You Must Have Me Mistaken

The TV is muted, but the man watches the screen. He reads the subtitles.

A strike among dockworkers and longshoremen on the Eastern Seaboard has effectively cut off flow of imports and exports at the ports. The screen cuts back to a young news anchor.

The man watches her red lips as she talks, wishing he could hear her voice. The news depresses him, but he bets she has a lovely voice.

“James?” the barista calls out, interrupting his thoughts. The man grabs his coffee and smiles politely at her. She has warm, inviting brown eyes. There’s something about her that feels nostalgic. He mulls on that feeling as he steps out onto the busy New York sidewalk.

The long, straight avenues full of cars and the tall, picturesque buildings create the perfect environment for noise and pandemonium. People swish around him. The sidewalks are always busy. The borough of Manhattan may only be twenty-two square miles, but it hosts an impressive one and a half million people. That’s what James likes about it. The anonymity. There’s no pressure to know anyone. No pretending to like everyone.

He starts down the street, blending into the streams of sidewalk traffic. He has a few blocks to walk to reach his office. He mentally thumbs through his to-do list when his attention snags on a yellow scarf ahead. He looks up to her face just as she passes, catching a quick glimpse of blue eyes, freckles and a slightly crooked nose. He turns around to look at her again, but she’s already lost in the crowd.

Vanessa?

No, James shakes his head, no it couldn’t be. He straightens his laptop bag crossing his shoulder and keeps moving. He rounds a corner and is met by clamor of music. A small crowd has formed around a street performer as he belts out his sultry song and James has to slowly weave through.

He’s really quite good, James thinks. It’s too bad his talent is wasting away out here. He searches around his pockets till he finds a couple dollars and stoops to throw them in the guitar case at the singer’s feet. He hopes it will help. As he stands back up, he sees her again. Shock fires through him. What on earth is she doing in New York?

He starts moving towards her, keeping his eyes on her yellow scarf. She is looking at her phone walking slowly.

“Vanessa!” James calls out to her, but she doesn’t look up. Maybe she didn’t hear him, he thinks as he runs to catch up to her. He calls to her again and this time she swings around sharply. Her blue eyes are bright with surprise and concern.

“I’m sorry,” James says quickly, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I am just so surprised to see you. What are you doing here?”

“Pardon?” she asks hesitantly.

“Vanessa, it’s James.” he chuckles and smiles, watching her face for signs of recognition. Surely, she’ll remember. It couldn’t have been that long ago, could it? She smiles politely, but knits her brow in confusion. “From Peabody?” he tries again, “Kansas?”

“I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken.” She smiles again, but turns to leave. Did she always have that many freckles?

“Wait!” James moves to her side. “Our grandparents lived next to each other, we played together every summer. Surely, you’ll remember. Your grandma was named Pam and she was always mad at my grandma for hanging her laundry on the fence and –”

“Look sir,” she cuts in, a stern quality edging her voice, “I don’t know you. Please leave me alone.” She turns and marches hurriedly away.

James watches her, stunned by her reaction. I guess that wasn’t Vanessa, he reflects. But she looked so much like her, eerily so. Why did she get so angry? It was just a simple mistake.

James continues down the block, shaking off the feeling of unease as he goes. He soon reaches his destination and glances up at the skyscraper now towering before him. Its limestone facade set in the Neo-Gothic style is a feat of engineering and architecture. He always takes a look before heading up to the 50th floor. He reaches for the heavy, glass door but it opens from the other side. James steps out of the way to let a young business man by, but his jaw drops in surprise.

“Carl?” James asks, almost tentatively. The man exiting the doorway looks behind him then back to James.

“Are you talking to me?” he asks. They study each other for a second. James scans the man’s long face, dark brown eyes and neat mustache. His thick eyebrows raised in suspense. This was Carl, he was sure of it.

“Carl, it’s James.” he says, “from university.”

The man smiles, but shakes his head.

“I don’t remember you.” he says amiably. “Were you in Kappa Sigma?”

“No, no, we were roommates.” James waits, annoyed at the tension filling his body.

“Oh…” the man says and breaks eye-contact. “I think you have me mistaken. Have a good one.”

“Wait!” James yells, grabbing the man’s arm. “Carl, cut the crap. We lived together for years. I know I’ve gained some weight, but come on man.” The man glances down at James’ hand on his arm.

“Let go, man.” he states sternly. James lets go and steps back.

“What is going on?” James erupts, looking wildly around him. “Am I being pranked? Is this that show?” The man chuckles at him.

“I don’t know, dude, but I think there’s a mental clinic down the street.” He points a finger before walking away.

“I’m not crazy!” James exclaims at the man’s back. He sees a woman staring at him from the bus stop down the street. “I’m not crazy!” he hollers at her.

“Does he know?” a man whispers as he brushes by. James jerks around to stare after the man. Was he talking to him? A woman pushing a stroller goes by.

“Can he see us?” she murmurs.

Anxiety rushes over James as takes several steps back, pressing up against the building. Did he hear them right? That’s a creepy thing to say, he thinks. He takes a deep breath, calming his nervous system.

Settle down, chap, he checks the time on his watch. You’re just having a bad day. It’s just a weird day. Those happen. Nothing to get worked up over.

He stares out into the busy sidewalk, rationalizing his anxious thoughts. He’s not really looking at anything, when he slowly begins to realize that they’re watching him. The pedestrians. As they walk by, the people are watching him. Some look at him concerned, others confused. Some whisper things to no one in particular.

James feels his heart jump start. They’re familiar. Every face he pauses on looks familiar to him.

One woman, her blue dress flowing around her, stares at him as she goes by. She walks with purpose, a clear destination in mind, yet she stares. She’s tall, with short blonde hair and high cheekbones. She looks eerily similar to his aunt, Caroline. But didn’t she have a mole on her chin?

“Caroline?” he asks carefully. The woman scowls as if James said something disagreeable, but she keeps walking. Next there’s a younger woman. She’s curvy with long, straight hair and curious, hazel eyes. She watches James intently, concern etching her features. James sucks in a breath. It’s his ex-girlfriend, Marcy, but he doesn’t say anything. She’s just as beautiful as he remembers..

“What is happening!?” A sudden, shrill voice rings out. James tears his attention away, searching for the voice across the street.

It’s a woman, dressed in a sophisticated business suite and black, shiny heels. She’s grabbing at people as they walk by, her face a mask of desperation.

“John?” She pivots to another man. “Andrew? Please, what is going on!?”

James pushes off the wall and jogs over to her. Their eyes meet and the woman drops her shoulders in relief.

“I don’t know you!” she sighs heavily.

“I don’t know you, either” James also feels a small sense of stability. A stranger. Finally someone who doesn’t look familiar. “Are you..” he feels silly even saying it, “are you seeing people you know, too?”

“Yes. And I am guessing the same for you?”

“Yes,” James checks his surroundings before asking, “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, I –” the woman abruptly stops. James follows her gaze.

A man is walking by and his face is angry. He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t stop, but he glares and radiates displeasure.

James and the woman watch till he’s gone and then study the other pedestrians around them. They realize that everyone is looking at them. The people move like normal New York commuters, but they all stare openly with disgust and agitation. Some begin to whisper, but never break eye contact.

“Can they see?” a young girl murmurs as she scurries past.

A tall man grumbles, "Do they know?”

“We need to be sure.” an old lady breathes.

James slowly takes the woman’s hand and she lets him. He starts pulling her up the sidewalk, quickening his pace, trying to avoid attention. Fear begins to scream in the back of his mind and he starts running.

“Stop!” the woman shouts, breathless. “I…can’t…run” she pants.

James peers down the street.

“There!” He says and leads her towards an alley. They duck into the secluded, quiet between buildings. It’s empty save for some scurrying rats and several trash bins. James catches his breath and watches the entrance to the alley. No one seemed to be following them.

The woman fumbles in her bag, pulling out a cellphone.

“What are you doing?” James asks urgently.

“Calling my boyfriend,” she replies shakily. “I’m going to have him pick me up.”

“Wait, I’m not sure –” James starts, but the sound of footsteps stops him. The pair tense.

“I wouldn’t do that.” A man remarks. He leans on his cane as he hobbles closer. His gray, moppy hair hangs over his glasses, just a little. “You don’t need anyone else.” he says to the woman. “You just gotta stop looking at them.”

James jerks back. A million questions jump to the tip of his tongue.

“You too?” he asks incredulously. The old man nods.

“And I don’t like getting involved.” the man sighs heavily. “So, I’m only going to say this once.” he pauses, looking both of them in the eyes, then says, “Stop looking at them.”

“Wait, what?”

“The more you look and recognize and make a big deal, the more they will notice you. Don’t draw attention to yourselves.” the old man practically pleads.

“I don’t understand! What is happening?” James mind whirls. This can’t be real, he tells himself.

The woman starts to cry.

“The simulation is glitching.” The old man speaks low. “Most understand far too late, but you still have a chance. Whatever happens, don’t recognize them. Return to your lives and pretend if you have to.”

“Wait…I don’t…I don’t understand.” the woman sobs.

“And I don’t have time to hold your hand!” The old man shouts and then looks over his shoulder. “If you want to live you’ll pretend,” he leans in. “It might get fixed, it might not. You need to pretend.”

Then he turns and disappears out of the alley. James lets out his breath, he didn’t realize he’d been holding it, and rakes his hand through his hair. His thoughts are a jumble of confusion and apprehension. Pretend to not know anyone when they look like people he’s known? It doesn’t make sense. Who are they?

He turns to the woman, her eyes brim with tears. Slowly she closes them, takes a long, deep breath and stands up a little straighter. She opens her eyes, adjusts her purse strap and turns to James. She musters up an almost-perfect, winning smile and extends her hand.

“Thank you for your help.” she says softly and walks to the entrance of the alley. She hesitates for only a brief second before joining the walking pace of the other pedestrians. James doesn’t know if the others took notice of her. He hopes they didn’t.

He paces the small width of the alley. Back and forth. Back and forth. He rakes his hand through his hair, yanking in agitation. This is crazy, he thinks. That man was crazy. She was crazy! What was that guy even talking about? Simulation! Does he mean to imply that everything is not real? A simulation? Everything!?

No, James takes a deep breath. It couldn’t be everything. He knows his family, his friends. They are real. Just as he knows that he is real. He’s not a simulation.

But, James walks up to the entrance of the alley, can a simulation create walking, talking people? Or is it to cover up something else? Or someone else? By the old man’s words, is something pretending to be New Yorkers? James doesn’t know a lot about simulations, but he knows they are a facet of deception. They represent something, but aren’t the real thing.

James steps out onto the sidewalk and barges his way across, aiming for an open square. At the center is a bench under a tree. A little bit of green in the concrete jungle.

He can feel the eyes watching him. He looks into every face as he goes. The whispers coil around him as he strides into a clearing. He won’t pretend. He needs to know. He steps onto the bench and screams.

“I know you!”

The stillness is sudden and the quiet envelopes everything. Every city noise abruptly blanketed. Every face, every cold, eye, turns.