A dream, it had to be. No one could ever truly become something so powerful that they could undo the entire fabric of reality.
"Ugh…" the simple man groaned as he rolled off his couch. "What time is it?" He glanced at his half-charged phone. "Ah man… I'm late…"
He quickly found some clothes that smelled half worn but not too bad and got dressed. Slowly, he maneuvered to his front door. He glanced behind at his messy apartment. "I'll clean it later." He said as he closed and locked the door.
Nothing but a simple man. He was not extraordinary, not by any stretch.
Life can be difficult, fleeting, and mundane. It can also be beautiful, fulfilling, and purposeful. As for him, he chose the path of a pitiful existence.
Dante was a man-child, mentally stuck in adolescence, physically grown in his late 20s. His outlook was somewhere between ambition and apathy. He spent his life coasting, avoiding anything that demanded too much effort.
As he drove to work, he spent most of his time thinking about a game he had spent countless hours playing. Everything else was put aside. This hobby caused his studio apartment to become a cockroach-infested disarray.
As he entered his old car, he checked his phone for texts and emails. Nothing. And that's how he liked it. The inside of his car was a total mess. Garbage and papers on the floors, a thick layer of dust on the dash, and half-empty soda cans in all 4 of his cupholders.
The car barely sputtered to life, coughing and wheezing before settling into a rough idle. It had been months since its last oil change, and he couldn't remember when it was serviced last. Any moment now, it could die. But as he drove, he felt nothing, no worry or hesitation. That was just his way.
He had no plans for the weekend coming up. A thought popped into his mind to call his parents but instantly was dismissed, yet again, as it has been for years. He had no siblings or any other immediate relatives. No friends or acquaintances to speak of. Romantic relationships were negligible since no one could stand his negativity and inability to be interested in anything.
He drove on, his mind adrift in a flood of thoughts and memories, barely aware of the road ahead. It felt like he was caught between dreaming and wakefulness; detached, unfocused, and in no state to be behind the wheel. Stuck in traffic, he had plenty of time to dwell on the countless things that might be wrong with him.
He thought back to when he found it strange to feel this tired and indifferent. Slouching in a doctor's office chair, he scratched his unkempt head.
"What seems to be the problem, Mr.…"
"It's Dante. And I don't know. I'm just exhausted all the time and always achy, and I just don't know, doc…"
"Hmm. Do you drink? What about exercise? Any physical activity? What do you do for work?" The questions kept coming. The reason for his exhaustion, they said, was a lack of discipline and physical activity. They gave him instructions on how to live a healthier lifestyle, which he considered but never followed. He simply went about his days as if nothing had changed.
He stopped by a coffee shop and ordered the largest, most sugar-packed drink on the menu, hoping it would somehow jolt him awake.
"Already late anyway, so who cares?" He said to himself after he paid for his drink and took a few sips.
Back on his path to work, he went back to his thoughts. As the car rumbled on, he thought about a time when the issue was exacerbated.
"So… you downed how many sleeping pills?" The paramedic asked while taking his vitals.
"I did the whole bottle of 90…" He was lying on his couch.
"Alright, get the stomach pump!"
It was a horrendous nightmare, and he was entirely awake through it. Vomiting the half-digested pills, he wondered how exactly he had gotten to that point. Mental health specialists said it was all in his head. Medications soon followed, yet those didn't help, mainly because he wouldn't consistently take them. Self-medicating was his go-to, but in the end, that failed. He didn't turn to anything else; that was his way.
For no one knew of the ancient entity stirring within his mind, his body, his soul. It infected him like a virus, but everyone, including himself, was completely oblivious to its existence. For all he knew, the universe was just as indifferent as he was.
Eventually, nothing surprised him. Maybe it was cancer or some other illness that would finally put an end to it all. He wished for it, anything to break the endless cycle of exhaustion and repetition. His life was nothing but a series of meaningless routines, occasionally interrupted by fleeting distractions.
Until this day.
Because on this particular day, he would finally have a full conversation with a special woman. His social ineptitude wouldn't get in the way this time. He didn't know it, but this day was the day that everything would change.
Forty-five minutes crawled by before he finally made it to his desk. He sat down, stared at the slow-starting computer, and two minutes later, he drifted off asleep at his desk. He slipped into a dream. But in that dream, he was more than just a tired man in a dull office. He was a hero, someone admired, respected, even loved. He soared through the sky, built incredible machines, and saved countless lives. In his dreams, he mattered. Deep down, he still cared about the world, after all.
Deep in the dream, a sudden jolt brought him awake.
"What the—?" He blinked, disoriented, his gaze darting around the dimly lit office. The hum of the fluorescent light above him blended with the faint buzz of nearby chatter. An annoying voice behind him, always on the phone, despite never being work-related. Didn't matter much as long as no trouble was caused for him. There has always been a request to a party that he would simply decline each time.
As one can see, this was his life at work. A haze of monotony, usually spent dozing at his desk until the shrill ring of the phone startled him awake. Then he'd work for about 15 minutes before falling back to sleep.
However, this time, it wasn't the same kind of startle. The startle felt like something shook him, while no one was there to claim the act. He stood up and looked over his cubicle. His coworker was chatting up someone he probably met at a party.
"Hey… did someone just come by?" Dante asked in a hush.
His coworker looked up, "Nah, man." Then, he went back to his ultra-important call.
He sat back in his squeaky chair. For a moment, he stayed still, staring at nothing and trying to grasp the unfamiliar sensation. It was unsettling to be touched by something that was not there to be seen.
He rubbed his tired eyes and slouched deeper into his creaky office chair, the worn leather groaning under his weight. He stared blankly at the flickering lights overhead, their uneven hum matching the random thoughts in his head. His gaze drifted to the monitor in front of him, the screen as dark and lifeless as his mood. With a sigh, he wiggled the mouse, watching the machine slowly blink to life.
A brief glint of hope stirred in him—maybe there would be something, anything, to break the monotony. But no, just the same old list of non-urgent requests.
Demanding? Yes.
Exciting? Most certainly not.
He stretched, cracking his back as he glanced around the room. He half-expected someone to call him out for his obvious lack of effort, however, the office was lifeless. Empty chairs, peeling paint, and his chatty coworker, who busts his butt just as hard as he does, were his only companions.
As a tech support employee, he'd long since lost count of how many busted monitors, outdated printer drivers, and crashing systems he'd been forced to resuscitate. None of it mattered. The people there didn't notice him and didn't care about his work, and most days, he couldn't blame them. He was a shadow in the fluorescent glow, another cog in a machine that should've been scrapped years ago.
He took a deep breath, his gaze falling on the scattered mess of papers that littered his desk. Old reports, sticky notes with half-legible scribbles, and forgotten memos formed chaos. The workspace was a shrine to disorder. No matter how hard he tried, it always seemed to win.
His job was an endless litany of complaints. Including but not limited to printers jamming, monitors freezing, Wi-Fi dropping, and password resets. Even though these issues were quick and easy to fix, they drained him nonetheless.
He slumped forward, his elbows digging into the desk. "What am I doing with my life… why am I even here?" he muttered under his breath. A typical complaint in his day-to-day life.
Dragging the mouse to the ticket system, he pulled up the latest tickets. The endless litany of issues greeted him like an unwelcome guest.
"Done… done… not doing this one…" His voice was flat, mechanical, as he dismissed the list. "Hmm. Need more information. Done. Done…"
Eventually, in the monotony, his focus slipped. The tickets blurred into nothing as a strange thought swept away his mind. This life isn't for you.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the tidal wave of fantasies drown out the world around him. His eyes drifted shut, and for a fleeting moment, he saw another life. A life full of vibrancy and meaning.
A shrill ring of his desk phone snapped him out of his sleepy haze. He groaned, rubbing his temples as he reached for the handset. Probably another broken printer, he thought.
"Hello, tech support," he answered, his voice flat, barely masking his irritation.
"Dante, my dear, could you come to my office, please?"
The voice was warm and melodic. There was an almost unnatural clarity that made his pulse skip. The owner of this beautiful voice was known as Tyr.
Tyr had a way of making everything sound like an invitation to something far more interesting than it was. He sat up, suddenly more awake than he'd been all day.
Relatively new, only a few months into the job, Tyr had already become a favorite of upper management. She was a stunning young woman with a radiant smile and an aura that brightened every room she entered. Included in the package was cheerfulness, confidence, and so much purpose it made him nauseous.
Her presence was magnetic, a sharp rift to the dull gloom that stuck itself to his life like a shadow. She was the kind of person people gravitated toward without them realizing it, the kind of person who could make the mundane feel significant. The type of person everyone wanted to talk to in the lunchroom. He saw her almost every weekday and managed to skulk away, hoping she didn't notice him.
He didn't know it, but her eyes were always on him.
And that was the thing about her. He couldn't figure out what it was. She was too perfect and composed. Like an actor slipping effortlessly into a role. She wasn't just the new office favorite. She was so much more. So unique compared to every other woman he'd ever known. One thing was certain, though: She didn't belong.
Not that he would think otherwise or notice. He didn't ask questions. He didn't care. As long as she left him be, he'd leave her be, and that's how he liked it. For she was just Tyr, his supervisor, and she was the only one who could make him leave his desk, albeit in a begrudging manner.
Did she just refer to me as… dear? What is she, 70? He thought as he shifted in his chair.
He sighed and dragged himself to his feet. His shoes scuffed against the cracked linoleum as he made his way to Tyr's office, his thoughts swirling. What could she possibly want? Did I screw something up? Is this finally the moment they decided to kick me to the curb? The harsh thought pressed on him as he reached the door. He knocked lightly and waited a moment before slowly pushing it open.
Her office was a most unreal place based on its location. It was cramped, almost closet-like, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the helpdesk area. There were no windows, yet the room was bright, bathed in a soft, radiant light that had no discernible source.
Dante didn't think much of it, as with most things in life. Maybe it was just some fancy overhead lamp or a trick of his tired mind.
The walls were painted a soothing cream, unblemished and pristine, a rarity in such a place. Her desk was neat and purposeful, adorned with little touches of life: a small vase of vivid flowers, a cluster of colorful stones, and a stack of perfectly aligned papers. Tyr's office was a perfect curation, and there was no way it could exist. A lot like her.
The air was warm, comforting, and carried a faint scent he couldn't figure out. Something richer, deeper, and meaningful.
For a moment, he stood there, staring into her office, expecting something to happen. Nothing jumped out at him. He shook off the strange feeling and cleared his throat. "You called?"
Tyr greeted him with her signature warm smile, her bright eyes sparkling as she gestured to the chair across from her desk.
He shuffled into the seat, his gaze briefly darting to the impeccable organization of her workspace. It was an obvious reminder of how vastly different they were. No clutter or chaos. Everything was in its place.
When their eyes met, his thoughts derailed. Time screeched to a halt. It was the first time he had ever truly looked at her. Most of the time, he would find something else to lock eyes with. This day, out of all the days, was the day their eyes met.
Her eyes were unlike anything he'd ever seen. With long eyelashes and irises, the shades of blue could contain entire worlds—skies stretching into eternity, oceans roiling and shimmering with life. They didn't just reflect light; they created it, shifting and flowing from another dimension. Her face was like porcelain, soft and radiant. Not a single blemish or wrinkle. Her makeup was either transparent or she didn't wear any. And her perfect, long, flowing ruby-red hair that caressed her cheeks. Not a single hair was out of place.
Dante blinked, trying to ground himself; he couldn't look away. His mind spiraled. How could eyes be that beautiful? He thought he was imagining things.
Tyr leaned forward and began to speak, her voice soft and melodic. Time remained to stand still, and her words registered slowly. His thoughts adhered to those impossible eyes.
What is with those eyes? He thought. How can I listen to a word she's saying? And how have I not noticed them before? She's been here for months… wait… is this the first time I ever talked to her!?
"Dante," Tyr said, her voice light yet strangely commanding, pulling his attention only slightly. "I am going to free you."
He blinked, due to her words soaring over his head. "Uh… what?"
Tyr chuckled softly, her gaze never leaving him. "Don't worry," she said, her tone cheerful, yet beckoning. "I'm not expecting you to understand just yet. I know what is happening to you."
His thoughts stopped spiraling. His eyes were pinned on hers. "What do you mean?"
Her ruby lips curved into a smile. "The sleepiness, the inability to concentrate, the dreams, your life being in shambles. I know what it is."
"How… Do you know that?"
Her eyes focused on him. "I've been watching you. You've been on my mind many times over the past few months."
He wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or flattered. A mix of both, perhaps. "I don't understand… you've been watching me?"
"Surely you know what I am talking about. Right?" Her eyes glinted.
He furrowed his brow, unsure if she was serious or just trying to make him feel better. "I mean… I guess?" he mumbled, more out of politeness than agreement.
Tyr smiled warmly as if his half-hearted response was all the confirmation she needed. "Tonight, Dante, I will show you what I see. Tonight, I am going to free you."
An awkward shift in his seat, her words washing over him like a half-heard song. Those words didn't make sense. "Right," he said finally, scratching the back of his neck. "If you say so."
She didn't press him further, only smiled that same radiant, knowing smile. "You'll understand soon enough," she said lightly, leaning back in her chair.
He nodded absently, his thoughts already drifting, unsure what to make of it.
Tyr's voice softened, taking on a reassuring lilt. "I know you feel like your life doesn't have meaning. Trust me, it's worth so much more than this." She gestured faintly to the surrounding space, the lifeless office, the hospital itself. "You don't need to be here anymore. Go home. And wait for my call."
His heart sank. He finally understood what she was going on about. "Wait, are you firing me?"
She smiled brightly, "Oh, I'm doing much more than that. I am changing your life. Tonight. So I want you to go home and prepare. Wait for me, okay?"
Lost by her strange meanings, he couldn't look away from her swirling cerulean eyes as they shimmered in the unnatural, radiant light of the windowless room. Those eyes pulled him in.
"I—uh… what?" he stammered, his thoughts bumbling around in his head. Is she serious? I don't understand what she's saying. Tyr smiled, patient and unbothered by his confusion, as she'd expected it.
Tyr reached across the desk, her hand warm and steady as it rested on his. "Promise me that you will answer. Don't just play video games and ignore me, okay?" she requested, her voice soft and brimming with everlasting calm. "Think of me and what I will do for you. An offer to show you what I see in you."
As she held her hand on his, something inside him ignited. A surge of energy coursed through his body, sharp and electric, making him sit up straighter. It became hard to breathe, his mind racing to make sense of the overwhelming sensation. It was like a veil had lifted for a moment, exposing something he didn't know existed.
He looked down at her hand, still on his, then back up to her swirling, cerulean eyes. Locked in her gaze, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. A smile that was not forced nor hollow; it was genuine. It was such a foreign feeling to him after years of sinking into the shadows of his despair.
He blinked, shook his head slightly, and pulled his hand back. "I… uh, sorry," he mumbled, unsure of what he was even apologizing for.
Tyr giggled and shook her head, her radiant smile never faltering. "No need to apologize," she said. "You'll understand in time."
He nodded awkwardly, then rose from his seat. Tyr watched him as he left her office, those impossible, swirling eyes following his every move. There was hesitation as he reached the doorway, glancing back once more, though she remained where she was, her serene expression unchanged.
The help desk area felt heavier and quieter as he walked back to his desk. A faint hum of fluorescent lights and the epic conversation his coworker was having all seemed muffled and distant. He gathered his things: a battered phone and car keys. Then he left his key card on the desk. As he walked toward the exit, he glanced around one last time, half-expecting Tyr to reappear, her radiant presence breaking through the hospital's gloom. She was not. Her door was closed, and he didn't see her again.
He found it strange that she didn't escort him but thought no more of it as he walked through the hallway. Eventually, he made it to the lobby area. Several people were there waiting for something, a conference, an interview, or to speak with a manager. Not a single person looked up to see who walked by; they just stared at their screens, texting and mindless shopping, he was sure of it. Finally, he exited the office, never to return.
The parking lot was mostly empty, aside from a few cars. It was the fading light of day. He stopped in front of his car, gripping his keys tightly. A sudden prickle ran up the back of his neck, and he turned sharply, his eyes scanning the shadows.
There was nothing out of the ordinary.
He let out a shaky breath and slid into the driver's seat, the old car groaning as he turned the key in the ignition. It sputtered and coughed, threatening not to start, then eventually roared to life. A heavy rumble and high idle, no concern of his, of course.
Dante sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel and staring out into the lot. Her words echoed in his mind. Tonight, I am going to show you what I see.
He huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah… right. By firing me. Whatever."
The engine's loud hum filled the silence as he pulled out of the lot and started the drive home.
For the first time all day, he relaxed. As he drove through the dim streets, headlights cutting through the growing dark, a strange sensation crept over him—an eerie presence, a feeling like he wasn't alone.
From the corner of his eye, just for a split second, he thought he saw something move in the rearview mirror. He jerked his head back to look, his heart sank to his gut.
Nothing was there.
It was empty.
The car rumbled forward, and the feeling lingered like a shadow, sticking to his every thought.