The Other
Every time I go to sleep, I dream that I am someone else.
Adam stared at the typed words on the screen until the words stopped looking like words and began to look like gibberish.
His cat, a cute but slightly sociopathic multicolored calico who turned up one day at his apartment to set up residence, curled up on his lap ready for a nap. Adam had named her Valentine after a heart-shaped patch on her back.
Adam was supposed to be writing code for a client - some app for a new line of shoes made from recycled wastes of the Amazon rainforest or some such - but he couldn’t focus today. He was getting a migraine, and this morning he woke up again drenched in sweat. When he checked his weight on the scale he found that he lost another two pounds.
Even he had to admit he was looking rather emaciated these days.
His doctor told him he was just depressed, that all his tests came back normal. He asked for a full body scan just to be sure but the doctor just chuckled him out the door with a script for Zoloft.
He was depressed. He’s always been kind of depressed.
Adam sighed and decided to check his emails while he sipped his morning coffee. Caffeine helped with migraines, didn’t it? He squinted at his monitor. There was a notice from his bank stating the balance on his checking account was getting dangerously low. He transferred some money from his savings but even that was also slowly dwindling down. He was hopeful when he was invited to interview at Virtual Games - a new start up that was supposed to be the next Google - but he didn’t make it past the second round of interviews.
Thank you for taking the time to interview at Virtual Games, San Francisco! Unfortunately, we decided to go with a candidate with more experience. We will be keeping your resume on file should a position open up that fits better with your profile. Thank you for considering Virtual Games!
Adam tried not to take it personally. He knew he was a good programmer, great, even. But he never did well in interviews. It might have something to do with his crippling social anxiety.
No, he did better working for himself. He didn’t want to work for some big pretentious company anyway.
Another email caught his eye. The sender was blank, but the subject line was: I need to talk to you.
Adam hesitated only slightly before clicking on the e-mail. He knew there was a chance this email was a scam, or worse, a virus or worm concocted by some sadistic computer savant. But Adam’s computer had a pretty good firewall that he built himself, and he used a completely different server for his personal stuff. He was confident that even if this email contained some kind of worm, that he would be able to identify and stop it in its tracks. Maybe even trace it. He wondered idly if there was some kind of reward for that - catching a cyber criminal. Maybe it could be his second source of income.
Adam clicked to open the message:
Adam:
I’ve been trying to reach you for months. I need to tell you something very important. It’s about your dreams, Adam, and what they mean. I’ve been having dreams, too. But about you.
I know it sounds crazy, but if you just give me a few minutes, I can explain.
P.S. Have you been to the doctor lately?
Lucas
Adam frowned. What the hell? He didn’t know anybody by the name Lucas. He’s also never told anyone about his weird dreams, not even his doctor. He only mentioned the sweats and the weight loss at his last check up.
It still could be a scam. But the message was too specific, too personal while still being vague enough that Adam had no idea what it could possibly mean. He couldn’t just ignore it, could he? He had to at least investigate.
Adam clicked on “reply.”
A plain black chat window appeared. Adam felt an immediate pang of regret. For a smart guy, he sure does dumb things.
He stared at the cursor in the chat window with dread as it began to type:
Hi Adam.
A long pause.
Thank you for talking to me.
Adam tried to close the chat window but the button did not respond. He tried to go through the task manager but it was not identified as one of the programs running. Damn it.
Don’t panic, Adam.
Shit. Adam guessed he might be being watched or recorded through the very computer the chat box was operating from, but like any neurotic programmer he had his camera and microphone covered up with two layers of duct tape. He eyed the duct tape suspiciously as the chat box filled with more words.
My name is Lucas Greer. I believe that somehow, every night, you have been seeing my life when you dream. I also believe I see your life when I dream. At this point you’re probably thinking I’m insane, and you might be right. But I have thought about this a long time, and it’s the only thing that makes sense. I also have proof.
Adam would have called bullshit immediately if it didn’t feel true. He had been dreaming as if he was seeing the life of another person for several months now. The images were not always clear, but they were consistent. A sparse apartment, taking the train to work, a job in front of a computer. There was a recurring theme of an ex-girlfriend that this person was still in love with. She even had a name but Adam couldn’t remember it. Helen? Hannah? The details always escaped him when he woke up.
He took a deep breath. His head was now pounding. Fine. He will play this game for now. He typed back: “Okay, what’s your proof?”
I know things about you… from my dreams, you see. I’ve been practicing lucid dreaming for a while now and when I wake up I immediately write everything down so I don’t forget the details. I know you have a cat, Valentine, who has a heart shaped patch on her back. I know you’re a programmer and you’re self employed. You live in a small apartment north of San Francisco. Your apartment is sparsely furnished, mostly you have computer equipment. You’ve been losing weight. You’re worried about your health. Anyway, eventually I figured out your computer system and now, here we are.
Adam hesitated, then typed: “Those are all things anyone could easily find out about me.”
Okay... but how about the things you know about me?
Adam paused. Valentine purred softly on his lap. Finally he typed: “I don’t know anything about you.”
I don’t believe you.
Adam was losing his patience. The curiosity of the initial email was wearing thin. He typed another reply: “Let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”
The chat box was silent for a while. Then:
I want to switch with you. The next time we go to sleep.
Okay, so maybe this Lucas guy was missing a few marbles. That or he was hacking into his servers now as they speak. Adam wondered briefly if he could just shut down his computer now, kill all running programs. Since this particular computer was not connected to his personal network and is on a different server, it was probably not sending worms to all his other computers at that very moment.
You don’t have to do anything, you just need to know about me - that I’m real and that I exist.
When you go to sleep tonight, I’ll do the rest.
Adam almost typed “but I don’t want to.” But that would be like admitting that he believed this silly story. And he didn’t want to do that because he didn’t believe it. Did he?
He turned off the computer. He didn’t turn it on for the rest of the day.
Needless to say, as much as he tried, Adam didn’t sleep a wink that night.
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