“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.”-Aldous huxley
"L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux"
Amelia slamming my front door startled me awake. “Good morning sleepy head, I called three times thought I better pop over to see if you were dead or just ignoring me. Looks like it was somewhere in between.” She was glowing, still in her clothes from last night. I was right; she was wearing a tight and shiny red dress. The way she looked made me think last night wasn’t real, that there was no explosion. She looked primed and polished, not disheveled or a speck of dirt on her. I was speechless. “Still at a loss for words, aye Cash? I suppose you may be slightly confused, maybe I should explain. You got my note yes?” I nodded. “Alright, so basically the Muse Box was working smoothly the first two nights, only a few missteps here and there like the McCartney dream. Night three is when it got weird. “ “Amelia, you blew up a building. With people inside, with our technology. Three years of working towards destroying the one thing we’ve been attempting to create?” “I know, but Cash, darling you don’t understand. This thing hasn’t been in your brain. It’s been in mine and it’s planted some not so savory material up there. Violent things Cash. I know I can be an angry enough person for the rest of us but I have never felt this type of rage before.”
I sunk lower into my couch, trying to escape the moment. I had always been skeptical of the Muse Box, but in a ‘this is never going to work’ sense not a ‘make you homicidal’ sense. This type of technology could never reach that level of awareness without outside intervention. The box is not meant to be cognizant, to think for itself. It is meant to take memories or thoughts a person already has and rework them to fit that person’s fantasy. The information implanted into the box’s code is purely from the person wearing the nodes, apart from the random facts sheet we upload to it in updates. “This can’t be real,” I don’t mean to say it out loud. “Oh but love it is. Unfortunately you and I are the only two that can fix the problem, and I’m plastered all over. My grandmother always did tell me I’d look great on television, although I think she wanted me on the other side of the news desk.” Amelia opened my fridge, shutting it only seconds after once she realizes it’s contents consist of ketchup packets and curdled milk. “Any who, that means you’ll have to do it. “ I could hear the smile in her voice. I stood up slowly. “What do you mean?” “Well as of late I’m not exactly allowed back into the facility, so you’ll need to go in and destroy the remaining boxes, along with any accompanying data. We need to make sure this doesn’t spread.” “I think you’re being a little extreme Amelia.” She spun from looking at some cheap wall art to starring into my soul. “No, Cash. I put my life, my career on the line because I know this box needs destroyed. I’m past extreme at this point.” She had fire in her eyes. “If what you say is true about the Muse Box, why would I believe you blowing up that building wasn’t just the technology forcing you into a violent outburst?” “You have a point there Cashous. However, why would the technology risk destroying itself? There were hundreds of boxes at that party. Losing that many links to other vessels would cut off its ability to manipulate more than just a few others and me. It just wouldn’t be practical. “ Even when she was serious she kept a lighthearted tone, slightly mocking. “I guess you’re right. But why not just announce to recall? You didn’t have to hurt anyone.” “Like I’d have the power to do that. Those investors were having a ball, drinking with the higher ups, basically begging them to take their money. What would I do? Just walk up to Mr. Cleinfield and say, ‘oh yeah by the way sir the Muse Box is creating violent tendencies and needs to be recalled immediately.’ that would’ve definitely worked Cash.” The sarcasm was thick. “And even if he had ordered the recall, who would give back the machine? Maybe a few honest men, but how many of those rich assholes are honest men?” She threw herself onto the couch. I sat down next to her. We both just sat for a few moments looking through my window at the people on the streets, buildings, and trees. All completely unaware. After what felt like forever I decided to speak. “Well, I guess we should get moving then.” I stood up, extending my hand to her. She grasped it, stood, and then pulled down her dress a bit. “I guess we should.” She started walking out the door when she spotted my Muse Box sitting on the counter. “We can start with this one.” She grabbed the screwdriver I had left next to it and brought it up above her head like someone about to sacrifice something. I swung my hands in front just before she brought the metaphoric hammer down, well screwdriver. “What are you doing?” “Maybe we don’t have to destroy everything. Maybe we can just clear the computers at Vision, recall the rest of the machines and save the information and this little guy for us. This could just be a missed step, a fault of our own. We don’t have to completely scrap the project. We can fix it Amelia.” She looked at me for a few moments, looking for a tactful way to tell me no. “Maybe we won’t start here, but you’ll have to finish it here, Cash.” She grabbed her jacket and walked out the door. And I stood in my kitchen alone, with the Muse Box.
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“Dreams are an integral part of our mental health. While there are times we don’t remember our dreams, they always occur, and in turn effect our daily lives. Who here has experienced a nightmare?” The man on the stage raised his hand as he spoke signaling to his audience this is what he expected from them. Everyone around me raised his hands. I sat motionless. “Nightmares can cause segmented sleep and result in you being tired, and unable to function at full efficiency.” He spoke about us as if we were robots. “That is why we at Vision have been working on something revolutionary. We have come together with multiple scientists to bring to you the Muse Box. This small piece of technology has the ability to change each and every one of your lives. Simply place the nodes on either temple.” He picked up two small circles attached to wires and stuck them to either side of his forehead. “Then simply tell the Muse Box what you would like to dream about.” The room of investors fell completely silent.
He lifted the small cube, now a part of him, and spoke clearly, “Muse Box, put me on a beach during a Kate Upton photo shoot.” The box beeped and then small LED letters scrolled across its frame, reading back what he had just spoken to it. “It’s as simple as that. Once I fall asleep there will be nothing but sand between my toes and Kate Upton striking a pose.” He smirked as if these lines were unscripted and a few giggles exited the crowd, mostly men. “So you may be wondering. Simon, how do I get my hands on one of these fine inventions? Well, I’ll tell you. Everyone in this room today will be receiving a FREE, you heard correctly, FREE Muse Box!” The crowd erupted in thunderous clapping. “Thank you all for coming out this evening, I’ll see you just outside the auditorium with your free Muse Box. And get ready, this little box is about to change your life forever.” I waited until the auditorium had cleared, staring at the stage Simon had just been on, flailing his arms and smiling ear to ear. That was supposed to be me. Muse Box had been my project, and instead Simon was up there telling everyone how he was going to change each one of his or her lives. I finally stood up and started making my way up the velvet-covered steps to the doors at the back of the room. I could hear laughter and cheering just outside of those thin, wooden panels and had to brace myself. I pushed the door open and to my right was an almost empty table of Muse Boxes. So many people were interested in the product, which means these investors actually may fund a mass production. I started making my way to the gate of freedom when Simon popped up next to me. “There he is!” Simon was never one to be unenthusiastic about anything. “Where have you been man? Amy and I have been looking for you everywhere.” “I guess I had to recover from that exuberant presentation. You put on quite the show.” I hated Simon. “Yeah, that was all me. Corporate was all, ‘Let the invention speak for itself’, and I was like ‘Whatever dudes’. I’m probably going to get a very strongly worded email from them.” He burst into unbridled laughter, showing off his award-winning smile and unhealthy propensity to over exaggerate his emotions. “Well, anyway man, Amy and I would love it if you came to the unveil party with us, there will be tons of trim there.” He dug his elbow into my side as if I didn’t understand what he was saying. “I had a long day, I think I’m just going to head back to the apartment and catch up on some work.” He could tell I was lying, but just before he was able to protest, another colleague distracted him from across the way. “Well have a great night then, Cash.” He said bounding towards his next victim. I grabbed my jacket from the coat check. I felt something heavy hit my side as I slung the coat on. I reached into the side pocket and pulled a Muse Box out of my jacket pocket. “What the hell?” “What was that sir?” the coat check girl said in a ‘I hope I’m not in trouble’ tone. “Oh nothing just have a hole in the pocket no big deal. Have a good night.” I gave her a wave and she sighed in relief. “You too Mr. Hopping into the first cab available, I gave the odorous driver the address to the apartments a block away from mine. I daydreamed about what Amelia was going to wear to that party. Something tight and shiny I’d guess. I’d bet she looked better than anyone in that room tonight. I wonder if she picked up a Muse Box. The cabbie dropped me off; I paid the man, stuck my hands in my pockets and began walking to my actual apartment. The wind was bracing and I swear I saw more than a few snowflakes before I reached my stoop. Fumbling for my keys I heard Richard down the street spinning his tales for an innocent by-stander. I tried to speed up the process before he spotted me but to no avail. “Cash!” He yelled through toothless gums. “Cash it’s me Dick! Not your dick the other one!” He snickered on the way over to me. I saw the person he had been talking up sprint to the other side of the street and look back over her shoulder. I never understood what brought Richard to New York; he was the picture perfect hillbilly from Arkansas, banjo not included. “Richard, how are you.” I asked, unwillingly. “Oh you know Cash, buddy old pal still homeless.” He broke into laughter that evolved into a hacking cough. “How was the show?” “It was fine Richard, but I have work to do so” “I know you’re a busy man Cash but could you spare me some cash…” his face lit up. Richard loved puns, albeit bad ones. “You know what Richard, I don’t have any on me. How about I hit you tomorrow on my way to work?” He seemed somewhat defeated but nonetheless he mosied off down the block to catch the next person to step out of a cab. My apartment felt warm, almost like a sauna, or what I imagine a sauna to feel like. I started stripping off my monkey suit and flipped on the television as I poured a finger of whiskey. I had set the Muse Box on my coffee table in front of where I sat. For a while I just looked at it. I should feel good right now; it should feel good to have achieved my dream. At this I let out a small noise that signified how corny that sounded. But really, none of this was about the money, I had plenty of that before I decided to partner with Vision. It wasn’t about people knowing my name, seeing it right there on the side of the cardboard that surrounded the machine when it was shipped to each individual’s house. It wasn’t about fame, or women fawning over me. Well, maybe one. It was truly about helping people sleep, the one escape from reality. I had chronic nightmares for years, and that escape felt more like a trap. After a few minutes a yawn knocks me out of my existential stupor and I decide it’s time for bed. I start to my room without the box, but I stop in the doorway. I haven’t tested it since the earliest of stages so I’m very curious to see how smoothly it runs. I use this to convince myself it’s not just because I want to have good dreams for a night. I walk back, grab the box, and down the rest of my whiskey. My room is what some have described as sterile. Compared to the rest of my apartment, which is warmly decorated my room is a contrasting cold, white room with nothing but furniture. I have found that if the last thing I see before sleep is nothing but white walls I tend to have fewer nightmares. I set the box on my night side table and stick the nodes to my temples. And I ask the Muse Box nicely to give me the dream I want. This could’ve been the most restful night of sleep I’ve had in months if the Muse Box would’ve worked through the night. Around 1 a.m. the box shut off and woke me up. I went into the kitchen to grab a screwdriver. I popped the faceplate off of the front of the machine to take a look at its inner workings to see what the problem could be. Part of me worried that this problem would be wide spread and we’d have to recall all the boxes. The other part of me was hoping the problem would be wide spread and I’d have to spend another few months in the lab with Amelia. Everything seemed to be fine, but there was a piece of paper wedged in between some wires. “Cash, we can’t allow Vision to sell these. There is something wrong. The machine seems to be re-writing it’s own code. I wake up and think things, awful things, and I know it’s the box. We have to stop them. –A” I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself. This has to be a nightmare it can’t be real. I pulled out my phone and dialed Amelia’s phone. One ring. Two rings. “Hiya this is Amelia leave a message!” Maybe her phone is in her purse. I dialed Simon’s number next. “Hey man! How’s it going? Did you change your mind?” Somehow he was less annoying over the phone. “Simon, is Amelia with you?” “Of course you’d be calling about her. No Cash she was mingling, dancing with investors last I saw her. Why?” “She left…she just had said something about possibly leaving the party early I wanted to know if she needed a ride.” Maybe she hadn’t told Simon what she had told me. “Leave early? No way man she’s having a blast.” He sounded distant, like he had already forgotten he was having a conversation with me. “Well, um when you get a chance tell her to call me alright?” “Sure man, yeah whatever.” Before either of us had the chance to hang up there was a loud blast that came through the phone. The sound of crumbling cement and shattering glass filled my ears. “Simon? What’s going on?” The call was dropped before Simon could answer. I stood there starring at my phone. What? I walked around my counter and turned on the TV. Flipping through cartoons, and sitcoms, and porn I finally got to the news. The speakers broke out into shouting and sirens. The news anchor looked scared perched in front of the Metropolitan Opera House, saying things like “thirteen dead, thirty-two in critical condition” and “two explosions on either side of the building.” I froze. That is where the unveil party was. Amy. I threw on my clothes and went to grab my jacket. There I saw the Muse Box sitting on the counter. I stepped outside and no one was on the street. No taxis, no pedestrians, no Richard. I walked back up to my apartment. Before I reached my door my phone buzzed. It was Amelia. “Hello?” “Aw, Cash. Did you get my note?” She was the only person I didn’t mind calling me Cash. Maybe it was her accent. I opened my door and stepped into my apartment. That’s when I saw Amelia on my television. “One of the suspects is believed to be Amelia Candor. Twenty-seven, White-Caucasian female, brunette, about 5’5, is said to have been on foot fleeing the area just before the bombs exploded. If you have any information about Candor’s whereabouts the proper information is on the bottom of the screen.” “Right, well Cash you don’t seem much in the mood for chit chat so we will talk in the morning.” Before I could interject she had hung up. I stood, with my phone to my ear watching the horrific scenes play out on my television screen. People being wheeled out on gurneys, and firemen trying to douse the flames. I swear I saw Simon in the back of an ambulance. None of this makes sense. Amelia was one of the co-creators of Muse Box with Simon, and me why would she do this? She was an avid believer in the technology she was always the one to test it; she wore it to sleep every night for years. She wore it to sleep every night for years. God. It was my fault she did this. 2 weeks prior It was slightly hard to watch. She sat there tossing and turning with a furrowed brow and beads of sweat forming about her face. I wanted so badly to reach out and grab her hand, maybe she would know I was there, that everything was ok. I wanted it so much so that my hand started moving towards her unconsciously. Thankfully Simon struck it from its intended path. “Don’t touch her Cash. She’s tough, she knew what she was signing up for, and if you wake her now we won’t know how to proceed. I knew he was right, this is what we were here for, but seeing Amelia fidget and fuss knowing I could make it stop was almost too much for me. I began to feel lightheaded. “I’m going to grab a coffee, you want something?” The only reason I ever asked Simon if he wanted something was for the sheer possibility that I may be able to spit in it. “No, no I’m fine, you go ahead.” He always said things with such an unrealistic, overenthusiastic smile. I left the lead lined room, closing the heavy door behind me before sliding to the floor. I cupped my hands over my face and took deep breaths so as to not pass out. That would just be another thing for Simon to lord over me. I loved the technology, the thought of relieving people from things that haunt them in their sleep was all I wanted, but seeing Amelia struggle made me question if this was really the way to go about it. But we had to use humans for our tests. While some animals dream, there is no way to see whether or not the preferred dream outlined before sleep is the dream that occurs. With humans it’s very easy to adjust because they are able to let us know if the Muse Box achieved our goal. Amelia is the only reliable human we can test on at this time and that makes my job difficult. “Cash are you alright?” Her voice was as angelic as her appearance. “Yeah I uh must have fallen asleep out here.” I said. She gave me a look of curiosity, signaling she knew there was something I wasn’t telling her. “Yeah, well I have good news,” she said. Good is relative, I thought to myself. “Oh yeah?” “The box worked this time. Almost perfectly even. There was a slight misstep when I asked Sir Paul McCartney what his inspiration was behind ‘Yesterday’. But I think that is just because we have more information to upload. I was just surprised it didn’t use the info from my brain, he was inspired by a dream, I knew that, but somehow the machine didn’t. Maybe that’s best though, that it stays out of my thoughts.” She smiled. Normally this would’ve made me laugh. “Well, I don’t think users would enjoy a machine reading their thoughts, even though they spew their streams of consciousness on social media.” This made her laugh. “For inventing life changing technology, you are the biggest technophobe I’ve ever met.” “I like to think I’m the one keeping all of us from a Terminator apocalypse.” She let out another laugh at this. I loved making her laugh. “Well, we should probably head back in Simon is excited to get back to work.” Simon wanting to work, that was worth a laugh. “Welcome back! How was your coffee?” He was such a smug bastard. “It was delightful, Cash let me have the rest.” That shut Simon up. “Where are we with the box?” I asked him. “Oh! Amy said it worked perfectly, nailed every detail. She thinks a few more test runs, another information upload, and we’ll be ready for this thing to hit the market!” This was pretty exciting to hear. To think that it had only been 3 years since the idea for the Muse Box first came to me, and here we are about to polish the machine and send it out to be sold. Simon was only in it for the money, but Vision executives insisted we needed him to keep us on track. It’ll be interesting to see his reaction when we tell him we’re giving away the first thousand for free. “So we’re going to give Amy a box to take home, she’s going to use it for a week, without coming to the office, but taking a careful journal of the good, the bad, and the ugly, and she’ll report back to us. We just have to wait and go from there.” He patted me on the back. “This is pretty incredible Cash.” He picked up his suit jacket and left the room, only to start flirting with a technician just outside. I looked at Amelia, her expression was dark until she saw I was looking and then it was like a light switch flipping on. “So Cash, this is pretty exciting for you. Everything is coming together so well, better than expected.” “It really is incredible.” I looked at her and then through the glass pain in the door, the technician slipped Simon a card and he stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “Well, I really should get going, Simon absolutely detests when I keep him waiting. I’ll see you in a week Cash.” Her smile was so convincing I think she even tricked herself into thinking she was happy. “I’m counting down the days Amelia.” I gave her a short hug and she was out the door. I walked over to the bench she had just been sleeping on, the perfect outline of her body had formed on the sheet from her sweat. If she really was speaking to Paul McCartney about his inspirations behind songs there is no way her body would be reacting the way is was. She loved The Beatles, excluding Ringo; she said he gave her the creeps. Why would she say the box was ready? I sat down at the computer to look through the scans taken of Amelia as she slept. They all start out normal, with pleasure receptors being the most active, and then it switched suddenly to fear. I would have to wait to say anything until next week though; maybe the journal Amelia keeps will reflect different results. I grabbed my sweater from the chair back and shut down all the machines before turning off the light and walking out. Our lab was in the basement of the Vision building, I felt like an IT guy, having to take the elevator 6 floors up before getting to ground level where I could actually access the street. The buildings upper floors were dedicated to stock sales and business meetings and there was even one floor that was completely devoted to a candy shop. Businessmen love their gummy bears I guess. But all of these were clearly more important and more accepted practices for the public to access. Our floor however, was under lock and key to the point that they had just installed retinal scanners last year. So while I felt unappreciated as I imagine IT feels, I also had a spy complex where everything I did was so important no one could know about it. Top secret. Classified. I stepped out of the building into the see of rioters the always canvased our sidewalks. “The game of capitalism breeds dishonest men. – De La Vega” This was the most popular sign, and often times the quote was grafittied to the side of the building. I tried to hail a taxi but to no avail. I walked a few blocks and turned right. There is a small hole in the wall Cuban restaurant a few streets over, might as well grab a bite before trying to get home. I passed a few homeless people on the way to the restaurant holding signs that read, “Need money for food” and “dog needs food” and my personal favorite “need weed money.” I like honesty. I drop a few bucks in each person’s piggy bank as I moved by. Each one was extremely polite and thanked me for my donation. I got to the Cuban shop and realized I had no more cash, and Anton refused to take cards. I stuck my hand in the air and whistled like a true New Yorker and finally got a cab to stop. Hopped in said I didn’t have cash and told the driver the address to the apartment building a block from mine. He seemed nice enough, but definitely was giving me a sob story about how his 9 children back home have to work and miss school because their mother died and he was the only source of income now. I’m sure it’s true. I hopped out as he ran my card and I gave him a sizable tip. The look on his face was priceless and he gave me his card. “If you ever need a ride Mr. Cash, I mean EVER you give Sanjay a call and I’ll be here.” “Thanks Sanjay, take the kids for ice cream or something eh?” The puzzled look confirmed his whole story was a crock of something. It didn’t bother me though. What was I going to use that $50 dollars for anyway? “Subject One is Richard Curtis, 54 years of age. Curtis is an unemployed, homeless male from Arkansas.” Simon read off the man’s qualifiers as if he were a lab rat. “Mr. Curtis do you have an affiliations or connections with the Vision company or any of it’s employees?” “No sir, I ain’t know anyone in New York.” Richard had a certain mountain man charm to him. “Alright, thank you Mr. Curtis. And have you eaten or drank in the last 8 hours?” “Only my boot wine I been makin’,” this made him chuckle, but it didn’t seem like a joke. “This guy is a riot,” Simon said. “And to think he’s been sitting outside our building for months and we never even noticed.” We had been trying to find test subjects to try out the Muse Box for a while now. The box was still in its early stages, but we needed someone to test it in order to know what we needed to tweak. Animals wouldn’t work as they have different cognition patterns, and aren’t able to verbalize their experience. All we had from animals were brain scans. We needed a human who would be able to tell us if the box worked correctly or not. After putting an ad in multiple papers, online, and on the local news channel with no response, Simon decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked in that morning with Richard Curtis. Simon opened the door and walked into the room to join Richard. “Okay Mr. Curtis, we have all the necessary details and paperwork filled out, all we need now is for you to pick a dream and knock off to sleep my man.” Richard asked the Muse Box to put him in the middle of a family meal, with his wife and son.” Simon looked back over his shoulder at me through the one-way glass. “Poor guy,” I whispered to myself. Simon placed the stick on nodes to Richard’s temples and laid him back on the exam table. “Mr. Curtis you better tell me how that meal was when you wake up.” Simon winked at Richard and turned off the main light before leaving the room. We stood in silence as we watched Richard fall asleep. He stayed perfectly still the entire time, his scans remained normal. “Maybe we finally did it, aye Cash?” “Maybe.” I was always a little skeptical. Eventually Richard woke up, rubbed his eyes and stretched. He was basically a cartoon character. It was my turn to talk to him. I walked in, removed the node from his forehead, and sat down. “Mr. Curtis could you please describe your dream in as much detail as possible for me?” I kept my eyes on the clipboard the entire time. “Well, I think I had a job, cause I walked into this neat little place and I was wearing a hat. My wife looked better than ever, even gave me a smooch on the cheek before leading me into the kitchen. My boy Tommy was sitting there doing his lessons.” Richard stopped. “Then what happened Mr. Curtis?” I looked up to see Richard’s face twisted in discomfort. “Please Mr. Curtis, we need to be as thorough as possible. What happened after you saw Tommy?” “Well, he looked up at me. But he wasn’t my young boy anymore he looked like me, like I look here in front of ya now. All dirty, and he looked mad as a badger. I, I wanted to stop looking at ‘em but I couldn’t move my head. I couldn’t move my head ‘cause my wife was holdin’ it, and then she, she…” He started to get emotional; he put his face in his hands. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Richard, what did she do?” He looked me straight in the face. “She cut my gullet open like she was choppin’ down a tree.” I couldn’t look away from him. His jolly expression he had when he walked in had vanished completely. “An then when she stood over me, it was my face on her head just like with Tommy.” I stayed frozen. “Cash, can you come back here please?” Simon said, poking his head in the door. “Will you excuse me for just a second Mr. Curtis?” I slowly got up and walked out. Richard just sat there crying into his palms. Simon was pacing in the back room. “I’m sorry man, I should’ve known a homeless man would be crazy.” “I don’t know if he’s crazy.” I didn’t want this to be Richard’s fault. “He didn’t move the entire time, no tossing or turning, and never did his scans show fear or arousal. Murder must be pretty regular for this guy. I’m surprised he didn’t just shank me there on the street.” He kept pacing. “Simon, this guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, you saw him before, happiest homeless man I’ve ever seen.” “He’s probably a sociopath, he’s just pretending.” “I don’t think a sociopath would drink boot wine.” Simon stopped pacing. “Did you just make a joke Cash?” We both started laughing. It felt good to laugh, even if it was with Simon. “So obviously, we have some alterations to make. And maybe we shouldn’t be using homeless people as test subjects. Richard is a nice enough guy but maybe he’s been out in the weather a little too long.” Simon was slightly hesitant. Having the homeless as test subject came at a much lower cost than any other subject would. Plus if they broke the nondisclosure agreement, people would just assume the person was insane, or as Simon liked to put it, “the only person who’d believe them is the light post.” Eventually Simon agreed with me that we needed a more reliable test subject. I suggested we use him, mainly because he wasn’t involved courtesy of his intellect but because first floor investors thought Amelia and I needed supervision. He was quick to say no and without a real reason, but his eyes betrayed him. He was scared. I would’ve have volunteered, however, I needed to observe from a distance. “Amy!” Simon’s face changed instantly as she walked through the door. “How are you doing, baby?” He grabbed her at the waist and kissed her. “I’m going to go let Richard know he can leave.” “Cash,” I didn’t let Amelia finish, and I walked in to once again talk to our hillbilly guest. He had finally calmed down and was back to his cheerful self. “Mr. Curtis, unless you have any questions for us, we will be able to get you your compensation for helping us with this experiment and you can be on your way.” “I like you better than that Simon fella,” he said with a wink. It was then that I realized he could see through the glass and the PA was on. I could feel my face getting warm. “Aye, don’t worry buddy, you can take me out to lunch to mend my feelins’, give me a break from that weather. As long as you don’t bring that Simon clown.” He gave me a nudge with his elbow. “Now about that compensation.” I opened my wallet and gave him a $20. “Thank you kindly sir, and I’ll see you outside at noon for that date.” He chuckled and showed himself out. I sat there for a moment to process what had just happened. I got up and rejoined Simon and Amelia. “Hey Cash,” her voice was always so smooth and calm, “how’d the test go?” “There are still a few bugs we need to work out. And we have to find ourselves a new test subject, turns out the homeless population isn’t all that reliable.” “Ouch man, I get it. I just wanted to get the ball rolling is all.” Simon was great at playing the victim. “Cash is just mad the box didn’t work right.” “What happened?” Amelia asked. “Well, the subject,” “Dude was wacked in the head. He said his wife slit his throat and plot twist his wife was himself. You should’ve seen it babe he was nuts. ” Simon let out a snicker. Amelia gave me the look she had give too often, the, I’m sorry Cashous, look. “Anyway honeybun I’m starving let’s go get some grub.” Simon wrapped himself around her. “Sure, um, Cash would you like to come along?” “No, no you guys go ahead, I actually promised Richard lunch.” Not exactly how it happened, but Amelia didn’t need to know that. “Ooo, Cash has a new boyfriend.” Simon laughed. “And he just might be crazier than you are bud.” Simon smacked me on the back. “Alright anyway, we’ll catch you after then champ, and we’ll get back to work on the toy.” “See you in a bit Cash,” Amelia said as they left the room. I hung up my lab coat, grabbed my suit jacket, and washed up before heading out the door alone. “Subject One is Richard Curtis, 54 years of age. Curtis is an unemployed, homeless male from Arkansas.” Simon read off the man’s qualifiers as if he were a lab rat. “Mr. Curtis do you have an affiliations or connections with the Vision company or any of it’s employees?”
“No sir, I ain’t know anyone in New York.” Richard had a certain mountain man charm to him. “Alright, thank you Mr. Curtis. And have you eaten or drank in the last 8 hours?” “Only my boot wine I been makin’,” this made him chuckle, but it didn’t seem like a joke. “This guy is a riot,” Simon said. “And to think he’s been sitting outside our building for months and we never even noticed.” We had been trying to find test subjects to try out the Muse Box for a while now. The box was still in its early stages, but we needed someone to test it in order to know what we needed to tweak. Animals wouldn’t work as they have different cognition patterns, and aren’t able to verbalize their experience. All we had from animals were brain scans. We needed a human who would be able to tell us if the box worked correctly or not. After putting an ad in multiple papers, online, and on the local news channel with no response, Simon decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked in that morning with Richard Curtis. Simon opened the door and walked into the room to join Richard. “Okay Mr. Curtis, we have all the necessary details and paperwork filled out, all we need now is for you to pick a dream and knock off to sleep my man.” Richard asked the Muse Box to put him in the middle of a family meal, with his wife and son.” Simon looked back over his shoulder at me through the one-way glass. “Poor guy,” I whispered to myself. Simon placed the stick on nodes to Richard’s temples and laid him back on the exam table. “Mr. Curtis you better tell me how that meal was when you wake up.” Simon winked at Richard and turned off the main light before leaving the room. We stood in silence as we watched Richard fall asleep. He stayed perfectly still the entire time, his scans remained normal. “Maybe we finally did it, aye Cash?” “Maybe.” I was always a little skeptical. Eventually Richard woke up, rubbed his eyes and stretched. He was basically a cartoon character. It was my turn to talk to him. I walked in, removed the node from his forehead, and sat down. “Mr. Curtis could you please describe your dream in as much detail as possible for me?” I kept my eyes on the clipboard the entire time. “Well, I think I had a job, cause I walked into this neat little place and I was wearing a hat. My wife looked better than ever, even gave me a smooch on the cheek before leading me into the kitchen. My boy Tommy was sitting there doing his lessons.” Richard stopped. “Then what happened Mr. Curtis?” I looked up to see Richard’s face twisted in discomfort. “Please Mr. Curtis, we need to be as thorough as possible. What happened after you saw Tommy?” “Well, he looked up at me. But he wasn’t my young boy anymore he looked like me, like I look here in front of ya now. All dirty, and he looked mad as a badger. I, I wanted to stop looking at ‘em but I couldn’t move my head. I couldn’t move my head ‘cause my wife was holdin’ it, and then she, she…” He started to get emotional; he put his face in his hands. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Richard, what did she do?” He looked me straight in the face. “She cut my gullet open like she was choppin’ down a tree.” I couldn’t look away from him. His jolly expression he had when he walked in had vanished completely. “An then when she stood over me, it was my face on her head just like with Tommy.” I stayed frozen. “Cash, can you come back here please?” Simon said, poking his head in the door. “Will you excuse me for just a second Mr. Curtis?” I slowly got up and walked out. Richard just sat there crying into his palms. Simon was pacing in the back room. “I’m sorry man, I should’ve known a homeless man would be crazy.” “I don’t know if he’s crazy.” I didn’t want this to be Richard’s fault. “He didn’t move the entire time, no tossing or turning, and never did his scans show fear or arousal. Murder must be pretty regular for this guy. I’m surprised he didn’t just shank me there on the street.” He kept pacing. “Simon, this guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, you saw him before, happiest homeless man I’ve ever seen.” “He’s probably a sociopath, he’s just pretending.” “I don’t think a sociopath would drink boot wine.” Simon stopped pacing. “Did you just make a joke Cash?” We both started laughing. It felt good to laugh, even if it was with Simon. “So obviously, we have some alterations to make. And maybe we shouldn’t be using homeless people as test subjects. Richard is a nice enough guy but maybe he’s been out in the weather a little too long.” Simon was slightly hesitant. Having the homeless as test subject came at a much lower cost than any other subject would. Plus if they broke the nondisclosure agreement, people would just assume the person was insane, or as Simon liked to put it, “the only person who’d believe them is the light post.” Eventually Simon agreed with me that we needed a more reliable test subject. I suggested we use him, mainly because he wasn’t involved courtesy of his intellect but because first floor investors thought Amelia and I needed supervision. He was quick to say no and without a real reason, but his eyes betrayed him. He was scared. I would’ve have volunteered, however, I needed to observe from a distance. “Amy!” Simon’s face changed instantly as she walked through the door. “How are you doing, baby?” He grabbed her at the waist and kissed her. “I’m going to go let Richard know he can leave.” “Cash,” I didn’t let Amelia finish, and I walked in to once again talk to our hillbilly guest. He had finally calmed down and was back to his cheerful self. “Mr. Curtis, unless you have any questions for us, we will be able to get you your compensation for helping us with this experiment and you can be on your way.” “I like you better than that Simon fella,” he said with a wink. It was then that I realized he could see through the glass and the PA was on. I could feel my face getting warm. “Aye, don’t worry buddy, you can take me out to lunch to mend my feelins’, give me a break from that weather. As long as you don’t bring that Simon clown.” He gave me a nudge with his elbow. “Now about that compensation.” I opened my wallet and gave him a $20. “Thank you kindly sir, and I’ll see you outside at noon for that date.” He chuckled and showed himself out. I sat there for a moment to process what had just happened. I got up and rejoined Simon and Amelia. “Hey Cash,” her voice was always so smooth and calm, “how’d the test go?” “There are still a few bugs we need to work out. And we have to find ourselves a new test subject, turns out the homeless population isn’t all that reliable.” “Ouch man, I get it. I just wanted to get the ball rolling is all.” Simon was great at playing the victim. “Cash is just mad the box didn’t work right.” “What happened?” Amelia asked. “Well, the subject,” “Dude was wacked in the head. He said his wife slit his throat and plot twist his wife was himself. You should’ve seen it babe he was nuts. ” Simon let out a snicker. Amelia gave me the look she had give too often, the, I’m sorry Cashous, look. “Anyway honeybun I’m starving let’s go get some grub.” Simon wrapped himself around her. “Sure, um, Cash would you like to come along?” “No, no you guys go ahead, I actually promised Richard lunch.” Not exactly how it happened, but Amelia didn’t need to know that. “Ooo, Cash has a new boyfriend.” Simon laughed. “And he just might be crazier than you are bud.” Simon smacked me on the back. “Alright anyway, we’ll catch you after then champ, and we’ll get back to work on the toy.” “See you in a bit Cash,” Amelia said as they left the room. I hung up my lab coat, grabbed my suit jacket, and washed up before heading out the door alone. All changes are in red “Dreams are an integral part of our mental health. While there are times we don’t remember our dreams, they always occur, and in turn effect our daily lives. Who here has experienced a nightmare?” The man on the stage raised his hand as he spoke signaling to his audience this is what he expected from them. Everyone around me raised his hands. I sat motionless. “Nightmares can cause segmented sleep and result in you being tired, and unable to function at full efficiency.” He spoke about us as if we were robots. “That is why we at Vision have been working on something revolutionary. We have come together with multiple scientists to bring to you the Muse Box. This small piece of technology has the ability to change each and every one of your lives. Simply place the nodes on either temple.” He picked up two small circles attached to wires and stuck them to either side of his forehead. “Then simply tell the Muse Box what you would like to dream about.” The room of investors fell completely silent.
He lifted the small cube, now a part of him, and spoke clearly, “Muse Box, put me on a beach during a Kate Upton photo shoot.” The box beeped and then small LED letters scrolled across its frame, reading back what he had just spoken to it. “It’s as simple as that. Once I fall asleep there will be nothing but sand between my toes and Kate Upton striking a pose.” He smirked as if these lines were unscripted and a few giggles exited the crowd, mostly men. “So you may be wondering. Simon, how do I get my hands on one of these fine inventions? Well, I’ll tell you. Everyone in this room today will be receiving a FREE, you heard correctly, FREE Muse Box!” The crowd erupted in thunderous clapping. “Thank you all for coming out this evening, I’ll see you just outside the auditorium with your free Muse Box. And get ready, this little box is about to change your life forever.” I waited until the auditorium had cleared, staring at the stage Simon had just been on, flailing his arms and smiling ear to ear. That was supposed to be me. Muse Box had been my project, and instead Simon was up there telling everyone how he was going to change each one of his or her lives. I finally stood up and started making my way up the velvet-covered steps to the doors at the back of the room. I could hear laughter and cheering just outside of those thin, wooden panels and had to brace myself. I pushed the door open and to my right was an almost empty table of Muse Boxes. So many people were interested in the product, which means these investors actually may fund a mass production. I started making my way to the gate of freedom when Simon popped up next to me. “There he is!” Simon was never one to be unenthusiastic about anything. “Where have you been man? Amy and I have been looking for you everywhere.” “I guess I had to recover from that exuberant presentation. You put on quite the show.” I hated Simon. “Yeah, that was all me. Corporate was all, ‘Let the invention speak for itself’, and I was like ‘Whatever dudes’. I’m probably going to get a very strongly worded email from them.” He burst into unbridled laughter, showing off his award-winning smile and unhealthy propensity to over exaggerate his emotions. “Well, anyway man, Amy and I would love it if you came to the unveil party with us, there will be tons of trim there.” He dug his elbow into my side as if I didn’t understand what he was saying. “I had a long day, I think I’m just going to head back to the apartment and catch up on some work.” He could tell I was lying, but just before he was able to protest, another colleague distracted him from across the way. “Well have a great night then, Cash.” He said bounding towards his next victim. I grabbed my jacket from the coat check. I felt something heavy hit my side as I slung the coat on. I reached into the side pocket and pulled a Muse Box out of my jacket pocket. “What the hell?” “What was that sir?” the coat check girl said in a ‘I hope I’m not in trouble’ tone. “Oh nothing just have a hole in the pocket no big deal. Have a good night.” I gave her a wave and she sighed in relief. “You too Mr. Layne." Hopping into the first cab available, I gave the odorous driver the address to the apartments a block away from mine. I daydreamed about what Amelia was going to wear to that party. Something tight and shiny I’d guess. I’d bet she looked better than anyone in that room tonight. I wonder if she picked up a Muse Box. The cabbie dropped me off; I paid the man, stuck my hands in my pockets and began walking to my actual apartment. The wind was bracing and I swear I saw more than a few snowflakes before I reached my stoop. Fumbling for my keys I heard Richard down the street spinning his tales for an innocent by-stander. I tried to speed up the process before he spotted me but to no avail. “Cash!” He yelled through toothless gums. “Cash it’s me Dick! Not your dick the other one!” He snickered on the way over to me. I saw the person he had been talking up sprint to the other side of the street and look back over her shoulder. I never understood what brought Richard to New York; he was the picture perfect hillbilly from Arkansas, banjo not included. “Richard, how are you.” I asked, unwillingly. “Oh you know Cash, buddy old pal still homeless.” He broke into laughter that evolved into a hacking cough. “How was the show?” “It was fine Richard, but I have work to do so” “I know you’re a busy man Cash but could you spare me some cash…” his face lit up. Richard loved puns, albeit bad ones. “You know what Richard, I don’t have any on me. How about I hit you tomorrow on my way to work?” He seemed somewhat defeated but nonetheless he mosied off down the block to catch the next person to step out of a cab. My apartment felt warm, almost like a sauna, or what I imagine a sauna to feel like. I started stripping off my monkey suit and flipped on the television as I poured a finger of whiskey. I had set the Muse Box on my coffee table in front of where I sat. For a while I just looked at it. I should feel good right now; it should feel good to have achieved my dream. At this I let out a small noise that signified how corny that sounded. But really, none of this was about the money, I had plenty of that before I decided to partner with Vision. It wasn’t about people knowing my name, seeing it right there on the side of the cardboard that surrounded the machine when it was shipped to each individual’s house. It wasn’t about fame, or women fawning over me. Well, maybe one. It was truly about helping people sleep, the one escape from reality. I had chronic nightmares for years, and that escape felt more like a trap. After a few minutes a yawn knocks me out of my existential stupor and I decide it’s time for bed. I start to my room without the box, but I stop in the doorway. I haven’t tested it since the earliest of stages so I’m very curious to see how smoothly it runs. I use this to convince myself it’s not just because I want to have good dreams for a night. I walk back, grab the box, and down the rest of my whiskey. My room is what some have described as sterile. Compared to the rest of my apartment, which is warmly decorated my room is a contrasting cold, white room with nothing but furniture. I have found that if the last thing I see before sleep is nothing but white walls I tend to have fewer nightmares. I set the box on my night side table and stick the nodes to my temples. And I ask the Muse Box nicely to give me the dream I want. This could’ve been the most restful night of sleep I’ve had in months if the Muse Box would’ve worked through the night. Around 1 a.m. the box shut off and woke me up. I went into the kitchen to grab a screwdriver. I popped the faceplate off of the front of the machine to take a look at its inner workings to see what the problem could be. Part of me worried that this problem would be wide spread and we’d have to recall all the boxes. The other part of me was hoping the problem would be wide spread and I’d have to spend another few months in the lab with Amelia. Everything seemed to be fine, but there was a piece of paper wedged in between some wires. “Cash, we can’t allow Vision to sell these. There is something wrong. The machine seems to be re-writing it’s own code. I wake up and think things, awful things, and I know it’s the box. We have to stop them. –A” I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself. This has to be a nightmare it can’t be real. I pulled out my phone and dialed Amelia’s phone. One ring. Two rings. “Hiya this is Amelia leave a message!” Maybe her phone is in her purse. I dialed Simon’s number next. “Hey man! How’s it going? Did you change your mind?” Somehow he was less annoying over the phone. “Simon, is Amelia with you?” “Of course you’d be calling about her. No Cash she was mingling, dancing with investors last I saw her. Why?” “She left…she just had said something about possibly leaving the party early I wanted to know if she needed a ride.” Maybe she hadn’t told Simon what she had told me. “Leave early? No way man she’s having a blast.” He sounded distant, like he had already forgotten he was having a conversation with me. “Well, um when you get a chance tell her to call me alright?” “Sure man, yeah whatever.” Before either of us had the chance to hang up there was a loud blast that came through the phone. The sound of crumbling cement and shattering glass filled my ears. “Simon? What’s going on?” The call was dropped before Simon could answer. I stood there starring at my phone. What? I walked around my counter and turned on the TV. Flipping through cartoons, and sitcoms, and porn I finally got to the news. The speakers broke out into shouting and sirens. The news anchor looked scared perched in front of the Metropolitan Opera House, saying things like “thirteen dead, thirty-two in critical condition” and “two explosions on either side of the building.” I froze. That is where the unveil party was. Amy. I threw on my clothes and went to grab my jacket. There I saw the Muse Box sitting on the counter. I stepped outside and no one was on the street. No taxis, no pedestrians, no Richard. I walked back up to my apartment. Before I reached my door my phone buzzed. It was Amelia. “Hello?” “Aw, Cash. Did you get my note?” She was the only person I didn’t mind calling me Cash. Maybe it was her accent. I opened my door and stepped into my apartment. That’s when I saw Amelia on my television. “One of the suspects is believed to be Amelia Candor. Twenty-seven, White-Caucasian female, brunette, about 5’5, is said to have been on foot fleeing the area just before the bombs exploded. If you have any information about Candor’s whereabouts the proper information is on the bottom of the screen.” “Right, well Cash you don’t seem much in the mood for chit chat so we will talk in the morning.” Before I could interject she had hung up. I stood, with my phone to my ear watching the horrific scenes play out on my television screen. People being wheeled out on gurneys, and firemen trying to douse the flames. I swear I saw Simon in the back of an ambulance. None of this makes sense. Amelia was one of the co-creators of Muse Box with Simon, and me why would she do this? She was an avid believer in the technology she was always the one to test it; she wore it to sleep every night for years. She wore it to sleep every night for years. God. It was my fault she did this. It was slightly hard to watch. She sat there tossing and turning with a furrowed brow and beads of sweat forming about her face. I wanted so badly to reach out and grab her hand, maybe she would know I was there, that everything was ok. I wanted it so much so that my hand started moving towards her unconsciously. Thankfully Simon struck it from its intended path. “Don’t touch her Cash. She’s tough, she knew what she was signing up for, and if you wake her now we won’t know how to proceed." I knew he was right, this is what we were here for, but seeing Amelia fidget and fuss knowing I could make it stop was almost too much for me. I began to feel lightheaded. “I’m going to grab a coffee, you want something?” The only reason I ever asked Simon if he wanted something was for the sheer possibility that I may be able to spit in it. “No, no I’m fine, you go ahead.” He always said things with such an unrealistic, overenthusiastic tone.
I left the lead lined room, closing the heavy door behind me before sliding to the floor. I cupped my hands over my face and took deep breaths so as to not pass out. That would just be another thing for Simon to lord over me. I loved the technology, the thought of relieving people from things that haunt them in their sleep was all I wanted, but seeing Amelia struggle made me question if this was really the way to go about it. But we had to use humans for our tests. While some animals dream, there is no way to see whether or not the preferred dream outlined before sleep is the dream that occurs. With humans it’s very easy to adjust because they are able to let us know if the Muse Box achieved our goal. Amelia is the only human we can test on at this time and that makes my job difficult. “Cash are you alright?” Her voice was as angelic as her appearance. “Yeah I uh must have fallen asleep out here.” I said. She gave me a look of curiosity, signaling she knew there was something I wasn’t telling her. “Yeah, well I have good news,” she said. Good is relative, I thought to myself. “Oh yeah?” “The box worked this time. Almost perfectly even. There was a slight misstep when I asked Sir Paul McCartney what his inspiration was behind ‘Yesterday’. But I think that is just because we have more information to upload. I was just surprised it didn’t use the info from my brain, he was inspired by a dream, I knew that but somehow the machine didn’t. Maybe that’s best though, that it stays out of my thoughts.” She smiled. Normally this would’ve made me laugh. “Well, I don’t think users would enjoy a machine reading their thoughts, even though they spew their streams of consciousness on social media.” This made her laugh. “For inventing life changing technology, you are the biggest technophobe I’ve ever met.” “I like to think I’m the one keeping all of us from a Terminator apocalypse.” She let out another laugh at this. I loved making her laugh. “Well, we should probably head back in Simon is excited to get back to work.” Simon wanting to work, that was worth a laugh. “Welcome back! How was your coffee?” He was such a smug bastard. “It was delightful, Cash let me have the rest.” That shut Simon up. “Where are we with the box?” I asked him. “Oh! Amy said it worked perfectly, nailed every detail. She thinks a few more test runs, another information upload, and we’ll be ready for this thing to hit the market!” This was pretty exciting to hear. To think that it had only been 3 years since the idea for the Muse Box first came to me, and here we are about to polish the machine and send it out to be sold. Simon was only in it for the money, but Vision executives insisted we needed him to keep us on track. It’ll be interesting to see his reaction when we tell him we’re giving away the first thousand for free. “So we’re going to give Amy a box to take home, she’s going to use it for a week, without coming to office, but taking a careful journal of the good, the bad, and the ugly, and she’ll report back to us. We just have to wait and go from there.” He patted me on the back. “This is pretty incredible Cash.” He picked up his suit jacket and left the room, only to start flirting with a technician just outside. I looked at Amelia, her expression was dark until she saw I was looking and then it was like a light switch flipping on. “So Cash, this is pretty exciting for you. Everything is coming together so well, better than expected.” “It really is incredible.” I looked at her and then through the glass pain in the door, the technician slipped Simon a card and he stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “Well, I really should get going, Simon absolutely detests when I keep him waiting. I’ll see you in a week Cash.” Her smile was so convincing I think she even tricked herself into thinking she was happy. “I’m counting down the days Amelia.” I gave her a short hug and she was out the door. I walked over to the bench she had just been sleeping on, the perfect outline of her body had formed on the sheet from her sweat. If she really was speaking to Paul McCartney about his inspirations behind songs there is no way her body would be reacting the way is was. She loved The Beatles, excluding Ringo; she said he gave her the creeps. Why would she say the box was ready? I sat down at the computer to look through the scans taken of Amelia as she slept. They all start out normal, with pleasure receptors being the most active, and then it switched suddenly to fear. I would have to wait to say anything until next week though; maybe the journal Amelia keeps will reflect different results. I grabbed my sweater from the chair back and shut down all the machines before turning off the light and walking out. Our lab was in the basement of the Vision building, I felt like an IT guy, having to take the elevator 6 floors up before getting to ground level where I could actually access the street. The buildings upper floors were dedicated to stock sales and business meetings and there was even one floor that was completely devoted to a candy shop. Businessmen love their gummy bears I guess. But all of these were clearly more important and more accepted practices for the public to access. Our floor however, was under lock and key to the point that they had just installed retinal scanners last year. So while I felt unappreciated as I imagine IT feels, I also had a spy complex where everything I did was so important no one could know about it. Top secret. Classified. I stepped out of the building into the see of rioters the always canvased our sidewalks. “The game of capitalism breeds dishonest men. – De La Vega” This was the most popular sign, and often times the quote was grafittied to the side of the building. I tried to hail a taxi but to no avail. I walked a few blocks and turned right. There is a small hole in the wall Cuban restaurant a few streets over, might as well grab a bite before trying to get home. I passed a few homeless people on the way to the restaurant holding signs that read, “Need money for food” and “dog needs food” and my personal favorite “need weed money.” I like honesty. I drop a few bucks in each person’s piggy bank as I moved by. Each one was extremely polite and thanked me for my donation. I got to the Cuban shop and realized I had no more cash, and Anton refused to take cards. I stuck my hand in the air and whistled like a true New Yorker and finally got a cab to stop. Hopped in said I didn’t have cash and told the driver the address to the apartment building a block from mine. He seemed nice enough, but definitely was giving me a sob story about how his 9 children back home have to work and miss school because their mother died and he was the only source of income now. I’m sure it’s true. I hopped out as he ran my card and I gave him a sizable tip. The look on his face was priceless and he gave me his card. “If you ever need a ride Mr. Cash, I mean EVER you give Sanjay a call and I’ll be here.” “Thanks Sanjay, take the kids for ice cream or something eh?” The puzzled look confirmed his whole story was a crock of something. It didn’t bother me though. What was I going to use that $50 dollars for anyway? “Dreams are an integral part of our mental health. While there are times we don’t remember our dreams, they always occur, and in turn effect our daily lives. Who here has experienced a nightmare?” The man on the stage raised his hand as he spoke signaling to his audience this is what he expected from them. Everyone around me raised his hands. I sat motionless. “Nightmares can cause segmented sleep and result in you being tired, and unable to function at full efficiency.” He spoke about us as if we were robots. “That is why we at Vision have been working on something revolutionary. We have come together with multiple scientists to bring to you the Muse Box. This small piece of technology has the ability to change each and every one of your lives. Simply place the nodes on either temple.” He picked up two small circles attached to wires and stuck them to his forehead. “Then simply tell the Muse Box what you would like to dream about.” He lifted the small cube, now a part of him, and spoke clearly, “Muse Box, put me on a beach during a Kate Upton photo shoot.” The box beeped and then small LED letters scrolled across its frame, reading back what he had just spoken to it. “It’s as simple as that. Once I fall asleep there will be nothing but sand between my toes and Kate Upton striking a pose.” He smirked as if these lines were unscripted and a few giggles exited the crowd, mostly men. “So you may be wondering. Simon, how do I get my hands on one of these fine inventions? Well, I’ll tell you. Everyone in this room today will be receiving a FREE, you heard correctly, FREE Muse Box!” The crowd erupted in thunderous clapping. “Thank you all for coming out this evening, I’ll see you just outside the auditorium with your free Muse Box. And get ready, this little box is about to change your life forever.”
I waited until the auditorium had cleared, staring at the stage Simon had just been on, flailing his arms and smiling ear to ear. That was supposed to be me. Muse Box had been my project, and instead Simon was up there telling everyone how he was going to change each one of his or her lives. I finally stood up and started making my way up the velvet-covered steps to the doors at the back of the room. I could hear laughter and cheering just outside of those thin, wooden panels and had to brace myself. I pushed the door open and to my right was an almost empty table of Muse Boxes. I picked one up and started making my way to the gate of freedom when Simon popped up next to me. “There he is!” Simon was never one to be unenthusiastic about anything. “Where have you been man? Amy and I have been looking for you everywhere.” “I guess I had to recover from that exuberant presentation. You put on quite the show.” I hated Simon. “Yeah, that was all me. Corporate was all, ‘Let the invention speak for itself’, and I was like ‘Whatever dudes’. I’m probably going to get a very strongly worded email from them.” He burst into unbridled laughter, showing off his award-winning smile and unhealthy propensity to over exaggerate his emotions. “Well, anyway bro, Amy and I would love it if you came to the unveil party with us, there are gonna be tons of trim there.” He dug his elbow into my side as if I didn’t understand what he was saying. “I had a long day, I think I’m just going to head back to the apartment and catch up on some work.” He could tell I was lying, but just before he was able to protest, another colleague distracted him from across the way. “Well have a great night then, Cash.” He said bounding towards his next victim. I pulled the Muse Box out of my jacket pocket where it had been hiding and left the building. Hopping into the first cab available, I gave the odorous driver the address to the apartments a block away from mine. I daydreamed about what Amelia was going to wear to that party. Something tight and shiny I’d guess. I’d bet she looked better than anyone in that room tonight. I wonder if she picked up a Muse Box. The cabbie dropped me off; I paid the man, stuck my hands in my pockets and began walking to my actual apartment. The wind was bracing and I swear I saw more than a few snowflakes before I reached my stoop. Fumbling for my keys I heard Richard down the street spinning his tales for an innocent by-stander. I tried to speed up the process before he spotted me but to no avail. “Cash!” He yelled through toothless gums. “Cash it’s me Dick! Not your dick the other one!” He snickered on the way over to me. I saw the person he had been talking up sprint to the other side of the street and look back over her shoulder. I never understood what brought Richard to New York; he was the picture perfect hillbilly from Arkansas, banjo not included. “Richard, how are you.” I asked, unwillingly. “Oh you know Cash, buddy old pal still homeless.” He broke into laughter that evolved into a hacking cough. “How was the show?” “It was fine Richard, but I have work to do so” “I know you’re a busy man Cash but could you spare me some cash…” his face lit up. Richard loved puns, albeit bad ones. “You know what Richard, I don’t have any on me. How about I hit you tomorrow on my way to work?” He seemed somewhat defeated but nonetheless he mosied off down the block to catch the next person to step out of a cab. My apartment felt warm, almost like a sauna, or what I imagine a sauna to feel like. I started stripping off my monkey suit and flipped on the television as I poured a finger of whiskey. There I stood, sipping whiskey in the buff when the TV broke out into shouting and sirens. The news anchor looked scared perched in front of the Metropolitan Opera House, saying things like “thirteen dead, thirty-two in critical condition” and “two explosions on either side of the building.” I froze. That is where the unveil party was. Amy. I threw on my clothes in a panic and went to grab my jacket, when the Muse Box plummeted toward the hard wood floor. I stood for a second wondering if this; all of this happening was just a nightmare. I picked up the box and set it on my counter. I stepped outside and no one was on the street. No taxis, no pedestrians, no Richard. I pulled out my phone and called Simon. “Simon! Simon! Are you there? Can you hear me?” I could only hear chaos on the other end. “Is Amelia ok?” She was all that mattered. “Cash, Cash she’s” sniffling and despair came through the phone. I didn’t need to ask. I ended the call and collapsed onto my front steps. No. This couldn’t be happening. I dialed her number, hoping as if by some miracle she’d answer. “Hello? Cash is that you?” I heard her voice over the line and my throat clinched. “Amy, I thought you were….” “I can’t talk at the moment Cash I have a tad going on.” She was only one I didn’t mind calling me Cash, it was probably the accent. The phone beeped as the call ended. What the hell? I walked back up to my apartment, half confused, half apathetic. How could she just be fine? What was Simon trying to say? I opened my door and saw Amelia on my television. “One of the suspects is believed to be Amelia Candor. Twenty-seven, White-Caucasian female, brunette, about 5’5, is said to be on foot fleeing the area just before the bombs exploded. If you have any information about Candor’s whereabouts the proper information is on the bottom of the screen." None of this makes sense. Amelia was one of the co-creators of Muse Box with Simon, and me why would she do this? She was an avid believer in the technology she was always the one to test it; she wore it to sleep every night for years. I grabbed the Muse Box off of my counter and placed each node on either side of my forehead while on the way to my bed. “Muse Box, I want to have dinner with Amelia I have some questions for her.” I waited for the text to scroll across the face of the machine, but it never came. I tried again. “Muse Box, I want to have dinner with Amelia Candor.” Still nothing. Frustrated I went back to my kitchen and grabbed a screwdriver to pop the faceplate off of the machine. As the plastic front came off I saw something that was not supposed to be inside. A small piece of paper. I extracted the parcel and unraveled it. “Cash, we can’t allow Vision to sell these. There is something wrong. The machine is re-writing it’s own code. I wake up and think things, awful things, and I know it’s the box. We have to stop them. –A” I slid down the side of my counter until I hit the floor, unplugged from the Muse Box, and pushed it away from me. This wasn’t happening. Just a dream. A nightmare. “Wake up” I whispered to myself, but I remained in the present. Supper
She sat there in the spot she sat every night for 17 years. The end of the table with her brother on one side, her mother on the other, her father across from her. The place she bragged about an A on her math test, and cried when Lyn stood her up. It used to feel good, this spot. But now all food tasted rotten, and her stomach turned. A Walk in the Park Life was supposed to be easy. She had it all planned out. A good college, a good career, a happy husband. It’s funny how one thing can change everything. The leaves are turning dark orange and red, each one falls from a branch like a drop of blood from a cut. She sat on the park bench witnessing each tree die. Though the trees lost their leaves, it was almost like a burden was lifted from their limbs. She wondered if she would ever see Delsin again. Confession She sits on the other side of the perforated wall that separates her from God. Isn’t that how it is though? We see God through little holes in our world? She opens up to the father like she hadn’t spoken in years and though tears burned her eyes not one dropped. No unholy water. Silence Nothing. Darkness. Her brain fills the void with a ringing. And her heart aches. Last Appointment She walks through the doors and checks in. Her hands shake as she flips through the same People magazine she pretended to look at last time she was here. There are screaming children, tired mothers desperate to quiet them down. That would not be her. Her mother used to hum to her when they were in public. How would she be able to look her in the face after this? She remembered a time eating ice cream with her baby brother. The room got slightly colder. The Table She sat looking at the faded spot on the ceiling. Breathe in. Hold for 3 seconds. Breathe out. Her nurse turned on a machine. There was a whirr and then a low hum. She got up. Put her clothes back on and left the clinic. "You never wake up in the same place. Usually the buildings have anywhere from three to seven levels filled with musty mattresses and vomit covered floors. Every story is dark and where there is light it comes in small beams fighting its way through boarded up windows. The air feels heavy and damp here. Ceilings are crumbling in most places, exposing old insulation and chewed up wires. While the tenants here shouldn’t be trusted near fire, there are candles scattered about out of necessity, per the lack of electricity.
There are two types of residents to be found here. Those who are rocking back and forth, screaming and clawing at their skin, or those who have six to eight legs that live off of small piles of regurgitated food. Some floors have many people huddled together and others are only graced with a convulsing body every few feet. The doorway is always the cleanest; sometimes there is even a doormat with some cheeky saying like “go away” or “nice underwear”. Getting in is easy; there is no password or secret handshake. But most never make it out. I was lucky. Most wouldn’t look at it this way, considering I was arrested and spent a little less than 2 years in prison. However, it was a relatively small price to pay to regain my sanity. Addicts are funny. Some never heal, they go through rehab after rehab and nothing inside them changes. They are released and 3 or 4 weeks after they only eat healthy food and spend all their free time keeping their mind occupied. The second their mind wanders they are back in the hole they worked so hard to crawl out of. I was not this way, I wouldn't call myself an addict, but then again who would outside of support circle. I started smoking pot at around 15 years old, although my first joint was at 13. I didn’t have a hard life if that is what you’re wondering. My parents didn’t fight more than was healthy, I had more than enough food, and I never had to share a room with my kid brother. I just liked how it felt. How it felt to do something bad. The head rush of THC and disobedience. I only got caught a handful of times by the kind old woman who lived next door, she never snitched either. Mrs. Carson was rad. I went to college in a relatively big city, one that more intense drugs were made readily available. By 20 I was dabbling in MDMA, and cocaine, and the one time we went camping we found the best kind of mushrooms. These were never my favorite because everyone was always on something. Not just students, everyone. It didn’t have that rebellious feel. I maintained a steady high from freshes week through graduation though. As an adult I settled on heroin. Not because it was rebellious, because most of us were not exciting humans. Heroin was about the high. It was an orgasm in a syringe. And for the first year I functioned like a normal adult. I had rules for myself. Only do so much once a week and never stay up past 10 pm. Bad thoughts come after 10 pm. But soon only so much wasn’t enough. My body was building a tolerance. So I stopped. I didn’t touch the stuff for months. Avoided my normal hotspots where my dealers prowled and hung out in old people bars with two or three gentleman with rattails and a dip permanently nestled between their bottom teeth and lip. They often times had neck tattoos. My favorite bar was Tugboat’s; this is where I met Simone. Oh my god was she garbage twice warmed over. She always wore makeup, but never really in the place it was supposed to be. Her hair was the definition of rat’s nest and all of her clothes had holes in them. But that smile. Her ability to pretend she felt anything was amazing. Her eyes had no light in them but her smile was so convincing. So convincing I asked her to come home with me. She said no the first 5 times I asked. The 6th she asked me. I eagerly followed her to a building with a paint job of graffiti and piss stains. I looked down as she pushed open the broken door. “Welcome.” I walked in and the smell hit me like a double decker bus. Death. This is when my Jiminy Cricket said, ‘Gtfo Garfield’ but this was Simone. Weeks of trying had gotten me here. I was not going to back down just yet. She never said anything. I don’t think a single word passed those plum lips, but she pulled out a vile and syringe and I knew I made the right choice about staying. We both had some sat on a slightly damp mattress and looked up. Either we were on the roof or there was a huge hole in it because I could see stars. Then there was nothing. I woke up in a jail cell and couldn’t honestly tell you if Simone was real or not. But that was the last time I used. Not just heroin, anything.“ “Thank you for sharing Garfield. So, who’s next?” There are certain streets I always take to get home from work. Straight out of the bar onto buzzing Bourbon Street. I then take a left and walk until St. Peter, then take another left and saunter until I hit my apartment building on Royal. It still makes me laugh that someone like me lives on a street with such regal connotation right in the name. Bourbon is in full swing at 3 in the morning as always and though the sky is dark the streets are lit with the colorful signs for strip clubs and piano bars. Bourbon seems overwhelmingly loud but if you just stand and close your eyes, people begin to funnel around you, everything appears to slow to a low murmur sprinkled here and there with laughter. This is a destination chosen by families on vacation who come for the rich history but leave mortified that their child has seen more of the human anatomy than they would like, thrill seekers who understand the unbridled opportunity this city holds, and the emotionally distraught looking for some kind of solace in the chaos that is Bourbon Street. It would take only a few minutes with me to figure out which one of these categories I belonged in. I like to believe I was that thrill seeker, deciding that I didn’t want to grow up just yet and spending 3 years drinking my time away. But I came here as one of the emotionally distraught, bouncing back and forth from fortuneteller to fortuneteller in Jackson Square. I even visited Marie Laveau in hopes that the dead voodoo queen would give me some new perspective on life, or at the very least destroy my enemies. Unsurprisingly none of this was effective in my search for self-discovery. I started my walk home passing by my regular bars, contemplating going in and having a drink with Cybil before heading home. Cybil was my roommate, well significant other, she never paid rent. I passed by the bar and didn’t see her doing her usual thing, leaning over the bar with her chest hanging out and laughing at everything the men said, so I decided it’s not worth going in and just continued down the block. I still wonder to this day, what if I had gone in and had drinks would I have still witnessed what I did. The fresh, upbeat atmosphere of the French Quarter starkly contrasts the dark, smelly air of the alleys. That night it was raining so I decided to take a shortcut through one of those alleyways. For some reason I always forgot to use the bathroom at the bar at the end of my shift, maybe I thought my apartment was close enough or it was the state that Bourbon Street bathrooms were notorious for. Probably why everyone, including myself use the alleyways to relieve ourselves. I propped myself up with one hand pressed against the brick wall and I started to ponder life as one does after a long shift while taking a piss in an alley. It’s been three years; maybe it’s time to try somewhere new. What about Cybil, my job, it’s comfortable here. It’s been so long since I’ve felt comfortable somewhere. Dare I say New Orleans was beginning to feel like a home? Bourbon didn’t care what color your past was, it didn’t matter if you had been a lawyer or a con artist. As I buttoned my pants I saw a group of what looked like college freshman pass the alley I had just marked as my own. All of the girls had clearly drank more than their limit and the men were so graciously guiding them back to their hotel with a hand on each of their asses. I shook my head and started to mosey in the direction of home. There’s that word again, home. As the sounds of Bourbon started to fade a bit and I neared my apartment building I heard crying. Not just crying but sobbing coming seemingly from thin air. I stopped to try and find the source of the sounds and every direction was inconclusive, like I was searching for a damn cricket plaguing my kitchen, but then I looked up. Perched on the edge of one of the brightly colored buildings stood a woman in a blue sequined party dress, holding her heels in her left hand. She was looking up at something and shaking, but I don’t think she was scared, it was almost as if she was trying to calm her crying. She was a vision of someone trying to talk to God. Without wanting to jump to conclusions about what she is doing up there, she did. I watched her body fall from the edge of the building but it felt more like she was an angel falling from the dark sky or an elegant ballerina portraying a dying swan. I called out but everything seemed muted, moving in slow motion. I started running to the place she would land but I was too late. This beautiful girl, dark hair, makeup running down her cheeks, that was experiencing such despair mere seconds ago, was peaceful now. Her eyes looking toward the shine of the streetlight. “Go toward the light” I whispered to myself as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911. It feels morbid and horribly cliché as I recall it now but in the moment it was just poetic. Then I just stood there, waiting in the rain memorizing every feature of that girl’s face. That night New Orleans wasn’t the destination of happily ever after for me, and I continue to wonder if it was for that girl that night. I was so nervous. I hadn’t seen Emily for seven whole months. And that’s crazy because Emily is my best friend, and we used to see each other everyday, well before I got superpowers. I was super excited to tell her all about my secret base with all the other kids with superpowers and that the tests they’re doing with me is going to help so many other people and maybe even Emily could get superpowers. We were a block away from Emily’s house when my mom pulled over and turned around in her seat to look at me. The look she gave me wasn’t happy which was confusing, Emily’s mommy was my mom’s best friend, I thought she’d be excited. “Sara, remember when you tell Emily about why you’ve been gone for so long…” “It’s because of my superpowers and some stuff is top secret. I know mom.” I had been waiting 7 months to see Emily I was ready.
We pulled into their driveway and Emily bolted out of the front door like a dog being let outside for the first time, she was holding balloons that said welcome back. She ran up and hugged me; I had missed her so much but it kind of hurt to hug people with all my bruises. “Oh my goodness Sara you’re so skinny it’s like hugging bones,” this was the perfect opportunity to start talking about the tests they had to run. “That’s because of all the power ups they put in my blood” I said, “They don’t make you feel very good right away but they’re suppose to boost my superpowers so that they don’t have to take tests anymore. “ Sara looked confused, “but my mommy said you were dying.” Why would Emily’s mom say that? Maybe my mom didn’t explain very well over the phone. “No Emily, I have this bulb inside of my pancreas, whatever that is, and the doctors are doing tests on it because they said MY pancreas might be able to help other little girls and boys that are having a hard time controlling their superpowers. That’s where I’ve been, in the secret base.” “Oh, but mommy said that”, Emily’s mom interrupted her in the middle of her sentence, that’s rude. “Would you girls like to come in for cupcakes and lemonade?” Uh, heck yeah I do, but not if they were vanilla cupcakes, I hate vanilla. Emily and I linked arms and ran to the house laughing, Emily was a little faster than me but she slowed down when she realized I was tired from all the tests and stuff. We plopped down on the big yellow couch that I had always loved and turned on SpongeBob. “I’m not allowed to watch this” Emily said to me. “That’s ok, Mommy knows not to mess with me and my superpowers.” I put my hands in the air and waved them around like I was casting a spell. Emily flinched so I stopped. We both laughed but Emily’s wasn’t a very happy one. “Yeah she only had a few more treatments but the doctors say it’s pointless now, I don’t know what to do. Do you think we should do the treatments anyway? I just want her to be a normal little girl again.” I could hear my mom’s voice coming from the kitchen. Mommy never seemed all that glad that I had gotten superpowers. Maybe it’s because sometimes they make me puke and she has to clean it up. I never like that she has to do that. I wish daddy would’ve stayed so he could help mommy when I couldn’t. No one really tells you that having superpowers wouldn’t just be fun all the time. “I don’t know Lisa, but either way you’re going to have to tell her the truth sooner than later. Emily has already come to terms with it I think.” “Emily isn’t the one who’s dying Sharon.” Dying? I must have heard her wrong I think she said flying. But why would she be crying so much about me being able to fly I told her I would wear a helmet any time I left the ground. I decided to get up and go to the kitchen. “Where are you going?” Emily whispered from the couch, I pretended not to hear her. “Mommy? Can I have something to drink? My throat is dry.” “Sure baby of course.” She wiped her eyes and went to the cupboard. She looked the same as when daddy left for his long business trip. Mommy wouldn’t tell me where he was going but she said he was going to bring me back a really cool gift. She went to reach for a glass and stopped midway. “Actually Sara I think we should go home, I bet Freddie misses you.” Freddie was our cat, he never missed anyone. “Freddie doesn’t miss me, Emily misses me can’t we stay a little longer, pleeeeeeeeease?” “No sweetheart we have to go. Thank you Sharon for everything, I’m glad the girls got to see each other before” She froze. No one talked after that. Emily didn’t hug me when we left; she just waved at me from her door. Mommy and I drove home with no music on and she was crying but trying to hide it. We got home and mom didn’t turn any of the lights on. I got to my room and mom plugged in my machine that helps me breathe at night. She kissed me on the forehead, but left without a bedtime story. This was a weird day. Maybe mommy will let me practice flying tomorrow. I remember thinking to myself, just before I closed my eyes for the last time. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ So a little explanation for this story. I wanted to do something where I played with tone or mood. I wanted to take something with an obvious tone, like a cancer narrative, and flip the tone from sad to happy. I wanted to see if the tone had an impact on the way the reader feels at the end. Obviously at the end of a normal cancer narrative, especially one about a child, the reader is going to feel sad. But if you take that sad tone and make it happy, does the reader feel even more sad at the end? Just something I wanted to play around with, and it was actually kind of tough. But it was fun and I might experiment with it in the future. |