The lights of the damp city never go out; in fact, they make up for the absence of the sun, which has not risen for years, and it seems that its reappearance would be a miracle.

Inside an old, rust-stained flat, a body lies slumped on an old sofa, motionless and not breathing; two days have passed since it was left lying there on the sofa.

Near the window stands a woman in her mid-thirties. She looks out at the chaotic city as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She ignores her reflection in the glass, as if she were unaware that she even exists.

Patient 5698 stands there, her cigarette forgotten in the ashtray, clutching a carton of fake grape juice; she knows it is just chemically modified dirty water. Yet she shows no sign of disgust.

She stepped away from the window and carelessly tossed the juice onto the table, not caring that the juice spilled onto it. She looked at the body lying on the sofa—a gaunt, pale figure with its eyes slightly open.

5698 : "It's been two days. Haven't you had enough of sleeping? When will you go home?"

Patient 5698 did not wait for an answer; she walked over to the old wardrobe. The wardrobe door made a loud noise as it opened, due to the rust. It revealed a pile of old clothes that actually belonged to a woman who had rotted to death in this flat before Patient 5698 moved into this wretched place.

Patient 5698 wore an old leather jacket over her black shirt; she didn’t even look at herself in the mirror, As if she avoids looking at the person she is.

Patient 5698 sat on the old sofa next to the motionless body. She began to put on her boots; she didn’t know where she wanted to go, but something was urging her to leave this place right now.

Patient 5698 stepped out of the flat onto the dark street; the smell of mould and damp mixed with rust filled her nostrils, but she seemed to have got used to it and it was no longer a problem for her.

The robot guards of the Organisation of Ideal Humans were patrolling everywhere, filming everyone without permission, and no one could complain about it. All the information was sent to the Organisation to ensure that everything ran perfectly from the Organisation’s point of view.

Patient 5698 was walking without any particular destination in mind, as if her bodily memory were leading her to a specific place she did not realise she was meant to go to.

She kept walking until she reached the city, which was teeming with the chaos of neon lights, flying vehicles, robots wandering amongst the people, and adverts popping up out of nowhere

A group of young people ride virtual skateboards and cause chaos amongst the flying vehicles; robots swarm around a person and arrest him with unjustified brutality

Patient 5698 was walking through the chaos when, suddenly, a strange sensation struck her head; a headache and nausea for no apparent reason made her stop in her tracks. She clutched her head, feeling as though it were about to burst from the pressure.

But the sound of the huge lorry’s horn brought her back to her senses; Patient 5698 was standing in the middle of the road, and the lights of the massive lorry were illuminating her weary face.

The horn had jogged her memory; she suddenly realised she was supposed to have been at the restaurant 30 minutes ago. She hurried across the street and began walking quickly, not knowing why this had happened; it was the first time she’d ever been late for work.

Her feet were moving faster than her memory; 15 years of walking to the same place to work for hours on end, nothing new in the routine, as if something were preventing her from changing this

She was still somewhat lost; she turned into an alleyway, thinking there must be another way to get to the restaurant, but a sound stopped her in her tracks.

"Are you shirking your duties? That’s unexpected from our best employee of the last 15 years." An elderly man stood leaning against the restaurant doorframe, his robotic eyes reflecting his sense of disappointment.

Patient 5698 froze in her tracks, looked at the elderly man; she was at a loss and didn’t know what to say. "I've forgotten I have night shift today." *confessed*

The elderly man chuckled to himself as if he’d heard a funny joke; he looked at Patient 5698 again, his expression no longer that of an angry manager. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve heard in my 20 years working here. I had no idea you were any good at telling jokes,” he said.

But patient 5698 wasn't joking

She was telling him the truth

The elderly man looked at Patient 5698’s clothes as if she were wearing something inappropriate. “Why aren’t you wearing your uniform? Do you want to stand out from the rest today? Or have you decided that the yellow shirt doesn’t suit you any more?” *Noted*

Patient 5698 looked down at her clothes – black pyjamas with a leather jacket and a pair of old boots – which looked even more of a mess than usual. She looked at herself as if she’d only just realised what she looked like now.

The elderly man looked at Patient 5698’s face. He noticed that her face was free of her usual make-up and looked pale, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve found a dead body in your house,” *he asked.*

He didn’t wait for a reply from her; in fact, the way she looked and behaved today seemed worse than the prospect of her giving him an answer. “Go inside, you fool. How could you be wandering about in those clothes today? You look drunk—have you been drinking too much?”  *He said* “You’ve got no work to do today. Just rest inside; Patient 5134 will bring you some water. I don’t want to risk you passing out in the kitchen and throwing up there.” *He added*

Patient 5698 walked inside; the smell in the restaurant was a mixture of cheap floor cleaner and a soup that smelled worse than vomit. She sat at a table in a corner of the restaurant, which was packed with customers. She was sweating profusely for no reason, even though she felt cold; her lips were trembling for no reason. That strange sensation returned, and the terrible headache came back again. She clutched her head once more; the world was spinning around her.

Suddenly, a sound brought her back to reality, just like the trumpet a moment earlier. A girl in her early twenties with red hair, wearing a yellow T-shirt, was looking at Patient 5698 as if she’d known her for years. “Oh, my software! Are you all right? You look really ill. Is that why you haven’t been at work for the last two days?” she said, placing a glass of water on the table, then pulling a napkin from her pocket. “Wipe your forehead—there’s enough sweat there to clean the restaurant floor.”

Patient 5698 looked at the girl with a blank stare; she couldn’t remember having been off work for two days. In fact, she couldn’t remember what had happened before that morning, as if she’d been born that very day. “Who are you? Do you know me?” *She muttered, her voice trembling and faint.*

The girl with red hair gave a soft laugh, and Patient 5698 said, "Don’t be silly, I’m Patient 5134!! We’re close friends!”  *She said, but her voice trailed off at the end. Patient 5134 noticed how Patient 5698 looked as if she’d just come back from death . “Are you all right? Why do you look like that today?”

Patient 5698 did not answer the question; she tried to look at Patient 5134’s face, as if trying to remember who was standing in front of her. Nothing—it was as if something had erased her memories from the system. She was on the verge of tears because of what was happening to her.

Patient 5134 realised that something was definitely wrong here; she pulled a chair closer to Patient 5698 and sat down, her hand moving instinctively to brush the black hair away from her sweaty face. “Has something bad happened? Have you split up with a secret partner I don’t know about, or have you experienced a sudden hormonal change?”  *She asked in a low, calm voice to reassure Patient 5698.*

Patient 5698 suddenly stopped trembling. She remembered the figure lying on her sofa that morning – perhaps that really was her partner? She didn’t know, but something told her it was true. “Yes… problems with my partner…” *she murmurs unconsciously.*

Patient 5134 looked calmly at Patient 5698, then smiled. “You poor thing, it seems you’ve fallen for the ‘pretty girls type’. Don’t worry about him – he’s not worth your time. How about popping down to the salon and changing your hair colour? I’ve never seen you with a different shade before, and I reckon matching your hair colour to your skin tone would look lovely.”

Patient 5698 was staring into space. She wasn’t paying any attention to what was being said about her, but she knew that nothing would change even if it did. “How on earth is this supposed to help me? My head’s about to explode and you’re telling me to do this.”

Patient 5134 laughed, then wrapped her arms around Patient 5698 in a tight embrace. “You may have lost your memory, but you haven’t forgotten how to be pessimistic as usual,” *she whispered, hugging 5698 even tighter.*

Patient 5698 felt as though her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets because of this tight embrace; 5134 had done this on purpose, knowing that 5698 was on the verge of vomiting if anyone touched her. “Can you just move away? I feel even more nauseous…” *5698 muttered, choking.*

Patient 5134 moved away from 5698, who was already on the edge. “You don’t look too well right now. I’ve just mopped the floor; the restroom over there, by the way,” xshe noted , pointing to the toilet door in the corner of the restaurant.*

Patient 5698 rushed into the toilet. She flung open the door and vomited into the toilet. After she’d finished, she stood up and felt a little better. She walked over to the mirror but couldn’t see herself; she put it down to a headache. She turned on the tap and began washing her face, wishing it were all just a bad dream from which she could wake up.

Suddenly, a man appeared out of nowhere. He froze in his tracks – a man with a robotic neck, wearing the same yellow T-shirt that 5134 was wearing outside and he was adjusting his belt. “uhm... Excuse me, 5698? This is the men’s toilet, by the way.”

Now 5698 wished it really had been a dream; her face flushed red when she realised she was in the men’s toilet.

The man kept staring at her intently; she had simply gone outside in the hope that he would forget what had happened once he came out. 5698 found that the restaurant was indeed even busier, and a group of young people had already taken her table, but suddenly a voice caught her attention

It was 5134 calling her to come into the staff break room; she didn’t hesitate, as there really was nowhere else to go.

When she entered the room, it was lit by dim neon lighting, with the restaurant’s logo (‘Traditional Food’) hanging on the wall, a group of beanbag chairs scattered around the room, and lockers holding the staff names on it, one was having (5698) on it. 5698 sat down on one of the beanbag chair.

Patient 5134 could barely contain her laughter; the elderly man who had spoken to 5698 a few minutes earlier didn’t find what 5134 was laughing at amusing. “I saw you rushing into the men’s loo; you didn’t even give me a second to tell you you’d gone into the wrong one.” *5134 laughed, and the elderly manager carried on drinking his coffee.*

“What sort of friend are you? 5698 is clearly suffering, and you’re laughing because she went into the men’s loo?” *The manager calmly reprimanded 5134.*

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a killjoy. She did look funny, 4988. You’ve really grown up a lot and perhaps you’re no longer up to date with the jokes of the year 75031; you need to update your system.” *5134 replied; although her response was very cheeky, 5988 remained calm with her, as if he’d had enough of arguing with her already.*

5698 remained still in her chair; when the same man she’d seen in the bathroom walked in, she covered her face, as if she wanted to make herself vanish out of sheer embarrassment.

5134 looked at 5698 and smiled. “Hey, 5698, you should thank 5050 for helping to add a bit of colour to your pale face.” *She laughed.*

5050 looked at her. “Hey, 5134, this isn’t funny. She was about to die in the bathroom, and here you are laughing at her.” *He defended 5698 calmly whilst sitting in his chair.*

5134 scowled playfully. “Oh, enemies into lovers—that sort of love story from the year 23500. How old-fashioned.” *She sneered at 5050.*

5050 frowned "shut up!"  *He barked.*

5134 got pissed off "You shut up! Don't you think having a cool name makes you cooler to bark orders on me!?!"

4988 just kept drinking his coffee, not even speaking like a manager to make them stop fighting

5698 just sat there and cling to her leather jacket tightly, sweating didn't stop, and she still feels like she was freezing. 5134 noticed that.

5134 ignored 5050 and approached 5698; she was now genuinely worried about her friend. “You look even worse now; it seems I’ll have to take you with me so I can look after you.”

5050 objected, “You can’t just leave in the middle of the night shift—” 5050’s words were cut short by 4988

“She can go. And you, 5050, you’re not the manager, so you can’t decide for me.” *He reprimanded 5050.* “Behave like a good employee for once.”  *4988 added.*

5134 ignored the mess behind her and helped 5698 to her feet. “Let’s go to my flat; it’s a nice place for you to rest until you’ve recovered,” 5134 whispered as she helped 5698 walk.*

Behind the restaurant, there was indeed a flying vehicle parked outside. 5134 sat 5698 in the back seat. “I’ll have to drive more slowly today; you’re in no condition to handle the speed today.” *5134 muttered as she sat in the driver’s seat.*

Soon the vehicle came to life and began to rise from the ground, The air buffeted 5698’s pale face; the lights of the bustling city and the music echoed beneath her as the craft moved at a steady speed through the air. 5698 looked up at the sky—a sky that had always been covered in grey clouds—and could barely make out the ghostly outline of a star behind them.

5698 closed her eyes, intending to meditate, but 5134’s voice soon interrupted her train of thought: “There’s no time for meditation, 5698; it’s actually going to start raining soon.” *5134 warned as she stepped out of the driver’s seat and made her way over to her pale bestie, 5698, in the back seat. “I don’t know what you’ve been up to these past two days, but it looks like you’ve made a right mess of things.” *5134 muttered between breaths.*

she helped 5698 walk until they reached a small door; 5134 kicked the door open violently and she and 5698 went inside.

Inside, it was just a simple but modern flat—and clean, at that—a far better place than the shambles 5698 found herself in the morning. 5134 sat 5698 down on the sofa. “I’ll get you something; I didn’t give you that grape juice until you’d recovered,” *said 5134*

as 5134 switched on some of the lights in the flat. 5698 looked around; 5134 had an inexplicable obsession with the colours white and pink.

5698 She looked up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had happened that day: waking up in a dirty house, going out in shabby clothes with a terrible headache, the embarrassing incident in the restaurant toilet, and now she was in her friend’s flat.

A lot of questions appeared in her head

Why she don't remember what happened before this morning?

Why she don't remember working in that restaurant for 15 years?

Why she don't remember beefing with 5050 before?

No answer. Her head spins like she gonna pass out. Her eyes unconsciously looked at the TV, an advertisement appears...

Ideal human organization.

⚠ Daily Reminder

Thinking differently is often a symptom of cognitive instability.

Please report yourself to the nearest Ideal Human Organization facility.

...