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  “Of course not. Dr. Neilson is an expert iridologist, which was once treated as an alternative medicine, and is now regarded as science-- like the 20th century laser surgery,” said an irritated Dr. Arno.

  Another older gentleman shouted, “Just what I thought, we’ll all going to be lab rats. Get out before it’s too late!” as he hobbled out of the room.

  “Are you sure the procedure’s safe? What happens if it gets botched? Are we covered by the global health plan?” asked a woman in a wheelchair.

  Dr. Arno sighed.

  “I’ll let Dr. Neilson address your concerns— I can’t answer that question because it is a new procedure.”

  He began to explain. “As you know, the colored, circular part of your eye is your iris. We have discovered that unique patterns in the iris can tell you about health issues, and more importantly your personality or identity. And today, we are being asked to identify ourselves with our eye imprint. What if you could alter it?” he said.

  “That’s not good enough and there are too many questions,” the women in the wheelchair said.

  Many got up and quickly exited. Maggie looked at everyone in the room; only those around her table stayed. Questions popped up in her brain, but she was afraid to ask. Those violet eyes intimidated her. Her life could be altered significantly, but it excited her.

  “Since there are no more issues, we’ll begin with you, Sydney,” said Dr. Arno, focusing on the tattooed twenty-something whose eager eyes and smile lit up the room.

  “Okay, yeah, I used to train robots to clean houses, until the owner found out I programmed one to break into their house and steal things. Expensive stuff-- jewelry, clothes, designer purses. Unfortunately, my robot snitched on me. I ended up in jail… forever profiled. ‘Don’t hire her.’ And when this message appeared, I thought, hey, here’s my chance,” said Sydney. She bowed her head in shame.

  The other recruit, a teen blonde tried to breathe in her tight, dark-printed dress, loosely covered by a lab coat, with her pudgy arms and legs straining and her long, frizzy hair hanging wildly down her back. Her large blue eyes focused on Dr. Neilson, who winked at her.

  “Hi, I’m Jasmine,” she said, pausing to catch her breath. “After dad died, my world fell apart so I escaped from Arkansas, after graduating from high school. Two years ago, I tried out for a small part streaming online, but the director said I was too chubby. Can you still believe they’re trying to find the beautiful thin ones? I’m just so tired… of being rejected,” she said.

  Maggie’s eyes turned to a middle-aged haggard woman sitting next to her, as she started choking, spitting, and gasping for breath. Coughing uncontrollably for several minutes, the woman began her speech.

  “Excuse me, my name’s Lena, developed a bad cough recently, been homeless for too long,” she said as she wiped her brow with her torn sleeve, pulled her long straggly hair out of her face, and lit a cigarette. A security guard grabbed her arm, snatching the cigarette from her.

  “Lost my job, everything gone just like that,” she added, snapping her fingers. “By the way, that was my last cigarette.”

  Maggie looked down, licked her dry lips, and checked the exits. She dreaded spilling her pathetic story. At thirty, she considered herself a failure.

  “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about you Maggie. Share with us,” coaxed Dr. Neilson, putting his arm around her.

  “Divorced, childless, jobless, and so depressed,” said Maggie, her voice cracked and her eyes teared up.

  “This can be a difficult decision, but we offer hope and that chance to fulfill your dreams,” said Dr. Arno.

  Lena cleared her throat. “What if we become someone we don’t want to be? Like a killer? What if something goes wrong?”

  Dr. Neilson interjected, “Look, you can be whoever you want to be. We provide the eye procedure and the hormones and you decide, but I think in your situation you would strive for something better. Am I right?”

  Lena nodded silently as Charlie hurried in with a second glass of lime liquid. Only the four women remained, their blank faces and their fingers numbed as the contract slid in front of them. Maggie wiped her brow, knowing she had to decide. The tiny print danced before her eyes and she blinked to keep them open. Like robots, the others picked up their pens in unison and signed the forms. I should think about this, but the opportunity is now, Maggie thought, as she signed the document. Charlie scooped up the contracts and exited the room.

  The back wall slid open and the room shifted. The conference room transformed into an exam room with an armchair and laser equipment. Slightly numb from the green drinks, the women adjusted into their seats, which reclined as Dr. Neilson initiated the operation. He put drops into Maggie’s eyes, numbing them, proceeding with the laser through the cornea to alter the iris, injecting it with the serum. She felt only a slight twinge; and then, as her vision became clearer and brighter, she sat up. But she was a little dizzy from the drink and injection. Hours later, the guests awoke, stretching and talking animatedly among themselves, now seated around the conference table. Charlie served the expensive imported cannelloni from Italy on platinum china plates and they gobbled it with gusto.

  Sounds of relaxing waterfalls filled the room. Hologram images from the early 2000’s of rushing rivers, fields of wild flowers, and tranquil blue skies surrounded the guests.

  “Close your eyes and imagine yourself in this calm and safe place before the ten-year drought. You are happy, fulfilled, and loved. Now gaze into your mirror. Who do you see?” said Dr. Arno, in her soft breathy voice.

  The magical liquid caressed her throat. She experienced euphoria and energy as she saw herself through different eyes. The woman gazing back at her was not herself, but a determined, self-confident fresh face.

  “Starting tomorrow, take only one pill every morning for six months. These pills, along with the procedure, work with your chemistry. Wear your bracelet, never take it off. It will advise us if you are in trouble,” said Dr. Neilson.

  The lights gradually came back on and the swirling images disappeared. The liquid green drinks were gone and silence replaced the waterfall. Maggie glanced at everyone and witnessed no physical or psychological changes. Their faces seemed expressionless as they hurried to the lounge to put on their clothes. Lena gathered her backpack and checked her Z-train schedule. Jasmine slipped on her oversized dress to hide her bulges. Sydney winked at Charlie as she handed him her lab clothes. The four scattered in different directions once outside.

  Maggie stepped out into dark parking lot and a crescent moon lit up the sky. Looking up at the ominous glass building, she stopped when she heard a noise.

  “Come back. Help me,” squeaked a voice inside.

  With the curiosity and tenacity of a journalist, she ventured toward the back door. After all, her training taught her to discover the truth and inform the public. Was the voice she heard inside her head or was something not right about Optimal? What if the green pills or changing your identity was just a bunch of bull? Then it was her responsibility to find answers and at the very least help her fellow recruits. Maggie pulled the door handle and found it to be unlocked. She tiptoed back inside and held her breath. The outside area near the exit was dark, except for a sliver of light. Maggie realized it was the lab room where the procedure had been done. Standing outside the lab she overheard the doctors talking about the current clients.

  “This time everything’s going to run smoothly. We picked some good candidates, don’t you think so?” a women’s voice said.

  “It’s about time. The last group were real losers or maybe it was their chemistry of lack of. The serum just didn’t take and you know what happened,” said a male voice.

  The woman sighed. “Hopefully you fixed it; you know if this gets out, our investors would cancel the deal and we would a lose …a lot of money. We can’t afford those mistakes.”

  “Hey, it’s your job to handle the investors, keep them optimistic and let me worry about the se
rum. And have Charlie keep tabs on these people. After all, he found the latest group. Maybe we can blame him if things go wrong this time,” said the male voice.

  “Just do your job. My nephew has a knack for discovering lost souls.” The woman laughed.

  “Got to get some sleep. These fourteen-hour days are killing me.”

  “I just have to finish some paperwork and then I’ll be heading out.”

  The lights clicked off and Maggie held her breath in anticipation of being exposed. But the door was locked from the inside and she heard footsteps leaving the lab in the other direction. She carefully opened the exit door and rushed outside to her truck. It started immediately and she drove out the iron gates. Luckily there was no security personnel around as she sped away. Bile backed up into her throat and a strong urge to throw up almost prevented her from driving home. Fear gripped her. What happened to the last group and who cried for help?

  Jasmine

  One of the first to leave Optimal, Jasmine raced home to her tiny apartment in the 100-foot building in Sun Metro. She immediately swallowed a green pill, ignoring Dr. Neilson’s instructions. She closed her eyes and thought hard about who she wanted to be. Five minutes later, she stared into the bathroom mirror. A pudgy, young woman with blonde, frizzy hair gazed back at her as she wrinkled her nose at her image.

  Despondent, she changed into comfy jeans and threw a plaid shirt over her plain white T-shirt and boots. She took the long glass tube down to the neighborhood bar on the ground level.

  Jasmine often dropped into The Forty to share a beer and burger with her friends several times a week. She took a seat at the empty bar, slipped off the plaid shirt, and quickly texted her best friend.

  “Hey sweetie, what’s your passion tonight? A free drink on the house tonight,” said Rick, the bartender. He winked flirtatiously at Jaz and placed a large margarita with a shot of tequila in front of her.

  Jasmine sighed and sipped the Margarita gratefully. No one had ever bought her a drink, only for the prettier, thinner girls. She peered over her shoulder and noted there were hardly any single women; most were with dates.

  “Can I buy you another, maybe some dinner?” said a guy in a tan cowboy hat who planted himself next to her. He moved in closer and whispered something in her ear. His cologne and piercing blue eyes made her want to faint.

  Jasmine stared back and held her breath. Not knowing how to answer, she turned her bar stool around. A group of young guys from the next table grinned at her and one rushed over.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you looked like that country star Casey Parry? Would you like to join us?” said a tall, blond male who looked like he just stepped out of GQ.

  “I’ve never heard that pick-up line before. Are you kidding me?” asked Jasmine, blushing and gulping down her drink. A shot of tequila appeared before her and she pushed it aside.

  “Darling, that drink is courtesy of the man in the leather jacket, standing at the end of the bar. He said he’d like to talk to you if you have a minute. I said you were busy with your fan club!” said Rick.

  Bewildered, Jasmine took a deep breath and texted her best friend Cindy again. She would know how to handle this complicated yet comical situation. From the day Jaz moved to California, Cindy was there. She had sat next to her on the bus and helped her find her first job at the Sale Mart warehouse. Best friends now for two years, she leaned on Cindy for advice and encouragement, even helping her pick up the pieces from a disastrous modeling job.

  “Surrounded by guys. Meet me now!”

  Jasmine excused herself and left Blondie and the Cowboy standing at the bar. On the way to the restroom, the man in the leather jacket tapped her on the arm. His gold watch, Italian shoes, and leather jacket were a giveaway that he wasn’t a local.

  “Have you ever thought about modeling? Your look is very fresh, not like those cookie-cutter models with those big eyes and big hair— too symmetrical. Perfect for my clients, just what they are looking for to represent their companies. Do you have a moment to talk?” the man asked, as he placed his manicured hand on hers.

  Jasmine thanked him and hurried to the restroom. She stopped and stared at the mirror in bewilderment. Before her stood a curvaceous woman in a snug white t-shirt, skinny jeans, and tall boots with long, straight blonde hair, flawless make-up, and gold hoops that looked expensive. She smiled and the woman in the mirror smiled back. Jasmine got closer to the mirror to examine her face: she looked like herself, only 100 times better. She thought she was going to faint; she looked at her new self and jumped up and down in disbelief. Jasmine squealed and laughed hysterically.

  “Who are you?” she asked the woman. Jaz closed her eyes and pinched herself. As she opened her eyes, her model image stood before her. The little green pill worked! she thought. At that moment, Jasmine contemplated carefully, then decided to take a risk. She left the bathroom and strode over to the man in the leather jacket. She approached him cautiously.

  “Mr. Walters, my name is Jasmine Jensen… actually, Jaz. I’m not sure what you do or what you want from me. I’m new to modeling,” said Jaz.

  “Nice to meet you, Jaz— just call me Steven. My client specializes in public space travel— just a few companies are offering it. Interested in going to the moon or Eden? It sounds a little scary, but they pay very well. Meet me at Space Ventures Inc. in the Meridian Building at 1 p.m. tomorrow and we’ll talk more about it,” he said.

  “I’ll check my calendar and let you know. I appreciate your offer,” she said. She shook his hand firmly. Her confidence had suddenly risen to 101 percent.

  Out of her peripheral vision, Jaz noticed Cindy enter through the front door who looked around, unaware of Jaz’s exchange with Steven. Jaz promised to meet him tomorrow and hurried over to Cindy, who was surrounded by the Cowboy, Blondie, and his good-looking friends. She took a deep breath and wondered how she was going to explain her new makeover.

  “Cindy, so glad you came. I can’t wait to tell you the news,” said Jaz to her puzzled friend.

  “Do I know you? Where’s Jaz? She texted me that I needed to come right away. It sounded urgent. Looks like she picked up some cute guys.”

  “Cindy, it’s me. You’re not going to believe what’s happened to me in the last twelve hours. I know it sounds incredible, but just listen.”

  Jaz pulled Cindy aside to explain about the visit to Optimal, the green pill, and her immediate transformation. She saw Cindy’s horrified face and realized how shocking this must be for her.

  “C’mon, you expect me to believe this! Jaz is my best friend and she doesn’t take chances. Wouldn’t even get a tattoo when I begged her to come with me to The House of Tattoos last Wednesday. Hey, if you’re Jaz, what and where is my tattoo?”

  “A rose, because of your middle name, on your right…” Jaz started.

  Cindy looked like she was about to explode.

  “Stop now! Who told you that?”

  “And you screamed the whole time and swore you’d never do it again!” Jaz said.

  “You’re scaring me.”

  Cindy got up to leave the bar.

  “Ladies, chill out. You both need a drink. It’ll calm your nerves,” said Blondie, ushering them over to his table of friends. He poured them two glasses from their dispenser of margaritas.

  Flustered, Jaz sat down with the others and showed Cindy photos of them together on her iPhone. Still angry, Cindy rolled her eyes, seemed unconvinced, and turned to talk to Blondie’s friend.

  Disgusted, Jaz returned to the bar and sat down beside the cowboy who had saved her seat. He put his arm around her. The music switched as the DJ played a slow song. The familiar song took her back to the Prom, just a year ago when no one would dance with her, even in her new sparkly dress and straightened hair. The boys ignored her and the girls giggled and pointed at her silver shoes. She felt like dying inside, but maintained her composure until she got back home. Then she cried into her pillow; the next day her eyes swollen
shut and her hair back to its natural frizz. Now as Jaz she could finally escape that humiliation forever, even if it meant losing her best friend.

  “Care to dance? By the way, my name is Matt,” said the cowboy.

  Jaz nodded and fell into Matt’s arms in a comfortable embrace. Caught up by the moment, she forgot about Cindy and her jealousy and focused on her new popularity.

  “My friend wouldn’t abandon me for a guy! You’re not Jaz,” screamed Cindy as she exited the bar.

  Jaz felt all eyes upon her. They were the only couple on the dance floor. She just scored a guy and a modeling job in one night, all because of the magical little green pill. She pinched herself, reflecting upon her current destiny. Time to make up for those lost years as plain, unattractive Jasmine.

  “Hey baby, what are you doing later? Want to split and come back to my place?” Matt asked and grabbed her hand when the song ended.

  Jaz, dizzy from the buzz of the drinks and her new status, nodded and hurried outside. A guy wanted her, plus this was Sun City, where magic happened. The red moon hung over the hazy skyline, casting an omen. She climbed into Matt’s truck, and they headed in the opposite direction of her apartment. Trash lined the streets and there were bars on the windows. Matt parked his truck in an alley across from a homeless lodge. They ascended the winding stairs to his apartment. Someone yelled up at Matt.

  “Hey man, you scored tonight! How’d you get her to come home with you?” he slurred.

  Jaz ignored his comments and they entered Matt’s studio apartment in a rush. But she wondered if the moment was right, now that she was here. Jaz stood, staring at Matt’s door.

  “Don’t worry about them and excuse this place, it’s only temporary,” he said as went through the front door and into a dark bedroom. He caressed her hair and kissed her warm lips.

  Overwhelmed by tonight’s fate and feeling slightly high, she forgot about being Jasmine and concentrated on being “Jaz”, uninhibited and comfortable in her new body. She smelled the mixture of sweat and cologne, letting him unfasten her bra. They tumbled onto the bed as they tore at each other’s clothes, their passion heightened by the heat of the night and the tequila. Her eyes shut, but she hardly slept.