Like it or not we all fall into a routine from time to time. The monotony of daily life frees up mental real estate for other pursuits. And so it was for Jim.

He wakes up at 7 am, briefly does some basic calisthenics and stretches, followed by a revitalizing cold shower and other morning ablutions, gets dressed and heads on to work.

8:30 he steps into Le Chat Chanceux, orders his usual iced coffee, black, and a almond croissant. He’s got time before work to sit at his favorite table by the window, indulging in his light breakfast while his mind is preoccupied with fine tuning the creative projects for work. He enjoyed being an ad writer.

And so it was like this everyday. Structured. Organized. Jim likes the order, it gives him as sense of control. He felt that the more control his life had, the more his creative juices were supercharged.

To Jim nothing is ever by chance. His friends all believed Jim to be a cynic. Perhaps his need for control came from a past emotional trauma, a bad relationship, or some painful experiences... Maybe it the years of being in marketing that shaped Jim’s views. He understood too well how easily influenced people can be by the media. He knew, because he was doing to manipulation.

The only way to stay above the fray is to exert control over your life. But, Jim is only human. And being only human, he too is prone to making errors of judgement.

As he sipped his coffee, pondering over his recent assignment of an ad to present a particular politician in a favorable light...his vision started to dim.

A bout of sudden exhaustion. He tried to get up from his table... Head spinning. Jim feels his body get heavy and light at the same time as the world around him disappears into darkness.

—————————

His head was pounding. Where was he? What was going on? Dazed, and cold, Jim look around himself. His vision still foggy. All he could make out is the very bright sun above him. It was blinding, and only warmed his upper body.

He tried to move, but found no strength. His limbs just wouldn’t move. He was in a desert. A cold, strange desert. Lights danced around him. His face and neck was sweating profusely, but his arms and legs were freezing. Jim realized he’s naked.

His mind rushed with all the possibilities. He prayed this is just a bad dream... Jim pleaded with himself.

‘Wake up! Wake up damn it!’ his thoughts yelled out in a growing sense of fear.

He felt movement around him. Movement of entities. To a frightened mind everything is possible, was this an alien abduction?

He saw strange creatures hovering over him, their voices murmuring in a familiar language that Jim couldn’t quite catch.

The sun. That blasted sun danced and changed colors. Even shapes.

Jim closed his eyes, and noticed just how sharp his hearing could become. The strange tongue of his captors slowly started to make sense to him.

“How are we doing here?” English! He could understand! Help me! Jim hoped they would telepathically hear him.

“As far as his office is concerned, he’s taking a personal day to finish his VIP assignment.”

“Good, what about his state?”

“This one is a tough bugger. He’s resisting us but we’ll crack him before the op.”

“Excellent.”

Three distinct voices. Human. 2 men and one woman. Jim opened his eyes again...it was blurry but he could make out outlines of bizarre beings with animal heads.

Jim felt pain. A shock. It reverberated through his body. Darkness again. Cold, lonely darkness.

—————————

Jim woke up later than usual. His head spun like mad. He felt like he was hit by a truck.

This was a tough project. Perhaps he had one too many scotches. It’s not like him to drink to excess like he remembered doing last night, but his assignment was complete. Complete, and he even dared to call it a masterpiece. His best work!

His hapless scandal riddled client will be beloved across the political arena. Jim was confident.

It was late. No workout today. Jim showered and got ready for the meeting with the disgraced politician.

The cold shower felt different. Jim felt odd. Vague memories of a cold dark desert permeated through his usual shower affirmations.

That’s odd, he thought. Odd and like deja vu. The cold that his body was conditioned to evoked a sense of a terrible fear. Jim felt cold, scared and alone. Something was nagging at him.

He shook it away, attributing it to remnants of a nightmare and a bad hangover.

There was no rush. Jim got dressed and picked up his work briefcase. He had enough time to rehearse his presentation and indulge in his light breakfast.

At the Le Chat Chanceux, Jim sat at his favorite table and sipped his coffee. His mind was on fire today! He felt confident! This project will earn him a hefty bonus not too mention access to more elite clientele. Life is good!

He lifted his coffee, stopping midway. Something about it felt odd. Something about the color. Black. The sense of dread started to creep up again. A strange feeling as though he is forgetting something important.

‘Wake up! Wake up damn it!’ He heard his thoughts shout at him.

Must have been some nightmare to have such an affect.

‘I am calm’ Jim reassured himself.

‘I am confident.’

Back at the office Jim’s boss informed him that the VIP is in the large conference room with his PR team. They were ready for his presentation.

Jim was shaking with anxiety. Or was it fear. What is the difference, really? Something felt wrong. He didn’t feel like himself.

On his way to the conference room Jim was stopped by a young man in a suit. The man seemed familiar, but Jim couldn’t recall.

“Excuse,” the man reached out, “Can you please tell me the time?”

“It’s a quarter after 1” Jim answered without stopping.

“Excellent...” the man’s said slowly, with a strange emphasis on the pronunciation, “Thank you.”

Jim froze in his tracks. A powerful force was rising from the pit of his stomach. It was fighting Jim for control. As if forced out of a cockpit, Jim perceived his body moving without his control.

‘Oh no...’ Jim thought, he didn’t know what was happening but he knew for sure it wasn’t good. Terrified he tried to regain control of his body.

Watching himself in agony.

What the hell is going on?

‘Get close to the speaker, shake his hand, and pull him in close.’ The whispered?! He remembered! The whispers! The aliens! The instructions...

He never finished any presentation! He was drugged and abused. But...why?

The briefcase! Jim never carried a briefcase to work. All his presentations were digital.

His mind was racing all the while his body acted on someone else’s orders. Jim’s mind could conclude that whatever was going to happen involved himself, the disgraced politician, and the strange briefcase.

“Good to see you Jim,” the client said, stretching g out his hand, “I trust you’re going to wow us with something truly amazing?”

Jim’s arm was elevating to meet the clients.

He had to stop it.

‘No!’ Jim yelled in his mind.

In a blink of an eye something shattered.

Jim was falling along glass shards. Holding the briefcase close to his chest, Jim understood the plot. At least he felt he did.

Jim’s last few moments were of a serene clarity. He went out on his own terms. Content with not knowing the full extent of the strange plot he was involuntarily privy too.

The explosion left very little trace of the man.

————————————

The next morning it was all over the news:

‘Political terrorist kills self in botched assassination attempt on House Speaker McGann’

The VIPs scandal was old news. Polls rising.

The masses were angry at fringe political extremist...as Jim was portrayed to having been.

No one knew...not even the Hon. Speaker McGann, that McGann was meant to have perished along with the unwitting “terrorist.”

A dead McGann would have raised a sympathetic polling for his entire party nationwide... Still, the masterminds of this whole plot were happy with the outcome.

Poor Jim however...

In a short instance, Jim’s life and reputation were ruined. A casualty of the powers and principalities whose existence most people would never come to know about.