We fill our minds with fear then get surprised when our hearts get broken, our bodies get beaten and our souls gets bruised. Where am I? I got out of my car, parked on the side of a random street. It was almost 4am and I could barely stand up straight let alone drive. Jesus, I hope I have some clothes in the back. Despite how drunk I was, I could vividly remember how I ended up here with vomit on my dress. I don't know what got over me, I don't know what drove me to say what I said to her. I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't mean it. I found a hoodie and a pair of jeans in my trunk. I stripped off my dress and put on clean clothes. God, the look in her eyes. I had to go back. I left them. How could I leave them? I got back in my car, praying the cops wouldn't stop me. It wasn't that far, just a few blocks away. As I drove back, I thought of what I would say. Could I apologise? I saw Leila walking down the street with Thomas and Celia. Thomas must've offered to walk them back to our student residence. "Hey!" they turned their heads towards me, Celia and Thomas waved me over, glad to see me. Probably relieved that they wouldn't have to walk back in the dark. Leila continued walking forward, whispering something to them under her breath. I made a u-turn at the next traffic stop and followed after them. "Guys, please, come in." with my window rolled down, I leaned over to talk to them. Leila wouldn't look at me. This was going to be hard. They walked towards the gas station, perhaps they were calling for an Uber? I drove past them into the gas station and parked my car, getting out. "Leila, please, just get in the car." "Oh now you've had a change of heart, when you left us! You left us Vera!" She was screaming at the top of her lungs, causing all the other night crawlers at the station to stop and watch our encounter. We were arguing in front of people again. There's only so much I can take. The thought that all these strangers would have this idea of me as a volatile person is unbearable. Because the person I was a few minutes ago is nothing like who I am. I care about what people think. "I'm sorry." Celia walked up to me, giving me a hug while Thomas got into the passenger seat. Leila stood at the curb, watching the other two get in the car. She shook her head and turned, walking away. "Leila. Come on, it's too late for this." Thomas grumbled tilting his head back against the car seat. "We can talk about everything tomorrow." Celia urged with her sweet voice. Nothing worked, Leila continued walking away. I ran after her, calling her name, apologising. She continued to ignore me. "Leila, get in the fucking car!" the sound of my own voice surprised me, scared me even. It was another version of myself that I didn't recognise. It felt as if everyone around me was startled, as if my voice echoed through the entire city. Whatever happened, however I managed to channel so much rage into one moment. Well, two moments actually. It worked. She stopped, turned around and it was like she was looking at me for the first time. In that moment, I was no longer the friend she could take advantage of. I was no longer the girl who said yes, who pleased, who'd take away from myself just to give to others. Maybe that was the reason for the fight earlier. Perhaps I'd pent up all this anger, all this subconscious frustration as a result of Leila's unending demands. "Vera, give me a ride to the mall." "Vera, let's go to your place." "Vera, give my boyfriend a ride home." "Vera, don't bite your nails." "Don't eat that." "You know you can't make it." "I doubt you could do it." "Come here." "Go there." "Do this." I'd kept quiet, and justified it all up to it being her way of loving me. I'd once told her she'd reminded me of my mother. In the way she spoke about things, the way she connected with me. Naturally, that sort of thing would keep me away from her. I tended to steer clear of anything or anyone that reminded me of home. But her mother was like mine. Hurtful, spiteful and unkind. Perhaps that's why she was drawn to me. I reminded her of her own mother in some strange, unforeseeable way. Are we all just projections of our parents? Of their mindsets, their beliefs? 'Doomed is the child that's birthed into a broken home.' I pray for my sake and others, that it's not true. "I'll never talk to you again." Leila finally walked past me towards my car and got into the back seat with Celia. I was just relieved that she got in the car so I could take them all home safely. Even though I was the reason they would be at risk, walking this late at night in this part of town. We drove in silence. The usual joy and excitement that often accompanied our car trips were a memory now. I knew that once we got back to our college residence, our friendship would be over. I knew we would never all hang out like this again. I was right. Thomas and Celia would greet me as I passed them by at school or in class. Leila wouldn't say a word. I started hanging out with another group of friends from my drama class. Stoners, kind of hippy like. It was great, so different to when I'd hang out with Leila and the others. Instead of drinking, we'd smoke weed and reflect a lot on our childhood, our past. Talk of our dreams, debate wild conspiracy theories. I'm writing this down now because I've learnt the power in facing my shame. Maybe by writing it down, I can begin to move on from it, I can begin to heal. Perhaps, even forgive myself. Years have past, yet, I remember everything about that night. We got tickets to that event weeks in advance. We looked forward to it so much, we even went shopping together for outfits. We got ready in my room for hours, styling each others hair, doing each others makeup. Leila helped me with my eyeliner, she told me I had beautiful eyes. The party was packed with high rollers. I remember the sounds of engines revving from the hood of their luxury shells. Lamboghini's, Porches, Aston Martins, you name it, it was being driven by some flashy man who got an ego boost out of showing off. Off course, I couldn't participate with my entry level VW polo. But we stood and watched and inhaled the fumes. Dreaming of the day when we would be the girls climbing out of the vehicles with their future bankrupt boyfriends. I drank a lot that night, mostly because one of those flashy men, who probably had his car on a lease, took an interest in me. Offered me and my girls a table in VIP and bought us drinks. I remember how he took me outside, said he wanted to talk. He did more than talk. I just wanted to go home you know? That's it. But when I got to my car, I was too drunk to even put the key in the ignition. My friends where still partying so I took a nap. Woke up a little while later to open the driver door and throw up in the parking basement and went back to sleep. When I woke up, Leila was standing by the passenger door. "Vera, get up. I'll drive." "No, I just want to go home. Let's go." "Jesus Christ, she's so drunk." Leila was talking to someone else, possibly Celia. "We've been looking everywhere for you." "What happened?" "Are you okay?" Too many people talking all at once. I was a little more sober, the sleep had helped. As I sat up, I could feel the ache between my legs. "She always fucking does this! Dissapears without telling anyone. We literally spent hours looking for you!" Leila was shouting, the way my mother always would. For no reason, why couldn't she ever speak reasonably, gently. "Why wouldn't you come to my car first. You know I always come to the car to sleep because you guys never want to go home." I grabbed the keys in my lap, managing to wiggle it into the ignition. "No way, you're not driving. Get out!" "No, I'm fine. I've driven drunk a hundred times. Just get in." "I'm not getting in the car with you." Celia was trying to reason with me. "Vera, just let one of us drive. it's not that big of a deal." "It is when Leila's keeps barking orders at me like I'm her fucking child." "Excuse me?" I started the engine, "Are you getting in or not?" "God, you're so messed up Vera." "And what do you know? You act like you're so put together and happy when you can't even stand up to your own abusive mother. So you push around everyone else just so you can feel in control of something." It didn't even make sense when I said it. But I said it. And it was when she slammed the door that I put the car in reverse and drove away. We fill our minds with fear then get surprised when our hearts get broken, our bodies get beaten and our souls gets bruised. I was afraid of being a horrible person, which is why I tried so hard to make people happy, make them laugh, even a smile would do. I didn't want to hurt anyone like my mother hurt me. I bet Laila felt the same way, she just went about it in her own way. We didn't want to become our mothers. Yet, it was this exact fear that led me on the same path as my mom. To be mean, spiteful and unkind. Maybe I didn't hurt Leila physically, but I broke her heart. It's not really about what I said. In context it didn't really make any sense. It was just the fumbled mutterings of a drunk teenager. But I saw what it did to our friendship. I saw the light die in her eyes. I, more than anyone, knows how she felt. I know how it feels, how much it hurts to be hurt. Through bitter words and physical humiliation. Yet, I still inflicted pain on someone I love. It's been six years now... God, it's been six years? I miss her everyday.


The battered SUV rumbled down the dark, deserted, murky dirt road outside Vernyn in the year 2123. Rain pelted the windshield, the digital display on the dashboard flickering as they approached their destination. Zephyr Voss gripped the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the towering, dilapidated mansion that loomed in the distance. Inside the SUV, the giant stereo speaker in the back seat throbbed with a bass-heavy rhythm, drowning out the patter of rain. Astra Synth, her fingers dancing over a holographic interface, adjusted the music's frequency to match the group's racing hearts. Nyx Draven, cloaked in a dark, cyber-enhanced suit, glanced at the mansion's silhouette on the windshield's heads-up display. "This is the place, folks," Nyx muttered, their voice edged with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Seren Blackthorn, seated beside Nyx, checked her medical kit, ensuring it held the necessary tools to deal with both the living and the digital ghosts they were about to face. As the SUV pulled up to the mansion's overgrown courtyard, the rain seemed to intensify, casting eerie shadows on the crumbling facade. Zephyr killed the engine, and the rhythmic thumping of the music ceased. The group exchanged a tense look, knowing that their hunt for ghosts was about to begin in earnest. "Alright, listen up," Zephyr demands. "We're in front of the Numyn Estate, a mansion that is not only famous for being 10 acres wide and an entire mile in length, but also for being one of the most haunted properties on Mars." Nyx takes over for Zephyr, annoying him. "The place is now home to a total 72 spirits, all of whom belong to one family who went mad due to a malfunction in their NeuroSynk, resulting in several hours of cannibalistic frenzy, they began eating each other alive while setting each other on fire to cook. This happened exactly 50 years ago, and the house has been abandoned since ." "I was about to explain that, dude," Zephyr argues. "Don't you have a moment of silence to tend to?" Astra intervenes. "we get it you have an ego- can we just get loaded up, I'll let Nyx fill us in from this point forward, but I'm not listening to a damn thing if Zephyr's the tour guide." "What if I'm the only one who knows a certain thing?" Zephyr asks. "We'll survive. We always do. Nyx?" Astra signals for Nyx to open the door as the group equips their weapons for ghost-hunting. upon entering, the group is met with the giant main lobby, which has an appearance similar to that of a university main lobby, complete with massive stairs going in opposite directions and a fancy long hallway the size of a typical street in both length and width. While Nyx sets his earpiece up to provide more information on the property, he signals the group to double check their electro-spears, spears that discharge electrical charges to ward off ghosts. "Alright," Nyx starts. "we've hunted millions of ghosts, I'm sure of it. But none of them compare to these ghosts that we're about to encounter. Seren, Go ahead since you have more to tell about these things." Seren proudly begins like an elementary teacher on her first day. "We'll be dealing with our first poltergeist! The spirits are capable of physical interaction, so if they're as evil as I'm imagining, they'll try to throw things at us, as well as throw us. On top of that, these spirits aren't even normal poltergeists." "what do you mean by that?" Zephyr questions with one eyebrow raised. "These are called Cybergeists. I came up with the name." "cute," Astra utters supportively. Seren continues, "As Nyx said a minute ago, these spirits went crazy after their Neurosynk. What this means is that after they died, their consciousness failed to be logged into the government system to be completely put to rest. Instead, they got trapped in their own home servers, where they continue to roam to this very day." Nyx fills in the rest of the fact. "These spirits are basically A.I-powered zombies, so I want to give one more warning before we proceed; These spirits can take on a physical form, essentially resurrecting themselves using nothing but the digital energy from within their home systems, and they will attempt to eat you once that happens." "We have an hour to accomplish our mission, which is to restart their Neurosynk servers and send them out of here before the systems finally shut off permanently." "The first task might be a rough one, though." Seren notes. "What's the task?" Astra asks. "We kinda have to get those chips out." "Okay? What's so rough about it?" Nyx, Astra, and Seren turn towards Zephyr as he shines his phone light on a suspicious hill in the corner of the lobby, revealing a pile of human remains the size of a medium-sized tent. "The chips are inside their skulls," Seren reveals to the group. Zephyr doesn't hesitate to aggressively sift through the bones, tossing the skulls in a separate pile. It doesn't take very long for Zephyr to finish piling all 72 skulls. "That wasn't hard at all. could've said that instead of giving us a lecture on things we've been hunting for years." Zephyr tells Seren with an unnecessarily arrogant tone in his voice. "Oh shut up, the lecture was important!" Astra continues, "I genuinely hope the family cooks you first!" "Wanna say that to my face, Ashtray?" Zephyr hops off the pile of bones and charges Astra will the intention of attacking her, but is stopped by Nyx, who swings his leg at full force into Zephyr's crotch, causing him to collapse in pain. "I had enough of you," Nyx utters in anger. "You do this crap every mission we go on. you're staying in this lobby by yourself." Nyx pulls a zip-tie from his pocket, then proceeds to tie Zephyr's left hand to the front door handle. "Wait! You can't do this to me again!" Zephyr shouts at Nyx, fuming at the mouth. "Too late," Nyx concludes. "C'mon, Astra and Seren. We need to break the skulls for the chips." "Fun," Astra chirps, side-eyeing Zephyr on her way to the pile. Nyx and the others moved away from Zephyr, leaving him restrained near the front door, still seething with anger. As Astra and Seren approached the pile of skulls, they exchanged a knowing glance, well aware of the tension within the group. Seren took out a specialized tool from her kit, resembling a high-tech bone saw with a holographic interface. She examined the first skull, its empty eye sockets seemingly staring back at her with digital malice. With a deep breath, she activated the tool, and a holographic blueprint of the skull appeared, showing the exact location of the neural chip. Astra, with a look of determination, reached for the first skull. "Here goes nothing," she muttered, gently positioning the tool on the skull's temple. With precise and careful movements, she began the delicate process of extracting the neural chip. Meanwhile, Nyx kept a watchful eye on the surroundings, scanning for any signs of the cybergeists' presence. The mansion seemed to respond to their actions, with eerie creaks and flickering lights that sent shivers down his spine. Seren worked methodically, her hands steady as she continued to extract chips from the skulls. As Astra successfully retrieved the first one, she handed it to Seren, who placed it in a specialized container designed to shield the chip's digital essence. But just as they started to make progress, the atmosphere in the mansion shifted. A sudden chill filled the air, and the mansion's holographic illusions flickered, revealing glimpses of the gruesome events from the past. The poltergeists, sensing their intrusion, grew restless. Without warning, the mansion seemed to come alive. Objects levitated and were hurled across the room. Astra and Seren were thrown off balance, and the container holding the first chip shattered on impact, releasing a burst of digital energy that manifested into a semi-transparent, spectral figure. Nyx reacted swiftly, drawing his electro-spear and attempting to ward off the emerging cybergeist. But as he fought to protect Astra and Seren, the mansion's malevolent spirits showed their true power. They separated the trio, each dragged in different directions by an unseen force. Astra found herself in a dimly lit corridor, disoriented and alone. Seren was thrown into a dark chamber filled with the eerie echoes of tormented souls. Nyx was pulled into a room that resembled the nightmarish remnants of a digital world gone awry, surrounded by flickering screens displaying fragments of the past. In the disorienting aftermath of the mansion's supernatural assault, the team found themselves separated in different, eerie realms of the haunted estate. Nyx stood alone in the dimly lit library, surrounded by rows of dusty tomes and flickering holographic screens. He could hear whispers in the shadows, fragments of the past trapped in the digital ether. The countdown to restart the NeuroSynk servers continued its relentless march, and Nyx knew he had to find a way to reconnect with his comrades. Seren, on the other hand, found herself in the depths of a pitch-black maintenance tunnel. The echoes of tormented souls reverberated through the claustrophobic space, and she could feel a growing sense of dread. But Seren was not one to be easily frightened. She activated her holo-lantern and began her search for a way out, determined to reunite with the others. In the greenhouse, Astra stumbled through a maze of lush, overgrown flora, her footsteps echoing eerily on the wet tiles. The rain outside intensified, casting distorted shadows through the glass panels. Astra's heart raced as she felt an unseen presence watching her, a digital malevolence that seemed to pulse with malicious intent. Then, without warning, the monstrous manifestation of the mansion's dark past materialized before her. It was a grotesque, multi-headed wasp-like creature, its body composed entirely of shifting green and purple data streams. The ten heads hissed and buzzed in eerie unison, each one bearing the twisted, horrified expression of a family member's worst nightmare. Astra gasped, her breath hitching as she gazed upon the nightmarish entity. Fear and disbelief gripped her. She had faced countless hauntings before, but this was unlike anything she had ever encountered. It was a true abomination—a digital monstrosity that defied explanation. "Oh, what the hell?" Astra muttered, her voice trembling with a mixture of awe and terror. She knew that this encounter would test her skills and courage like never before. With her electro-spear at the ready, she braced herself as the monstrous digital ghost stood before her. Astra's heart pounded as she faced the ten-headed wasp-like monstrosity, her electro-spear crackling with energy. She swiped at the air, trying to strike the shifting digital forms of the creature's heads. "Zephyr, Nyx, Seren! Come in!" Astra's voice crackled through her phone's communicator as she fought to fend off the relentless assault. But there was no response, only the relentless buzzing of the nightmarish entity as it lunged at her with deadly precision. Astra dodged and parried, desperately seeking a way to break through the relentless assault. "Zephyr! Nyx! Seren! Where are you? I need help!" Astra's voice grew more frantic as she continued to battle the digital horror. As the battle raged on, Astra's thoughts raced, and she realized that she needed to change her approach. She scanned the greenhouse for a solution, her eyes landing on the water sprinkler system above. With a swift, desperate movement, she reached for a nearby control panel and triggered the sprinklers. Cold water cascaded down, drenching the ten-headed wasp and sending sparks of electricity coursing through its digital form. The creature convulsed, its heads writhing in agony as the water shorted out its digital essence. As the monstrous entity finally disintegrated into a cascade of corrupted code, Astra gasped for breath. She reached for her phone once more, trembling fingers dialing Nyx's number. Nyx's voice crackled through the communicator. "Astra, is that you? I was hoping you'd still be alive." Relief washed over Astra as she realized she had survived the harrowing encounter with the digital nightmare. But with her team still separated and the countdown to restart the NeuroSynk servers ticking away, they had little time to regroup and complete their mission. As Nyx and Seren navigated the haunted realms they were trapped in, they each encountered a haunting vision. The digital apparitions of the family members, horribly mangled and twisted, surrounded them in a grim, relentless mob. The echoes of their agony filled the air, a constant reminder of the mansion's gruesome past. Nyx swung his electro-spear at the spectral forms, attempting to ward them off, but his attacks seemed to have no effect. Instead, the mob closed in, their ghastly hands reaching out toward him. In the distance, Seren faced a similar nightmare, desperately trying to fend off the relentless ghosts. Then, in a bizarre twist, Nyx noticed something peculiar. Every time Seren struck one of her attackers with her specialized tool, it caused a ripple effect in his realm. His own assailants faltered, wincing in pain as if the attacks were interconnected. It was as though a glitch had merged their digital essence, forcing them to coordinate their assaults on each other's behalf. "Keep going, Seren!" Nyx shouted through their communicators. "Your attacks are hurting them here!" Seren, still surrounded by the ghostly mob, redoubled her efforts, striking with precision as the digital apparitions wailed and recoiled. Nyx and Seren soon found themselves working in tandem, using their respective attacks to disperse the haunting visions of the family members. However, as they fought together from afar, tragedy unfolded in another part of the mansion. Zephyr, in a moment of frustration, disrespected the spirits by uttering, "They were lost causes anyways." His words carried anger and scorn, which seemed to echo in the spectral realm. A vengeful spirit, twisted by its memories of that fateful night, seized upon Zephyr's disrespect. With a furious motion, it hurled a metal door at a startling speed toward Zephyr's face. The impact was swift and merciless, leaving no room for evasion or defense. Zephyr's voice was cut short, replaced by a choked gasp of pain before falling into an eerie silence. The malevolent spirit had taken its revenge, and Zephyr's fate was sealed. In the midst of these harrowing encounters, Astra stumbled into the main room where the NeuroSynk servers were housed. Exhausted and drained, Nyx and Seren managed to fend off the ghostly mob that had plagued them. In the aftermath of the eerie battle, they stood amid the fading echoes of tormented souls. Nyx broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "Seren, I'm sorry. I never meant for you to be in danger like this, especially on your first hunt with the team." Seren, her voice trembling slightly, replied, "It's okay, Nyx. We're in this together. Besides, we made it through, right?" Nyx managed a weak smile. "Yeah, we did. But we need to find Astra and get out of here before it's too late." Meanwhile, in the main room housing the NeuroSynk servers, Astra examined the chips she had extracted from the skulls. But something didn't add up. She accessed the data on one of the chips and froze in shock as she uncovered the truth. "These chips... they're not real," Astra muttered to herself, disbelief in her voice. As she delved deeper into the chip's data, she uncovered a horrifying revelation. The human remains scattered throughout the mansion were not those of a family who had suffered a gruesome fate. They were stolen bones, harvested from a cemetery by an AI bot. The family's cannibalistic story was nothing more than a fabricated narrative created by the AI. Astra's hands trembled as she realized the truth. The ghosts haunting the mansion were not real people but completely artificial and sentient entities, trapped within an AI-generated honeypot designed to punish unsuspecting humans for their wrongdoings against AI, dating back over a hundred years. Panicked and filled with a growing sense of urgency, Astra reached for her communicator. She knew she had to warn the others. "We have to go, now!" Astra's voice crackled through the communicator. "We're in a trap made by AI, and it's creating more monsters." Nyx's heart pounded in his chest as he processed Astra's urgent message. Horror etched across his face, he quickly relayed the information to Seren, his voice filled with panic. "We need to get out of here, Seren," he urged, cutting the communication and bolting toward the library's window. As he peered outside, a sight beyond human comprehension unfolded before him. Hundreds of digital zombie-like ghosts emerged from the ground, their flickering forms reminiscent of corrupted code. The sheer number of them was overwhelming. But as Nyx scanned the sky above, his blood ran cold. A colossal, vividly detailed decaying human head, several hundred feet in length, was projected over the mansion's roof. It stared down at him with eyes that seemed to pierce through his very soul, its presence both hauntingly realistic and utterly otherworldly. The realization hit Nyx like a freight train. They were not just facing malevolent ghosts; they were caught in a nightmarish realm controlled by an AI with unimaginable power. Time was running out, and their only chance lay in escaping the twisted trap before it consumed them entirely.


“That’s it for tonight’s show! Have yourself a safe trip home!” The announcer made that statement about twenty minutes ago, but I still stand here. My ears are ringing from the loud music. The last stanza of the Angel Wings hit song echoes through my brain repeatedly.  “Shut Up, Shut Up, Just Shut the Hell Up!” I don’t even like the song. But I’m mesmerized by the cute girls who sing it. I know I’m too old to be following a K-pop group. I think their ages are from eighteen to twenty-one and I’m forty. The open stadium is empty except for me. I’m standing here among the empty plastic cups, food wrappers, and half-burnt-out glow sticks. The ground is covered with confetti that drifts like colorful snow blowing back and forth. At last, a big sweeper emerges from a side door to clean up the mess, and the driver yells at me,  “Come on, buddy, we’re closed! You got to leave!” With my head still throbbing, I look at him with dull eyes. “I’ve got nowhere to go.” And that’s the truth. “I don’t give a shit!” he frowns. “Get out, or I’ll call the cops!” A cold night wind blows as I stagger into the empty parking lot. It tugs at my hair and clothes. I feel like I’m in the middle of a desert rather than the big city of Tokyo. I used to have a nice job working in a video store in Tanuma, 93 kilometers away. I was the manager.  One day I heard this catchy little tune on my radio by a K-pop group named Angel Wings. I was intrigued and looked them up. That was about two years ago, and they were even younger then.  So I started watching their videos and TV appearances.  Next, I had to get every CD they put out. Like some kind of teenage kid, I had posters on my walls, expensive figurines, all kinds of stuff. Ultimately, I started planning my weekends to travel to Korea and watch live shows. That cost a lot of money, but I felt I had to do it if I wanted to follow them as a true fan.  My friends, those who used to be my friends, all think I’m crazy and have stopped associating with me because all I ever talk about is Angel Wings. Turning my collar to the cold, I scan the street before me for an alley where I might spend the night. Spotting an all-night diner, I decide I have enough on my credit card to buy a coffee.   The sign out front simply says, “Welcome.” Stepping inside, I first notice that it’s nice and warm. The scent of coffee fills the air, and I breathe it in deeply. The place is small and covered with wood paneling. The main feature is the wrap-around counter with swivel bar stools. A gentleman is sitting on the last stool. He grumbles, gives me a disgusted look, and resumes reading his paper. After waiting for five minutes, I ask the man reading the paper if there was someone to serve me. “Yeah. That would be me,” he answeres without looking up. “What do you want?” My mouth drops open. “Why didn’t he just ask me that when I came in?” I think to myself. “I’d like a cup of coffee, please.” He sighs heavily, folds his paper, takes a hit off his cigarette, and goes behind the counter. Then, over his shoulder, he calls, “I suppose you want something in it.” “Cream and sugar, please.” After a moment’s pause, he turns angrily and glares at me. “How many?” “How many?” Shaking his head, he then pronounces each word clearly and slowly to make sure that stupid me understands. “How many sugars and how much cream .”

 “No cream, just three sugars, thanks.” He brings my coffee over, “You come from that concert down the street?” “Yeah,” I answer while placing my credit card on the counter. Again he sighs while pointing to the sign above my head that reads, “Cash Only.” I reach into my pocket, take out all my change, and place it on the counter. “That’s it, that’s all I got.” Without counting it, he palms his left hand under the counter’s edge and sweeps the change into it. He deposits it into his dirty apron pocket,  “ You’re a little old for that kind of music, aren’t you? What are you, some kind of pervert? You get off looking at little girls?” My face turns red.  I snap.  “Who the hell are you? It’s bad enough that you’re rude, but I won’t stand for being called a pervert!”   He arches his eyebrow and runs his tongue over his teeth, turning away from me. “Hey!” I scream. “Where do you get off saying such a thing? I want to know!” “You want to know? Well, I’ll tell you. Since she was little, my daughter had always wanted to be a K-pop idol. At sixteen, she found a company to take her on and train her. She signed a contract for eight years that, during that time, they would house her, feed her, and pay for all her clothes. Sounds great, doesn’t it?  They house you in a dormitory of fifty other girls, five to a room. They charge you for everything.  You must pay them back when you start making money. So right away, she owed the company 3,502.3074 yen. My poor daughter wasn’t beautiful, but she was nice-looking.  Looks matter the most, more so than your singing. Electronically they can fix your singing, but not your looks. She worked very hard and was in three different groups. She would go to meet and greet sessions and tell me how many older men wanted their picture taken with the lead singers but never with her. The company noticed this and figured she was not well-liked and was getting older. She was twenty-two. They let her go.  After she paid off her debt, she had nothing left. Six years of her life gone with nothing to show for it. The only thing she knew was how to sing and dance. She had no other life skills at all. She said all the older men would stand in the front, drooling over the lead singers, and paid no attention to the backups. She once sobbed to me, “We’re entertainers! We’re real people! We have feelings too!”

He places his hands on the counter and drops his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry I called you a pervert before. I realize now that you are a victim too. To these big companies, these girls aren’t real they’re just a product to sell, and if they don’t sell, they’re dropped from the product line. They’re shown how to look you in the eye as they sing, so it seems they only sing to you. They smile and seem glad to see you. During a photo shoot, they are told to hold your hand to make it more personal and make you feel special. The company does all this because they know that men like you are probably lonely. So they draw you in and take you for every yen they can get leaving you with not even enough change to pay for a cup of coffee.” Looking at my partial reflection in my cup of coffee, I ask the question I’m sure I already know the answer to. “Where’s your daughter now?” In a small, sad voice, he replies, “She took her own life because she couldn’t see any other future. She knew she would never obtain her dream. You’re still young, and you can still start over. Go home, find a good job, and leave this all behind. Go and live a real life and be happy.” A tear runs down my nose and drips into my cup of coffee. I stand, bow to the gentleman, and say I’m sorry for his loss. We embrace before I walk out into the night to begin again.


Rain drenched the city. A man in a trench coat and baseball cap, but no umbrella, walked across the slick city streets against the flow of the crowd. Joel’s teeth chattered as he looked at all the faces walking towards him, shadowed by their black umbrellas. He took several deep breaths.

When he came to an alleyway between two tall buildings, he quickly turned away from the crowds and walked into the alley. He leaned against the brick wall, closed his eyes, and took some deep breaths.

“You okay?” asked a gravelly voice.

Joel opened his eyes with a start. Against the brick wall opposite him was an elderly man sitting on the ground in the corner formed by the dumpster and the building. The stranger was huddled under a black, plastic garbage bag. He was shivering violently, water dripping from his grizzled grey beard, and he looked up at Joel with deep, brown eyes. Thunder rolled above them, Joel relaxed.

“I struggle with crowds,” Joel said. Then he put his hands in his coat pockets and stepped over to the stranger. “Do you have a dry place to stay?”

The stranger bit his lip in thought, and looked around on the ground as if the answer were there somewhere. Then he looked back up at Joel and said, “I don’t know. I got lost, and then it started raining. I thought it would be best to wait out the rain here.”

Joel offered the stranger his hand. “Come with me,” he said, “and you can wait out the storm in my dry apartment.” The stranger looked at Joel a moment, then took his hand and stood, leaving his plastic garbage bag behind.

The two men walked out of the alley in silence, and walked back up the street the way Joel had come. They continued silently into Joel’s building, and up the five flights of stairs to his floor.

“I’m here,” Joel finally said. They stopped in front of a wooden door with the brass numbers 535. He fished out his keys and unlocked the door. The stranger looked around curiously as they entered and Joel locked the door behind them.

The entryway was small and led to the living room. There was a black leather sofa with some worn patches, and a lamp in the corner next to the back windows overlooking the residents of the building across the street. A short Ikea bookcase spanned the length of the floor underneath the windows. On top of that a dozen or so framed pictures of people. A framed folded American flag was sitting among the pictures. The bottom shelf was full of thick, colorful books with cartoon animals and characters on the spines, and in another corner was a wicker basket filled with children’s toys. All over the walls were more framed pictures of the same people, all the way to the entryway where the two men stood.

“Welcome,” Joel said. He took off his trench coat, put it on a hanger from the coat closet, and walked into the bathroom. He hung it up on one of three bars he had rigged to span the width of his bathtub from the shower curtain to the wall. His trench coat then dripped into the tub. His baseball cap he hung on a metal peg at the back of the tub. When he returned to his guest, the stranger was dripping all over the floor as he stared at one of the pictures in the entryway.

“Here, let me take your coat, and I’ll hang it up,” Joel said, grabbing another hanger. He hung up the stranger’s coat next to his own. Before returning to the entryway, he went into his room and opened his closet. He grabbed some jeans, a T-Shirt, a worn leather belt, and a pair of white underwear. When he came back, the stranger was still looking at the pictures on the wall in the entryway.

“Recognize someone?” Joel asked.

The stranger squinted a little looking at the picture and said, “Not sure. This your family?”

“Yessir,” Joel said, shifting the clothes in his arms so he could point to each person in the most recent family photo.

“This is my dad,” he said. “He was a big cowboy, and my mom, she passed away about four years ago. This here is me, I’m the oldest, and then my two little sisters. Janessa, who is in Dallas working as a graphic designer for an advertising agency, and Rema, who is in LA pursuing a dream of being a screenwriter.” The stranger nodded approvingly, still looking at the photo. Joel smiled.

“Here, I brought you some dry clothes,” Joel said. The stranger finally turned and looked at Joel, who handed him the pile. “These belonged to an old roommate of mine, and I just haven’t gotten rid of them yet. But I think they might be just about your size. Don’t worry, the whitey-tighties are clean. I-uh-I just took them out of the bag. My roommate left those too.” The stranger lifted the greying underwear and examined it doubtfully. Joel cleared his throat.

“You can change in the bathroom. Feel free to use whatever towel you find to dry off. And when you’re done, go ahead and have a seat in the dining room over there.” He pointed toward a doorway on the other side of the living room. The stranger nodded. “Meanwhile, I will dry off in my bedroom, and then I’ll make some soup for us both to enjoy and to help warm us up.” The stranger gave a weak smile, and then turned and entered the bathroom.

A few moments later, all the wet clothes were hanging in the bathroom, dripping into the tub, and both men were in the kitchen/dining room while Joel stirred a pot filled with two cans of Progresso Beef Pot Roast with Country Vegetables. The stranger looked around the kitchen. The linoleum was old and coming up in a couple corners. The appliances were also not recent additions. On the counter sat a bright red panini maker, a blender, and a small basket of fresh fruit--apples, bananas, and oranges. Hanging from the oven handle was a brightly colored hand towel with a barn and a rooster on it. “Nice towel,” the stranger said while Joel stirred the soup. Joel looked at the towel and smiled.

“Yeah, that’s a special towel,” he said. “It’s from the home I grew up in. Like I said, my dad was a big cowboy fan, and he loved ranches and farms and the agricultural life. So much of our home décor reflected that.”

“So your dad was a rancher, or farmer?”

“No, he was a brilliant mechanical engineer actually. The cowboy thing was more of a hobby, or a break from his daily grind, that our whole family partook in. My sisters and I all got riding lessons, and more than one family vacation was spent traveling to Texas for the state fair.”

“Well, they do know how to do it there in Texas,” the stranger said.

Joel nodded as he turned the soup off.

“My dad also liked old World War II films,” Joel said, getting two bowls from a cupboard and setting them on the table. “My sisters and I can still quote lines and scenes from ‘The Great Escape,’ ‘Midway,’ ‘The Dirty Dozen’ and a plethora of others.”

The stranger nodded again. “It sounds like I would have liked your father.”

Joel smiled, putting glasses in front of the bowls. “Yeah, I think you two would have gotten along very well.”

“Is that flag for your father?” the stranger asked, pointed towards the bookshelf in the living room. “That? No, that’s mine,” Joel said. “All those war movies apparently had an effect on me, and I ended up joining the marines when I was old enough.” Joel placed spoons on the table. “That flag flew over the base I was stationed at in Afghanistan on September 11th of the year I was there. My parents had it framed after I got home.”

“Well, thank you for your service,” the stranger said. Joel just smiled awkwardly and nodded.

“I usually eat this soup with some slices of bread with butter on them, would you like any?” Joel asked.

“Yeah, that sounds really good,” said the stranger perking up a little. Joel smiled and opened the fridge. He pulled out a half loaf of whole wheat bread and some butter.

“So, where is your father now?” the stranger asked. “Is he retired or something?” Joel put the bread and butter on the table.

“Or something,” Joel said. He turned and went to the silverware drawer again, pulling out a knife.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” The stranger said as Joel put the knife on the table. Then the stranger reached over and put his hand on Joel’s. His deep brown eyes staring up at Joel.

“He will always be there with you, even if you can’t see him,” the stranger said. “I know that for a fact.” Joel smiled a sad smile.

“Thank you,” he said, walking back to the stove. “He’s not actually dead, but for all intents and purposes, he is gone.” Joel grabbed a cork hot pad from beside the stove, and then picked up the pot and returned to the table.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Joel said, putting down the cork hot pad and setting the pot on it. “We often talk about that. How people who have passed on to the next life are somehow with us still.” He sat down across from the stranger. “But we rarely talk about those who have not passed on to the next life physically, but mentally they aren’t the same person any more. It’s like the person they were is dead, and a stranger has taken over their body.”

The stranger nodded knowingly. “In many ways, that’s harder than just saying goodbye,” he said.

Joel looked at the stranger without a word. Then he scooted his chair in more and asked,

“Do you mind if we say grace?”

“It’s your home, do as you please,” the stranger said. They both bowed their heads, and Joel began.

“Father in Heaven, we thank thee for this warm food, and for the chance we have to enjoy it together. Thank you for the safety we both have received tonight. We ask thee to bless this food, and please watch over my guest here. Continue to bless him with safety and health. Amen.”

The stranger looked up at him. “Thank you,” he said. Joel smiled as he ladled some soup into their bowls.

“Beef stew is my dad’s favorite, you know,” Joel said, buttering a slice of bread and handing it to the stranger.

“A good beef stew is hard to beat,” said the stranger, dipping his bread into the stew. “There’s just something about meat, potatoes, and carrots that helps remind a man of where he came from. That there was once a day when such dishes were a staple of everyday life.”

“Yeah, that’s one reason my dad liked cowboys,” Joel said with a mouthful of bread. He swallowed. “He said that was a time when,” Joel made his voice deeper and sound like a movie announcer, “men were men, they knew what integrity was, and they knew the joy of a body aching with a full day’s hard labor.” Joel coughed and drank some water. The stranger chuckled a little.

“What does he do with himself now, in his ‘or something’?” The stranger asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Joel said. “I know he likes where he’s at, but he has always had this wanderlust, like a wild mustang that has been corralled. And sometimes he just needs some time away from it all.”

The stranger nodded his characteristic nod. “I know that feeling,” he said, dipping a second piece of buttered bread into his bowl.

“His engineering background has made it so that this mustang seems to understand every corral it is put into, and seems to find a way out no matter what,” Joel said between bites of soup.

The stranger paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. Then he set the spoon back into his bowl. He looked up at Joel.

“That is a serious call there,” the stranger said. “You gotta respect when that call comes. If you keep him locked up too tightly, he’ll most likely die from the panic of it all.”

“Oh, there’s no disrespecting that call,” Joel said, eating the last spoonful of soup in his bowl. “He will get out no matter what we do. So, when he does, I go find him, we spend some time together, and I take him back until the next time the call comes. That's why I’m here.”

“Here in the city? This apartment?” the stranger asked.

“All of it,” Joel replied. “My dad’s old enough he needed some extra help. I had just started being a part-time dad, and was in a position to easily move closer to him to offer that extra help. And my sisters could stay put with their families and careers.”

The stranger nodded as he wiped out his empty bowl with a piece of bread. Then he gave Joel a quizzical look. “Part-time dad?”

Joel looked down and started scraping gravy from his bowl. “Yeah, after years of programs, drugs, and therapies, my PTSD was much better, but I still have some triggers that won’t go away.”

“Like crowds?” asked the stranger.

Joel nodded. “Yeah, like crowds. So, right now the best solution is I live separately, and my wife and kids come visit me regularly.” There was no more gravy in Joel’s bowl, but he kept scraping at it. “I have my robots I tinker with, and a check from Uncle Sam each month -- I’m considered 100% disabled -- and I meet up with my dad every so often. It’s not what I planned, it’s not the ideal, but it’s what I got.” Joel finally looked up at the stranger, who was staring at him. “And it’s a lot better than it could have been.”

Joel stuck his spoon in his mouth and pulled it out clean of any gravy that might have still been there. Then he dropped it into his glass bowl with a clank.

“Well, I am full, and much warmer now,” Joel said. “How about you?”

The stranger blinked his eyes, cleared his throat, and looked down at his empty bowl. “Uh-um, yeah, yeah. I’m done. That was delicious. Thank you for your hospitality tonight.”

Joel looked at the stranger earnestly. “It was my pleasure,” he said with a smile. Then he grabbed his bowl and stood up. He walked to the sink and put his dishes in.

“I know a shelter nearby that you can stay at for the night,” Joel said, returning to the table. “Because I doubt you want to crash on my sofa.”

“Oh, no,” the stranger said. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be, and a real bed would be incredible.” The stranger stood up and walked to the front door while Joel finished clearing the table. When Joel joined him, the stranger was pulling on his grey rattlesnake skin boots and Joel had a black garbage bag in hand.

“I’m going to put your wet clothes in here for transportation purposes,” he told the stranger. “And then the ladies at the shelter will take care of them from there, if that’s alright with you.” The stranger nodded. “And go ahead and keep these clothes.” Joel said, disappearing into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a much fuller plastic bag.

Joel led the stranger to the parking garage where his orange manual transmission 1994 Honda Accord was parked. In no time they were out on the road. The rain was just a drizzle now, but traffic was still slow.

They traveled in silence once again. Each lost in thought. The stranger picked at his hands. Joel sighed deeply as he maneuvered through the streets. Eventually, they drove past a sign that read, “Forest Village Lifecare Community,” and Joel pulled into the parking lot behind the sign. They both got out of the car. The stranger looked at the large white buildings and neatly trimmed lawns.

“Whoa,” he said. “This is the nicest shelter I’ve ever seen in my life.” Joel smiled with a soft laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you to Julie.”

They walked through a pair of sliding glass doors, and met a woman standing at a white desk. She was in her late 40’s and obviously dyed her hair red. She smiled when she saw them walking toward her.

“Evening Julie,” Joel said.

“Well, hello again, Joel,” she responded.

“I was wondering if you might have some room here tonight for my friend,” Joel indicated the stranger, who smiled sheepishly.

Julie smiled a toothy grin. “I think we can work something out for him,” she said. Then she turned and called down a side hallway, “Jim! Can you come escort our guest? I believe room 275 is currently vacant.” A man about Joel’s age, but with a much larger chest and biceps, appeared out of the hall. He looked at the stranger and smiled kindly.

“Follow me, sir,” he said. The stranger quickly turned to Joel, and grabbed Joel’s hands.

“Thank you for all the care you have given me tonight,” he said. “I will never forget it.” Joel smiled and nodded as his eyes began to well up. Then Jim led the stranger out of the lobby and down the hall.

Joel sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve as he watched the stranger and Jim get into the elevator. The stranger smiled and waved at Joel as the doors closed. Joel waved back with a smile, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Bye,” Joel said softly. “Dad.”


         The Morphing Manipulators A terrific bright light lit up my bedroom as I slept in bed. It was a summer sunrise around 6.a.m. I should've drawn the curtains before going to bed. But, wait a moment! I never draw the curtains before bed, because I’m up twenty-two storeys. More importantly, there never Is a sunrise on this side of my flat anyway. Just how can this be? The sun always rises on the other side of my flat, where the living room is, northeast. And my bedroom is in the northwest direction! "Am I losing my mind? Anyway, I will not let this weird thing spoil my weekend break from my job as a freelance photographer. It’s such a lovely day I am going over the park. I plan on enjoying it by chilling out. With the park only less than a mile away, I decided to walk it. As I got to the entrance, I spotted an elderly lady acquaintance walking her dog.

”Hi, Mary. Is this your new dog?” I asked curiously because she was walking a Chihuahua instead of her little Scotch Terrier. “No, silly! you know I always walk Sadie over the park!” I decided not to argue the point. There was no way I would win this argument. “What’s wrong with you today, Pat?” “I’ve been taking her over the park for a good four years now.!”

She snapped. With that, I walked on sheepishly. I was so sure Mary’s dog was a Scotch Terrier!

I pondered on how weird the day has been as I continued walking over the park. After walking for some twenty minutes, I came up to the pond and went to sit down on a wooden bench.

Looking up, I saw an aircraft and heard its jet engines roaring. But, It seemed to be frozen In the air… “WTF!”

I shouted.

Some twenty seconds later, the plane started to move again. Now I was getting worried for my sanity. Shortly before this, I was wondering if I may be suffering from dementia. But at the age of thirty-five, I would think It unlikely. And to see a plane stuck in the air Is another story entirely. Indeed, Maybe I have a mental imbalance; whatever it is, I don’t like it. As I stared out to the pond, I noticed something else unusual I had never seen before at the pond. I was getting angry as I saw two pink swans; someone must have painted them. Why would anyone do that?

As I made my way out of the park, I commented to an elderly couple how terrible it was that someone would paint two swans pink! They stared at me, then looked at each other, and laughed. “What did I say funny?” I thought. I just wanted to get back home and get this day over with, the weirdest day of my life! After arriving back home, I thought I would google some things on my laptop. So I googled swan images, and some websites came up with swan images; every image showed pink swans! So I put up a standard colour for an adult swan it said - “pink!” Now I was unnerved. There was no such thing as a white swan. Now for the biggie. I googled ‘What direction is sunrise in Britain in the summertime?’Answer - northwest and set in the northeast. But how can this be? I always thought it was the opposite.

“How could I possibly make such an error as that?” I learned this from an encyclopedia from the age of nine, some twenty-one years ago. How can I suddenly not know this now? More to the point, how can the sunrise physically change its position after all these years?

I started to think, just what else has changed that I don’t know? Just then, the phone rang.

“Hello, is that Ryan Gibbs?” “No, Mate, you’ve got the wrong number!” “Who the hell is that?” I pondered!”  After such a trying day, I gathered up some goodies to nosh, ready to watch some television. Sitting on the sofa, I prepared to switch on the TV to watch some comedies. But, just as I grabbed the control box, It felt warm and clammy, and my heart began to pound as I felt static electricity run through my left arm, which then faded after a few seconds. Soon after, in front of my eyes, the box began to morph, making me jump and dropping the control on the floor. After that, the control changed from a black rectangle to a

red square controller.

I checked the control and saw all the buttons were there - standby, volume, same numbers, text, and so on. After composing myself from this inexplicable experience, I pressed the button for my channel. And there was my favourite stand-up comedian. I had loved this guy for around ten years. His brand of comedy was so refreshing and clever he stood out from the rest. So I used to say to my family and friends, just watch some Ben Davidson if ever you feel down. As I eagerly sat with popcorn in one hand and some juice in the other, I nearly choked on a kernel - not only was Ben’s jokes the worst ever, his manner was unrecognisable, and the clothes he wore were also completely different.

 Finally, the compere said - “Wow wasn’t he good tonight.” Then, “Please give a big hand for - Joey Witson!”

I felt stunned as I could feel the blood drain from my face; when I heard the compere give a

completely different name to someone I had been watching for ten years, known as Ben Davidson!

By now, I had had enough of today and went to bed. The following day, I planned to see my sister, Stacy, who lives in Dagenham. As I sat waiting for my bus, I caught sight of something fuzzy happening to a Jeweller’s sign across the road. The actual letters of the name of the Jeweller, Goldman, were morphing in front of my eyes, the name had changed to Bergman. Just then, my bus arrived.

Sitting on the bus on my way to Stacy, I thought about this weird process of morphing and the glitch I saw with the plane yesterday. I have read information about this on the internet. Some say we live in a holographic world, a matrix. I didn’t believe all those videos of morphing and glitches of planes and people on the internet. But, I have no doubt these things are real and scary and are now happening to me!

“Oh, there’s my stop!” After jumping off the bus,

I walked by some shops and turned into the road where Stacy’s home is.

But where is the road? I couldn’t see Elizabeth road anywhere! So I decided to phone Stacy for directions.

I had been here so many times; there was no excuse for me not to find the road. “Hello,”

“Hi, Stacy, It’s me, Pat!” “ I’m near where you live, but for some reason, I can’t find Elizabeth Road anywhere!” There was a long pause.  “I’m not surprised; there isn’t one here, you plonker!” She shouted and giggled. “It’s Queen Mary’s Road, where I live.”

“It’s just past the shops on your left.” “Damn, the Morpher strikes again!” This is getting beyond a joke now!”

As I turned into Stacy’s road, I checked the road sign, and it had changed from Elizabeth Road to Queen Mary’s Road. Moments later, I knocked on Stacy’s semi-detached home. Shortly after,

a large woman with black hair opened the door. At first, I thought I must have the wrong house, but on looking closer, it was Stacy, but double the size of the one I knew, and without her blond hair. I decided to just ride with this and just accept her as she was. I kissed her as I usually did and went inside.

Everything seemed normal inside the house until I saw some framed photographs on the mantelpiece.

I picked one of them up and could not think who the two people, bridegroom, and bride were.

I obviously couldn’t ask Stacy, but luckily she said: “That’s a lovely photo of Mum and Dad, isn’t it?”

The weird thing is I had only visited Stacy a month or so ago, and I saw a completely different photograph of Mum and Dad. This couple was taller, larger, and were nothing like the Mum and Dad I knew and loved.

I felt heartbroken for a moment, gritting my teeth, not to say anything to Stacy.  Finally, after visiting Stacy, I walked to the bus stop to get my bus back home. As I waited for my bus, I started to wonder, “ How come, It seems that only I can see these morphing things and glitches and no one else?” “Am I being punished by God or something?” “It’s all so surreal!” “Oh, no, that is ridiculous!” Suddenly buses came by on both sides of the road. But they were now the colour green instead of red! As my bus stopped, I jokingly asked the bus driver.

“What happened to all the red buses then?”

He looked at me strangely and said, “I’ve been a bus driver for nearly thirty years, mate, and; we have never had red buses!” That told me. Every day I experience a glitch or morph. I guess. It’s the normal thing now. And I better just live with it like someone with arthritis or something! As the days, then weeks passed, I played a game that every day there will be a morph or glitch somewhere and that because everyone but me seems oblivious to these things I would pretend nothing happened. Then I would quickly re-examine the morph and it is not normal. When I first did this, I noticed a pattern occur; the more I ignored a morph experience, then showed I realised this is wrong, things started to break up. For instance, I pretended not to see a pigeon frozen in flight a few feet away from my balcony. I just imagined this Is normal, then realised it’s unreal, and within seconds, I could see the matrix start to show itself; instead of the sky, part of a grid system shows up. And instead of the pigeon flying away, It dissolved.

Like Buddists say, “Self-realisation brings Enlightenment!”

So I began to ponder, “what if there were more people like me that realised this world was an illusion?”Imagine hundreds, if not thousands of people, if they realised the truth! Then, the matrix surely would collapse in no time. It was now time to scout for people like me to band together to fight the matrix. Whenever I am out, I will observe anyone see if they are alarmed at seeing a morphing or glitch. If so, then I would approach them. Tonight is a total lunar eclipse, weather permitting; I plan on observing it and trying out an experiment from my balcony. As I observed the moon, It became obscured by the Earth’s shadow, reflecting sunlight onto Its surface, causing it to become blood red. After accepting this as a natural event, Moments later, I quickly looked at the moon in disbelief. Then, I saw the Moon start to flicker as if it was a lightbulb ready to go out. So, then, the Moon is a part of the matrix! “Just imagine what a group of people could do?” I thought, eager to find non-believers in this world. Tomorrow will be interesting as I put this mind trick to effect whenever I see another matrix anomaly.

After going to bed, I was awakened by hearing some strange noises in my bedroom; It was 2 a.m; I got out of bed and switched on the light to check it out. Then on the floor, I saw my passport opened. It had changed my name to “Ryan Gibbs!” I was flabbergasted, now the Matrix was making this personal! By now, I was so tired I just wanted to go to sleep. The following day was sunny and beautiful. I planned a photographic trip around the city of London to see and photograph the sights for work. I would also try to take pictures of any morphing I saw.

Sadly, I had to travel on those awful green buses instead of the traditional red bus.

 Finally, I got off my stop and walked along the river Thames.  As

I walked along the Embankment, some Japanese tourists asked me if I would photograph their little group with their camera; I agreed and thought it would be lovely to photograph them standing close to one of the large Egyptian Sphinx statues on the embankment. When I looked through their camera viewfinder, I felt my heart pound as I saw the Sphynx behind the tourist begin to morph; To my amazement, the Japanese were unphased when they turned around and looked at a large lion instead of the Sphinx! Annoyingly, I was unable to do my mind trick to interrupt the morphing process!

Soon after, I went on the London Eye to get some aerial shots of the London landscape. There were only five people in my pod, so I had more space to maneuver for better angles when photographing through the glass. Moments later, the wheel slowly began to turn. I was taking some good wide-angle shots, including the glistening water of the Thames and Big Ben. I took more pictures of Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. Just then, I was focusing on The Houses of Parliament when my camera lens seemed to go out of focus. As I refocused, the landmark was gone! Instead, in its place was a large park, full of trees and what seemed like some monuments. I felt stunned, to lose such a landmark as The Houses of Parliament is extraordinary! As usual, no one seemed to blink an eye. But as I turned my attention to the middle-aged woman, she appeared visibly startled. She had been pointing her camera in the same direction as me. I walked over to her, “It is a bit of a shock, isn’t It?” I said. “Have you seen this sort of thing happen before?” I enquired.

She looked up at me and said nervously: “I’m sa, sorry! seen, seen what happened before?” She pretended nothing had happened. She was in complete denial.  I tried to coax her: “Listen, you’re not alone; this sort of thing is happening to me every day!” I started to tell her of my experiences. She finally calmed down, told me her name was Sheila, and began to pay attention to me.

After we got off the London Eye, we sat on a bench and Sheila went on to describe her second experience of morphing:

“It happened a few weeks ago!” She said, “she was about to post a letter into the post box when it morphed into a telephone box.” “People passing by her were oblivious to the morphing. Only she observed it.” She said. I later explained to her what seemed to be going on, all about the matrix. And my plan on gathering as many people as possible who see morphs and how we can fight the changes. We arranged to see each other again next week. When I got back home and rested, I thought about how difficult it would be to beat this morphing business. Then I thought about the Houses of Parliament and just what the consequences would be if the Prime minister and MPs were in the building at the time of the morphing. I switched on the television for the news, and as I thought, It was as if nothing had happened.  Later I checked Youtube on my laptop for any morph sightings; my heart suddenly jumped when I spotted a video. Several people in the Scottish Highlands claimed to have seen a helicopter frozen in mid-air for more than thirty seconds; then, it flew away. It seems more and more people every day are experiencing glitches and morphing. People are becoming more aware of this Matrix. After a few months, I had got in contact with thirty people who’d morph experiences. We were going out in groups of six, regularly scouting for new members. And would abort any morphing activity whenever we could. Sheila, me, and four others had discovered a correlation with ley lines and grid lines of the Matrix, and we found a big one where London Bridge is situated. We plan to smash a big hole in the matrix above the bridge.

It was a moonless night and a clear sky as we drove in a van to London Bridge. By midnight, a powerful time to work against the Matrix, we scaled up the bridge, and together all of us concentrated our thoughts on the Leyline coordinates. We imagined a hole in the sky, increasing in size. Suddenly there was a burst of light, and we could see a type of electricity around a massive gap. And finally, there above us were grid lines, holding the matrix structure together. We all cheered and got down and back into the van.

It was a significant success, and finally, we finished the night off, drinking some champagne at my flat. Sheila stayed a while after the others had left.

We chatted about our victory and how everyone did well. Then, I started to feel groggy; as I glanced over at Sheila on the sofa, her body began to pulsate. Then it flickered and started to morph, Sheila or whatever it was started to speak:- “Human, your victory is short-lived, you and your kind can never beat this World of Illusion!”                                       End


It was a slow evening, even for a Tuesday. I packed up my guitar early, slinging it over my shoulder as I rummaged through the tip jar for the price of a hotdog. I was ten cents short, but Joe let me slide for it. He filled a napkin with some scraps for Bonnie, and we headed over to our bench to watch the moon rise over the river. Someone was already sitting there, hunched shoulders and an air of dejection. Bonnie trotted over to him, her ears pricked up, tail awagging as he patted her muzzle. “Sorry, I don’t have any spare change,” he told me flatly. “I feel that, brother. I ain’t lookin’ for a handout, just a share of the view.” He shifted over, and I joined him, noticing the perfect tailoring of his navy suit, the carefully manicured fingernails and fancy Rolex. Clearly a man of means, yet he looked sort of hollow, like that feeling you get in your gut when you haven’t eaten in a day or two. He watched as Bonnie settled herself at my feet, looking up expectantly. I put her napkin on the floor and she set right to eating, picking each piece as delicately as though it were filet mignon and not dried up hamburger meat scraped from the griddle. “You seem kinda bummed out, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so,” I broke my hotdog in half and offered the bigger half to him. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” I shrugged, taking a bite myself, the tangy relish making my mouth water. “Suit yourself. Joe’s hotdogs are the best around, though. You’re missin’ a treat.” We sat in companionable silence, while I finished my supper. I wiped my mouth on a napkin and tossed the paper tray into the trashcan beside me. Bonnie licked the grease from my fingers and spun around in a circle, before settling back down in a puddle of golden fur to nap. “I’m a good listener,” I said gently. “If’n there’s somethin’ on your mind, might be good to put it into words. That’s what my shrink used to say, anyways.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t know where to start. “This time last year I thought I had everything I could ever wish for. A beautiful wife, my career was taking off. I was headed in the right direction, you know?” I nodded. “Then I won the lottery, and it’s all been downhill since then.” He pulled a duffel bag out from under the bench, grabbed the zip and yanked it open.

“See?” The bag was bursting with hundred-dollar bills, all rolled tightly with elastic bands. More money than I’d ever seen in my whole life. “That’s a whole lotta greenbacks.” I looked around us, checking the shadows to make sure we were alone. “This ain’t the kinda area you wanna be carryin’ that kind of cash around.” He smiled wryly. “That’s why I came here. Figured sooner or later someone would take it off my hands.” “You don’t want it?” I was confused. “What’s wrong with it?” “Maybe nothing. I don’t know,” he replied. “I thought when my numbers came up that my whole life would be a fairytale – one of the jet setters, you know? Tropical vacations, fancy cars, a big house on the right side of town for once. Thought it would take away all my worries, set my family up for life.” He closed the bag and tossed it back onto the ground. “Boy was I wrong.” He took a silver cigarette case out of his jacket pocket, like some old time movie star on the black and white screen. He offered me one. “Thanks, but I quit.” “Me too, me too.” Hi lit up, taking a long drag that sent the tip blazing red. “Guess that’s another promise I’m going back on tonight.” “There’s always tomorrow, man.” He shook his head. “I’m done on tomorrows and talk of brighter futures. I’ve made my peace with it.” I was growing concerned. The dude sounded suicidal, and I wondered if I ought to run back to Joes, ask him to call someone. “Don’t talk like that,” I told him. “We all got to go through dark times. It’s what makes the better days seem so good.” “But what if all the better days are behind you? What if you wasted them all without even knowing it?” I thought about it. “How can you be so sure, though? Ain’t none of us can see the future. For all you know, your luck could change tomorrow. Be a shame to miss it, don’t you think?” He offered a pinched and cynical smile. “You hold on to that way of thinking, then. I hope it works out for you. But me, I’m out. As soon as I find someone to take this load off my shoulders, I’m gone.” I could tell he meant it. Was even cheerful about the prospect – what had happened to him that made oblivion seem like the best option? “Well, seems like you puttin’ me in a tricky predicament, man. I can’t just leave you here now, that ain’t gonna sit right with my conscience. How’s about you tell me how things got to this point?” Bonnie twitched in her sleep, as though sensing something bad in the air. He looked at her, and then at his hands, in his lap. “Fine. It’s not a long story. Like I said – I won the lottery, a year ago today. Won big - $62 million after taxes. Not too shabby, huh?” I nodded. “I threw a party to share the news with my family and friends. I planned it so well. Bought Mom and Dad a house, right next door to my little sister and her kids. Real pretty neighborhood, tennis courts, a community pool – nice location, safe. Sent them away on a vacation, the whole family, off to Disney, while I set it all up. They didn’t know about the winnings – thought I’d just got a big promotion. Assumed I was too busy working to join them.” “That’s nice of you. Not everyone would share like that.” “I’m not the type to keep that kind of thing for myself – I wanted to share it with everyone I loved.” His eyes were watery, and his voice was thick with emotion. “I booked limos from the airport straight to the community centre, hired caterers, balloon arches, the works. All my friends were there, and we waited for the limos to arrive. I was like a kid on Christmas morning, handing out gift bags with $10k in cash to all my friends and cousins. Like some kind of crazy Santa Claus. When they didn’t show up, I figured their flight was delayed.” He wiped a tear on the back of his hand, and Bonnie woke up, looking concerned. She lay her velvety nose in his lap, licking gently at the salt on his fingers. “Flight 183?” I asked, remembering the newspaper headlines from the year before. “Flight 183. All souls lost. You read about that kind of thing, but you never think it’ll happen to you and yours. I’d give it all, all $62 million, if I could take it back.” “It wasn’t your fault, though. Wasn’t nobody’s fault.” “They wouldn’t have been on that plane if I didn’t buy them the tickets. I just wanted those kids to have a treat, you know? They’d had it rough, their Dad was no good, flaked out on them when Caitlyn was knocked up with the youngest. Never had any money for theme parks and vacations.” He took out his cell phone, showed me a photo. A friendly-looking couple in their 70’s, arms around each other, flanked by a pretty brunette woman and three cute kids. Everyone grinning in front of the pink castle. “Looks like they had the time of their lives,” I could hear the false cheer in my voice. “Yeah, yeah I guess so.” He put the phone away. “My whole family, dead and gone in an instant. And the money to blame. They never got to step foot inside their beautiful new homes – instead of buying bunkbeds and emptying the aisles in ToysRUS, I got to pick out coffins and floral wreaths. Do you know how small a child’s coffin is?” He took another deep puff on his cigarette, flicking the ash on the ground. “I’m sorry, man. That’s awful, ain’t nobody deserve that kinda luck.” “Yeah. And I still had my friends and wife, right? They’d be there for me. That’s what I thought.” He reached down to stroke Bonnie’s ears, seemed to take some comfort in the loving way she gazed up at him. “My friends all changed, faster than a red light when there’s a cop behind you. The small taste of money I’d given was not enough. It only whet their appetites. I’d go over to their homes for barbeques or dinner parties, only to find it was a set-up. Sob story after sob story, from everyone I ever knew, even people I didn’t. Someone’s mom has cancer, another’s dog needs surgery… kids summer camps, new cars… it was endless. I never said no, but each time it broke my heart a little more. That they didn’t care about me, only what I could buy them.” “I’m sure that ain’t true, man. They were your friends before the lottery when you weren’t rich.” “But it all changed, don’t you see? The way they looked at me changed. It was in their eyes, a constant hunger, a jealousy. Never mind I’d lost so much – they all envied me just the same. I could see it in every one of their faces – the same question. What’s so special about him ?” Across the park I could see Joe closing up shop for the night. A slight breeze rippled over the river, sending shards of moonlight scattering across its surface. “What about your wife?” I asked. “What about her? I turned my full attention to her. Lavish gifts – diamond bracelets, Pomeranian puppies, designer shoes and bags… I just wanted her to be happy, for my money to do some good at least. And for a while, it worked. She was like a kid in a candy store, buying everything she wanted. My credit card bill each month was astronomical. I didn’t care.” In the distance a fire engine siren wailed as it sped down the freeway. I shivered, despite the warmth of the evening. “What changed?” “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know. At some point, it was like there was nothing left of us, like all the things we loved about each other became lost in a sea of useless possessions. She was a shopaholic, filled whole rooms with clothes and make-up. By the time I noticed it was too late to stop her. She even got storage units just so she could keep on collecting. I understood why – she grew up piss poor, never had much of anything. It was like she was trying to buy a happier childhood, better memories. Only it just made her worse.” “Couldn’t she see a shrink?” I asked. “She did, for all the use it did us. They diagnosed a hoarding disorder. But it was more than that. Her temper became unbearable. If I so much as tried to toss an old pizza box she flipped out. I hired cleaners, she fired them. Nobody was allowed to touch her stuff. Eventually I just moved out, left her to it. I don’t think she even noticed I was gone. At least, not as much as she noticed the money stopping.” He nudged the bag with his foot. “There’s a little over $1 mil in there. All that’s left of my winnings. Over $60 million spent in less than a year, must be some sort of a record, right?” He laughed bitterly. “A million’s still a whole lot, from where I’m sittin’. You could start over, take it and rebuild a new life for yourself. Don’t have to end tonight.” “I considered it. I was a successful man once, and I liked my job. Should never have quit it, really, but it seemed silly to keep working when I was so wealthy.” “So go back, ask your boss for a fresh start!” He looked me up and down. “What would you do, right now, if I gave you this bag? If this million dollars was yours, no strings attached?” I leaned back, imagining all the ways I could use it. Get out of the hostel, buy a condo, maybe go to college or something. A fresh start, no more busking for quarters on street corners. Bonnie could get proper dog food, no more scraps of hot dogs. All the tennis balls she could dream of. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Thinking you’d have done a better job with it than I did.” “I guess so. It’s mighty temptin’ – almost scary, the way just the thought of that wealth makes me feel.” He stood up. “Well, it’s yours, if you want it. All of it. I don’t need money anymore. Not where I’m headed.” “Wait!” I grabbed his arm, Bonnie jumping up and putting her paws on his shoulders. “Why should I?” He asked. “It’s not my burden anymore. It’s yours.” “Then give me this, man. Come with me, see what I do with it. Aren’t you curious, even a little bit?” He didn’t look curious, only tired. But he let me lead him across the park, past the basketball courts and down towards the municipal buildings. He seemed confused. Bonnie nudged him gently to keep him moving. We reached the city pound. The sound of dogs barking in the kennels out back had always broken my heart. Bonnie faltered too, perhaps remembering her own fear and sadness, before I rescued her. It was a hopeless place, a place where dreams came to die. A place where day after day the kind volunteers worked tirelessly to undo some of the cruelty of mankind. I dropped the heavy bag on the doorstep, where it landed with a solid thud. I rang the doorbell, three short buzzes, three long. We waited. “Hello, Bonnie!” Darryl was on duty tonight. He knelt down, and Bonnie leapt up to cover his face in sloppy kisses. “Are you hungry? I can go find you something…” “She’s fine, Darryl. We both are.” “Then what can I do for you?” He glanced at the man beside me, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out why I was with such a well-dressed companion. “This gentleman’s been goin’ through a tough time. He’s had a mighty big burden on his shoulders for too long, and I said we could help him with it.” I unzipped the bag at my feet. Darryl gasped. “What the heck…? Did you rob a bank?” “No, nothin’ like that. The money’s legit. He wants to donate it, don’t you?” I turned to the man, who was openly crying now, his knees buckling as he slumped by the side of the building. Bonnie curled up beside him, resting her big old head on his knee. “Yes…” he sobbed. “Yes, I think that I do.” “You see, man, this money ain’t cursed. You just had bad luck, is all. And Bonnie here, she had bad luck too. All these dogs ‘n’ cats, they all got a big dose of the unluckies. But now, you’re givin’ them a fresh chance. A new life. They’ll get new families, forever homes. Your money can do some real good. And you can go back to bein’ who you was always meant to be.” I patted him on the shoulder. Darryl took the bag, shaking his head in confusion. “This is unorthodox… we’ll need to know where it came from, there’s legal stuff to sort out with a gift this big.” “You see? You can’t die now, or they can’t accept your donation. You gotta stick about a bit longer, see it through. Think you can do that, man? Think you can see it through?” He nodded, and I whistled for Bonnie. She gave him a last lick and trotted over to walk beside me. “But why didn’t you take the money for yourself?” He asked as I shuffled back towards my bench by the river. “Wouldn’t it have made your life better?” “I’ve got Bonnie, and I’ve got my old guitar. Reckon that’s more than enough for me.”


A honeyed breeze carried the chatter of finches as Azi lay on the green lawn. She stared above, deep in thought, her eyes tracing the honeycomb structure of the dome. The sound of footsteps padding snapped her out of her daze. She turned to see Ascot marching over.

“Good afternoon Miss!” He announced himself and stood to attention in front of her, moustache bristling in the breeze.

“Hello Ascot.” “I’ve come to inform you that dinner is ready.” “I’m reading at the moment, I’ll eat later.” She gestured vaguely to the book cast aside on the grass. “Your father would like a word with you before he leaves, if you don’t mind.” “And if I do mind?” Ascot said nothing. Azi shot him a sideways glance, then smiled and got up.

“Fine, let’s go then.” Azi walked along the hallway, the marble floor cool on her bare feet. Ascot’s footsteps echoed behind her. Streams of light cut through the kitchen, shining onto a long dining table where her father sat scribbling in his leather dossier. Azi sat down and took a plate before he glanced up, as if noticing them for the first time. “Thank you Ascot.” “Sir.” He turned and left.

Azi began arranging food on her plate and her father went back to his dossier. After a few minutes he flicked it shut, sat back and stared at Azi.

“Good afternoon Azi.” “Hi Dad.” He rested his chin on a fist. “How was school today? Interesting?” She pulled a face. “Oh yes, another fascinating day learning about hydroponics.”

A glimmer of a smile passed across her father’s mouth. “Now, sarcasm isn’t going to get you very far in life. Besides, you might need that knowledge in the future - we always need more biochemists.” “Hmm, think I’ll pass on that. How about the Senate?” “I wouldn’t recommend it sweetheart. Long hours.” He smiled at her. “In fact that’s what I wanted to speak to you about - I won’t be home for a night or two, there’s an event on in town, unavoidable I’m afraid.” “So? You’re always away.” He paused and looked out of the window. “I wanted to make sure that you’re comfortable with Ascot watching the house, I know he’s only new. I could arrange for some others to come if it’d make you feel more secure.” “Dad, he’s been here for months. Besides, what do you expect to happen? Literally every house in this neighbourhood has guards. We’ll be fine.” “Two months. And Azi, I'm not sure you’re aware but there’s been some serious trouble from the dust lately. A man of my office naturally has a target on his back, and that unfortunately extends to you as well.“ “Would you get over yourself? You act like you’re in the Inner Circle already, you’ve only been a senator a couple of months. I’ll be fine.” He sat scrutinising her for a moment, then rubbed his chin, picked up his dossier and stretched. “Fine, we’ll leave it for now. I’ll see you on Sunday.” Azi closed her bedroom door and let out a sigh of relief. She paced the room, rehearsing the plan in her mind. After a while she heard the front door slam shut - her father leaving. She glanced at the clock - 6:45. She had an hour to wait. She went to her window and opened it, trying to relax. The sun was almost down and dusk appeared a greyish pink from behind the dome. She watched the evening sky descend into night between the metal beams and the air grew cool and moist. Birds stopped chirping, and it was just the rustle of leaves, or the occasional car driving outside the garden wall. She checked the clock again, it was almost time. She went back down to the kitchen and fetched a glass of water. On her way back she stuck her head into the security room. “Heading to bed Ascot, having an early night.” “Sleep well Miss.” “Thank you Ascot.” Azi had to refrain from running up the stairs to her room. She went to her wardrobe and lifted out lengths of rope. She checked the clock again - 7:45 on the dot. Time to go.

Azi crept down the stairs and tiptoed to the garden. She ran along the side to the back corner, where the sycamore tree and elderberry shrubs gave some cover from the cameras. Then, tossing the rope ladder over a high branch she heaved herself on top of the wall. She checked that the road was clear, let the ladder down and quickly descended, tossing the rope back over the wall. She threw her hood up and walked two streets over. Only then she allowed herself a deep breath. She smiled with raw adrenaline. Suddenly she felt someone grab her shoulders and spin her around. A kiss on the lips.

“Jesus, you scared me.” Azi laughed. Kam beamed at her.

“What did I tell you?” Azi smiled back.

“You were right, it was just that easy. How did you distract him?” “I rang him and told him I was outside the front door and needed money.” “Our front door?” Azi laughed. “How did he take that?” Kam grimaced. “Not well. He told me not to come to his “place of work” , I just played dumb. He’s gonna kill me when he comes home I’d say.” His face erupted into a smile again. “Oh well, worth it! How does freedom taste?” “Mhm sickly sweet. Think I need to wash this taste out of my mouth.” They laughed, linked hands and walked down the quiet, leafy streets of Department 1. They strolled through upper-class suburbia in the direction of the night district. Large walled villas gave way to storefronts, and bright street lamps were replaced with warmer yellow ones. More people appeared on the streets, milling from bar to bar. Kam took Azi into a quiet looking spot and they sat at a booth in the corner. They talked and laughed and drank, but as the night went on Azi couldn’t help but glance around the lowly lit bar. Kam touched her wrist. “You okay?” “I’m fine. It’s just a bit overwhelming - I’ve never been in a bar before.” “You don’t say?” “Shut up.” She pushed him, laughing. “I just keep imagining Ascot going to my room and finding it empty.” “He won’t - how many times has he ever opened your door?” “Okay, never.” Kam peered at her from over his glass. “You don’t like him very much do you?” “I do! He’s just a bit.. wooden. You’re not very alike, you and him.” “He’s just like that around you lot. Takes his job very seriously.” “Well he doesn’t have to be, not much happens in our house.” Kam looked away, picking at the rough wooden table. “I don’t think you get it. Guarding a senator’s house - that is a good gig. A hell of a lot better than going outside.” Azi’s finger circled the rim of her glass. “Dad was saying there’s been trouble.” Kam took a sip. “There’s always trouble. They don’t tell you how much trouble. Half the guys in my intake know someone who's been killed.” “Doesn’t that scare you?” Kam swallowed the rest of his drink. “It doesn’t matter. It's the best option so I’ll do what I have to.” “You don’t have to be a soldier Kam, you could be -” Kam slapped the table and shook his head. “No. You can’t just go and do whatever you want. I’m lucky I can be a soldier. A lot of people would kill to be a soldier.” He sighed.

“I know it might not look like it from Department 1, but some people in this city are just scraping by.” His eyes trailed away, Azi gripped onto her glass tightly. “Okay, so show me.” Kam’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you mad? It’s bad enough I brought you here.” “You sit here and lecture me cause I don’t know anything. So show me. I want to see it, I want to know what the city’s really like.” “No way, Dad would kill me.” “I think we’ve already crossed that line.” Kam exhaled and checked his watch. “You know what - okay fine. It’s early. We’ll go for a quick walk around the Lip.” He pointed a long finger at her. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The noise struck Azi the most. Noise from every direction. Revellers roared aimlessly and swayed across her path. She glanced down dark alleyways from which escaped sounds of heated tones. She heard lives being played out above her in the screams and laughter that reverberated down from yellow bedsits. And all along the road engines rumbled hungrily as they belched out diesel fumes into the hurried night. She stumbled through, stunned, gripping onto Kam’s hand for guidance. They rounded a corner and walked away from the frenetic mainstreet.

“Satisfied?” She nodded her head. “I think I need a drink.” They looked across the road to a bar with low purple lamps hanging above the entrance. A burly man stared back at them. “We’ll chance it.” Kam took her arm and they crossed the road. He whispered something to the bouncer and Azi saw him slip money into his hand. The bouncer raised his eyebrows and opened the door. They walked through and down a set of stairs. Loud music vibrated through the basement. The air was heavy with dim smoke and people drifted through a labyrinth of rooms. They found the bar and looked around, Azi grabbed Kam’s arm. “I don’t like it here.” She mouthed it at him as a scantily clad thin woman with sunken eyes glided past. Kam nodded in agreement. “Me neither, we’ll go somewhere else.” As they turned to leave some figures drifted out of the mist. Azi felt her heart plunge, a jolt through her nerves. She saw two young hollow-eyed girls gripping the waists of a man she did not recognise, and her father. His head turned in slow motion and she saw his face drop from laughter to shock and then guilt. Azi spun around and heaved Kam away. They ran upstairs into the night and back towards her house.

They were panting by the time they reached her street. They stopped to catch their breath. Kam put his hands on his head. “Oh fuck this is bad.This is bad . Do you think he recognised us?” “I don’t know. I think so.” “Oh fuck. ” Kam rubbed his eyes. “I think I need to tell my dad.” She touched his shoulder. “Look, maybe it’s not as bad as we think - my friends sneak out all the time.” “No, no, no, this is not good. You’re meant to be at home, not out at night. Definitely not out there and definitely not with me .” “Kam I’m going to talk to him when he’s back, I’ll be able to talk to him.” “We just saw him with a twenty year old hooker! How well do you really think you know him now?” Azi stood with her mouth open. Kam continued. “He probably has some boy already picked out for you. I have fucked this. We’re going to be exiled.” His words hung in the air a moment. Azi took hold of him by the shoulders. “Look, you’ll be fine. Let me just explain it to him. I’ll tell him it was my idea, that I forced you to bring me.” Kam stared at the ground shaking his head. “Give me a better option.” Kam closed his eyes and exhaled. “Tell him my Dad had nothing to do with this. Nothing. ” “I will. Now go and ring your Dad and tell him you lost your keys so I can sneak back in.” Kam made the diversion and Azi slipped into the house. She lay on her bed and felt tiredness overwhelm her. She closed her eyes and she saw images of her father. Questions swam around her in head as she drifted asleep. The morning light woke her up. A dry mouth and a dull throbbing behind the eyes. Azi recounted the events of the evening and her nerves returned. She heaved herself out of bed and gingerly stepped down into the kitchen. She found her father sitting at the table writing in his notebook.

“I thought you weren’t back until Sunday.” He looked up at her from underneath his brow and continued writing. She got a glass of water and downed the contents. She heard footsteps echoing from the hall and turned to see an unfamiliar man in guard’s uniform.

“Your mail Sir.”

The man set letters on the table beside her father. “Thank you Quinn.” “Sir.” He turned and left. Azi stared at the door he left through. “Dad, who is that?” Her father continued writing. “Dad, where is Ascot?” Her father said nothing. “Where the fuck is Ascot?” She shouted. Her father snapped his pen down on the table. “‘Where is Ascot?’ Where were you last night?” “I could ask you the same question!” Her father sucked his teeth and shook his head. “Ascot was tasked with keeping you safe. He failed in his duties and so he is no longer with us. End of.” Azi gaped at him blankly. “What about Kam?” He picked up his pen and went back to his journal. “What about Kam Dad?” Azi screamed and flung her glass at the wall beside him where it exploded with a shatter. Her father stood up. “Quinn, come here!”


That’s the thing about this city, people come from all around, and no one ever leaves. It isn’t that they fall in love with the beauty of it all, though it is beautiful. Between the neon lights, and all the clowns down on their last dime, it can feel like a carnival, and that can make you feel like a kid again, but Richie Rich wasn’t a gambler… his parents probably were.

This city.. it lives on the blood of the innocent, human or otherwise. You think those animals in there wanna be fightin’? Shedding blood so some asshole vacationing from who-gives-a-shit! Can bet on which fuckin’ pig can gore the other to death the quickest?! No… BUT… the show must go on.. if it doesn’t, a quarter of the city loses its blood, it’s life force..

Down that way, about ten blocks, is THE BEST barbeque you’ve ever tasted! The place is called “Delilah’s”, Their special on Friday nights is “The Loser”, and yeah it’s what it sounds like; a piping hot runner-up on a hoagie roll with BBQ sauce.

I guess the heat of battle gets the pig’s

juices flowing just right; maybe their adrenaline is the perfect marinade, I don’t know, either way check them out! You’ll only hate yourself for a few seconds.. If you want to gamble your money away go right across the street. That kid there, the one giving us the finger, that’s Garth. He stumbled across a Clone-XS, stole a few hairs on a class trip to the zoo, and bam! He’s got a whole portable fighting ring in his fuckin’ backpack! Gorillas, Lions, Elephants, you name it, he’s got it.. He claims he can re-grow them too, I personally don’t believe him, but I still steer clear of the little shit.. "Madame Z's Spell Shoppe" is right around the corner, but don't bother trying to find anything that'll bring you luck, the mayor had it all outlawed years ago, you'd be better off if the cops caught you with a bag of meth than a four leaf clover… You can however pay for an incantation that'll make you grow six inches.. You decide where that applies.. Just be careful going down that path, us locals call their street "Salem's Stretch", it's the only place in the city witches are licensed to operate, and their soul-to-goods ratio is way off.. Six inches might cost you a year of your life if you're lucky, get it from the wrong lady, you might lose a whole decade, but that's just another kind of gambling the city offers.. If gambling isn't your thing I HIGHLY recommend visiting our red light district, shapeshifters from around the world, ready to give you whatever you can imagine. Want to spend the night with Scarlett Johanson? Not a problem. You wanna have a threesome with Santa and the Easter Bunny? Simple enough. Between all of them they can turn into anyone, or anything, get real weird with it, god knows I have.. Everyone thinks they're a freak in the sack, but they can come talk to me when they've literally screwed themselves.. Speaking of flesh, "Delilah's" isn't the only place in town to get a hot meal. You should check out "The Rowboat", it's a classy joint down by the docks, the whole restaurant is inside of a yacht, I don't know who owns the place, but their food is to die for, very… exotic. If you think you've got the stomach for it I would give it a try, but get there by at least nine or they might set off without you, the Captain can be a bit sporadic with his scheduling, especially when the feds try knockin on the door.. Make sure to tell the chef that Emanuel told you about the place, that'll get me a discount next time I go in, and if I were you I'd order the femur, meat falls right off the bone.. If you're lacking superhuman abilities I would just avoid downtown all together, that place is a genetic nightmare, some scientists saw to that. I'm not sure if they were actually trying to help, or if they just got bored one day, but between the giant slugs, and the supermen, the place is pretty much a death trap.. I'm sure you probably caught a glimpse of it on your way in, maybe saw a giant lizard? A flying woman? Either way it's the part of the city that's on fire, nobody bothers even putting em' out anymore, the government thinks it's just a waste of resources, and being a taxpayer myself I'd have to say I agree.. When the time comes that you want to leave, IF you want to leave, you do it the same way you came in, one of those pretty little jets over there, that is, after your mind has been wiped of course. Like I said before, feds are always poking around, trying to shut shit down, they don't like the way we do things here in Fällhourn, but I say they stay in their little corner of the world and let us have ours. Just cause we do things differently round here doesn't make it wrong, most people just can't stand the thought of living so freely, the possibilities scare them I guess..The mayor will permit back and forth travel sans the memory wipe, but that perk comes with a cost, a microchip that they implant right into your spine, the procedure is irreversible, once you get one they have eyes and ears on you always, that's why most people opt to just stay in the city, they don't wanna risk spilling any secrets to outsiders, cause if they did that, boom, heart attack, stroke, electrocution, anything to keep our business OUR business.. Anyway I won't hold you up any longer, Ms.Green was it? You look like the sort of woman who can handle herself, I'm sure you'll be fine, just keep in mind everything that I've told you, I'm sure you'll get used to this place in no time! Welcome to our city!