He smiled with delight. His theory could be tested. He would prove her wrong. “Souls do exist, dammit,” he said to himself.
Kaylee had always been the top of her class, and then the top of her field. Plastic surgery had made her wealthy and at least among the rich and powerful, she was mildly famous. Everyone wanted Kaylee work, if they admitted to surgery at all.
He had studied a year behind her, and then interned next to her. He purposely stayed in the same town. He watched her, and waited. A strong willed person was all he needed.
The moment he met the patient called Stag, he knew. Stag was proud, blustering and had so much soul it overflowed into his skin, out of his clothes. That’s why he had come to this office, which specialized in (fat) reduction and not reconstruction or other types of surgery. Stag was famous, for writing, and being brilliantly fast-witted online, but had always used an avatar. No one knew that Stag was really this preening fat slob.
The doctor prepped for surgery as usual, and Stag was prepared. The doctor cut, and stripped, and sucked as much as he could, even a bit more than he might once have. He needed as much material as he could get, usable material at least.
Stag was amazingly pleased with his tight new skin draped over his lean body. The doctor thought he looked ghastly, but then the customer is always right.
He dismissed his assistants, to their surprise. He knew there was a lightening storm set for late tonight. He would need that extra energy, and everything was prepared for that, too.
The experiment went off without a hitch. The bear animated with the strut and swagger of Stag himself. The stitches didn’t even get burnt from the bolt of electricity.
Tomorrow the good doctor would show Mrs. Kaylee the depths of her blind assumptions. He grinned to himself.