It was a small, utterly bare room with three walls of dull gray metal and the fourth of dazzling floor-to-ceiling glass. On the other side of the glass was a similar room--except that it was furnished with a single bench running across its length. Men were seated on the bench. Young men, apparently staring at Horner and his lovely companion. "They can't see us," the girl explained. "One way glass." "But do they, er, know why they are here?" "Naturally. Everything's on the up-and-up with _Bodies, Inc._, morally if not legally." "And they are...." "Your choice, Mr. Horner. As you can see, there are eight young men in there, each twenty-five years old, each guaranteed in good health, each perfectly willing to switch identities with you. I must tell you in advance, however, that the switch is quite permanent. There is no recourse. You understand?" "Yes, but...." Horner looked at the eight men who could not see him, and lapsed into silence. The eight all looked like sound specimens, all right. All seemed healthy and alert, even cheerful. Horner said, somewhat suspiciously, "My reason for wanting to switch places is obvious. And theirs?" [Illustration: It was a good body. It looked as though it would last for years.] The girl licked her lips before she spoke. They were very nice lips. They were delicious lips. Horner had tasted them. He was suddenly reminded of a magician who makes diverting passes with one hand while performing his magic with the other. "Money," the girl said laconically. "Money? But I'm only paying three thousand dollars. Surely a man wouldn't surrender his youth for such a sum!" "Our regulations call for a man's total savings. In your case, three thousand dollars. But most of our clients are extremely wealthy, Mr. Horner. Now, since half of the fee goes to the youth who will become Hugh Horner while we keep the other half...." "But fifteen hundred dollars only!" "I should have said it goes into a pool. A yearly pool, you see. The average last year was four-hundred sixty-five thousand dollars, Mr. Horner. Don't you think some young men would be willing to surrender twenty years of their lives for half a million dollars?" "I wouldn't if I were young," Horner said at once. "Between you and me, that's because you aren't. But it's their choice to make, and it's a free choice. Now, have you made a selection?" Horner looked at the eight men again, and shrugged. "I see," the girl said. "And I agree. They're all choice specimens, is that what you're thinking? All strong, all healthy, and all will probably be in better shape than you are, twenty years from now."