall level with the handle, there was a black box with a red light.
Teddy stepped out, using his one foot to hold the door open. He leaned in and held the ID card to the black box. There was a click, and the light turned green. He stepped into the hallway and used one hand to ease the door shut. Again, he waved the card in front of the black box, and the light turned green.
He stood staring up at a sign on the wall with block letters spelling out Morgue. What did that mean? He wasn’t dead, but was he supposed to be? Did somebody make a mistake and pronounce him deceased? Had he been in a car accident? It seemed wildly unlikely, but had some criminal tried to kill him? He patted his chest in several places, but he didn’t seem to have any injuries, which ruled out anything violent.
Teddy looked to the left at the murkiness of a dimly lit hall. To the right, there was some promising light. He tiptoed down the corridor, pausing every so often to listen. The end of the hallway opened into a multi-story atrium with padded chairs and tables in various corners. A double set of doors centered a wall of picture windows facing the street, while several counters labeled Patient Check-In took up the opposite end.
On the far side, a lone person sat behind a counter, reading a paperback novel. By the front door, a security guard wearing a set of headphones sat leaning back against a window, staring at a cellphone he held in both hands. Neither seemed to be aware of Teddy.
A muffled voice came from across the way, and Teddy half hid himself behind a supporting pillar, observing a side corridor. A man in a hospital gown burst out of a door, took a few unbalanced steps, and slammed into the wall. The man righted himself and took off running toward Teddy, his bare feet slapping on the linoleum floor. He sprinted into the atrium and continued straight across to where Teddy was standing. The man took several steps into the corridor and looked around. The man locked eyes with Teddy for a moment, his face scrunched up in an expression of fright and anger. He then raced toward the front door.
The guard at the front door had jumped up, extending both his arms as if to catch the man. Two orderlies rushed out of the hallway, casting their eyes around. The man tried to dart around the guard, who grabbed the shoulder of his gown and pulled it down his arm, exposing his backside. The man turned toward the guard, moving his arms forward, and the entire gown came away in the guard’s grip. Now naked, the man yanked one of the front door handles as an orderly pressed a stun gun against him. There was the crackle of electricity, and the man collapsed.
The two orderlies and the guard stood over the man.
“Get a gurney,” one of them said. “I’ll get him dressed.”
When the attendant returned, the two of them picked up the man and arranged him on the flat top, using straps to tie him in place. The man groaned.
“Sorry about that,” the orderly said, nodding to the guard.
The guard shrugged and returned to his seat.
The orderlies wheeled the man back down the hall.
Had all this happened to him? Was this a prison hospital or a mental institution? Was he being held against his will?
Teddy eyed an upper floor and saw two nurses hanging over the railing. They giggled.
“Let’s go watch the procedure,” one of them exclaimed. “This is going to be a live one!”
They disappeared for a moment to reappear out of an elevator on the far side and strode down the hallway, chatting between themselves. Teddy followed, glancing at a sign with an arrow and the letters O.R.
As he arrived at an open door, one nurse held the door open, facing into the room.
“Did you want a coffee?” she asked her companion.
A voice came from inside. “I’ll wait until this is over.”
The nurse let the door go, then saw Teddy and grabbed it. “Sorry. Are you coming in?”
Teddy came forward and put his hand out on the door. “Thanks.”
The room was a narrow rectangle, its one wall taken up by a large window showing an operating room. The two orderlies were moving the man from the gurney onto a table surrounded by various machines. They strapped down each arm and leg, testing each strap by tugging on it.
“What are they doing?” Teddy asked.
The two nurses gave him a curious look.
“You don’t know?” one of them said, leaning forward to view his name tag. “Dr. Wilmut?”
He squinted at her tag. “I’m new here, Veronica.”
“This is Marjorie. We’re both in training at the facility. This is cutting-edge technology, and it’s pretty exciting. We’re both lucky to get an opportunity to work here.”
“Congratulations.” Teddy pointed to the window. “What’s this?”
“This is stage one prepping.”
The orderlies had taken a helmet with various wires and placed it on the head of the man. He had come to and thrashed his head around. His mouth opened, and Teddy could hear a muffled cry.
“Stage one?”
“The brain is scanned to map out its memory patterns. It provides a basic framework for the rest of the process.”
One orderly stuck on pads with wires snaking back to a machine.
“Unfortunately...”
The other orderly stood by a machine, examining a readout on a display screen.
“Unfortunately?” Teddy asked.
The orderly pressed a button.
The man spasmed, his body arching off the table, and screamed.
Teddy jerked, shocked by the spectacle. Glancing at the nurses, he held one hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, trying to hide his surprise. They both remained fixated on the man.
“I don’t know why, but the mapping process triggers the brain’s pain centers,” Veronica said. “From what I understand, the process is excruciating.”
“No pain medication?”
“That’s the thing. The brain must be clear of any substances — drugs or alcohol — which could affect its clarity. There’s nothing to be done for the patient. They’ve got to grit their teeth and suffer through the ordeal.”
The man thrashed about, and the orderly held his head in a firm grip to stop him from dislodging the helmet. After a moment, the man became limp. The orderly let go of his head and consulted a display with his partner. A heart monitor off to one side showed a measured beat.
“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Veronica said. “From what I understand, most people pass out within ten seconds.”
There was a beep. Veronica took out her phone and looked at the screen. “We’ve got to go, Marjorie.”
The two of them walked to the door.
“Nice to meet you, doctor,” Veronica said.
They opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.
Teddy stood there, watching the orderlies. An overwhelming sense of dread came over him. He couldn’t remember anything. Did he go through this procedure? He racked his brain, but came up with nothing.
The two orderlies leaned over the man, consulted the various monitors, then left the room. Teddy rushed to the door and edged it open.
One of the orderlies said, “God, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat. And I need a coffee or I’m never going to make it to morning.”
The other orderly mumbled something in return.
Teddy peeked out and watched them disappear into the atrium. He waited a moment, then stepped into the hall and went to the operating room door. It was locked. He waved his I.D. card, and there was an audible click as the light turned green.
Once inside, he stood at the door, surveying the room. The man remained still, a heart monitor beside the head of the bed showing a regular pulse. The window from where he had been watching was a one-way mirror, which explained why the orderlies seemed to have been unaware they were being observed.
Teddy walked to the foot of the bed and stood, rubbing his chin. So, this is stage one. The monitor of a portable workstation caught his eye at the head of the bed. He stepped forward and regarded various charts and numbers.
He noted a tab labeled Info, so he touched the screen. A new display of information appeared. Name: Robert Morley. ID number, birthdate, address, telephone number and other details. Toward the bottom of the screen, there was a section titled Condition, in which he read Cancer, 4-6 months.
There was a groan.
Teddy turned and saw Robert blink. “Where am I?” Robert said.
Teddy said nothing but continued staring.
“Who are you? Why am I here?”
“Don’t you remember?” Teddy asked.
Robert moved his arms. “Hey!” He wiggled his legs. “Why am I strapped down?” He gave Teddy an alarmed look. “What’s going on?” He twisted his arms and legs, straining against the straps. “What are you doing? Damn! What gives you the right to hold me like this?”
“Listen—”
“Help!” Robert screamed at the top of his lungs.
Teddy’s eyes widened, and he took a step back in panic.
“Help! Help! Get me out of here!” Robert thrashed around, shaking the operating table.
Teddy rushed into the hall and pulled the door shut. Robert continued to yell.
The two orderlies ran around the corner down the hall, glancing at Teddy with a fearful expression.
“We’ve got this, doctor. Sorry. We only stepped away for a second!”
They hurried into the room. And as the pneumatic closer eased the door shut, Robert continued to cry out. The door clicked shut, and after a moment, everything went silent. Teddy heard murmuring.
Now what? Teddy looked up and down the hallway. Where to get answers? Should he just ask? Then again, the fact he was in the morgue made him suspicious that something had gone wrong. But what? Was he, in fact, being held against his will?
Down the hall, an overhead sign showed several lines with arrows: MRI, CT, and Cloning. Teddy walked toward it, keeping his eyes on Cloning.
He followed the arrow to a short hall with a line of windows showing a laboratory. There was a line of large tube-like devices surrounded by various pieces of equipment. He swiped his card and entered the room. There was the hum of machinery. Monitors hung over every tube with various graphs, updating with new information, lines and bars moving from right to left.
Copyright © 2026 by William Quincy Belle
