Jack Thomas

Jack Thomas was 27 years old. He worked as a janitor and maintenance man in an office building. He was in charge of floors 4-7. He was short, 5'7, pudgy with thin dark brown hair. He was abandoned by his mom and dropped into foster care at a young age and bounced around foster families until he turned 18, got his GED and spent some time at vocational college studying electronics. He was good at fixing things.

Jack lived in a small studio apartment a mile from work in a not so nice area of town. He used to bike to work until his bike was stolen, and he walked when the weather was nice and took the bus when it was not. He was lonely and had only been on a few dates and had sex only once, and it was a quick missionary fuck.

At the office building, the 4th floor was occupied by the law firm of Fischer and Townes, a couple of ambulance chasers who advertised on TV. Fischer was a middle aged man, and Townes was a younger woman. They had a few paralegals working for them, a receptionist, and a couple of part-time college kids who were runners.

The fifth floor was a modeling agency where Jack tried to spend as much time as possible. The receptionist was drop dead gorgeous but would barely make eye contact with Jack. The agency was Wright Now Models, and the owner was 40 year old Monica Wright, a former beauty queen and model, who wore expensive outfits and very high heels. There were four agents working there always models and prospective models there.

The sixth floor was a PR/Marketing firm: Mano & Sons. It was run by the friendly and gregarious Mario Mano and his oldest son Tony. They were the only people who were ever really friendly to Jack and even gave him a nice Christmas gift every year. Last year it was a bottle of scotch and a $100 VISA card. They had seven employees and a young, perky receptionist.

The 7th floor was vacant and being renovated. The last clients were a couple of financial advisers who turned out to be crooks. They started a fire to hide some incriminating files, and flooded the floor, but the damage was kept to the 7th floor.

After a long day at work, replacing light bulbs, unclogging toilets, vacuuming hallways, etc. Jack took the bus home. He found a package in front of his apartment door. He took it inside.

Inside the package as a ring that looked like a prize from a 25 cent gumball machine. It was tin with a red plastic fake gem. There was a note inside: Jack, sorry I was never part of your life. I just found you. I am your father. I am also dying, and by the time you get this, may already be dead. This ring is a hypnosis ring. If you point the gem at anyone, and they look at it, they will fall into a trance. They will do anything you tell them to do while in that trance, and you can input triggers phrases and commands to be acted upon later. This sounds like it's too bizarre to be real but it is. I'm sorry I can't tell you who I am, but for your own safety, it's best you do not know.

Jack sniffed back tears. He wasn't sure if she should believe the letter, but who would prank him like this? He looked at the ring. He put it on. It felt oddly warm as if it were heated by the fake gem. The fake gem was about half the size of a postage stamp. He shrugged and wiped his eyes. He kept the ring on, not being sure why, and heated up a can of Spaghettios for dinner.

Jack watched TV, surfed the web, watched some porn, and woke up at 6 the next day to get ready for work. He didn't even notice he was wearing the ring.