In the progression of dreams late in this morning, I found myself answering the call of a lower-middle class family for help.

The lady’s aging father had come under control of an additional eye, on the back of his neck.
It was smaller, and it was important that we didn’t let it see us while we inspected.

I looked, and as fairly certain it didn’t see my face, but it did see the top of my head.

When I turned around, I found myself wrapped in big, meaty arms. I could hear his voice in my ear.

The family was greatful; the father was free. Now, i was not.

If I looked down in my peripheral vision, I could SEE the arms clasped alongside my own.

If I struggled, they were much stronger, and I would see a greyness around me.

If I did not, then I could move mostly as I pleased.

“What is your name?”

He said, “Sergio.”

“Where are you from? How old are you?” I asked.

“New York. I was born in the 1800s.” he said, but I saw “1820” in my mind’s eye.

“What do you want?”

“I just want to be left alone,” he responded.

While we spoke, my team had extracted the eye. It was a machine, with five orange-brown colored arms, each looking like a thin version of a bendable microphone stand. At several points was a shiny sphere, and in the center, a small body housing a camera and other electronics. It was not damaged, but it was not moving. I did not feel any injury, though I noticed the meaty arms were messing. I could still speak to him.

“We can try to help you, and to find you.”

He said, “when you do, call this number.”

He had a phone, and would be waiting.

I realized the machine offered him control while it was installed, but it actually implanted a copy of him into anyone it attached to.

There would be no finding him. He was long gone, the real him. However, there were untold copies of him living, trapped, helpless, in the back of the minds of everyone this machine had latched on to.

I felt sad for him.