Jude stretched in his king-size bed, Egyptian cotton sheets sliding against his skin as morning light streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Thames. His penthouse apartment gleamed with marble surfaces and modern art, every detail perfect.
He padded barefoot across heated Italian tiles to the ensuite, admiring his reflection in the mirror—broad shoulders, defined abs, the kind of jawline that belonged on magazine covers. Not bad for thirty-two. He paused, pointing at his reflection, holding and enjoying the pose.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through thick, perfectly styled hair.
The shower was a tropical waterfall, and his wardrobe offered rows of designer suits. He selected the charcoal Tom Ford, admiring how it sculpted his frame. In the kitchen, his coffee machine—a gleaming German masterpiece—produced the perfect espresso.
Through the window, his Aston Martin waited in the private parking space, its silver paint flawless in the morning sun.
Jude’s phone buzzed. A text from Sophia: Can’t wait to see you tonight. You’re amazing.
He grinned, picturing her cascading blonde hair, model’s cheekbones, the way she looked at him like he was everything she’d ever wanted.
Twenty minutes later, he was pulling into the Sunny Meadows Care Home car park. The Aston’s leather seats embraced him as he sat for a moment, gathering himself for another day.
The familiar transition hit him—that brief moment of disorientation as he stepped through the entrance. The building seemed… different somehow. Older. Shabbier. But the sensation passed quickly, and soon he was walking down corridors that gleamed with fresh paint and expensive fixtures.
“Morning, Jude,” called Mrs Henderson from behind the reception desk. She looked tired today, which was odd. In his peripheral vision, something seemed off about her expression, but when he looked directly, she was smiling as usual.
His first client was Albert, ninety-three and increasingly confused. Through Jude’s enhanced vision, Albert appeared as a distinguished gentleman in pressed pyjamas, sitting in a comfortable armchair in a well-appointed room. But Albert kept on mumbling complaints that didn’t make sense.
“The food’s terrible,” Albert whispered. “And it’s so cold in here. Why don’t they fix the heating?”
Jude glanced around the warm, beautifully decorated room. “The heating seems fine, Albert. And lunch smelled dee-licious when I came in.”
Albert stared at him with something like pity.
The morning continued strangely. Mrs Davies complained about stained sheets—though hers looked pristine to Jude. Mr Wilson kept pointing at broken fixtures that appeared perfectly functional. Most unsettling of all, his colleagues seemed increasingly agitated about things he just didn’t see.
“Jude, we need to talk about your work lately,” his supervisor, Margaret, said during break. “Several residents have mentioned that you seem… disconnected. Like you’re not really seeing what’s happening.”
“I don’t understand. Everything’s fine. Better than fine, actually.”
Margaret’s expression shifted, becoming something almost like concern. “When did you last have your eyes tested?”
That evening, Jude met Sophia at his favourite exclusive rooftop restaurant. She looked stunning as always—elegant dress, perfect makeup, the successful businesswoman he’d fallen for. But there was something odd about the way other diners were looking over. Some appeared almost… concerned?
“Jude,” Sophia said carefully, “I’ve been thinking about us.”
“Me too,” he said, reaching across to take her hand. Her skin felt strange—rougher than he remembered. “You’re incredible, Soph. I’m the luckiest man alive.”
She pulled her hand away. “That’s just it. You keep saying things like that, but you don’t really see me anymore. When I try to talk to you about real things—my job stress, my family problems—you just smile and tell me how beautiful I am.”
“Because you are beautiful.”
“Jude, please. Look at me. Really look.”
For a moment, something flickered in his vision. Sophia’s face seemed different—older, more tired, with worry lines around her eyes. The restaurant appeared shabbier, the tablecloth stained, the other diners avoiding their corner. But the moment passed, and everything returned to perfection.
His phone buzzed. A message from VisionTech: Congratulations! You’ve been selected for our revolutionary implant upgrade with integrated full sensory immersion. Report to clinic tomorrow for installation. Remember, continued beta testing depends on positive feedback.
Jude’s heart raced. Implants… implants were the future! Not just visual enhancement, but full sensory experience. He’d smell French perfume instead of disinfectant, taste gourmet meals instead of microwave dinners, feel silk instead of polyester.
“I have to go,” he said, standing quickly.
“Jude, wait—”
But he was already walking away, his mind consumed with tomorrow’s appointment. As he reached his Aston Martin, he caught his reflection in the window and paused. For just an instant, the face looking back seemed wrong—gaunt, tired, with deep circles under hollow eyes. The car itself appeared different too—smaller, older, with rust around the wheel arches.
He blinked hard, and his handsome reflection returned, the perfect car gleaming silver in the streetlight.
Tomorrow would change everything. The implants would make it all real—not just visually, but every sensation. He’d smell the ocean breeze, feel the warm sand, taste the champagne as he dived into that crystal lagoon he’d seen in the promotional materials.
As he drove through the night, Jude’s enhanced reality painted the city in gold and possibility. Behind him, in the restaurant window, a tired-looking woman in a cheap dress watched his dented Corolla disappear into traffic, tears streaming down her face.
Tomorrow’s appointment couldn’t come soon enough.
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