“Are you sure you want to do this?  “I mean, what if it doesn't work?   The doctor says you have at least a year left.  I'd rather have you for a year than lose. . .lose. . .” Sharon's head dropped, and a tear pooled at the corner of her eye.  I knew what she meant, but she wasn't the one with this damned tumor growing inside her.  

“Look, I understand what you're saying, but how is this different from any of the other clinical trials we've been looking at?  We've been trying to find a magic bullet to get rid of the cancer, but we know this will completely eliminate every single cancer cell inside my body, along with every other imperfection.  I'll be healthy as a horse when it's done!”  I swiveled in the chair, and cupped Sharon's chin in my hand.  Tilting her head up to look at me, I fixed my eyes on hers and gave her the deep stare I called my “Persuader.”  It had helped me sway more than a few juries before I got too sick to work, and I could see it working on Sharon as she struggled to compose herself.  “Besides, we're just here to hear the doctor out.  I haven't committed to anythi-”

I broke off as the office door opened and Dr. Catherine Nolan walked in.  She was about average build, fiftyish, with brown hair, green eyes, and a pale peaches and cream complexion that confirmed her Irish name came honestly.  Her curves were camouflaged by a while lab coat that stopped mid-thigh, leaving a pleasant view of black hose tapering down to slim ankles atop unfussy black pumps with silver buckles on the toe.  Closing the door behind her, she dropped a stack of folders on her desk and sat down in her swivel chair.  Smiling at us, she laced her fingers together and said, “We have the testing results back, and it looks like you're a perfect candidate for the study, Peter.  Would you like to hear more about it?”

“I'm very interested,” I replied.  “From what you said, this could cure-”

“What about the effects?” Sharon interjected.  “I mean he'll be free of cancer but he'll be-”

“Sharon, ENOUGH!” I retorted, a bit more forcefully than I had intended.  “Dr. Nolan said she'd go through everything and we'd have time to discuss things before I had to make a decision.  Please, Doctor, go ahead.”

Dr. Nolan leaned swiveled a bit in her chair and looked at us both.  With a slight smile on her lips, her eyes moved between us. “Peter, I can understand your fiancee's concerns.  The technology is experimental, but quite good at what it does.”

“So how does it work?” I asked.

“Well, you've heard of 'editing the genome,' right?  We've mastered entering the structure of DNA to add or remove groupings of material that can cause birth defects, trigger disease, and so on.  This takes that process to the next level; we edit the entire body.  The way it works is that we use a laser to take approximately three hundred billion microscopic sections of your body, basically breaking you down to the cellular level.”

“So you'll chop my fiance up like a goddamned head of lettuce,” Sharon muttered half under her breath.  I gave her a dirty look.  “Well, no,” replied Dr. Nolan, “not really.  Remember the transporters on Star Trek?  The principle is like that.  We use the laser chamber to...”

“Disassemble?” I said, ignoring the pained look on Sharon's face.  “Well, yes.  That's a good word for it,” replied the doctor.  Sharon's hand tightened in mine. 

“Once the lasers have taken the microsections, each section is scanned by a bank of Cray supercomputers.  As long as the section is OK genetically, it is placed with all the other good sections.  Any microsections that have genetic flaws, cancer markers, or other imperfections are discarded.  Once all the sections are checked, the good sections are reassembled and the subject is basically reborn good as new.”  

“So you end up with a. . .a. . .Frankenstein?  Some restitched conglomeration of spare parts?”  Sharon was doing her best to stay calm, but I could hear the hysterical edge creeping into her voice.

“No, Sharon, not at all,” Dr. Nolan replied soothingly.  “After the process is completed, the person looks and acts exactly as they did before.  All that is done is that we edit out the genetic and biological flaws that caused their illness.  I know it sounds too good to be true, but every trial so far has worked out perfectly.”

“Except that they're not the same!”  Sharon half-screamed.  “They become freaks!”  I swiveled around to look at her.  “Sharon, stop it! If this is what I need to do to live, I need to do it!”

“But you'll be altered forever!  How can you think of doing something so. . .so. . .so. . .STUPID!” screamed Sharon as she pulled her hand from mine and stormed across the thick carpet and through Dr. Nolan's office door, slamming it behind her.  

I turned and looked at the doctor, her face impassive.  “It's easy for her to say.  She's not the one with a death sentence,” I said.  “Tell me, how do things end up when you come out the other side?”

Dr. Nolan fixed me with a steady gaze, her eyes giving no clue as to the thoughts behind them.  “Well, as I said, this process is akin to editing, but the difference is that we just remove; we don't add.  Although you would be reassembled exactly as you are, the fact that we removed all the defective cells from your body would mean that your mass and volume would be reduced by the amount removed.  As a consequence, you'd be reassembled proportionally based on the good material the computer sorted out.”  

“OK, so I'd be shorter, maybe a little thinner, right?  How bad could that be?”  I half-chuckled.

Dr. Nolan riffled her red-manicured fingers through the file folder on her desk.  “You have a very advanced case of metastatic cancer, Peter.  Based on our formulas and the computer's projection, we believe your final size would be. . .six inches.  Six point three-five-seven inches, to be exact.”

"WHAT?" I screamed.  "I'd be an...an...action figure!" 

Dr. Nolan looked at the papers on her desk.  "I'm not going to lie.  You're the sickest person we've asked to join the study.  You're literally full of cancer.  You'll be smaller, yes.  But you'll also be the healthiest human being on the planet.  And you'll be doing medical science a great service."

My head swam.  Images of a million science fiction movies and more than one...um...interesting website flashed through my head.  

I took a deep breath.  "Tell me some more about this," I told Dr. Nolan.