Glitching the Matrix: a mind bending thriller of metaphysical and supernatural suspense by Megan Bledsoe

[ ↓ Read Chapter One ] See the first glitch for yourself.

Chapter 1

Still half asleep, Karen Baker turned the upward-pointing chrome shower valve handle a fraction to the right, and hot, steamy water poured from the spout. She pulled up the diverter. Water gurgled as the showerhead sputtered to life. The stream thumped against the tub, making a limp arc that barely reached the center of the basin.

Karen groped for her phone on the bathroom counter behind her and typed out a text to her husband.

We really should fix the water pressure in the shower.

She hit send and set the phone back on the counter, not waiting for a response. He wouldn’t send one.

She pulled back the double shower curtain. The front-facing layer was thick and white, with a terry cloth texture that had reminded Karen of a luxurious spa when she’d first seen it on sale in her last year of law school. She’d had dreams of remodeling her first home’s bathroom to look more like a spa: white marble instead of this beige laminate counter and linoleum flooring, glass vessel sinks instead of these chipped ones with their yellowing calk, something better than the cheap-looking chrome fixtures. But that dream was almost ten years old now, and the frayed bottom of the white terry cloth was all grubby from being pulled on by two finger-painting kids.

Karen still liked how thick and luxurious it felt, though. She stepped into the hot water and pulled the curtain shut behind her, tilted her face up to the weak stream. 

“Wake up, Karen.”

_____

Karen wrapped the towel around her wet hair and padded into her bedroom.

The light in the room flickered.

The only light on in the room was the upward-facing light in the ceiling fan. Paul flicked that light on when he was getting ready for work because Karen could easily sleep through it. Its light was like an oversized candle. Its three little bulbs created three overlapping circles of light on the ceiling and cast diffused light everywhere else. 

But it wasn’t the light in the ceiling fan that was flickering; the three overlapping light circles steadily shined.

It was only the diffused light that was flickering. Like a reverse strobe. Dimmer, instead of brighter.

Karen rubbed her eyes, but when she opened them again, the room was still flickering. Like a slowed-down movie reel. It was barely perceptible and yet definitely happening.

But it was probably just some flickering light from one of the backyard neighbors. 

One glance at the bedroom window mostly confirmed it. The curtain was cracked open. There was pitch-black glass between the tawny panels.

She looked back at her room, and the flickering was gone.

Yeah. The curtain was open. It was probably just someone else’s dying light.

_____

The house was silent. Paul had offered to take the kids in early this morning so that she could relax and focus and prepare. So kind of him. She would pick Lila and Kyle up from school as usual, but until then, the day was hers.

She got dressed in the outfit she’d selected the night before, a dark gray suit that she hoped said she was serious about working again but not so serious as to be a dull colleague and office mate. 

Now that her youngest was finally in school, she could go back to work. She’d thought she’d be able to work right away after Lila was born. Not necessarily because she wanted to, but because needs must. She’d had dreams of renovated bathrooms and professionally landscaped lawns. But daycare cost almost as much as she’d been making as a first-year associate at a small firm before going on maternity leave. Add in all the time and gas used up in dropping the kids off and picking them up again‍—‍not to mention the mental bandwidth of having to coordinate it all‍—‍and it just didn’t make any sense for her to not stay home.

“It’s just until Lila’s in school,” Paul had said.

“Yeah, but by then, there will just be more, younger, hungrier, less-strapped graduates to choose from.”

“You can’t think about it like that.”

Except she could, and she did. Until Kyle came along, and he and Lila together had her giggling and playing on the floor and giving up the idea of ever being a successful anything-but-a-mom at all. Karen was mostly okay with the decision. A good mom was a good thing to be.

But that decision apparently wasn’t hers to make, either.

She had cast her net wide, applying for associate jobs and in-house staff counsel, but also for non-attorney jobs. Positions with the school or the county or just the mom-and-pop shop down the street. Because needs must. Extracurricular activities and keeping up with technology were expensive. If Paul had gotten a big fancy-schmancy law firm job, not only would he probably have made enough money that she wouldn’t have had to work at all, but he could’ve gotten her hired, too, when she was ready.

But no. Paul worked at the county prosecutor’s office.

It was a good fit, if she was being honest. He wasn’t the stuffed-shirt type. He liked the building’s rundown facade and salt-of-the-earth people. He liked being tough but fair and compassionate. He liked the job. And he was good at it. She was proud of him.

Now if only she could find something to do that would allow her to feel proud of herself.

_____

Karen climbed into the driver’s seat of her ten-year-old SUV and shut herself inside. She sighed and leaned her head against the steering wheel, thankful that she’d parked in a darker part of the law firm’s parking garage.

She’d done the best she could. And it wasn’t truly over until they called‍—‍or not‍—‍and told her she didn’t get the job. Until then, she’d done the best she could. And having done the best she could, she could still hold on to hope.

She turned on the car and reversed out of the parking spot.

The law firm was just the kind of thing Karen aspired to. The office took up the top five floors in a beautiful glass building that claimed an entire city block downtown. It even had its own free parking. Its own gym, too. The five associates she’d met with were all trim and smiling, with firm handshakes. Hers had gone embarrassingly limp gripping each one.

You did the best you could.

And she had. She’d prepared for the inevitable question about what she’d been doing the past eight years since leaving her first post-law-school job after only eleven months.

“I took a planned pause to focus on my daughter and son, but now that they’re both in school, I’m eager to get back to work.” 

Her interviewers nodded, but she felt their disbelief, saw it in their raised eyebrows. Oh, you’re asking us to believe that fiction? 

Because of course it was a fiction. A planned pause? Nothing about kids could be planned. And now she had two to plan around.

The rest of the interview had felt the same. The questions perfunctory. Her answers merely adequate. She felt no spark. No connection with the people on the other side of the table.

They’d shown her around the office anyway. They’d introduced her to partners, shown off building’s perks, added insult to injury.

She’d thanked them profusely. For their time. For their consideration. She didn’t just shake their hands, but gripped them tightly with both of hers, like maybe she could infuse in them the desire to hire her. 

Ah well. Better luck next time and all that. She headed into midtown to have lunch with the girls. 

It was mid-October, and the autumn leaves were in full color. Summer was still holding on in terms of keeping the sky blue and the rain at bay, but it was starting to get cold. Not so cold that she and Paul had turned on the heat yet, but cold enough that they bundled everyone up in hoodies and socks around the house.

She pulled into the Panera’s parking lot, taking a spot next to a new silver Rivian. A new, all-black Escalade was parked next to it. Skyler and Hannah were already here.

Karen had been hoping to go home before lunch so that she could change out of her suit, but the office tour had left her too little time. She thought about leaving her suit jacket in the car. But going inside in just her button-up would draw its own questions, which would eventually clue the girls into her interview. She leaned into the backseat and rifled through her workout bag, even though she knew there was nothing useful in there. She should’ve packed a cardigan or something. 

Too late now. 

She shut the door and locked the car with her key fob. It honked back at her.

She passed Cecily’s Range Rover on her way inside the restaurant. A guy in his twenties held the door open for her.

The lobby smelled of fresh-baked bread and coffee. She heard the pssshhh-ing sound of a barista frothing milk. A clerk stocking the display case dropped a croissant.

The girls were all standing back from the counter, staring up at the menu, even though they ordered the same thing every week.

They turned around at the sound of the door opening.

“There you are,” Cecily said. Then she blinked at Karen. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

Cecily was wearing an oversized ruched shirt under a cropped denim jacket, paired with black leggings and gray booties, and she had a tiny red purse pulled up over one shoulder. Her latest delivery from an online personal styling service, no doubt. Diamonds and other jewelry glittered on her hands.

Hannah and Skyler looked similar, although with smaller bits of sparkle. Hannah’s leggings looked more sporty, like she was ready to go to the gym after this, which she probably was, and Skyler’s purse was a giant carpet-textured Mary Poppins-style thing that held everything and weighed a ton.

Before Karen could answer, Cecily leaned toward her and said in an accusatory tone, “Did you have an interview?”

“Yup,” Karen said. Might as well just get it over with. “With Martin, Tyler, and Gray.”

“You’re kidding?” Cecily said, sounding both impressed and disbelieving. 

Cecily’s husband worked at the second largest firm in town and hadn’t even gotten an interview at Martin Tyler. But rather than letting that fact stroke her ego, Karen saw it as just another reason to doubt they would hire her. 

“How’d it go? You look good,” Cecily said.

“Very professional,” Skyler added with a smile.

“Thanks.” Karen smiled back, then shrugged. “It went. Let’s order. I’m starved.”

_____

Karen ordered a poppy-seed bagel. It was the cheapest thing on the menu. The girls ordered salads and lattes. They sat at their usual table, the middle one next to the window, so that they could see and be seen and keep an eye on Hannah and Skyler’s new cars.

Karen listened politely while Hannah and Skyler debated the merits and disappointments of their chosen new vehicles, and Cecily decreed that they should’ve spent a little more money and gotten a lot more car. 

Adding celebrities to the topic of conversation transitioned them from talking about which celebrities supposedly drove which cars to which celebrities were caught up in the latest trend that had recently taken over their kids’ schools. Cecily and Hannah’s daughters were obsessed with some ugly eight-inch doll that reminded Karen of the gotta-have-it craze of Russ trolls that had hijacked her and her friend’s imaginations back when she was in early elementary school. Karen had used her allowance to buy as many trolls as she could, from the baby troll in diapers to the granny troll with a cane‍—‍Russ trolls only, please; no knock-offs. Then there’d been the Beanie Babies craze that had taken over some time in junior high or high school. She’d fallen hard for the tiny Beanie Babies they’d offered in McDonald’s Happy Meals. Karen had collected them all. Too bad she’d kept them all in the back window of her first car, or they might’ve been worth something now. And let’s not forget the Tickle Me Elmos that had later become all the rage. That craze had unwittingly added the genius element of scarcity, which really fired up the mania. 

This new craze had all that and something more: an element of disappointment framed as mystery, luck, and surprise. Each doll came in a solid box with no sheer window, so shoppers couldn’t see and select the doll they wanted. Meanwhile, the company made sure to let consumers know that certain of the dolls were rare.

Cecily said, “I’ve ordered Corrine at least a dozen of those damn dolls, and she still hasn’t gotten the one she wants.”

“Heather has it,” Hannah said.

“Yes, I know Heather has it,” Cecily said. “Corrine knows she has it. Everyone knows she has it. Thank you for that.”

Hannah shrugged smugly.

Karen thanked God every day that Lila was so dedicated to ballet that she hadn’t gotten sucked into any of this fanfare yet. Yeah, Karen had to buy dance classes and tights and leotards and toe shoes and cotton padding and costumes and recital tickets. But at least her daughter was learning something and having fun and getting some exercise. At best, any iteration of the latest doll craze would stay sealed up in their boxes and get placed up on a high shelf only to get pulled down again just long enough to be shown off to visitors or put up for sale for much less than the collector was hoping they’d eventually be worth.

But talking about dolls was better than the topic the conversation veered toward next.

“She’s living in a mud hut.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Cecily insisted.

When she couldn’t take anymore doll talk, Karen had excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, and now, as she made her way back to the table, she could hear that the girls were obviously talking about Sophie. Sophie and her husband had recently moved their family out of their four-garage, four-bathroom house in Golden Hills to some property out in the boonies.

“You’ve seen her?” Karen asked as she reclaimed her seat. “How’s she doing?”

“Living in a mud hut,” Skyler whispered to Karen, helpfully catching her up.

“She’s homesteading,” Cecily said, giving the word air quotes. “And yet still driving that custom eye-sore of hers.”‍ Sophie drove a Jeep Grand Wagoneer with a custom white-to-pink, color-changing chameleon paint job. She bought it for herself after landing a plum in-house counsel job right out of law school. Just the thought of that huge cotton-candy car made Karen snicker‍. “I saw her and Sara in it just the other day,” Cecily finished.

“Lila says Sara isn’t in school anymore,” Karen said.

“Nope, she took them out,” Cecily said. “She’s homeschooling them now.”

“Why?” Hannah asked.

But the bigger question was why hadn’t Sophie told anyone beforehand? She’d just disappeared one day.

Cecily shrugged like she couldn’t deal with it anymore and Sophie was in God’s hands now.

But that didn’t stop Cecily from talking about it. If anything, it only fueled the fury. Between tiny bites of crunchy salad, Cecily went round and round for the rest of the meal, complaining about Sophie leaving and what Sophie coulda, woulda, shoulda done differently to avoid having to move to the middle of nowhere and miss lunches like these. 

Karen’s bagel was long since finished, and her trusty if ten-year-old car was just outside. She stared at it longingly, dutifully nodding her agreement with everything that was said and wondering what it would be like to live on a homestead‍—whatever that was.

Outside, a young woman with a striking blond ponytail was walking past the far window‍—‍and she suddenly froze mid-stride. 

Karen narrowed her eyes and studied her: the textbook clutched to her chest and the phone tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. She was looking off across the street. She had probably just noticed something that had so caught her attention, it had literally stopped her in her tracks. 

But something about the woman still seemed odd. Karen was about to nudge Skyler and point the woman out to her when the woman started moving again. She stepped off the curb and got into her red VW Bug, her ponytail wagging from side to side.

So it was nothing, then. 

Even if something about it still felt odd.

It would be days before Karen realized it wasn’t just the woman who had stopped mid-stride, but her ponytail, too. It had stopped mid-swing, parallel to the ground, high on the left side of her head.

But don’t just watch the world glitch. > ### MAKE IT GLITCH.

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