When Cliff Hanger first visited my clinic I was completely star-struck,

"Mr Hanger," I said, shaking his hand, "Er, erm, please, take a seat."

"Thank you Doctor."

I could hardly believe it. Sitting opposite me was arguably the most handsome actor in movie history, an angel of the silver screen.

"So," I said, "Er, what brings you to my humble clinic?"

"I've been reliably informed you are one of the few remaining practitioners of cosmetic surgery, an expert in your field."

"Well," I blushed, "I suppose I am. But then, there's not much call for it nowadays, not since the introduction of genetic screening over two centuries ago. As you know, there aren't any real-life ugly people anymore, just the ones children laugh about in history books. My work is reconstruction, for patients who are unlucky enough to suffer disfiguring injuries, and so on."

"So I'm told."

"So tell me," I said, "What can an underpaid plastic surgeon possibly do for a man such as yourself?"

"I want to change the way I look."

"You want to change the way you look?" I echoed, making sure I'd heard him correctly.

"Yes," he said, "I've more than enough money to cover whatever it costs."

"I'm sure you do," I smiled, "But tell me, what exactly do you think is wrong with your appearance?"

"It's all wrong..." he said, looking at the floor, "My face... I... I can't.., I-I won't..."

He started crying and, though I'm ashamed to admit it, I was embarrassed. I'm a doctor and I've seen many people break down, but like everyone, I was used to watching him fight wars and alien invasions, not blubbering before my very eyes like a frightened child,

"...Ahem..." I coughed, "Mr Hanger? Mr Hanger, please... Please, calm down... I can only help if I fully understand the problem. That-that's better. Now tell me, what do you mean when you say it's 'all wrong'?"

"My face," he said, pulling on his cheeks as though they were made of rubber,

"This face! I.... I can't stand it anymore. I don't know who it belongs to, but it sure as hell isn't mine. I'm sick of it. I want to look like me!"

I studied his face, the chiselled jaw and cheekbones, the famous 'come-to-bed', dark brown eyes, the strong nose and sculpted lips, the dimple in his chin,

"Why, there's nothing wrong with your face!" I said, "Quite the opposite in fact. Indeed, there are many who'd love to look as perfect as you. Surely you know that?"

"I'm not handsome!" he groaned, pointing at his handsome face, "This isn't handsome! Don't you see?!"

"No, Mr Hanger," I said, cautiously, "I'm afraid I don't."

"This," he said, "This is all false, fake. When I look in the mirror, it's not me I see. It's someone else, a mask... Its just a bloody perfect, ugly mask!"

"Mr Hanger," I said, softly, "Maybe, I'm not the right person to help you. I mean, even if I could, I'm not really sure what you're asking me to d-"

"I want you to change me!" he said, looking me straight in the eyes, "Operate on my face like they used to in the olden days. Make me look the way I'm supposed to. Please, make me look like me!......"

II

With the advent of plastic surgery in latter half of the twentieth century, it became standard practice to assess a patient's frame of mind before contemplating any unnecessary cosmetic surgery. And so, this was exactly what I did with Cliff Hanger. Of course, if any other patient had acted this way I would have probably just sent them home with a compulsory counselling order. But a man of Mr Hanger's stature is not so easily dissuaded. I admit, the money was an influencing factor: business had been bad for some time, and I knew he could more than afford what he was asking me to do. Nevertheless, my actions were just and professional. I even asked an old college friend, one of the world's most renowned psychologists for a second opinion:

"The subject's state of mind," she surmised in her report, "Is reminiscent of those of our ancestors who suffered because of  for example a large nose. These patients of yesteryear firmly believed their appearance hindered their day to day life. Many even considered their particular abnormality as a separate entity, an unnatural 'thing' which did not belong to the rest of their body ...

"I believe Mr Hanger is of a similar disposition in that, to all intents and purposes, he feels his appearance is separate from 'the real him'. He is an 'ugly' person trapped inside a 'handsome'  face. Indeed, he genuinely believes he has always been a stranger in his own face. ... This is not a case of public overexposure, nor does he wish to 'reclaim' his image. ... it is my professional opinion that no amount of therapy will persuade him otherwise.

"In the past such 'cosmetic surgery' was commonplace and reported side-effects were rare. I therefore recommend the only humane course of treatment available to this patient is immediate corrective surgery."

All this was, of course, conducted in the strictest confidence, but we were lucky the press never caught wind of what we were doing. Thankfully, they were too busy with other celebrity gossip to notice one of their biggest stars was on a long leave of absence from the public eye.

Mr Hanger had already done most of the preparation work, having collected a large number of archive photographs months before he stepped foot in my office. These images consisted mainly of people he had tracked down through public records, people he identified as his ancestors from a time long before genetics really took off. Using modern technology and a gifted fine artist, he had even commissioned several three dimensional representations of what he called 'the real me',

"It's exactly how I see myself in my dreams," he'd say, staring at a model of his dream face,

"It's the real me!

The surgery itself was the most exiting and challenging of my career. In total there were twenty three separate procedures, and it was a real test of my skill as a surgeon. I'd performed hundreds of reconstructions before, but like a restorer of old paintings, in the past I'd been merely repairing a nose or an ear. This time the canvas was all but blank. I was a twenty-third century Picasso and I loved every minute of it.

And so, one bright spring morning, almost a year to the day of my first incision into his perfectly chiselled face, I arrived at Mr Hanger's mansion with a pair of scissors, a mirror, and an eagerness to see the fruits of my labours,

"Mr Hanger!" I beamed, "It's time!"

"Then what you waiting for Doc?" said the animated, mummy-like head, his eyes sparkling with excitement,

"Get to work!"

Slowly and carefully, I cut the bandages and unwound them like a ball of wool,

"Nearly there," I teased, "Nearly there..."

I took the hand-mirror from my white coat pocket and held it up for him to see,

"What do you think?"

He didn't say a word. For a few minutes he just sat there, staring into his reflection, soaking up every detail of his new face.

"It's beautiful!" he said, finally, his hair-lip curling into a lopsided smile,

"I mean, it's me. It's really me!..."

EPILOGUE
As I'm sure you know, the reaction to Cliff Hanger's 'coming out' press conference was phenomenal. Suddenly, every avant-garde film director was knocking at his door, begging him to take the lead in their latest films. There was a lot of talk about how much 'character' he had, how 'special' he looked. The media was obsessed and constantly repeated his image on its screens and front pages. There were reactions from old co-stars on the evening news and special TV debates on the 'ethics' of cosmetic surgery. At one point, he was even rumoured to be 'going back under the knife' (although I can confirm that to date, he's yet to book another appointment).

In short, Cliff Hanger appears to have become the flag waver of an aesthetic revolution:

"Character", as my daughter says, "Is the new beautiful."

And how has all this affected my life? Well, business is booming, my kids are both at college, and I have a new house in the country. A few months ago, I moved the clinic to larger premises, and I've had to employ and train a team of surgeons and nurses to cope with the rising demand. I've been the number one requested speaker in universities across the globe, and, as you may have seen, I've even appeared on a few talk-shows myself. Indeed, I can honestly say that life is perfect. However, I'm not sure how long it will last. I've already heard there are some new genetic services starting up for prospective parents who want their children with 'character'. Nowadays, it seems everybody wants to be ugly.