Jehnova, 34-year old janitor

Jehnova drove home on a rainy Wednesday night like he had done every week for the last decade and a half. As he locked his car and began walking to his apartment, he held his head low, casting his eyes downward, just as far down as he was feeling down on his luck, facing his slouching shadow. He was coming back from his job as a janitor for a college full of people who were too snobby to simply let a robot clean for them.

Not to say he wasn't glad to at least have a job, but still, he felt a little ashamed to know that he could go to into any store on the side of the road and find a machine turn a sticky spilled soda into a floor so clean it could make a mirror crack itself in jealousy. Its not like he was the only one who could do it either. Often had the vice principals (and some of the ruder students) reminded him of replaceable he was. Plus, he didn't get home until 7:00 pm most days.

He sighed in resignation. Oh, how unlucky he was, in a world that would've been considered science fiction back when he was born. No, not unlucky, that wasn't it. That wasn't the right word. Talentless? Boring? Just plain stupid?

He had pondered the question so often, and yet, never had an answer. Maybe there wasn't one. Maybe he really was 'unlucky'. And yet, despite his below average life, no matter how many times the thought crossed his weary mind, he just couldn't accept it. It was like there was some little voice telling him "It can't be that simple." Who knows, maybe today was the day his luck would turn around. Or maybe he was simply refusing to acknowledge the truth.

Before he could get to the next article of his depressing monolouge, his floor-fixated eyes landed on a plain cardboard box left to hide from the rain, abandoned on the side of the stairwell to his apartment. So often did he find the things cast aside, empty wrappers and plastic trash, but also things like incomplete drawings and roughed up toys. Much like the worthless trash he was tasked to remove from a prim and proper hall of learning (as the people there are so quick to remind you), the lack of any indentifying stickers or remarkable features felt familiar, as though he resonated with idea of a poor soul left alone, outcast from the world, with nothing to show for it. Jehnova looked up at the sky with his hand over his eyes. "Am I really sympathizing with a fucking box right now? God, I've let myself go, haven't I?" He asked himself.

Nonetheless, he took the apparently not empty box inside, only slightly ashamed he was pitying a literal box. Jehnovah had done it before after all. He was no stranger to recycling his cans and bottles, or taking furniture people left out on the curb for the dumpster truck to collect. Once he got inside, he carefully opened the cardboard box, which was about half the size of his torso, to reveal a smaller, much nicer padded white box, which, was cushioning a pair of glasses and a neatly-folded paper manual labelled "Fragments of desire: The Spectacular"

[Please refer to the previous chapter for information regarding the glasses's functions.]

A little reading later, he figured that this was either an elaborate prank, a scheme to steal all his data, or a chance to turn his life around. While the offer was tempting, wherether or not Jehnova was willing to take the risk was up to the flip of the coin. Literally. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, just this once, luck is on my side. He took a deep breath. "Heads, I download this shady app, and tails, I nail this thing to wall and never touch it again." He paused for a moment, and flipped the coin.