Chapter 1: The Panel.
[POTENTIAL TARGET: Marian Kim]
Age: 17
Status: Highschool graduate.
Psychology State: Nervous, Pressured.
Mission Difficulty: 0 stars.
[POTENTIAL TARGET: Allison Moon]
Age: 25
Status: Corporate worker.
Psychology State: Tired, stressed.
Mission Difficulty: 1 star.
[POTENTIAL TARGET: Sarah Lee]
Age: 68
Status: Retired widow.
Psychology State: serene, nostalgic
Mission Difficulty: 0 stars.
[POTENTIAL TARGET: Olivia Kang]
Age: 31
Status: Unemployed.
Psychology State: hot headed, high.
Mission Difficulty: 2 stars.
The silent parade of text boxes scrolled through the periphery of my vision, a ghostly overlay on the real world.
It'd been awhile since I could see them but no matter how much I tried to ignore every single one of them, they never fully went away.
I stared out the store's smudged front window, my eyes tracking a woman in a crisp, navy-blue pantsuit and sensible heels as she power-walked past.
The panel for 'Allison Moon' had materialized the second she'd stepped into my line of sight, hovering infront of me like a bizarre, CV.
her psychological state, showed that she was tired and stressed, Yet, as I watched her stride purposefully down the evening sidewalk, her face showed nothing but composure without any signs of a crack.
Her posture was perfect, her hair styled in a severe but elegant bun, not a strand out of place. There was no sigh, no slump of her shoulders, nor tell-tale pinch between her brows.
Which meant that either the panel was wrong which I highly doubted since they proved to be through all morning... Or
'Guess she's just that good at hiding it,' I thought to myself.
Feeling a certain emotion towards her, well I was sure it wasn't quite sympathy, if I had to say, it was more like a intrigue, well it was natural since I always found myself intrigued by women, after all, they were the one subject I knew for a fact no man could quite understand.
I tore my gaze from the window and the disappearing Ms. Moon, returning my focus to the girl standing directly in front of me. The counter between us.
By "behind the counter," it meant exactly what it sounded like, I was a common store clerk after all and one who was on duty at the moment.
I call myself a store clerk but I was only a part timer.
One who earned nothing greater than minimum-wage, but unlike some people, I wasn't forced to punch-the-clock every morning like some retail drone every 24-hours.
While the sun had set an hour ago, leaving the stores parking lot bathed in the sickly orange glow of sodium-vapor lights, with no sign of my boss, I didn't up and leave because I expected this to happen.
' I knew she'd be late again...' I thought to myself.
I'd been working here for a few months now, I'm sure some would question my career choices but this was simply a means to keep my ramen noodles flowing and the tuition monster at bay while I attended community college a few bus rides away.
As for the strange, glowing panels that only I could see… like I said, this wasn't their first appearance.
To be exact, they'd debuted last night, like some sudden and terrifying software update installed directly into my brain while I'd been trying to microwave a questionable burrito.
The burrito was of course an attempt to threat myself since yesterday marked the last day of the year, making today the first of a new year.
One moment I was staring at the spinning frozen dinner, the next, a crisp, blue-and-white interface had flickered to life in the upper-left corner of my vision, displaying stats about my elderly neighbor, Mrs Choi, who was taking out her trash.
[Potential Target: Victoria Choi. Age: 72. Psychology State: Content, slightly arthritic. Mission Difficulty: 0 stars.]
I'd dropped the burrito. I'd spent the next three hours in a cold sweat, convinced I was having a psychotic break, a brain tumor, or was suffering the world's most specific and boring hangover from the two beers I'd had earlier that night.
I'd paced my tiny studio apartment, blinking furiously, rubbing my eyes, even holding my breath, trying to reboot whatever glitch was happening. Yet the panels remained, in place no matter how much I tried.
Now, it was already evening of the next day, the long, confusing hours bleeding into one another, and the panels were still with me.
Well at least now I knew I wasn't high, just forcefully blessed with eyes that seemed to apprise some people, though not everyone.
Though I was fine now, I could still remember
how panicked I'd been back then.
To think, I'd even googled "what to do to hide that you're high" on my phone, which only served to convince me I had everything from carbon monoxide poisoning to early-stage schizophrenia.
Note yourself... Unless you have a doctor's certificate, don't try to play online doctor.
Fortunately, a sliver of rationality had stopped my panic from going any further.
After some time I noticed a few things about the panels, They weren't fuzzy or dreamlike like one would expect from a drunk guy, quite the contrary, they were crisp, clean, and seemed to follow specific rules.
For one, They didn't respond to my blinking, but they did shift position based on where I was looking. It felt less like a breakdown and more like… an interface.
That realization hadn't been comforting, but it had saved me from calling an ambulance I couldn't afford.
In the twelve hours since, I'd become a reluctant field researcher. I'd deciphered a few other basic facts about my new unwanted superpower.
Secondly, the panels didn't appear for everyone. I concluded that when a bored-looking trucker bought three energy drinks and a bag of beef jerky? prior to now, of course I saw several people without panels all day but let's just say he was the deciding factor....
But right after, when I saw a frazzled mom with twin toddlers screaming for candy? A panel bloomed into existence, detailing her exhaustion and desperation.