Duggan tripped the switches and heard the building hum of power. An odd sort of vibration that his mind told him was purely emotional, seemed to be permeating his whole body.
Abruptly the transition was complete. He was no longer lying on the padded bench beneath the mentrol hood. He was standing erect, conscious of the retaining clamps that held him upright.
He gulped a deep draught of air into the artificial lungs that did not need oxygen and his mechanical pulse quickened.
His eyes slitted open, drinking in by degrees the mirrored mentrol booth and the pallid, fat, little man sitting beside his hooded body. He stepped out of the clamps, his sharpened senses aware of softness, and hardness, and scent, and color that human weakness so often blurs.
This super mech that was linked directly with his brain by twin mentrols was tall, chunky and gray of eye and hair. In a general way it was a duplicate of his own body, but there was no facial resemblance.
"How do you like it, sir?" The fat smile was empty, almost apologetic. "We have younger, more handsome models...."
"Well enough." Duggan started donning the clothing that he had removed. "I'll want the mech for five, possibly ten, hours."
"I'll make out the slip for ten hours, sir. We'll refund any balance due you. But after ten hours ..."
"I know. You must report the mech missing. But with my body here you can't lose."
The salesman smiled enigmatically. "We have," he said.