Chip Under the Wrist at the Warehouse Bus Stop

Chip Under the Wrist at the Warehouse Bus Stop

I dreamed I was late for my shift at the warehouse, standing at the same bus stop I use every morning, except the shelter ads kept cycling my name and last night’s grocery list. I couldn’t find my transit card. When I dug in my pocket it was just a thin chip under the skin of my wrist that wouldn’t beep. My old coworker Dave sat down next to me like we still worked together, only he had a faint barcode on his neck and kept asking if I’d uploaded my timesheet yet. The bus pulled up at my apartment building, but the lobby was the office security desk. I was in pajama pants with my work badge on a lanyard and it wouldn’t scan. The guard looked like my neighbor and also like my manager at the same time. Rain on the glass made the neon from the corner store bleed into the hallway. I kept walking the same corridor looking for the time clock and never found it. Woke up annoyed I still felt behind.