Tripping Between Dimensions: A Job No One Talks About

My new job isn’t exactly my dream job—unless it’s one of those drunk, stoned trippy dreams. It’s surreal, and I can’t tell anyone about it. Kind of like the first rule of Fight Club. The NDA I signed before I knew the details was clear.

              I’m an imaginary friend for children in other dimensions, other realities. I know, that sounds like I’m halfway to Cuckoo’s Nest and massive doses of lithium. But it’s true.

              I have a bachelor’s degree in education and a master’s in psychology. I taught high school English and online college classes in both. The psychology degree is actually how they found me; there was a psych profile test we took in the program that helps these “recruiters” find people for this surreal sci-fi gig.

              This is how it happened.

              After I got my master’s, I got an email from one of my professors about a job opportunity I would be the perfect fit for, and he wanted to meet to talk about it.

              When I reached Professor Dubech’s office several days later, I found him peering intently into his double computer monitors, clicking and typing away. 

              I knocked lightly on the door to be polite.

              He smiled broadly. “Ms. Peters, so good to see you.” He rose from his chair in greeting.

              “Professor, good to see you as well. Thank you for making time to speak with me.”

              “Absolutely. You are the perfect match for this opportunity. Please, have a seat. May I offer you coffee? A bottle of water?” he inquired courteously; I declined. He moved to the door to close it gently.

              The hackles on the back of my neck rose. The university policy was to leave he door open.

              He sensed my unease. “Forgive me, I should have explained. Professor Lewins warned me earlier that he will be meeting with a certain student, and it is likely to become, shall we say, heated.”

              At ease now, I smiled.

              Professor Dubech sat in the leather chair near me instead of returning to his usual seat behind his desk.

              He’s establishing a different rapport paradigm.

              “There is a company expanding internationally. They have had a dozen headquarters for the last fifteen years. The new office here in Raleigh is recruiting local talent. A friend from my doctoral program at Harvard is a co-founder. When he reached out to me, I thought of you.”

              He sat back in his chair, wrinkled his brow slightly, and tightened his lips as he steepled his fingers in front of him-- the plethora of nonverbals and micro-expressions. “It’s rather complicated to explain. The company is called Hydralucence and is a pioneer in virtual alternate reality projections. Not as in virtual reality gaming or other recreational devices,” he interjected quickly. “Actual alternate realities and parallel dimensions. Their technology allows them to transport a projection of a person from this reality, this dimension, into an alternate dimension. These individuals project a corporeal presence as well as all cognitive and psychological processes into this dimension, function in that dimension for a pre-determined amount of time—while their physical body and brain retain full awareness and control of their projections from the safety of the Hydralucence facility. Once the job in the particular alternate reality is complete, the projection disappears from that dimension, and the employee is paid a salary for their work.”

              I didn’t know what to say. He’d clearly lost it.

              “I know, it’s all a bit much to process. I assure you that is real, safe, and lucrative. I participated myself before teaching here.”

              I stalled for time. “Assuming that I believe all that is possible—which I don’t—what types of job opportunities do these employees perform in these alternate dimensions?”

              “That, Abigail,” he said, pointing toward me, “is exactly why you are the perfect person for this job. You ask the right questions and give yourself time to ponder the hows. You do not disappoint.”

              “I’m glad to hear that.” He’s deflecting the question. “What, exactly, are the job opportunities you think I am a match for?”

              “When you were in your formative developmental stage, did you ever have an imaginary friend?”

              “Yes. How is that relevant?”

              “I promise it’s relevant. Tell me about your imaginary friend.”

              I hesitated; I’ve never shared this with anyone.

              “It’s a normal stage of psychological development, as you know.”

              “They weren’t so much friends as….” My throat went dry, and I felt my face flush. I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Students. I was their teacher.”

              “A fascinating construct. You had a strong sense of your identity early on. How many students were in your class?”

              “Five. Becky, Christie, Darlene, Elizabeth, and Felicity. And yes, they were in alphabetical order after Abigail,” I added defensively.

              “That’s wonderful. Such organization in your developing brain. What did you teach them?”

              “Reading and math. The writing was hard to manage… logistically.”

              “Did your students speak?”

              “Of course.”

              “Did they raise their hands?

              “Yes.”

              “Hold books, turn the pages?”

              “Of course not. I held the books up and had them read them aloud. I made flash cards.”

              “How would you say their presence influenced you?”

              “Influenced me? How… what do you mean?”

               “How did your experience as a teacher with your imaginary class shape you as a person?”

              I paused to seek the connection. “I knew that I wanted to be a teacher. I got to practice on them, gave me confidence, I suppose.”

              “Why do you think you chose students instead of a best friend, a pet, even an animal like a dragon or a griffin or unicorn? Some children create a maternal figure. Some studies have shown children create imaginary enemies. So, why students?”

              “I don’t think I consciously conjured them up that way. It was almost they just—”

              “Came to you to give you what you needed to optimize your intellectual and psychological development?”

              “What are you saying? Someone else created them to fill my needs and sent them to me—oh my god. Is this what you’re saying about this company?”

              “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Granted it was a program in it’s early stages at the time. Non-corporeal and lasting short periods of time; there’s been a great deal of progress since then.”

              “You’re asking me to be an imaginary friend?”

              “Basically, yes. Not in your current form; the projection of your appearance would be altered for each case. You are the perfect match for this opportunity because of your foundation in education and your expertise in psychology.”

              “I… don’t know what to say….”

              He nodded. “Let me fill in some blanks for you. Parents with specific concerns contact Hydralucence with their child’s profile and needs. They sign an NDA, then we evaluate the case and present the parents with our proposal for an imaginary companion to meet the child’s needs; most the parents opt to retain the company’s services. The Talent Development Manager reviews available employees to select the best match. A training module would be designed and completed by the employee before assignment to the child. The initial interaction with the child would be scheduled and designed in collaboration with the parents.”

              This all made sense— in a bizarre Twilight Zone version of headhunter or temp agency. I nodded. “That sounds logical, in design, on paper. But how does it work?”

              “Today, let us focus on the job you would be doing. Then, you should take some time to consider it. Next, if you are interested, we can meet with my colleague at Hydralucence to explain the quantum mechanics of it. How does that sound?”

              “Kafkaesque.”

              He chuckled. “It is actually. And Orson Scott Card and Robert Heinlein.”

              “Let me think about it and email you tomorrow.”

              “That’s excellent, Abigail. I think you will find the work both fascinating and rewarding.”

              That was the strangest conversation I ever had. Until the stranger ones were to follow.