I was at Malcolm Kendrick's office a full fifteen minutes before the appointed time. His secretary sat me down in his outer office; offered me tea, coffee, or water; and kept me relaxed while I waited. Finally, he called me into his office.
"You came early," he said, shaking my hand; "I like that." He offered me one of the chairs in front of his oak desk; it was nicer than the college president's.
"Now," he said, "let me tell you about my new show:
"I call it Romance Roulette. It sounds pretty basic at first: Our bachelor chooses from a bevy of twelve beautiful bachelorettes; when he makes his final selection, he and his chosen lady love will split $1 million."
I nodded. "That sounds pretty boilerplate." I imagined myself choosing from all those women.
"But there's a twist, and what a twist: Unknown to our bachelor, six of those beauties, until recently, were men. You see, using nanotechnology, we will alter their very bodies, making them women."
"You're right; that is a twist. But I'm confused: You said that the bachelor wouldn't know about that; so why did you tell me?"
"Oh, did you think we wanted you for our bachelor? No, we signed him up weeks ago. No, Professor, we're offering you a place as one of our bachelorettes."
I almost choked on my water. "You... you want me to... you want to make me a woman?"
"Precisely. You've heard how we'll do it. And, if you doubt its effectiveness, I'll have you know that my secretary out there was just as much of a man as you or I until last week."
"She... she's a guy?"
"That's right; and, between you and me, she can't wait until casting is over, so she can go back to being male."
"I can imagine. You're sure this can be reversed when this is over?"
"Definitely. So, what do you think, Professor? Are you in?"
I thought about it. "Alright; I'm in."
"You won't regret this, Professor." He shook my hand again.
He was right about one thing: When all was said and done, I didn't regret it.