Time was passing.

The rush hour traffic of the Individual Transport Pods was gone leaving the plaza a place of calm and silence. The occasional ITP was an welcome distraction to him while he waited sipping his coffee. He is waiting for the unknown caller of last night. The man with the strange voice and cloaked number asked him to be in the plaza and wait. Jarmil had no idea why he had answered the call from a cloaked number, he never did that. Maybe he was just desperate at the time. Now, while he waited for the stranger with the white coat that he was told to expect, he was regretting the decision. Being desperate and looking for something different to do, didnt quite agree with his sense of danger. Maybe he should just forget all this and go home. But then he thought that the stranger already knew where he lived and probably a whole lot more about him just from having his phone number. Better to wait and see what was wanted of him. After all, this was a public place. There was several Police Cameras and even some Patrolmen around. Jarmil a 27 year old data processor currently unemployed was desperate. After 3 years of work in a small company he was let go without any reason. Its meager savings depleted after only 3 months of inability to find work in the only area that he was minimally proficient on, he was ready to accept a challenge. But, accepting a meeting with a stranger, based only in the promise that it would be worth his time, was looking more and more dangerous has the time went by. He arranged his tall bony body in the uncomfortable chair, trying to decide if he should leave or stay. The waiter came by again, what was it, the 3rd attempt to make him order anything else. Mentally counting its balance on the account he declined the offer of pies and cakes. Not that he wasnt hungry, his last meal had been last night, the rest of the 3 days old pizza he had been rationing. Maybe the stranger on the phone wouldnt mind ordering some food, and right there his decision to stay was made. Hunger has a voice. He wondered one more time why didnt they made these chairs at least usable. He counted again the Patrolmen, checked the Police Cameras. No traffic now. He was the single person in the plaza. Suddenly the stranger voice behind him. Dont look back. He waited. The coffee all but forgotten. Hunger gone. Wait! The voice said. Jarmil not feeling brave to defy it, did just that. Minutes went by. He started to wonder if the stranger had left. He heard nothing, no sign that someone was there, yet he felt a presence. Someone was close. Too close for comfort. The need to look behind was becoming unbearable. He had to see. What could happen? The stranger wouldnt dare to hurt him there, would it? He was in direct view of at least 3 Patrolmen. All he had to do was cry Danger and they would be with him in seconds. Then he thought, a lot can happen in seconds. He could be dead. Even if the stranger would be caught or killed by the Patrolmen, what good would that do to him? He waited. Sweat covering him. Not from the weather that was the usual 20 C as always. He was starting to panic. Fear wasnt a common emotion for him. Call the waiter. Pay. said the voice, so close to his ears he felt the breath. Struggling to speak, Jarmil managed to say in a trembling voice that ashamed him, Its payed. Again, silence. After what seemed minutes, but wasnt, the voice said: Stand up! Walk straight ahead, to the door number 231! Dont look back! Jarmil gripped in fear considered running, considered calling out a Patrolmen. Instead he obeyed the orders. Walking wasnt that easy. His legs seemed stiff and unresponsive. Looking for the door 231 he found it on the other side of the plaza. All the way there he was saying Im not doing this. Ill only go to the door. I have to stay in the plaza. he

no longer felt the presence close to him. He was sure he could run. At the very least he could call the Patrolmen. As he was about to call the one walking right by him, opening his mouth to talk, his phone rung. Cloaked number again. He let it ring. Looking for the Patrolmen, he decided, it was time to stop this. Theres no way he was going into that door, he decided. Instead, he accepted the call from the cloaked number. Immediately the strange voice said: Dont talk. Get in that door fast! You are in Danger!. This had the effect of making him stop instantly. He was frozen. In danger? Him? Why? Hurry! Dont stop! Run! Now! said the voice on the phone. He couldnt move. He couldnt talk. He stood there maybe 10 steps from the door 231, unable to move. Citizen, is there any problem? He heard the metallic voice of the Patrolmen. Citizen? the automaton repeated. He felt the familiar tingling of his ID chip being scanned. The voice on the phone saying: Tell him no problem, and move! Citizen Jarmil, is there any problem, do you need assistance? asked the Patrolmen. The shock of hearing his name, made him find his voice, even if it was only a whisper: Yes Patrolmen, no problem, no assistance needed! Wandering why he said that, he wanted to say: Save me! Help! Danger!. He felt his body walking to the door. He was sure he didnt want to. Yet, he was going. The door 231 opened in front of him, sliding with a whisper. The voice in the phone said: Get in! He could hear the Patrolmen following him, the crunch of its rubber wheels on the pavement of the plaza. He knew that the encounter had been logged along with the images from all the cameras. It would stay forever in the Police logs. The next step would put him inside the door. He breathed heavily, incapable of stopping the step that would take him... where? He was scared like never before in his life. He knew his body was being controlled by someone else. Impossible he kept thinking. Why him, was the next thought. Him, in danger? Then he was inside. The door closed instantly. The call on his phone, disconnected. It was dark inside. Pitch dark. Somehow he felt that he was again in control of his body. He turned around to look for the controls for the door. All he wanted was to get out. He used his hands on the sides of the door, looking for the customary switch. Nothing. There was no trace of the door. Only a flat wall. The room smelled of dust and musty. Like an abandoned cellar. He was waiting for his ocular implants to adapt to the darkness. Something was interfering with it. He could now discern some shapes. Furniture. There was no sound. His implants provided a greenish image of a dark room when they should be showing a clear picture. Then he felt the presence. Close. He jumped letting out a small cry of fear. The silence was complete. He couldnt hear, barely see, was trembling in fear, trapped in a room. A hand, had to be a hand, touched his shoulder. He felt his heart stop. Its now, its now they kill me, he thought. The stranger voice said: Calm down! You are safe! Lights!. Slowly the room started to get bright. He could now see the owner of the voice. He was smiling. Jarmil was again frozen in place, looking at the strangers face. It was his.