He stands nervously awaiting the signal. His iglasses identify each individual who walks through the doors. None of these programmers are flagged as the target. He waits. His pulse starts to quicken, sweat drips down his back. His clothes begin to cling to the sweat. What have I gotten myself into, he asks himself. There’s a clear exit in front of him. He could leave at any moment. Go back to his old life. Live what is left of it in that one bedroom apartment, drinking himself into a stupor. Nothing would change. Everything would go back to normal. But that feeling would still be there. That emptiness which wakes him up at night. No. He has to do this. He has to try at least. The questions are there. They’ve always been there. The answers are what he needs. Text appears on his glasses.

“Do you see her yet, John?”

“John! Is Jane there?”

2 Days Earlier.....

John sits at his desk in the corporate design facility, working on a new series of iglasses that provide customers access to extended features of ThirdEye. While trying on the iglasses to see how well the new interface works, a glitch occurs which he immediately attributes to an error in the prototype design. However, as he is about to take off the iglasses, words begin to appear on the screen. 

“John, the life you live isn’t real. You have questions. I have answers. Meet me in front of the train station at Arduino square in 1 hour. - A” 

The words then vanish. An image flashes across his eyes of people restrained in chairs with some sort of glassware attached to their face. The image then flashes again, disappearing from sight as he regains his vision through the glasses and the world he knows. This image was just like those he has in his dreams. They feel so real. Its as if they’re more than dreams. More than the reality he lives in. 

Whatever he experienced, whether good or bad, deserves explanation. He decides to meet with this phantom figure. Swiping his wrist across the censor next to the entrance of the facility, he exits the building moving toward the train station located two blocks away. Upon arrival he begins to look around. There is no one there. At least no one out of the ordinary. He sits down at a bench, looking at his hands which are beginning to tremble. He needs another drink. Something to calm him down. Just one drop to numb the fear. He pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a swig. The whisky burns his throat, warming his insides. He takes a deep breath. Then sits back. Ha, its probably just a prank one of those assholes is pulling on me from the facility, he tells himself. But what would explain that flashing image though? Its probably just exhaustion from not getting enough sleep. Yeah, that’s it. I’m just tired. As he justifies his experience, someone sits next to him. A voice then arrives from that direction. A woman’s voice.

“Hello John. You shouldn’t be drinking. At least not this early in the day. Judgment is important at this juncture,” says the     woman in a calm and friendly tone.

“Who are you? And what do you want with me? I’m not a fan of jokes if that’s what this is,” states John firmly.

“Relax, John. I’m not here to fuck with you.That’s their doing, not mine.”

“Their doing? What the hell are you talking about? Yup, you’re definitely crazy. Please don’t follow me or contact me again. I mean it,” John says as he begins to walk away.

“Stop, John. I know about the dreams. You want to know what they are, what they mean, I suggest you stay.”

John pauses, then turns around.