[ WP ] In the future , technology exists to transfer one person 's conciousness to another body , giving identity theft a whole new meaning . Write about the identity black market .

I'd always argued against those that believed that the brain shapes the consciousness -- hormonal imbalances, accidents of structure, a particularly active frontal love, they all drive the tendencies that make you, well, you 
 
 It seemed silly to think that you've got this executive function mind monkey that sits on top of the brain, calling itself `` consciousness'' and prodding its steed this way and that with electrical impulses, barely in control and exerting half its strength in telling itself it knows what's going on, that it's *actually* in control, that it knows what that brain is up to. 
 
 But now, I guess I am starting to feel like that's me, and I'm mostly just along for the ride. 
 
 I used to be such a calm person, I remember I was. Slow to anger, always thinking it through. `` Why do that,'' I would think, so rapidly I was barely aware of it, `` Why be angry when it accomplishes nothing? Here, *this* is what I should say instead.'' 
 
 I was clever, clever, barely aware of how much more quickly the wheels of my mind spun than others, how my little race car lapped theirs over and over again. I got rich from being clever, and flexible in my morality. And so when the cancer came in, I found a new body pretty quickly, and he was so beautiful. 
 
 It had n't been hard to buy his body; for profit prisons are really *for* profit, you know? They warned me he was unsteady, violent, had a bad history and a worse reputation, but I did n't give a damn. I could afford the body, and I had the mind. 
 
 But I do n't, anymore. Not really. I have the memories, and the life philosophies, but I do n't have the *control*, and this body's little race car is broken. My wheels spin, but they spin so slowly, and my body is already doing things before my mind has caught up. 
 
 Anger is so goddamn vivid in this place, so vivid and inescapable, and everyone seems so much cleverer. I am suspicious of them all, because I can not catch up anymore, and I'm angry, angry, angry. 
 
 Your body is more important than you would think, and now that I'm in this one, I ca n't get out. 
 
 Somewhere, there is bound to be a petty criminal who snuck his way into the body of a Nobel laureate, intent on stealing his money, who is only now realizing that he got something far more valuable. 
 
 And here I am, in a beautiful body, imprisoned and angry, remembering my beautiful mind.
