The alarm went off and Mike Anders rubbed the sleep out of his eyes  as he rolled off the ancient waterbed. He had inherited the bed from his brother years before when his brother had moved out of the house and off to college. The frame creaked and the base tended to fall apart when he had to put it together, but overall it was still sturdy enough to support the mattress, his third since he had possessed the bed.

Mike wandered out to the living room and turned on the cheap stereo that was sitting on a set of rickety metal shelves. He had found the shelves in a dumpster and had rescued them, straightened out the thin metal as best he could with a pair of pliers and had added them to his collection of mismatched furniture. He made sure the volume on the stereo was turned down low enough so that it wouldn't disturb his next door neighbor. Mrs. McClatchey had a mania about unnecessary noise and had shown up on more than one occasion to screech at him about the "devil music" he played and the ungodly sound levels coming from his apartment.

Next, he turned on the computer and while he was waiting for it to go through its start up routine, he peeked out of the blinds on the window to check the weather. Even at this early in the morning, he could feel the heat coming through the glass and he knew that as soon as he stepped outside, the humidity would vacuum seal his clothes to his body. Below, he could see one of the apartment maintenance men peering into his car. "Go ahead and look, you thieving bastard," Mike thought to himself, "there's nothing worth stealing in there anyway." After closing the blinds, Mike logged onto the internet and went to get himself a bowl of cereal while his dial-up modem slowly gathered the necessary bits together to construct a web page.

He plopped down in an ancient beanbag chair and crunched his cereal as he kept an eye on the computer monitor. The page was half loaded by the time he finished, so Mike brushed his teeth and shaved while he waited. By the time he had finished, he was able to check email. There were no emails back from prospective employers, which was to be expected. He browsed the latest job offerings, sending out copies of his resume with no real hopes of hearing back from any of them.

When he had finished, Mike checked the clock on the stove and jumped in the shower. He dressed for his job interview in the cleanest, least wrinkled shirt he had and the only slacks left that weren't stained. He brushed his short hair and sprayed on some cologne in case the air conditioner in his car was in a tempermental mood, grabbed his keys and descended the stairs outside his door to the parking lot. As he had expected, the humidity caused his clothes to collapse around his body and sweat started pouring out of his pores.

As he reached to insert his key into the car door, Mike noticed broken glass on the ground by his door. He raised his eyes and saw the shattered remains of his driver side window spread all over the seats, floor and console of his car. There was a gaping hole in the dashboard where his stereo had been. Cursing loudly, Mike stomped up the stairs and back into his apartment. He checked the few remaining minutes on his cell phone and called 911 to report the break in. Half an hour later, a clearly disinterested cop took his report, handed him a card to the evidence reclamation center and dully informed Mike that there was little chance of catching the thief or getting his stereo back.

After the policeman had left, Mike gathered up the remains of the Sunday paper and carried them back downstairs. He spread the newspaper out on his seat and gingerly sat down, hoping he wouldn't be cut by the shards of glass. He checked his watch again and saw that he was now an hour late for his interview. Cursing again, he levered himself out of the car and returned to his apartment.

He brought the computer out of sleep mode and saw the alert indicating that he had received email. He opened the page and scanned the message informing him that he had been chosen for the opportunity of a lifetime for a one-time opportunity, but he had to respond immediately before the available spots in his area were filled. He manuevered the mouse to delete the email and the message started blinking, the background on the screen flashing black and then red. He paused for a moment, fully intending to delete what was obviously spam, but his hand hesitated, resting on the mouse. He found himself clicking on the link to get more information.