by Nick James
He was right, but a job is a job. ‘That sounds okay. Is it local?’ I asked.
‘Canary Wharf, a company called Shimmering Dreams,’ the ‘not Neo’ replied.
This piqued my interest. ‘Is that the new dream recording app?’ I asked, knowing how much fun that would be and how much trouble it would cause me with Bunny. I rubbed my chin to pretend I was thinking. ‘Sounds good, sir, could you put my name forward…please?’ I begged…kind of.
The ‘Ginger not Neo’ nodded. ‘Of course, Mr Blades. I’ll email them your CV with the rest of your paperwork, and then I’ll be in touch when they let me know,’ he explained happily. He then stood up and offered his hand to let me know that we were done.
‘Thank you for your time, and I hope to hear from you soon, sir,’ I said giving the full charm offensive and shaking his hand.
I gave Tiffany a wink as I walked out. Surprisingly, she blushed or had a panic attack – dealer’s choice. I stopped off at The Tavern for a couple of pints and a burger before heading home to tidy up.
The rest of the day went well. I remembered to tidy the flat. Brownie points, I thought, and then put on my slobbing-out clothes before sitting down to finish watching the adventures of Neo and Trinity.
At some point I must have fallen asleep, as I awoke to the calls of an angel echoing through the flat.
‘And what happened to texting me about your interview!’
My eyes flew open. ‘Shit, Bunny’s home,’ I muttered before she stormed straight past into our room. Then I heard two words that scared me.
‘Get ready!’
Chapter 2
Monday, 23 September 2019
I managed to get some cash-in-hand work over the weekend. It meant time away from Bunny as I was helping her friend move to a new house down in Brighton, but at least it was money. However, this was tough. I was sat with a huge file on the history of Shimmering Dreams. Bunny had spent the weekend putting the file together for me. What a cracking lass she is.
‘Better safe than sorry,’ she had said before explaining how her employees would expect any applicant to do their homework on the company and its business interests.
I yawned and paused today’s film. No Matrix today just in case I got the call, so I took the safe route with The Shawshank Redemption and watched poor Andy Dufresne make his bid for freedom. I opened the file Bunny had prepared before clicking on the CD player to let eighties music take over the flat. Adam Ant boomed out, and I chuckled. I had always thought I was Prince Charming. Git. I started to read.
Shimmering Dreams was created in 2010. The technology was initially created by a company called Mind Wave Ltd, whose primary customer was the Ministry of Defence. They had been contracted to create a platform that would download soldiers’ memories in real time so the military could see through their eyes during a mission and receive up-to-date ground-level intelligence.
They theorised that the brain creates waves which they should be able to capture. It had taken five years to get the brain mapped out sufficiently enough to find and document the waves. But, unfortunately, after development it transpired that the platform was too unstable for use in the field. With the constant movement of soldiers, along with the amount of radio waves in the combat zones, it led to an unreliable signal.
‘Fucking hell, Bunny, where did you get this shit?!’ I laughed seeing ‘Top Secret’ stamped across some of the photocopies.
I knew the information had come from her mum and dad. The connections they had while in the Hong Kong Police Force must have been high up as well as international. Every time I asked what they did, they just said, ‘Arrest stupid English students.’ They were never outwardly nasty to me, but we weren’t on hugging terms. When introducing me, Bunny called them Mum and Dad. When I asked their names they insisted that I call them Mum and Dad, like their names were a big secret. Oh, and then later I probed Bunny for their names… Ouch, won’t do that again. The whole family is scary, and they own a lot of knives.
I yawned and farted as Culture Club sang about a lizard with emotions. God, I love the music of the eighties, I thought happily and glanced at the smiling picture of Bunny on the mantlepiece. I clapped my hands together. ‘Right, back to it, Bladesy,’ I said and continued reading.
Finally, the Ministry of Defence had stopped funding the project, and that’s when several of the engineers got together with a major but unknown financial backer in the UK to start Shimmering Dreams. But they still had to wait until mobile devices became faster and, more importantly, even more secure.
The first version linked directly to your brain and downloaded the waves while you were sleeping to your mobile device as the connection was stable, and with that you could download your dreams. It was hailed as the greatest invention of its age. But when the sordid dreams of several high-profile government officials were suddenly placed on the Internet, the company was nearly forcibly closed with pressure from the government.
For the company to survive, they had to upgrade the security. From children to celebrities, customers were required to obtain an appropriate level of security.
So, you can imagine the security for celebrities and the cost of that. In the end, if you wanted the app you had to buy the security as well. Although, the strength of it was down to the user. It was compulsory to buy both programs. No money, no app.
That’s why Bunny and I never bothered with it. I even said life was a dream with her. My girlfriend’s retort wasn’t kind, but afterwards we did things that made our sofa want to shower itself in bleach. Tough, we own you, couch…deal with it!
After finally managing to finish the file, I was ready for the interview. Now I just had to wait while watching Bogs get his spine cracked by the head guard. Finally, the phone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Good afternoon, is that Mr Blades?’ a lady asked politely.
‘Speaking, is that Tiffany?’ I asked, with the song now running in my head. I really do have focusing issues.
The woman giggled. ‘Yes, sir, are you free to talk?’ she asked.
In that moment all the stars aligned. This was my moment. ‘Why, yes, I think we’re alone now,’ I replied, almost singing down the phone. It is a good day, I thought to myself as I did a little dance. It’s the little things, really.
There was a brief silence.
‘Er…good, thank you. Mr Anderson has arranged an interview for you at Shimmering Dreams in Canary Wharf at two forty-five. Will you be able to make it?’ Tiffany asked.
‘Oh great, yes, that won’t be a problem,’ I answered happily and started to pick gummy bear bits out of my teeth… Yes, I am an adult. ‘I’ll be there, and please thank Neo for the help.’
‘Neo?’
Whoops. ‘Sorry, I meant Mr Anderson. Thank you for letting me know, Tiffany.’
‘You’re welcome, sir, and good luck,’ she said. The phone went dead.
My brain decided to work for once. I texted Bunny to let her know, then I ran around the flat after turning off the TV, sorry Andy, and jumped in the shower before trying to make myself look like an adult by wearing my big boy clothes. Hopefully, I would look like a man they’d want to employ.
My phone buzzed. Good luck baby, love you xx, get milk.
That’s my Bunny. I replied, stuck my earphones in and hit the road. I headed down the street towards the District Line with Dexys Midnight Runners having fun with a popular girl called Eileen. I jumped on the Jubilee Line, heading towards Canary Wharf and my new job.
I looked at my watch as the Shimmering Dreams’ offices stood in front of me. A huge building made of metal and glass right on the bank of the Thames. ‘God, it stinks,’ I muttered before putting my earphones away and heading inside.
It was your typical building, all aluminium and glass, which just seemed to want to suck the soul out of you straight away. It screamed the end is nigh.
I saw what looked like a supermodel behind the reception desk. Hubba hubba, I thought as I tried my best
James Bond swagger, which I later found out made me look like I had shit myself.
‘Welcome to Shimmering Dreams. How may I help you?’ asked the angel of beauty. Although, her eyes said ‘take me over my desk…now’.
Before you scoff at me, you weren’t there. I was, so piss off.
I smiled and wondered if I had removed the remnants of my gummy bear breakfast from my teeth. ‘Good afternoon, my name is Sam Blades. I have an interview at two forty-five,’ I said smoothly…hopefully.
The walking wet dream looked at her screen and punched a few buttons. ‘Oh yes, it’ll be on the tenth floor, Mr Blades. Take the lift up, have a seat and your interviewer will collect you from there,’ kindly replied my possible future wife, but her demeanour did change once she knew I wasn’t a customer, or there for business.
I gave her a little bow and smiled. ‘Thank you very much. Wish me luck?’ I asked.
She just shrugged. ‘Only the best work here, so no luck involved…sir,’ she said before putting her head down and resuming her typing.
I sneered at the teasing bitch and stomped off to the lift. How dare she hit on me! I love Bunny. I pushed the button to call the lift. ‘She’ll fuck you up,’ I muttered, still thinking of Bunny, and stepped into the lift.
As the doors closed, I settled my breathing and focused on the upcoming meeting. I looked around. As lifts go, it was very nice: no smell of piss, puke or even blood splatter on the shiny metal walls. No music, though; that was the only downside.
The lift door opened and showed me pristine white walls with a black stone floor. I saw the chairs, sauntered over and took my place so I could watch the clock on the wall click slowly round.
I retreated into my mind for a while as people came and went. If I tried to engage in conversation with anyone it would just go wrong anyway. I started to hum ‘Uptown Girl’ as I watched a leggy brunette walk past in a tight business suit. God, I’m dead, I thought as she looked at me like something that had a tail and went squeak.
Finally, a tall man with slicked-back hair walked up to me.
‘Mr Blades?’
I stood up and shook his hand. ‘Yes, sir, thank you for seeing me,’ I replied as the charm offensive began.
‘Not at all, just follow me and we’ll make a start,’ he said pointing towards a door.
I followed like a good boy and tried to keep my gob shut, which is difficult at times. ‘Nice place you have here,’ I said. Damn, see what I mean? Luckily, he laughed.
‘Thanks, I’m John Dufresne, HR manager,’ he introduced himself.
My mind was going crazy. What the hell was going on in my life. Neo, Tiffany and now Dufresne. What the fuck was going on?
We entered a small office, which was totally grey – and I mean everything. I looked to see if there was a poster of a cat saying ‘Hang in there’. I hoped it wasn’t all like this. I sensed a killing spree in my future if it was.
Luckily, the interview went quite well. I said all the right things, especially when he asked me what I knew about the company; although, he was confused when I told him something that even he didn’t know. Whoops.
Then he started to tell me about the team he played for at weekends.
‘Oh really, my brother used to play football on a Sunday,’ I offered, trying to bond with him.
‘Oh, there’s a netball league just started up, so me and the lads got together and started a team,’ he said.
I tried to swallow all my laughs that were trying to make a bid for freedom.
As if that wasn’t enough, he then showed me some pictures of his model aircraft.
Oh fuck, get me out of here, I thought loudly in my head. Bunny would just kick his arse for fun if she were here. ‘So, sir, do you think I have a chance?’
He put his pictures away.
Yay.
‘Well, I have a few more applicants to interview today…’
Poor bastards, I thought.
‘…but we are looking for quick starters, so you should know tonight or tomorrow,’ he answered and offered his hand.
I shook it and said, ‘I look forward to hearing from you, sir.’ I stood up hoping that he would let me make my own way back to reception. Nope. He talked the whole way back to the lift about his pet turtle called Freddie. I made my escape to freedom, passing the cheating bitch on reception, and finally hit fresh air. Well, apart from the Thames whiff, but it was close enough.
On my way home, I stopped for a pint or two and once again remembered to check in with the boss. She didn’t reply, so I guessed she was busy torturing someone at her work. She did love being a PA; even her boss feared her. I picked up milk from the newsagents as well as a strawberry Cornetto. Hmmm…might watch Shaun of the Dead later, I thought as I walked into the piss-ridden lift to travel up to my lovely flat.
Finally, I had a beer in my hand, my shorts and T-shirt in place and a sharing bag of Monster Munch between my legs as Shaun and Ed got bladdered in the pub.
Then the door opened. Bunny called out, hugged me from behind and slid her hand down my chest.
Hello, I thought, but was then disappointed when she grabbed my crisps and danced off into the bedroom with my food as the zombie killers tried to be DJs.
The phone rang and instantly switched to answer machine as I watched Bunny dance along to the TV music while scoffing my crisps and stripping off her clothes.
Hubba hubba, pickled onion flavoured girlfriend, I thought, going into full-on sex attack mode. Thankfully, she was willing.
While clothes and crisps went flying, the dulcet tones of ‘not Neo’ filtered out of the answer machine.
‘Mr Blades, it’s Mr Anderson from the agency. Congratulations, you’ve got the job. If you wish to accept it, please call me tomorrow morning – they would like you to start on the twenty-fifth. Have a good evening.’ The machine clicked off.
‘You do know you’ll have to hoover all this up tonight,’ said Bunny as we wrestled for dominance on the bed.
‘Whatever, just get your knickers off,’ I ordered as I licked tasty crumbs off her soft globes of flesh. ‘Mmmm…yummy.’
‘Pig,’ she spat.
Chapter 3
Tuesday, 24 September 2019
Shimmering Dreams Headquarters
Michael McAllister
‘What have I done?’ I mumbled and looked at the threatening text again. My mind was nearly at breaking point; my life had been going so well. I was the youngest department head in the company at twenty-eight, I still had all my lovely thick blond hair and my stomach hadn’t made it over my belt yet. I had a stunning girlfriend and drove a top-of-the-range BMW. Let’s just say, life was good…until that fateful evening on a lad’s night out.
We ended up at The Limping Dragon restaurant and gambling parlour. Don’t get me wrong, that first night was awesome. I won £3000. When I got home, my girlfriend, Sharon, and I had sex over the money, which sounds better than it was.
‘Bastard!’ I shouted at the mirror. The man in front of me was weak.
The next night, I went back to double my money. I ended up owing them £2000, which wasn’t a problem. The problem was the fact that I had become addicted to playing Sic Bo, or Chinese dominoes.
Soon, I found myself £20,000 in the hole and single, after drunkenly shagging a waitress in the alley and not realising that she’d left nail marks on my neck. Sharon broke my nose and stormed off taking all her jewellery and clothes with her.
But recently things had stepped up. Being the department head of security for the whole under-sixteen customer age bracket, I had access to the dream recordings of all ages under my purview; that’s how I got into even more trouble when the owner of said gambling joint found out my occupation and who my employers were.
And that’s how it started. I sold them dream footage taken from the recordings of adolescents so they could sell them to the lowest of the low in our world. But at least I had more money coming in if I’d paid it off my debt, which of course I didn’t.
It was just one big, vicious circle: work, gamble, steal, waitresses.
Once again, I was at work standing in front of a mirror in my private bathroom. I was once a handsome man, six feet two with a swimmer’s physique and bronzed skin. Now I am pale and haggard. I knew the CEO and his people upstairs were still watching. The gossip was that I was too young and the stress had got to me. ‘I thrive on stress, mother fucker,’ I spat at the mirror.
I felt my phone buzz and took it out of my pocket. I expected to read abuse from my now angry casino handlers. To my surprise it was my buddy Tony from school, about that fateful night.
Oi Peanut, drinks & dice tonight.
‘Peanut!’ I groaned.
The nickname was all my own fault. I won all that money, so I bought shirts and ties monogrammed with my initials ‘MM’. I was halfway through the day when someone chucked a packet of sweets, of the same letters. Obviously, it had to be the peanut ones; after all, I’m not a savage.
I replied, of course, that I was going. What else was there to do? I had already managed to sneak ten hours of dreams that day, which I hoped would keep the handlers off my back for a while.
Finally, I left the bathroom and made it to my desk before looking through the window at the view over good old London Town. The city was grey, just like the clouds and this office and, strangely, my mood. I managed to finally boot up my computer and noticed that my bloody personal files had been accessed again, from internal security…again. The nosey bastards were only meant to do monthly checks on department heads and weekly ones for the minions, but this was the fourth time they had accessed my accounts this month.
‘Fuckkkkk,’ I mumbled. I checked the work files they had accessed. Luckily, they had investigated the dummy account files I had set up to look suspicious, with lots of downloads and deletions, but if they looked deep enough they would realise these were just daily reports from my section managers. Now I knew they were looking at me, I reassured myself that at least they didn’t know about my external hard drive, which never leaves my person.
