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Post-Resurrection Crisis

It used to be true that you only live once. Robert Clive proved this maxim entirely false, though when he born for the second time late one morning on the top floor of a large metropolitan hospital. Robert’s second birth was not as messy as his first. There was no placenta, no after birth, no cord to cut. This time Robert opened his eyes fully conscious and aware. In a fully developed body that he was grateful to receive but unable to hide his disappointment with its build.
“He’s a bit pudgy, don’t you think? Also, it appears I am now Asian.” Robert pointed out to the team of doctors engineers and biologists that had just orchestrated the Lazars style miracle.
Doctor Gupta, the lead physician, politely apologized and explained it was the only suitable donor for the consciousness transference procedure they could find. However, there were suitable female hosts Clive could house his mind in if he’d prefer.
Robert considered the option. “Would I have to menstruate?” he asked.
“I’m afraid that’s part of it.” the doctor informed him. “Unless we find a suitable candidate who has already gone through menopause.”
Robert thought about this for a moment and declined the offer. He also made sure to explain to Doctors Gupta and Lin that he had no prejudice against Asians. His previous comment was just from the shock of coming back from the dead.
For Robert death had been a lot like blacking out. There was the fuzzy memory of a sharp pain in the chest, everything going dark, then suddenly waking up.
“You expired 100 days ago,” they told him.
“Oh, what about my original body?” Robert asked.
“Incinerated, I’m afraid. Don’t worry though the procedure seems to have been a success. All of your memories, your personality, everything that was, IS you is now housed in this body.”
Robert gave his new body another once over. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” he chuckled.
After a few days of testing and learning the ropes of his new body, Robert decided he wanted to take his new senses out for a spin.
“Death has made me hungry. I think a steak and a scotch are in order.” Robert declared.
“That should be fine. Just exercise moderation, and please do let us know if anything seems awry with your new body,” Doctor Gupta advised him.
“Oh, there is one thing, doctor,” Clive said. “I have the strangest craving for oysters.”
The physician arched his eyebrows.  “I was allergic to shellfish,” Robert informed him.
“Hm, perhaps that is a new trait acquired from your host body,” Gupta suggested.
“What do you mean?” Robert asked.
“Well, you are you, but in some, very minor ways, you are also him.” The good doctor informed Robert.
“What does that mean?” asked Robert.
“The brain is a funny thing,” Gupta mused. “Some of the previous neural wiring might still be intact. I wouldn’t worry, though. As of now, you are no longer allergic to shellfish. So consider this a bonus.”
Robert looked worried. “How will I know where this fellow ends and I begin?”
Doctor Gupta smiled, “Don’t worry, a post-resurrection existential crisis is perfectly normal.”


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