Aesthetic nurse jobs

My ndis supports have been getting set up over the last couple of months.
My planner put in for “employment support” which is not something I need because I already have a job. But I have the funding, so they said I can use it to get a support person to help with meal prep and things around the house once a week.
Last week she came for the first time and I didn’t really know what she was able to offer so she just went around tidying up and doing things. I’m still getting used to letting people into my home.
This week she came and I said there were some veg that needing chopping and freezing so she did that. Then she asked “what else can I help with”? And I said I wanna strip the kids sheets and wash them.
She said “I spoke to my coordinator last week and he wants me to do less cleaning stuff because you have a cleaner” She said “he wants me to do more capacity building stuff”.
I said “I don’t really understand what you mean by that.” ( I have the capacity to work but I am severely burnt out and I struggle with keeping up at home and often call in sick due to being so fatigued and overwhelmed by every day life).
She ignored me completely and didn’t answer me.
I went to my bedroom for 5 mins to call in sick for work. And take some deep breaths to avoid melting down. She asked my husband if I was “still here” like I had left the house.
My hubby told me later that he noticed she speaks to me more like a child but talks to him normally.
It’s as if she thinks I’m stupid. I have an IQ in the 130s and I work as a nurse. I was at a very low capacity yesterday morning because I had a really bad night sleep and overdid things on my day off the day before, after having worked both days on the weekend.
All I wanted to do was go back to bed. But I had this lady, who kept asking me “what do you want next” when I still don’t really understand what her role is and I almost had a meltdown from having to deal with it.
I was nearly at the point of being non verbal and she didn’t just seem to pick up on this at all.

I had breast implants surgery about 2 weeks ago and today I was cleared by the nurse my wound has closed and everything is looking really good. I can shower and do most things by myself safely at this stage.
Question is, I know I’m not supposed to have sex for at least 6 weeks post op but that’s a bit unrealistic. Me and my bf just did it and we took a lot of care not to put pressure on my chest area. He did all of the work and I didn’t do anything. We didn’t make it any longer than necessary. I also kept my compression bra on the whole time. I felt no pain or discomfort but my boobs did jiggle at times.
After the deed, I now feel very paranoid that I fucked up and my results are going to be fucked up.
If anyone else has had a boob job - how soon after the surgery did you actually had sex? And did you have any negative consequences? Did I fuck up?

Greetings, I am Sunny, a writer with years of experience. I conduct thorough research before commencing any project, and I aim to produce work that is original and engaging. My attention to details/instructions is excellent and my grammavocabulary is impeccable. I particularly enjoy tasks which require a high level of accuracy and focus, as well as jobs which allow me to use my writing skills to their full potential. I am well versed with different styles of writing across a broad range of disciplines.
I charge $15 per page
Hire me through: [email protected]
Whats-App +13128009682
The following is guaranteed when you accept my proposal:
Professional Writing.
Standard English grammar and sentence structure.
Standard referencing (Chicago, Harvard, APA or MLA and Etc.)
I am specialized in offering top notch skills on:
History essays
Literature reviews
Research papers
Case study essays
Editing and proofreading
Content and creative writing
Humanities and Social Science papers
Business Articles
Law and Political Science
Biology and nursing papers
Nursing papers

ever since I was young, I wanted to be a doctor. it became part of my personality. growing older and entering high school, I recognized the harsh realities of becoming a doctor, and one thing i know about myself, is that i can't do it. ive seen doctors right now say that if you are not willing to put in blood, sweat, and tears into becoming a doctor, then it's best to not even try.
i wanted to go into the psychiatric field. it is something i've been passionate about forever, and something i've dealt with first hand. i was considering psychiatric nurse, or clinical psychologist, but don't know which route to take. i know psychologists and psychiatrists are not the same, but both careers revolve around mental health or heath care in general. i know a career leaning towards these two is something i will be passionate about and would be content on becoming in the future.
if there are any psychiatric nurses or clinical psychologists in this subreddit, can you please give your input. u don't have to get too personal, but just the bare basics. what it took for you to get there, how happy u are w ur job, etc, etc.
(ALSO, i am in no way undermining the effort it took anyone to obtain these jobs. i KNOW they are tough. it doesn't take just anyone to land these careers. i'm proud of anyone reading this post. however, it is a common known fact, the amount of schooling, money, and exhaustion that comes with going the pre-med path. pls don't take offense to this!)

6 years ago I was working in health care and aspired to go as far as I could I was working as a cna and wanted so badly to be a nurse I was about to start nursing school about a month before this incident through my place of employment I was working and was preforming a technically and mechanically perfect gait belt transfer of a patient Gerry chair to wheel chair during the lift she pulled me and I went down screaming for help and it turned out this little old lady pulling me wrong resulted in 4 herniated discs I lost the ability to walk for months I lost my job because I couldn’t stand I was so depressed and don’t have any family the doctors weren’t helping me get better at all nothing was working my girlfriend of 6 years one day came home upset because I’m now disabled in constant pain and can’t do anything can’t make any money so she left me and then I had no one I eventually regained the use of my legs after many hospital stays 6 years after initial injury I’m still hurt I can’t run I’m in pain I can’t feel the tops on my legs I can hardly push through work but it’s so painful. I grew up on a golf course sacrificing friends and social life because I want to be a professional golfer but obviously that was quickly removed from the table post injury I still work at a golf course as an assistant professional but I’ll never pass the playing ability test because you have to play 18 holes twice in a row and my back can only handle 9 holes on a great day if I’m super lucky growing up as a kid I had golf as an escape during the day and guitar in the evening when I wasn’t being tortured by my father I’ve played guitar for 15 years now and I’ve gotten to almost a professional level it’s been my passion to become a great professional guitarist ever since I lost my back I’m good enough now to be professional but with winters off and nothing to do I enjoy practicing for 12 hours straight I forget to eat practicing is my love my escape it’s my whole life but recently I got horrible carpal tunnel in my arms I try to vent to my new girlfriend of a year but she doesn’t want to listen to me vent or just let me talk about things only responds with aggressively telling me what I need to do “ GO TO A DOCTOR GET SURGERY STOP COMPLAINING” I am going to a doctor and doing everything I need to do but I just wish the things that make me cry all day she’s willing to just be there for me but when I ask her to be there for me she just says she isn’t the person who’s going to do that for me and tells me to make another therapy apt and then she gets incredibly filled with rage because I asked if she would listen to me vent I mean I don’t complain a lot at all I deal with my shit internally but shes so negative all the time I’m forced to dig deep and hug her and listen to her vent and put me down because she’s upset about me venting I feel so worthless I lost my back and legs I lost my wrists and can’t play guitar I don’t have anyone to even listen to me I mean this rock of pain in my chest is so big that I’m on Reddit venting I have so much other trauma from being abused as a kid and alooooot of other losses from my back and everything so it isn’t just this stupid stuff I know other people have it way worse but I’m just really depressed idk thanks for listening I just really feel like giving up

I (23F) went on a date last week with a guy (22M) and it went pretty well. However, he’s been pushing to see me every day (like literally every single day) now and I’ve told him I need time alone and he says I can be alone for a bit after work but he literally calls 2-3 times if I don’t answer after work. I’m a nurse and I work Monday-Friday for about 9 hours a day. When I’m off work, I’m exhausted. My job is very mentally and physically draining and I’m an introverted person so I NEED time to be completely alone and decompress. He doesn’t understand that and claims since I don’t talk to him much while I work, he just wants to talk to me. I get his point but I can’t be on my phone when I work. I try to call him at night after I’m home to have a chat about our days and stuff but he makes it go on for 4-5 hours and I need to go to sleep by that time.
Yesterday he called me after he knew I was off work and kept pestering me to see him. I told him I was exhausted, had vomit on my scrubs (which was true), hadn’t eaten all day and I just wanted to go home and shower to lay down for the day, plus I had work at 6am the next day. I offered to see him on Friday after I got off work and he whined that it would make it a week since I last saw him (I saw him Sunday). He kept literally whining like a kid and saying,” please please please please” like how kids do. I’m not going to lie, I was extremely close to snapping at him because my head was pounding, I felt gross and I was getting very annoyed by how childish he sounded and the high pitch he was using was making my headache worse. I told him no firmly and hung up. He tried calling me three more times and then tried calling me again at night (he wants me to go to sleep on the phone with him every night even though I’ve told him I wake up at 4:30am and can’t sleep without listening to ASMR nor with a stranger being on the phone with me because it makes me uncomfortable.)
He was complaining today again and I told him that he knew beforehand that I wouldn’t be able ri hangout much during the week and I warned him plenty of times about it. I’m moving out to be closer to my job and he keeps saying how we’re basically going to be roommates because he will be there all the time. I’ve told him that won’t be the case and he gets offended. He‘s honestly driving me insane but I don’t know what to say ti end it or if I’m overreacting.

I honestly don’t know what to think here. Also, I’m not sure if there’s enough background info, so feel free to ask questions
Ok so for some background knowledge; I 16f and am currently in my third quarter of college. I have honestly worked my ass off and give up a lot of regular teenage things to do this. This is very different from the rest of my family because most didn’t pursue a lot of after high school education besides nursing. Both sides of my family has multiple drug users and my father passed over 10 years ago from an od. My mom has tried her best, but she suffered a brain aneurysm about 6 years ago and got extensive surgery for that. She has another dormant one on the opposite side of her brain. Because of this she gets intense headaches and cannot work. She is also half blind. I have a half sister (10 years old) that has a father present for visitations and tbh he’s a dick but also has a good amount of money.
The issue I face is that although my high school pays my tuition for college through a program, there’s remaining fees I have to pay. These range from 100-250$ and have to be paid every quarter. I don’t have a job because honestly I have to much working against me to make it work. We don’t have an excessive amount of money and I’m pretty sure my moms income dances around the “ poverty” line. She’s insisted I focus on school and enjoy my free time instead of working. No license, no car, which I understand why I don’t have those things, they are expensive!! I have never ever complained about any of this
My paternal grandmother lives in a different state far away all alone. My aunt and the rest of us have tried convincing her to move to mainland us but she refuses. For years she’s sent my mom money around Christmas, and sometimes other times if we need extra help. My grandma has a lot of money she inherited.
She’s agreed to pay these fees for me, and has the past two quarters…. But I honestly feel really guilty about it. I haven’t seen her in years and although we text pretty often, I’m worried I’m using her. She’s paid for other expensive things like drivers ed and bought me a laptop for school.
Basically, I feel like we aren’t close enough to justify her spending this kind of money on me. I think a few odd jobs could easily cover the fees. Idk it makes me feel lazy and ungrateful. Thoughts?

I honestly don’t know what to think here. Also, I’m not sure if there’s enough background info, so feel free to ask questions
Ok so for some background knowledge; I 16f and am currently in my third quarter of college. I have honestly worked my ass off and give up a lot of regular teenage things to do this. This is very different from the rest of my family because most didn’t pursue a lot of after high school education besides nursing. Both sides of my family has multiple drug users and my father passed over 10 years ago from an od. My mom has tried her best, but she suffered a brain aneurysm about 6 years ago and got extensive surgery for that. She has another dormant one on the opposite side of her brain. Because of this she gets intense headaches and cannot work. She is also half blind. I have a half sister (10 years old) that has a father present for visitations and tbh he’s a dick but also has a good amount of money.
The issue I face is that although my high school pays my tuition for college through a program, there’s remaining fees I have to pay. These range from 100-250$ and have to be paid every quarter. I don’t have a job because honestly I have to much working against me to make it work. We don’t have an excessive amount of money and I’m pretty sure my moms income dances around the “ poverty” line. She’s insisted I focus on school and enjoy my free time instead of working. No license, no car, which I understand why I don’t have those things, they are expensive!! I have never ever complained about any of this
My paternal grandmother lives in a different state far away all alone. My aunt and the rest of us have tried convincing her to move to mainland us but she refuses. For years she’s sent my mom money around Christmas, and sometimes other times if we need extra help. My grandma has a lot of money she inherited.
She’s agreed to pay these fees for me, and has the past two quarters…. But I honestly feel really guilty about it. I haven’t seen her in years and although we text pretty often, I’m worried I’m using her. She’s paid for other expensive things like drivers ed and bought me a laptop for school.
Basically, I feel like we aren’t close enough to justify her spending this kind of money on me. I think a few odd jobs could easily cover the fees. Idk it makes me feel lazy and ungrateful. Thoughts?

Greetings, I am Sunny, a writer with years of experience. I conduct thorough research before commencing any project, and I aim to produce work that is original and engaging. My attention to details/instructions is excellent and my grammavocabulary is impeccable. I particularly enjoy tasks which require a high level of accuracy and focus, as well as jobs which allow me to use my writing skills to their full potential. I am well versed with different styles of writing across a broad range of disciplines.
I charge $15 per page
Hire me through: [email protected]
Whats-App +13128009682
The following is guaranteed when you accept my proposal:
Professional Writing.
Standard English grammar and sentence structure.
Standard referencing (Chicago, Harvard, APA or MLA and Etc.)
I am specialized in offering top notch skills on:
History essays
Literature reviews
Research papers
Case study essays
Editing and proofreading
Content and creative writing
Humanities and Social Science papers
Business Articles
Law and Political Science
Biology and nursing papers
Nursing papers

Hi everyone, I started working as a scribe about 6 months ago. This is my first job in a clinical setting. I have basically learned “on the job” and by reading my doctor’s previous notes.I only had 3 days of training sessions prior to that only to learn how to use EPIC. My doctoboss has been happy with my notes so far. A new NP has joined the clinic. He started 3 weeks ago. I’m unsure if this is his first NP job. He has worked as a nurse in the same specialty that we now work in for several years. He asked me to show him how to write a note. He already knows how to use EPIC, copy a note, and has access to the patients’ notes.
Is it normal for the NP to ask a scribe how to write a note? This is outside of my job description as I haven’t been asked by management or the doctor who I work for to show him. Shouldn’t he ask his supervisors for additional training? He is asking me to set up zoom calls on my day off to show him. Although I would be happy to help, I’m very busy with personal responsibilities on my day off. He also criticizes my notes (e.g when I make 1 typo in a long note that consists of multiple pages) and points them out to my doctoour boss. He also nitpicks the notes of doctors who write their own notes (e.g. says the notes are “unclear”). Thank you for your insights!

I (30M) am finding myself in a very unhappy spot. I recently quit drinking a couple months ago, which had led to a lot of free time and introspection. I’m starting to realize how unhappy I am and how I am constantly overcome with envy and jealousy. Its causing me to be bitter and resentful towards others.
I am a nurse, I make decent money, have everything I need, including a good family and friends. So I’m not understanding why I can’t be happy for other people or why I am constantly measuring myself up to other people.
Whether it be the car someone else drives, the big raise that my friend just got, a super easy job that my family member makes good money at, a trip on Instagram, or someone’s investments. The list goes on and on. I find myself constantly self-loathing anytime something comes up.
It’s obvious that I don’t feel like enough. And that I feel behind financially and career wise (I got a late start in nursing at age 27 due to kind of wasting my undergrad years away and not taking college seriously).
I am wondering if therapy would be my best option? Has anyone else overcome envy, jealousy, and/or unhappiness like this? I have reached the point in life where I just want to be happy. I am so done with this exhausting mindset that is robbing me of any joy. I am deciding to be better.

Hello!!! I am a second-year college student majoring in Nursing and minoring in Psychology. I want to pursue a psychology-based career in the future (Psychology is my passion, nursing is my parents’). Despite being a nursing major, what psychology-based jobs could I pursue with a Psych minor? Thank you :)

A friend/former coworker works as a nurse at a long term care facility. She has worked there since it opened about 15+ years ago. Recently she saw an ad online advertising they were hiring nurses, the hourly pay was mentioned in the ad, which is WAY more than she is currently making. When she started, the pay was low to begin with, and their yearly “raises” are less than $1/hour, so you can imagine that she’s not making all that much. Fast forward to a few weeks later, she goes to the nursing supervisor to ask for a raise to match what was in the ad. Supervisor firsts tells her, it’s against policy to discuss pay, to which she explained she saw the ad. Then Supervisor tells her if she wants to make X dollars an hour, she needs to quit and reapply, with NO guarantee that she will be rehired! Needles to say, she’s looking for another job. I don’t know about other industries, but this type of pay discrepancy is common in nursing. New hires receive higher pay and bonuses, while those that have been there for years aren’t compensated.

Hello,
I'm a 24 year old female and I just recently had the realisation, that I might be on the spectrum. I'm already diagnosed with bpd (I'm not your "typical" bpd person from the outside though - I think it's more cPTSD but been too cowardish to do trauma therapie) and chronic depression.
My once best friend recommended a few times that I might be on the spectrum. But I always brushed it off and felt kind of offended because I know it means having problems in social interactions and I didn't see my social interactions as that problematic and even if it was, didn't seem that severe to me. Which is, sad but true, bullshit.
I can't keep a job because of numerous reasons. I'm not liked by people right away, there seems to be something off with me.
As a child I had to move a lot and go to different schools where I never fit in. I got tested because of some behavioural issues and they (grandparents - no one else remembers or cares) said my IQ was at least 130 back then, age 11. I've probably lost a few points since then but I'm still pretty fast in learning new stuff, combining knowledge etc.
As a kid I used to love to write down and categorize informations. I still know a few birthdates and the height of some soccer players that I wrote down in like 2012. I used to collect all sorts of things. (Car-dealership cards, stamps, coasters)
I always was the best in school (except sports sometimes because of eating disorder problems and probably my laziness). I got into nursing and graduated in 2019. Never worked in that profession ever since.
The biggest problem is work. I just seem too naive to see peoples true intention. I always try to embrace their personality in order to like them and understand them. But every damn time I stumble over things like my tone that's not suitable for a situation apparently, I'm too honest and talk open about things that need to be improved, people (coworkers, friends) that hate me out of personal reasons that they never disclose to me. This is really hurtful for me as I'm always at 120% when working because I can't stand not doing my work as it should be done. I also realise every time I leave a job that noone really cared about me to the extent I did about my coworkers.
I don't go out often, I don't know a lot of people besides family and my boyfriend. I leave the house for things that need to be done (supermarket, work) but I'm always very tired afterwards and just want to stay inside as long as possible.
I really don't know what all this is, maybe I'm just weirder than other people because of the circumstances I grew up in. Maybe it's just because my mother has no clue of social clues (ha ha) and thinks everyone is like a machine that has to be functioning...
I can communicate with people and be nice and friendly but it's exhausting. I also can be very sarcastic and my humour is a little bit "special" (not if you aks me). I've worked as a callcenter agent even though I didn't like speaking on the phone and now I don't care anymore. I'll call anyone at anytime. Is it possible that might be masking?
Maybe you can tell me, could I be going in the right direction with looking more into if autistic or not or would I be laughed at by professionals and you, because it seems like I'm diagnosing myself as something that's not fitting?
I'm just so confused because it would be an explanation I never thought of. That would mean that it's not "my fault" that I'm not capable of a lot that other people are and that's not "my fault" for failing again and again to keep a job.
I'm sorry that was a lot. Also sorry for the english, it's not my mother tongue.

Greetings, I am Sunny, a writer with years of experience. I conduct thorough research before commencing any project, and I aim to produce work that is original and engaging. My attention to details/instructions is excellent and my grammavocabulary is impeccable. I particularly enjoy tasks which require a high level of accuracy and focus, as well as jobs which allow me to use my writing skills to their full potential. I am well versed with different styles of writing across a broad range of disciplines.
I charge $15 per page
Hire me through: [email protected]
Whats-App +13128009682
The following is guaranteed when you accept my proposal:
Professional Writing.
Standard English grammar and sentence structure.
Standard referencing (Chicago, Harvard, APA or MLA and Etc.)
I am specialized in offering top notch skills on:
History essays
Literature reviews
Research papers
Case study essays
Editing and proofreading
Content and creative writing
Humanities and Social Science papers
Business Articles
Law and Political Science
Biology and nursing papers
Nursing papers

Hi, I've always wanted to become a L&D nurse. I started off as a level 4 NICU nurse and did that for 10 months before landing a job at a different hospital in L&D. I started of on postpartum and from the very beginning the manager and nurse educator kept telling me that they have concerns and don't think L&D would be a good fit for me. The training was for 8 weeks and I requested an extra week and they gave me 10 weeks of training in postpartum. They expected more from me because I had prior experience in nursing and thought that I should have grasped on to things quicker. I felt differently because as a NICU nurse I had 1-3 patients max. If they were not sick babies I had 2 or 3. If they were sick I sometimes only had 1 patient and maybe 2 max. Everything had more of a set schedule whereas with postpartum you had up to 8-10 patients or 4-5 couplets to take care of. Not to mention that sometimes you would get GYN and medical patients since the floor opened up due to Covid.
That was a transition and they would have sit downs with me and say that if I can't get the hang of things now then L&D would not be a good job for me in which I told them I did not agree. Fast forward I finished my postpartum training and did that for about 2 months on my own and they finally started my L&D training. I was told it took so long because they wanted 2 other new grads to finish their postpartum trainings then we would all go over together. I'm currently on my 4th week of orientation in L&D and once again they sat me down and said they are concerned and I should be further along by now and that they feel as if I might lack basic nursing skills per my preceptor.
There was this occasion in which I found out my close relative was dying minutes before and I was trying to hang an antibiotic for a patient and my mind went blank and I asked my preceptor for help. They felt like I should know how to hang fluids. However, on postpartum and in the NICU I've hung several fluids and antibiotics.... So I know how to do it. (Also I'm a quiet persona and don't like people in my business so I did not tell anyone about my close relative) Another example was when my preceptor grabbed meds and handed me the bottle and told me to do the math off the top of my head in front of everyone at the nurses station. I got nervous and couldn't think so it was like this battle of her telling me to think and do the math and I couldn't under pressure like that. Eventually I calmed myself down and did it but it was completely embarrassing. In all that was another strike against me and to be fair I 1,000 percent understand that I need to know these things and the calculation on these meds as well. (Also my preceptor is nice...she is just very particular and expects a lot which is fair).
Mind you throughout my 4 weeks, the first week my main preceptor was out so I was stuck with someone who was nice but didn't explain anything to me and would randomly get up and leave without saying anything so I didn't learn nothing.
Second week it was literally dead on the floor and didn't see much of anything in my assignments. I literally sat for 12 hours straight and did trainings because it was no labors and no one in triage. This was also the week where I had those mishaps with my preceptor.
My 3rd week that close relative died and I missed like 4 days due to bereavement. Here we are week 4 and I feel like I have learned nothing, but I'm expected to be further along. They get that I had a week off due to a death but feel like its still 3 other weeks that I should have skills to show off for. I feel like they are not looking at the prior 3 weeks in which I learned nothing basically.
Not sure what to do. Orientation is only 12 weeks long and I feel so lost and discouraged. They are actively telling me they have BIG concern's and they hope I can prove them wrong but I feel so defeated. I asked my preceptor what I can improve on and she said being more hands on and explaining things to patients and not needing to be told to do something which again is fair. However, how can I explain a procedure I know nothing about. How can I do an intervention if I'm not 100 percent sure on what the strip is reading. I've taken fetal monitoring class but am I expected to know every little thing. I've had two people tell me different things about a single tracing which doesn't help.
I need words of encouragement because I feel like just giving up at this point. To constantly here how they have concerns and that I'm lacking basic skills and should maybe look into another field is devasting.

I dont know if this has something to do with past life but I have a deep concern regarding the aesthetic choices we as modern people have made when crafting the new world. We have oversimplified structures, made cities less walkable and forgotten about the art and importance of architectural beauty. Mimimalism and the use of creativity in size instead of details has made this a norm.
I have a very deep connection to traditional architecture. Especially early aristocratic Edwardian furnitures, ornamentations and classical architecture in generel think the Ritz hotel, The plaza Hotel any luxurious places that are associated with opulence I feel incredibly drawn towards. I dont know if this is because of a past life thing I've always been drawn to prestigious, carefully though through detailed form of craft and handsmanship that went into the building. Even when buildings are build in historically inspired ways these days they still use steel or modern and minimized versions of architectural structures that it saddens me. Im sad to know what beauty of buildings and cities we've lost. When people could walk and even signs on the road looked oppulent something you'll only find in affluent districts of paris these days.
In the forms build from the past you can see it was not basic training that landed the workers these jobs but rather a skill of sorts art mixed with handmanship, to be able to carve such beauty into wood, craft marble, build with brick, glass and with ones own hands. There was a certain pride and care that went into these buildings even if they may have been elitist atleast they were passionate about their buildings which I cannot say for the simple boxed and cubicles we vuild these days, though refreshing at first, mostly ignorable after some time at best. Its as if these days not even the rich care to build beauty for the people, but instead use steel and "modern" interior design which lack carackter. We can see this in our street lamps, street signs, urban design, bridges, parks, chairs, benches and fences and pathetically even in the parlaments and most tragically in schools.
I dont know if I'm the only one missing something we have lost....

Dear aunt -
We haven't talked in a while and it's my fault. I'm the one who decided that enough negativity was enough and just stopped forcing a relationship into being. Your sister does a much better job of carrying all the weight in a relationship than I do. I just had to set it down. I did call you when your diagnosis came in. We both cried. But you fought through it to a good, if immunocompromised, place. That's the last time I remember hearing your voice.
I'm also the one who gave up trying to convince you and my parents that the pandemic wasn't fake. That this wasn't just the flu. That if you weren't going to live your life in fear follow basic mitigation guidelines, then you risk taking my childhood's favorite aunt away from me and away from my kids. Your daughter tried longer, I think. . . at least I heard from my mother how 'mean' she was for getting angry at what was just our parents 'making the best choices for their bodies.'
When the vaccines came out and then the boosters, I tried again. This time, it was my mom who pleaded with me not to do it. Not to endanger my children and myself with the poison. By this time, I'd given up swatting away misinformation. My phone calls to my mom only had a couple of hours a week, tops, but their favorite news channel was on constantly. Nothing I could say would get through the saturation. We both saw the strain that this would put on our relationship so certain topics were just not allowed. The 38th Parallel of our love was littered with unused masks and red ballcaps. I admit, she and I worked considerably harder at keeping a close relationship in spite of such differing views.
My parents caught Covid several times. Each time, they'd come out of their quarantine with such aggressive positivity about it being not so bad. Retirees, you see, don't have to worry about missing work or young children in the home. Mandatory 2-3 week isolations are a minor inconvenience at best as long as you have someone that'll drop groceries off at the door. There was that one time when dad scared everyone, but he pulled through. Proof in God's grand design of the immune system. They'd complain about how lazy medical professionals (in, somehow, the greatest healthcare system in the world) foolishly believe that 'everything is Covid!' and would get frustrated at withholding the good treatments.
Then you got sick. Just a cold. Or allergies. Or seasonal crud. I talk to my mom several times a week and know that she's the first person you call and the only person who still drops everything to do whatever you want her to do. When she was on the way to you, suitcase packed, because you needed to go to the ER, I didn't feel anything at all.
That bothered me.
Normally, I'd be all manner of emotions. Fear, concern, empathy, sadness. I'm not a heartless person. I'm someone who loves deeply, who cares so much that it aches.
But all I did was tell my mom to please wear a mask in the hospital and then change the subject when she told me not even the doctors were wearing masks.
You got better. Then worse. I heard the complaints about how callous the nurses were. You went home, then went back. Covid pneumonia. Scary things happening in your lungs, heart, brain, body. Others around me are wracked with the "correct" feelings of empathy, grief, sadness, fear . . . but I can't pull them up.
Been thinking on that a lot.
Grief just feels different after two years. I lost you then. I grieved you then. I was sad and afraid then. Now I'm just accepting that what was likely to happen finally happened. We're just at different stages, I think. I'm sorry that the 'personal decisions about what is best for your body' ended up at this point, but I don't think had I continued arguing about it two years ago anything would have changed. The biggest fear I have now is that I just don't want you taking my mom with you. In my calls to her, I listen for the congestion or for her to tell me she just has a cold. Or allergies. Or seasonal crud.
Love -

I live the best part of my life online. It’s a sign of the times we live in, I guess. There are the mundane humdrum happenings that occur in our lives offline- the boring day to day droll occurrences that one can usually set their watch to, and then there’s the amazing things that we are lucky enough to witness via the screen usually glued to our hands. There’s no comparison, really. Content curated by professionals who are successful enough to have millions of followers watching every video and upvoting every hilarious meme, versus boring work and the strained relationship with our folks and loved ones? YouTube and social media wins that one in a landslide victory, in my opinion. Candy, or vegetables?
My job painting apartments is menial, lots of repetition. The only real variation is that every other apartment is mirrored opposite the ones next to it. Kitchen on the right, bathroom on the left in this one. Bathroom on the right, kitchen on the left in that one. Over and over again, ad infinitum. I dip the roller in paint, and apply it to a section of wall, dip the roller, apply it to another section of wall, over and over and over again until it’s quitting time. If I finish an apartment before it’s time to get off, there are plenty of others to move on to. Every… single… day. Six days a week.
Repetition is half of the formula to insanity, I say. One of, if not the ONLY thing that helps in keeping me sane is a decent signal on my phone and a single bluetooth earbud. Having some sort of dialog- whether that be listening to an entertaining YouTuber doing a let’s play, to channels that narrate Creepypastas- I find helps in the passage of time while working. It helps my mind wander while my body goes on autopilot, thus finding an hour long story by one of my favorite channels that I haven’t heard yet is like a gift from the content gods.
One of the longest work days I can remember was the day that my earbud fell out and landed directly in my paint bucket. I cursed the universe as I watched it sink. It happened early in the day too, so I was forced to weather the remaining six hours with nothing but my own thoughts and the sound of my paint roller smearing on the walls. I had lost the other earbud somewhere months ago, so it’s not like I had a spare one charging somewhere, and by the end of the day I resolved it by buying two brand new pairs so if something like that ever happened again, I’d have no less than three backups.
I decided to treat myself, buying a cutting edge and top of the line brand. When one uses a product for most of the day, every day, it helps to buy quality, because it’s not just at work that I use them. When I’m driving, washing dishes at home or doing household chores, or just grinding out levels on a video game, there’s always some audio going on in my ear. Listening to podcasts while I’m folding laundry, reviews for new games and movies while I’m walking the dog, ten interesting facts about *insert topic here* while I’m eating dinner. It just helps me get through my day. And my nights too, falling asleep listening to spooky stories has gotten to the point where if I forget to charge my phone or earbuds and one of them dies before I fall asleep, I might as well get back up for a bit while the battery charges.
It may sound weird to some people, trying to follow a narrative while also trying to fall asleep seems like it would be counterintuitive, but just like how some people need a fan or a TV going, there are thousands of us falling asleep to a soothing voice telling a macabre tale every night. Probably millions, given how the technology has evolved in prior years.
When I received an email saying I’d won a chance to test out the next step of that evolution, I ignored it. I hadn’t signed up for any contest or sweepstakes that I was aware of. Probably just spam, I thought. When the physical letter showed up in my mail stating the same, I took it a little more seriously, but eventually chalked it up to the spammers just being persistent. More junk mail. They got my email and were able to find an address that matched it, probably not that hard to do considering how many sites I’ve used that email to sign up for over the years. I was well aware that people leave a digital footprint, along with a treasure trove of data for advertisers and scammers alike. I always just chalked it up to the price of admission as I dropped the letter in my trash bin without even opening it. After a few weeks, all of my brushing off and ignoring what I thought was a scam culminated with a knock at my door.
“Why hello, sir. We represent ToxiCorp, and we understand that you recently purchased our product- two pairs of our Premium Earbuds?” the gentlemen asked. He was an older fellow, wearing thick coke bottle glasses and sandals. Before I could even answer though, he went on. “We’ve attempted to contact you via mail in regards to your most wisest of purchases. First off, we at the Toxi Corporation would like to sincerely thank you! And also congratulate you! You’ve won our annual November-a-thon giveaway!” he finished, taking an overdue and long breath.
That was how I found out that it wasn’t just spam. They had gotten my information when I had registered the product for the warranty, and unbeknownst to me, had thrown my name in the hat for their contest. The prizes I had to choose from included $500 cash, or free ToxiCorp earbuds for life, which included a free upgrade every time they put out a new product. While the cash offer was tempting, I decided that the latter offer would get me more bang for my buck. High end earbuds, like those made by ToxiCorp, weren’t cheap afterall. Plus, being able to upgrade and try out the latest models for free made it, in my eyes, the better of the two options.
I agreed, and after signing a plethora of documentation, not all of which I could understand and much less even read, he was on his way. Later that week they contacted me via phone about my first upgrade. It turns out, while the two pairs I had recently bought were the most expensive that my local retailer had to offer, they were by far not the most expensive and functional ones that the company offered. That first upgrade was like night and day compared to the so-called ‘top of the line’ ones I had purchased. The sound was crisper, they had better bass, a longer battery life, a further range for the bluetooth, everything about them was superior.
Then, still very much pleased with my upgraded earbuds, they contacted me about their newest pair. This pair upgraded everything, along with having noise canceling and the ability to make phone calls via a small mic inside of the earbud.
And it kept going, every month there was a new upgraded version that blew the latest one out of the water with better clarity and added functionality. My daily distractions of listening to content at work was never better. Gone were the days of bringing my phone with me from room to room as I painted, the bluetooth had crystal clear connectivity anywhere in the apartment. Hell, I could leave my phone charging in my car outside and the signal would pick up through spans of parking lots and brick walls. The snug form fitting cushion in my ear ensured that they never fell out on accident, yet wasn’t intrusive. I could go on and on, singing praise for the innovation and quality that the good people at ToxiCorp were doing with their wide line of audio products. Until that is, they hit me with their latest upgrade.
I should have known something was off when they asked me to come to their R&D department for this latest upgrade. All I was told was that this newest iteration was still in the ‘experimental’ stage of development. Previously, they had always simply mailed the newest model straight to me. I simply chalked up this break in protocol to the fact that this one was still in the prototype stage. I had already decided that whatever it was, I wanted it. I was even excited that they decided to include me in testing whatever it was that they had cooked up. Boy, was I stupid.
I arrived at their facility and was greeted by their team of engineers. They led me to a small lobby and gave me refreshments while I waited, and that was the last thing I remembered. When I woke up, I was in a recovery room with bright fluorescent lights blinding me, and a litany of rhythmically beeping medical machines monitoring my vitals. I felt groggy as hell, and as I reached up to feel why the side of my head was throbbing I felt swollen flesh molding around stitches above and behind my right ear. They said that the nausea accompanied by the dizziness I felt was normal, and conducive to the operation they performed in and around my inner ear.
I was PISSED. When my complaints and threats finally summoned the head researcher, the very same old man who had come to my door to tell me I was a ‘winner’ walked into the room.
“What the hell!? How did I get here, and what the fuck is all this about some ‘procedure’!?” I yelled. “Did you people drug me? What kind of sick operation are you people running here?”
The old man merely smiled. “Nothing that you didn’t agree to. You gave us express permission when you signed our agreement.”
“Like hell I did!” I yelled. He produced a small remote and pointed it at me, pressing a button as I continued to yell. “¡Déjame salir de aquí y llamo a mi abogado!” I threatened. What the hell? I had yelled that in english, I clearly said “Let me out of here and I’m calling my lawyer,” and I had heard the english version in my other ear, but in my right ear, the ear that was throbbing and had been operated on, I heard what I assumed was spanish.
The scientist seemed pleased at the utter confusion that sank into my facial features. “Do you speak spanish?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. He had really said “Habla espanol?”, I heard it with my untainted ear, but I also heard the english translation clear as day with the other.
I’ll admit, even though I was still utterly pissed about the situation, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little amazed.
“What… what else can it do?” I asked, my anger subsiding slightly.
His grin grew even wider. He came closer to show me the remote. It was something akin to an old iPod looking thing. He scrolled through a plethora of menus until he selected one labeled ‘Enhance Audio’. He then pointed it in the direction of two nurses conversing behind the other side of a large glass viewing window on the other side of the room. As soon as the remote was pointing in their direction, I could hear them.
“I can’t believe that prick stood you up like that, girl!” one said.
“He’s a loser anyway, I heard from Jenny that he isn’t even all that well endowed, if you know what I mean…” the other said, holding up her pinky finger which sent both of them into a giggling fit.
“Can you hear them? How clear is the audio?” the old man asked, pulling out a clipboard and pen seemingly from nowhere.
We ran a gauntlet of tests, trying out different features and modes, dialing in and fine tuning the settings. By the time we were finished, I wasn’t even all that mad anymore. I mean, I was still a little peeved. I had been tricked and drugged and operated on without my consent, I don’t care what the gibberish in my contract said, I felt violated. BUT… after all was said and done, I couldn’t help but feel like the benefits that the new implanted device offered were more than worth some shady and underhanded practices. I was kept in their facility for a couple of days for observation and more tests, compensated for my lost wages at my job, and given a prescription to fill- something to help with the pain while my body healed. They claimed it was ‘an astounding success!’, leaving me to wonder what would have happened if they had failed?
I went about my life, checking in with them via phone once a week, which I could now call and answer by merely thinking about it, thanks to their device. I could understand hundreds of spoken languages, I could hear conversations happening through brick walls with crystal clarity, and if it ever got too much I could always just lower the settings, even mute certain frequencies. Despite their underhanded techniques and the violation of my own body, my rage in them had subsided and became some more like a perturbed annoyance. They had drugged and operated me without my knowing consent, sure, but I was beginning to come around. Hell, I would have even said I came out like a thief, definitely better off than I had been.
Then, I began having the dreams.
My dreams since they had installed this thing in my head have been so vivid. Dreams that seem so real, almost like I was awake, but not in control. Like watching yourself sleepwalk. I have vague memories and impressions when I wake up, remnants of whatever cycles my subconscious mind rolls through when I’m out. In one, I only remember being told by some authority figure that I needed to go out to the corner store and buy a certain brand of potato chips. My socks were wet when I woke up the next morning, and my blood chilled when I stepped outside only to notice that it had indeed rained the night before. When I checked my bank statement, there had been a purchase at 2:46 AM for the amount of $3.46 that I didn’t remember. Hell, I had been asleep at that time. So I WAS sleepwalking, along with sleep purchasing and god only knows what else.
They kept happening. Always single mindedly compelled to complete some seemingly menial or meaningless task. I tried sleeping pills, when that didn’t work I tried caffeine pills to stay awake. When I eventually did crash and pass out they continued. I even tried getting blind drunk, and while I don’t remember having any vivid dreams or sleepwalking episodes, my bank account and transaction history begged to differ. I guess I was just too blackout drunk to remember, but it hadn’t stopped me.
Last night was the most surreal one yet. I went to this bench out at the park a couple of blocks away. When I got there, I reached beneath it, obtaining the gun that I somehow knew would be there. That’s when everything became fuzzy. I try and try to remember what else happened, but it’s a blur of blue and scarlet. When I heard there had been a shooting that killed 2 people down the street from my place, I could see their faces in my mind before the police released the photos of the victims. They had been a couple, out for a late night rendezvous. A man of average looks and build and his sweetheart, who’s blue eyes burned holes into my soul through the TV screen as they glared at me accusingly. For an instant when their photos were on the screen, I remembered seeing those blue eyes looking at me, pleading and full of fear, and then… a scarlet plume of blood as the bullet mangled her beautiful face beyond recognition…
That was when the realization finally hit home for me. I did it. I killed that couple. Somehow, in a nocturnal venture in my slumber, I had murdered them. I thought I was going crazy! That’s not me, not something I would ever in the slightest consider, much less actually do. A piece of me died that day- my innocence, I think.
I did what any decent human being in my situation would do, I resolved to turn myself in. If somehow I was becoming some crazed maniac in my sleep, the smartest thing to do would be to turn myself in, lest I somehow manage to harm more innocent people.
I went out for a good steak dinner, probably the last decent meal I’d ever get to eat before my last meal on death row someday. It was the most delicious meal I ever remember eating. I savored every little bite. Finished with my meal, I tipped several hundred dollars to my waitress- my last good deed that I knew would never make up for the harm I had caused, the lives I had taken. I took a cab to the police station, ready to own up and meet my fate. That’s when I heard it. A voice echoing minutely in my ear.
“Don’t do it,” it said. And suddenly, I found that I couldn’t. I stood there for a long time, trying to take that step up to the door, the voice repeating the command incessantly. It commanded and I obeyed. Its hooked tendrils were sunk in deep, and I was compelled to do as it said. That voice was familiar, I realized. It was the same voice that had greeted me when I opened my door that day. The same voice I heard after the surgical implant was unwillingly installed, trespassing in my brain. The same voice of the head of research and development. The friendly voice of ToxiCorp.

I live the best part of my life online. It’s a sign of the times we live in, I guess. There are the mundane humdrum happenings that occur in our lives offline- the boring day to day droll occurrences that one can usually set their watch to, and then there’s the amazing things that we are lucky enough to witness via the screen usually glued to our hands. There’s no comparison, really. Content curated by professionals who are successful enough to have millions of followers watching every video and upvoting every hilarious meme, versus boring work and the strained relationship with our folks and loved ones? YouTube and social media wins that one in a landslide victory, in my opinion. Candy, or vegetables?
My job painting apartments is menial, lots of repetition. The only real variation is that every other apartment is mirrored opposite the ones next to it. Kitchen on the right, bathroom on the left in this one. Bathroom on the right, kitchen on the left in that one. Over and over again, ad infinitum. I dip the roller in paint, and apply it to a section of wall, dip the roller, apply it to another section of wall, over and over and over again until it’s quitting time. If I finish an apartment before it’s time to get off, there are plenty of others to move on to. Every… single… day. Six days a week.
Repetition is half of the formula to insanity, I say. One of, if not the ONLY thing that helps in keeping me sane is a decent signal on my phone and a single bluetooth earbud. Having some sort of dialog- whether that be listening to an entertaining YouTuber doing a let’s play, to channels that narrate Creepypastas- I find helps in the passage of time while working. It helps my mind wander while my body goes on autopilot, thus finding an hour long story by one of my favorite channels that I haven’t heard yet is like a gift from the content gods.
One of the longest work days I can remember was the day that my earbud fell out and landed directly in my paint bucket. I cursed the universe as I watched it sink. It happened early in the day too, so I was forced to weather the remaining six hours with nothing but my own thoughts and the sound of my paint roller smearing on the walls. I had lost the other earbud somewhere months ago, so it’s not like I had a spare one charging somewhere, and by the end of the day I resolved it by buying two brand new pairs so if something like that ever happened again, I’d have no less than three backups.
I decided to treat myself, buying a cutting edge and top of the line brand. When one uses a product for most of the day, every day, it helps to buy quality, because it’s not just at work that I use them. When I’m driving, washing dishes at home or doing household chores, or just grinding out levels on a video game, there’s always some audio going on in my ear. Listening to podcasts while I’m folding laundry, reviews for new games and movies while I’m walking the dog, ten interesting facts about *insert topic here* while I’m eating dinner. It just helps me get through my day. And my nights too, falling asleep listening to spooky stories has gotten to the point where if I forget to charge my phone or earbuds and one of them dies before I fall asleep, I might as well get back up for a bit while the battery charges.
It may sound weird to some people, trying to follow a narrative while also trying to fall asleep seems like it would be counterintuitive, but just like how some people need a fan or a TV going, there are thousands of us falling asleep to a soothing voice telling a macabre tale every night. Probably millions, given how the technology has evolved in prior years.
When I received an email saying I’d won a chance to test out the next step of that evolution, I ignored it. I hadn’t signed up for any contest or sweepstakes that I was aware of. Probably just spam, I thought. When the physical letter showed up in my mail stating the same, I took it a little more seriously, but eventually chalked it up to the spammers just being persistent. More junk mail. They got my email and were able to find an address that matched it, probably not that hard to do considering how many sites I’ve used that email to sign up for over the years. I was well aware that people leave a digital footprint, along with a treasure trove of data for advertisers and scammers alike. I always just chalked it up to the price of admission as I dropped the letter in my trash bin without even opening it. After a few weeks, all of my brushing off and ignoring what I thought was a scam culminated with a knock at my door.
“Why hello, sir. We represent ToxiCorp, and we understand that you recently purchased our product- two pairs of our Premium Earbuds?” the gentlemen asked. He was an older fellow, wearing thick coke bottle glasses and sandals. Before I could even answer though, he went on. “We’ve attempted to contact you via mail in regards to your most wisest of purchases. First off, we at the Toxi Corporation would like to sincerely thank you! And also congratulate you! You’ve won our annual November-a-thon giveaway!” he finished, taking an overdue and long breath.
That was how I found out that it wasn’t just spam. They had gotten my information when I had registered the product for the warranty, and unbeknownst to me, had thrown my name in the hat for their contest. The prizes I had to choose from included $500 cash, or free ToxiCorp earbuds for life, which included a free upgrade every time they put out a new product. While the cash offer was tempting, I decided that the latter offer would get me more bang for my buck. High end earbuds, like those made by ToxiCorp, weren’t cheap afterall. Plus, being able to upgrade and try out the latest models for free made it, in my eyes, the better of the two options.
I agreed, and after signing a plethora of documentation, not all of which I could understand and much less even read, he was on his way. Later that week they contacted me via phone about my first upgrade. It turns out, while the two pairs I had recently bought were the most expensive that my local retailer had to offer, they were by far not the most expensive and functional ones that the company offered. That first upgrade was like night and day compared to the so-called ‘top of the line’ ones I had purchased. The sound was crisper, they had better bass, a longer battery life, a further range for the bluetooth, everything about them was superior.
Then, still very much pleased with my upgraded earbuds, they contacted me about their newest pair. This pair upgraded everything, along with having noise canceling and the ability to make phone calls via a small mic inside of the earbud.
And it kept going, every month there was a new upgraded version that blew the latest one out of the water with better clarity and added functionality. My daily distractions of listening to content at work was never better. Gone were the days of bringing my phone with me from room to room as I painted, the bluetooth had crystal clear connectivity anywhere in the apartment. Hell, I could leave my phone charging in my car outside and the signal would pick up through spans of parking lots and brick walls. The snug form fitting cushion in my ear ensured that they never fell out on accident, yet wasn’t intrusive. I could go on and on, singing praise for the innovation and quality that the good people at ToxiCorp were doing with their wide line of audio products. Until that is, they hit me with their latest upgrade.
I should have known something was off when they asked me to come to their R&D department for this latest upgrade. All I was told was that this newest iteration was still in the ‘experimental’ stage of development. Previously, they had always simply mailed the newest model straight to me. I simply chalked up this break in protocol to the fact that this one was still in the prototype stage. I had already decided that whatever it was, I wanted it. I was even excited that they decided to include me in testing whatever it was that they had cooked up. Boy, was I stupid.
I arrived at their facility and was greeted by their team of engineers. They led me to a small lobby and gave me refreshments while I waited, and that was the last thing I remembered. When I woke up, I was in a recovery room with bright fluorescent lights blinding me, and a litany of rhythmically beeping medical machines monitoring my vitals. I felt groggy as hell, and as I reached up to feel why the side of my head was throbbing I felt swollen flesh molding around stitches above and behind my right ear. They said that the nausea accompanied by the dizziness I felt was normal, and conducive to the operation they performed in and around my inner ear.
I was PISSED. When my complaints and threats finally summoned the head researcher, the very same old man who had come to my door to tell me I was a ‘winner’ walked into the room.
“What the hell!? How did I get here, and what the fuck is all this about some ‘procedure’!?” I yelled. “Did you people drug me? What kind of sick operation are you people running here?”
The old man merely smiled. “Nothing that you didn’t agree to. You gave us express permission when you signed our agreement.”
“Like hell I did!” I yelled. He produced a small remote and pointed it at me, pressing a button as I continued to yell. “¡Déjame salir de aquí y llamo a mi abogado!” I threatened. What the hell? I had yelled that in english, I clearly said “Let me out of here and I’m calling my lawyer,” and I had heard the english version in my other ear, but in my right ear, the ear that was throbbing and had been operated on, I heard what I assumed was spanish.
The scientist seemed pleased at the utter confusion that sank into my facial features. “Do you speak spanish?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. He had really said “Habla espanol?”, I heard it with my untainted ear, but I also heard the english translation clear as day with the other.
I’ll admit, even though I was still utterly pissed about the situation, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little amazed.
“What… what else can it do?” I asked, my anger subsiding slightly.
His grin grew even wider. He came closer to show me the remote. It was something akin to an old iPod looking thing. He scrolled through a plethora of menus until he selected one labeled ‘Enhance Audio’. He then pointed it in the direction of two nurses conversing behind the other side of a large glass viewing window on the other side of the room. As soon as the remote was pointing in their direction, I could hear them.
“I can’t believe that prick stood you up like that, girl!” one said.
“He’s a loser anyway, I heard from Jenny that he isn’t even all that well endowed, if you know what I mean…” the other said, holding up her pinky finger which sent both of them into a giggling fit.
“Can you hear them? How clear is the audio?” the old man asked, pulling out a clipboard and pen seemingly from nowhere.
We ran a gauntlet of tests, trying out different features and modes, dialing in and fine tuning the settings. By the time we were finished, I wasn’t even all that mad anymore. I mean, I was still a little peeved. I had been tricked and drugged and operated on without my consent, I don’t care what the gibberish in my contract said, I felt violated. BUT… after all was said and done, I couldn’t help but feel like the benefits that the new implanted device offered were more than worth some shady and underhanded practices. I was kept in their facility for a couple of days for observation and more tests, compensated for my lost wages at my job, and given a prescription to fill- something to help with the pain while my body healed. They claimed it was ‘an astounding success!’, leaving me to wonder what would have happened if they had failed?
I went about my life, checking in with them via phone once a week, which I could now call and answer by merely thinking about it, thanks to their device. I could understand hundreds of spoken languages, I could hear conversations happening through brick walls with crystal clarity, and if it ever got too much I could always just lower the settings, even mute certain frequencies. Despite their underhanded techniques and the violation of my own body, my rage in them had subsided and became some more like a perturbed annoyance. They had drugged and operated me without my knowing consent, sure, but I was beginning to come around. Hell, I would have even said I came out like a thief, definitely better off than I had been.
Then, I began having the dreams.
My dreams since they had installed this thing in my head have been so vivid. Dreams that seem so real, almost like I was awake, but not in control. Like watching yourself sleepwalk. I have vague memories and impressions when I wake up, remnants of whatever cycles my subconscious mind rolls through when I’m out. In one, I only remember being told by some authority figure that I needed to go out to the corner store and buy a certain brand of potato chips. My socks were wet when I woke up the next morning, and my blood chilled when I stepped outside only to notice that it had indeed rained the night before. When I checked my bank statement, there had been a purchase at 2:46 AM for the amount of $3.46 that I didn’t remember. Hell, I had been asleep at that time. So I WAS sleepwalking, along with sleep purchasing and god only knows what else.
They kept happening. Always single mindedly compelled to complete some seemingly menial or meaningless task. I tried sleeping pills, when that didn’t work I tried caffeine pills to stay awake. When I eventually did crash and pass out they continued. I even tried getting blind drunk, and while I don’t remember having any vivid dreams or sleepwalking episodes, my bank account and transaction history begged to differ. I guess I was just too blackout drunk to remember, but it hadn’t stopped me.
Last night was the most surreal one yet. I went to this bench out at the park a couple of blocks away. When I got there, I reached beneath it, obtaining the gun that I somehow knew would be there. That’s when everything became fuzzy. I try and try to remember what else happened, but it’s a blur of blue and scarlet. When I heard there had been a shooting that killed 2 people down the street from my place, I could see their faces in my mind before the police released the photos of the victims. They had been a couple, out for a late night rendezvous. A man of average looks and build and his sweetheart, who’s blue eyes burned holes into my soul through the TV screen as they glared at me accusingly. For an instant when their photos were on the screen, I remembered seeing those blue eyes looking at me, pleading and full of fear, and then… a scarlet plume of blood as the bullet mangled her beautiful face beyond recognition…
That was when the realization finally hit home for me. I did it. I killed that couple. Somehow, in a nocturnal venture in my slumber, I had murdered them. I thought I was going crazy! That’s not me, not something I would ever in the slightest consider, much less actually do. A piece of me died that day- my innocence, I think.
I did what any decent human being in my situation would do, I resolved to turn myself in. If somehow I was becoming some crazed maniac in my sleep, the smartest thing to do would be to turn myself in, lest I somehow manage to harm more innocent people.
I went out for a good steak dinner, probably the last decent meal I’d ever get to eat before my last meal on death row someday. It was the most delicious meal I ever remember eating. I savored every little bite. Finished with my meal, I tipped several hundred dollars to my waitress- my last good deed that I knew would never make up for the harm I had caused, the lives I had taken. I took a cab to the police station, ready to own up and meet my fate. That’s when I heard it. A voice echoing minutely in my ear.
“Don’t do it,” it said. And suddenly, I found that I couldn’t. I stood there for a long time, trying to take that step up to the door, the voice repeating the command incessantly. It commanded and I obeyed. Its hooked tendrils were sunk in deep, and I was compelled to do as it said. That voice was familiar, I realized. It was the same voice that had greeted me when I opened my door that day. The same voice I heard after the surgical implant was unwillingly installed, trespassing in my brain. The same voice of the head of research and development. The friendly voice of ToxiCorp.

I live the best part of my life online. It’s a sign of the times we live in, I guess. There are the mundane humdrum happenings that occur in our lives offline- the boring day to day droll occurrences that one can usually set their watch to, and then there’s the amazing things that we are lucky enough to witness via the screen usually glued to our hands. There’s no comparison, really. Content curated by professionals who are successful enough to have millions of followers watching every video and upvoting every hilarious meme, versus boring work and the strained relationship with our folks and loved ones? YouTube and social media wins that one in a landslide victory, in my opinion. Candy, or vegetables?
My job painting apartments is menial, lots of repetition. The only real variation is that every other apartment is mirrored opposite the ones next to it. Kitchen on the right, bathroom on the left in this one. Bathroom on the right, kitchen on the left in that one. Over and over again, ad infinitum. I dip the roller in paint, and apply it to a section of wall, dip the roller, apply it to another section of wall, over and over and over again until it’s quitting time. If I finish an apartment before it’s time to get off, there are plenty of others to move on to. Every… single… day. Six days a week.
Repetition is half of the formula to insanity, I say. One of, if not the ONLY thing that helps in keeping me sane is a decent signal on my phone and a single bluetooth earbud. Having some sort of dialog- whether that be listening to an entertaining YouTuber doing a let’s play, to channels that narrate Creepypastas- I find helps in the passage of time while working. It helps my mind wander while my body goes on autopilot, thus finding an hour long story by one of my favorite channels that I haven’t heard yet is like a gift from the content gods.
One of the longest work days I can remember was the day that my earbud fell out and landed directly in my paint bucket. I cursed the universe as I watched it sink. It happened early in the day too, so I was forced to weather the remaining six hours with nothing but my own thoughts and the sound of my paint roller smearing on the walls. I had lost the other earbud somewhere months ago, so it’s not like I had a spare one charging somewhere, and by the end of the day I resolved it by buying two brand new pairs so if something like that ever happened again, I’d have no less than three backups.
I decided to treat myself, buying a cutting edge and top of the line brand. When one uses a product for most of the day, every day, it helps to buy quality, because it’s not just at work that I use them. When I’m driving, washing dishes at home or doing household chores, or just grinding out levels on a video game, there’s always some audio going on in my ear. Listening to podcasts while I’m folding laundry, reviews for new games and movies while I’m walking the dog, ten interesting facts about *insert topic here* while I’m eating dinner. It just helps me get through my day. And my nights too, falling asleep listening to spooky stories has gotten to the point where if I forget to charge my phone or earbuds and one of them dies before I fall asleep, I might as well get back up for a bit while the battery charges.
It may sound weird to some people, trying to follow a narrative while also trying to fall asleep seems like it would be counterintuitive, but just like how some people need a fan or a TV going, there are thousands of us falling asleep to a soothing voice telling a macabre tale every night. Probably millions, given how the technology has evolved in prior years.
When I received an email saying I’d won a chance to test out the next step of that evolution, I ignored it. I hadn’t signed up for any contest or sweepstakes that I was aware of. Probably just spam, I thought. When the physical letter showed up in my mail stating the same, I took it a little more seriously, but eventually chalked it up to the spammers just being persistent. More junk mail. They got my email and were able to find an address that matched it, probably not that hard to do considering how many sites I’ve used that email to sign up for over the years. I was well aware that people leave a digital footprint, along with a treasure trove of data for advertisers and scammers alike. I always just chalked it up to the price of admission as I dropped the letter in my trash bin without even opening it. After a few weeks, all of my brushing off and ignoring what I thought was a scam culminated with a knock at my door.
“Why hello, sir. We represent ToxiCorp, and we understand that you recently purchased our product- two pairs of our Premium Earbuds?” the gentlemen asked. He was an older fellow, wearing thick coke bottle glasses and sandals. Before I could even answer though, he went on. “We’ve attempted to contact you via mail in regards to your most wisest of purchases. First off, we at the Toxi Corporation would like to sincerely thank you! And also congratulate you! You’ve won our annual November-a-thon giveaway!” he finished, taking an overdue and long breath.
That was how I found out that it wasn’t just spam. They had gotten my information when I had registered the product for the warranty, and unbeknownst to me, had thrown my name in the hat for their contest. The prizes I had to choose from included $500 cash, or free ToxiCorp earbuds for life, which included a free upgrade every time they put out a new product. While the cash offer was tempting, I decided that the latter offer would get me more bang for my buck. High end earbuds, like those made by ToxiCorp, weren’t cheap afterall. Plus, being able to upgrade and try out the latest models for free made it, in my eyes, the better of the two options.
I agreed, and after signing a plethora of documentation, not all of which I could understand and much less even read, he was on his way. Later that week they contacted me via phone about my first upgrade. It turns out, while the two pairs I had recently bought were the most expensive that my local retailer had to offer, they were by far not the most expensive and functional ones that the company offered. That first upgrade was like night and day compared to the so-called ‘top of the line’ ones I had purchased. The sound was crisper, they had better bass, a longer battery life, a further range for the bluetooth, everything about them was superior.
Then, still very much pleased with my upgraded earbuds, they contacted me about their newest pair. This pair upgraded everything, along with having noise canceling and the ability to make phone calls via a small mic inside of the earbud.
And it kept going, every month there was a new upgraded version that blew the latest one out of the water with better clarity and added functionality. My daily distractions of listening to content at work was never better. Gone were the days of bringing my phone with me from room to room as I painted, the bluetooth had crystal clear connectivity anywhere in the apartment. Hell, I could leave my phone charging in my car outside and the signal would pick up through spans of parking lots and brick walls. The snug form fitting cushion in my ear ensured that they never fell out on accident, yet wasn’t intrusive. I could go on and on, singing praise for the innovation and quality that the good people at ToxiCorp were doing with their wide line of audio products. Until that is, they hit me with their latest upgrade.
I should have known something was off when they asked me to come to their R&D department for this latest upgrade. All I was told was that this newest iteration was still in the ‘experimental’ stage of development. Previously, they had always simply mailed the newest model straight to me. I simply chalked up this break in protocol to the fact that this one was still in the prototype stage. I had already decided that whatever it was, I wanted it. I was even excited that they decided to include me in testing whatever it was that they had cooked up. Boy, was I stupid.
I arrived at their facility and was greeted by their team of engineers. They led me to a small lobby and gave me refreshments while I waited, and that was the last thing I remembered. When I woke up, I was in a recovery room with bright fluorescent lights blinding me, and a litany of rhythmically beeping medical machines monitoring my vitals. I felt groggy as hell, and as I reached up to feel why the side of my head was throbbing I felt swollen flesh molding around stitches above and behind my right ear. They said that the nausea accompanied by the dizziness I felt was normal, and conducive to the operation they performed in and around my inner ear.
I was PISSED. When my complaints and threats finally summoned the head researcher, the very same old man who had come to my door to tell me I was a ‘winner’ walked into the room.
“What the hell!? How did I get here, and what the fuck is all this about some ‘procedure’!?” I yelled. “Did you people drug me? What kind of sick operation are you people running here?”
The old man merely smiled. “Nothing that you didn’t agree to. You gave us express permission when you signed our agreement.”
“Like hell I did!” I yelled. He produced a small remote and pointed it at me, pressing a button as I continued to yell. “¡Déjame salir de aquí y llamo a mi abogado!” I threatened. What the hell? I had yelled that in english, I clearly said “Let me out of here and I’m calling my lawyer,” and I had heard the english version in my other ear, but in my right ear, the ear that was throbbing and had been operated on, I heard what I assumed was spanish.
The scientist seemed pleased at the utter confusion that sank into my facial features. “Do you speak spanish?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. He had really said “Habla espanol?”, I heard it with my untainted ear, but I also heard the english translation clear as day with the other.
I’ll admit, even though I was still utterly pissed about the situation, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little amazed.
“What… what else can it do?” I asked, my anger subsiding slightly.
His grin grew even wider. He came closer to show me the remote. It was something akin to an old iPod looking thing. He scrolled through a plethora of menus until he selected one labeled ‘Enhance Audio’. He then pointed it in the direction of two nurses conversing behind the other side of a large glass viewing window on the other side of the room. As soon as the remote was pointing in their direction, I could hear them.
“I can’t believe that prick stood you up like that, girl!” one said.
“He’s a loser anyway, I heard from Jenny that he isn’t even all that well endowed, if you know what I mean…” the other said, holding up her pinky finger which sent both of them into a giggling fit.
“Can you hear them? How clear is the audio?” the old man asked, pulling out a clipboard and pen seemingly from nowhere.
We ran a gauntlet of tests, trying out different features and modes, dialing in and fine tuning the settings. By the time we were finished, I wasn’t even all that mad anymore. I mean, I was still a little peeved. I had been tricked and drugged and operated on without my consent, I don’t care what the gibberish in my contract said, I felt violated. BUT… after all was said and done, I couldn’t help but feel like the benefits that the new implanted device offered were more than worth some shady and underhanded practices. I was kept in their facility for a couple of days for observation and more tests, compensated for my lost wages at my job, and given a prescription to fill- something to help with the pain while my body healed. They claimed it was ‘an astounding success!’, leaving me to wonder what would have happened if they had failed?
I went about my life, checking in with them via phone once a week, which I could now call and answer by merely thinking about it, thanks to their device. I could understand hundreds of spoken languages, I could hear conversations happening through brick walls with crystal clarity, and if it ever got too much I could always just lower the settings, even mute certain frequencies. Despite their underhanded techniques and the violation of my own body, my rage in them had subsided and became some more like a perturbed annoyance. They had drugged and operated me without my knowing consent, sure, but I was beginning to come around. Hell, I would have even said I came out like a thief, definitely better off than I had been.
Then, I began having the dreams.
My dreams since they had installed this thing in my head have been so vivid. Dreams that seem so real, almost like I was awake, but not in control. Like watching yourself sleepwalk. I have vague memories and impressions when I wake up, remnants of whatever cycles my subconscious mind rolls through when I’m out. In one, I only remember being told by some authority figure that I needed to go out to the corner store and buy a certain brand of potato chips. My socks were wet when I woke up the next morning, and my blood chilled when I stepped outside only to notice that it had indeed rained the night before. When I checked my bank statement, there had been a purchase at 2:46 AM for the amount of $3.46 that I didn’t remember. Hell, I had been asleep at that time. So I WAS sleepwalking, along with sleep purchasing and god only knows what else.
They kept happening. Always single mindedly compelled to complete some seemingly menial or meaningless task. I tried sleeping pills, when that didn’t work I tried caffeine pills to stay awake. When I eventually did crash and pass out they continued. I even tried getting blind drunk, and while I don’t remember having any vivid dreams or sleepwalking episodes, my bank account and transaction history begged to differ. I guess I was just too blackout drunk to remember, but it hadn’t stopped me.
Last night was the most surreal one yet. I went to this bench out at the park a couple of blocks away. When I got there, I reached beneath it, obtaining the gun that I somehow knew would be there. That’s when everything became fuzzy. I try and try to remember what else happened, but it’s a blur of blue and scarlet. When I heard there had been a shooting that killed 2 people down the street from my place, I could see their faces in my mind before the police released the photos of the victims. They had been a couple, out for a late night rendezvous. A man of average looks and build and his sweetheart, who’s blue eyes burned holes into my soul through the TV screen as they glared at me accusingly. For an instant when their photos were on the screen, I remembered seeing those blue eyes looking at me, pleading and full of fear, and then… a scarlet plume of blood as the bullet mangled her beautiful face beyond recognition…
That was when the realization finally hit home for me. I did it. I killed that couple. Somehow, in a nocturnal venture in my slumber, I had murdered them. I thought I was going crazy! That’s not me, not something I would ever in the slightest consider, much less actually do. A piece of me died that day- my innocence, I think.
I did what any decent human being in my situation would do, I resolved to turn myself in. If somehow I was becoming some crazed maniac in my sleep, the smartest thing to do would be to turn myself in, lest I somehow manage to harm more innocent people.
I went out for a good steak dinner, probably the last decent meal I’d ever get to eat before my last meal on death row someday. It was the most delicious meal I ever remember eating. I savored every little bite. Finished with my meal, I tipped several hundred dollars to my waitress- my last good deed that I knew would never make up for the harm I had caused, the lives I had taken. I took a cab to the police station, ready to own up and meet my fate. That’s when I heard it. A voice echoing minutely in my ear.
“Don’t do it,” it said. And suddenly, I found that I couldn’t. I stood there for a long time, trying to take that step up to the door, the voice repeating the command incessantly. It commanded and I obeyed. Its hooked tendrils were sunk in deep, and I was compelled to do as it said. That voice was familiar, I realized. It was the same voice that had greeted me when I opened my door that day. The same voice I heard after the surgical implant was unwillingly installed, trespassing in my brain. The same voice of the head of research and development. The friendly voice of ToxiCorp.

I live the best part of my life online. It’s a sign of the times we live in, I guess. There are the mundane humdrum happenings that occur in our lives offline- the boring day to day droll occurrences that one can usually set their watch to, and then there’s the amazing things that we are lucky enough to witness via the screen usually glued to our hands. There’s no comparison, really. Content curated by professionals who are successful enough to have millions of followers watching every video and upvoting every hilarious meme, versus boring work and the strained relationship with our folks and loved ones? YouTube and social media wins that one in a landslide victory, in my opinion. Candy, or vegetables?
My job painting apartments is menial, lots of repetition. The only real variation is that every other apartment is mirrored opposite the ones next to it. Kitchen on the right, bathroom on the left in this one. Bathroom on the right, kitchen on the left in that one. Over and over again, ad infinitum. I dip the roller in paint, and apply it to a section of wall, dip the roller, apply it to another section of wall, over and over and over again until it’s quitting time. If I finish an apartment before it’s time to get off, there are plenty of others to move on to. Every… single… day. Six days a week.
Repetition is half of the formula to insanity, I say. One of, if not the ONLY thing that helps in keeping me sane is a decent signal on my phone and a single bluetooth earbud. Having some sort of dialog- whether that be listening to an entertaining YouTuber doing a let’s play, to channels that narrate Creepypastas- I find helps in the passage of time while working. It helps my mind wander while my body goes on autopilot, thus finding an hour long story by one of my favorite channels that I haven’t heard yet is like a gift from the content gods.
One of the longest work days I can remember was the day that my earbud fell out and landed directly in my paint bucket. I cursed the universe as I watched it sink. It happened early in the day too, so I was forced to weather the remaining six hours with nothing but my own thoughts and the sound of my paint roller smearing on the walls. I had lost the other earbud somewhere months ago, so it’s not like I had a spare one charging somewhere, and by the end of the day I resolved it by buying two brand new pairs so if something like that ever happened again, I’d have no less than three backups.
I decided to treat myself, buying a cutting edge and top of the line brand. When one uses a product for most of the day, every day, it helps to buy quality, because it’s not just at work that I use them. When I’m driving, washing dishes at home or doing household chores, or just grinding out levels on a video game, there’s always some audio going on in my ear. Listening to podcasts while I’m folding laundry, reviews for new games and movies while I’m walking the dog, ten interesting facts about *insert topic here* while I’m eating dinner. It just helps me get through my day. And my nights too, falling asleep listening to spooky stories has gotten to the point where if I forget to charge my phone or earbuds and one of them dies before I fall asleep, I might as well get back up for a bit while the battery charges.
It may sound weird to some people, trying to follow a narrative while also trying to fall asleep seems like it would be counterintuitive, but just like how some people need a fan or a TV going, there are thousands of us falling asleep to a soothing voice telling a macabre tale every night. Probably millions, given how the technology has evolved in prior years.
When I received an email saying I’d won a chance to test out the next step of that evolution, I ignored it. I hadn’t signed up for any contest or sweepstakes that I was aware of. Probably just spam, I thought. When the physical letter showed up in my mail stating the same, I took it a little more seriously, but eventually chalked it up to the spammers just being persistent. More junk mail. They got my email and were able to find an address that matched it, probably not that hard to do considering how many sites I’ve used that email to sign up for over the years. I was well aware that people leave a digital footprint, along with a treasure trove of data for advertisers and scammers alike. I always just chalked it up to the price of admission as I dropped the letter in my trash bin without even opening it. After a few weeks, all of my brushing off and ignoring what I thought was a scam culminated with a knock at my door.
“Why hello, sir. We represent ToxiCorp, and we understand that you recently purchased our product- two pairs of our Premium Earbuds?” the gentlemen asked. He was an older fellow, wearing thick coke bottle glasses and sandals. Before I could even answer though, he went on. “We’ve attempted to contact you via mail in regards to your most wisest of purchases. First off, we at the Toxi Corporation would like to sincerely thank you! And also congratulate you! You’ve won our annual November-a-thon giveaway!” he finished, taking an overdue and long breath.
That was how I found out that it wasn’t just spam. They had gotten my information when I had registered the product for the warranty, and unbeknownst to me, had thrown my name in the hat for their contest. The prizes I had to choose from included $500 cash, or free ToxiCorp earbuds for life, which included a free upgrade every time they put out a new product. While the cash offer was tempting, I decided that the latter offer would get me more bang for my buck. High end earbuds, like those made by ToxiCorp, weren’t cheap afterall. Plus, being able to upgrade and try out the latest models for free made it, in my eyes, the better of the two options.
I agreed, and after signing a plethora of documentation, not all of which I could understand and much less even read, he was on his way. Later that week they contacted me via phone about my first upgrade. It turns out, while the two pairs I had recently bought were the most expensive that my local retailer had to offer, they were by far not the most expensive and functional ones that the company offered. That first upgrade was like night and day compared to the so-called ‘top of the line’ ones I had purchased. The sound was crisper, they had better bass, a longer battery life, a further range for the bluetooth, everything about them was superior.
Then, still very much pleased with my upgraded earbuds, they contacted me about their newest pair. This pair upgraded everything, along with having noise canceling and the ability to make phone calls via a small mic inside of the earbud.
And it kept going, every month there was a new upgraded version that blew the latest one out of the water with better clarity and added functionality. My daily distractions of listening to content at work was never better. Gone were the days of bringing my phone with me from room to room as I painted, the bluetooth had crystal clear connectivity anywhere in the apartment. Hell, I could leave my phone charging in my car outside and the signal would pick up through spans of parking lots and brick walls. The snug form fitting cushion in my ear ensured that they never fell out on accident, yet wasn’t intrusive. I could go on and on, singing praise for the innovation and quality that the good people at ToxiCorp were doing with their wide line of audio products. Until that is, they hit me with their latest upgrade.
I should have known something was off when they asked me to come to their R&D department for this latest upgrade. All I was told was that this newest iteration was still in the ‘experimental’ stage of development. Previously, they had always simply mailed the newest model straight to me. I simply chalked up this break in protocol to the fact that this one was still in the prototype stage. I had already decided that whatever it was, I wanted it. I was even excited that they decided to include me in testing whatever it was that they had cooked up. Boy, was I stupid.
I arrived at their facility and was greeted by their team of engineers. They led me to a small lobby and gave me refreshments while I waited, and that was the last thing I remembered. When I woke up, I was in a recovery room with bright fluorescent lights blinding me, and a litany of rhythmically beeping medical machines monitoring my vitals. I felt groggy as hell, and as I reached up to feel why the side of my head was throbbing I felt swollen flesh molding around stitches above and behind my right ear. They said that the nausea accompanied by the dizziness I felt was normal, and conducive to the operation they performed in and around my inner ear.
I was PISSED. When my complaints and threats finally summoned the head researcher, the very same old man who had come to my door to tell me I was a ‘winner’ walked into the room.
“What the hell!? How did I get here, and what the fuck is all this about some ‘procedure’!?” I yelled. “Did you people drug me? What kind of sick operation are you people running here?”
The old man merely smiled. “Nothing that you didn’t agree to. You gave us express permission when you signed our agreement.”
“Like hell I did!” I yelled. He produced a small remote and pointed it at me, pressing a button as I continued to yell. “¡Déjame salir de aquí y llamo a mi abogado!” I threatened. What the hell? I had yelled that in english, I clearly said “Let me out of here and I’m calling my lawyer,” and I had heard the english version in my other ear, but in my right ear, the ear that was throbbing and had been operated on, I heard what I assumed was spanish.
The scientist seemed pleased at the utter confusion that sank into my facial features. “Do you speak spanish?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. He had really said “Habla espanol?”, I heard it with my untainted ear, but I also heard the english translation clear as day with the other.
I’ll admit, even though I was still utterly pissed about the situation, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little amazed.
“What… what else can it do?” I asked, my anger subsiding slightly.
His grin grew even wider. He came closer to show me the remote. It was something akin to an old iPod looking thing. He scrolled through a plethora of menus until he selected one labeled ‘Enhance Audio’. He then pointed it in the direction of two nurses conversing behind the other side of a large glass viewing window on the other side of the room. As soon as the remote was pointing in their direction, I could hear them.
“I can’t believe that prick stood you up like that, girl!” one said.
“He’s a loser anyway, I heard from Jenny that he isn’t even all that well endowed, if you know what I mean…” the other said, holding up her pinky finger which sent both of them into a giggling fit.
“Can you hear them? How clear is the audio?” the old man asked, pulling out a clipboard and pen seemingly from nowhere.
We ran a gauntlet of tests, trying out different features and modes, dialing in and fine tuning the settings. By the time we were finished, I wasn’t even all that mad anymore. I mean, I was still a little peeved. I had been tricked and drugged and operated on without my consent, I don’t care what the gibberish in my contract said, I felt violated. BUT… after all was said and done, I couldn’t help but feel like the benefits that the new implanted device offered were more than worth some shady and underhanded practices. I was kept in their facility for a couple of days for observation and more tests, compensated for my lost wages at my job, and given a prescription to fill- something to help with the pain while my body healed. They claimed it was ‘an astounding success!’, leaving me to wonder what would have happened if they had failed?
I went about my life, checking in with them via phone once a week, which I could now call and answer by merely thinking about it, thanks to their device. I could understand hundreds of spoken languages, I could hear conversations happening through brick walls with crystal clarity, and if it ever got too much I could always just lower the settings, even mute certain frequencies. Despite their underhanded techniques and the violation of my own body, my rage in them had subsided and became some more like a perturbed annoyance. They had drugged and operated me without my knowing consent, sure, but I was beginning to come around. Hell, I would have even said I came out like a thief, definitely better off than I had been.
Then, I began having the dreams.
My dreams since they had installed this thing in my head have been so vivid. Dreams that seem so real, almost like I was awake, but not in control. Like watching yourself sleepwalk. I have vague memories and impressions when I wake up, remnants of whatever cycles my subconscious mind rolls through when I’m out. In one, I only remember being told by some authority figure that I needed to go out to the corner store and buy a certain brand of potato chips. My socks were wet when I woke up the next morning, and my blood chilled when I stepped outside only to notice that it had indeed rained the night before. When I checked my bank statement, there had been a purchase at 2:46 AM for the amount of $3.46 that I didn’t remember. Hell, I had been asleep at that time. So I WAS sleepwalking, along with sleep purchasing and god only knows what else.
They kept happening. Always single mindedly compelled to complete some seemingly menial or meaningless task. I tried sleeping pills, when that didn’t work I tried caffeine pills to stay awake. When I eventually did crash and pass out they continued. I even tried getting blind drunk, and while I don’t remember having any vivid dreams or sleepwalking episodes, my bank account and transaction history begged to differ. I guess I was just too blackout drunk to remember, but it hadn’t stopped me.
Last night was the most surreal one yet. I went to this bench out at the park a couple of blocks away. When I got there, I reached beneath it, obtaining the gun that I somehow knew would be there. That’s when everything became fuzzy. I try and try to remember what else happened, but it’s a blur of blue and scarlet. When I heard there had been a shooting that killed 2 people down the street from my place, I could see their faces in my mind before the police released the photos of the victims. They had been a couple, out for a late night rendezvous. A man of average looks and build and his sweetheart, who’s blue eyes burned holes into my soul through the TV screen as they glared at me accusingly. For an instant when their photos were on the screen, I remembered seeing those blue eyes looking at me, pleading and full of fear, and then… a scarlet plume of blood as the bullet mangled her beautiful face beyond recognition…
That was when the realization finally hit home for me. I did it. I killed that couple. Somehow, in a nocturnal venture in my slumber, I had murdered them. I thought I was going crazy! That’s not me, not something I would ever in the slightest consider, much less actually do. A piece of me died that day- my innocence, I think.
I did what any decent human being in my situation would do, I resolved to turn myself in. If somehow I was becoming some crazed maniac in my sleep, the smartest thing to do would be to turn myself in, lest I somehow manage to harm more innocent people.
I went out for a good steak dinner, probably the last decent meal I’d ever get to eat before my last meal on death row someday. It was the most delicious meal I ever remember eating. I savored every little bite. Finished with my meal, I tipped several hundred dollars to my waitress- my last good deed that I knew would never make up for the harm I had caused, the lives I had taken. I took a cab to the police station, ready to own up and meet my fate. That’s when I heard it. A voice echoing minutely in my ear.
“Don’t do it,” it said. And suddenly, I found that I couldn’t. I stood there for a long time, trying to take that step up to the door, the voice repeating the command incessantly. It commanded and I obeyed. Its hooked tendrils were sunk in deep, and I was compelled to do as it said. That voice was familiar, I realized. It was the same voice that had greeted me when I opened my door that day. The same voice I heard after the surgical implant was unwillingly installed, trespassing in my brain. The same voice of the head of research and development. The friendly voice of ToxiCorp.