Diary of Jason Neith: 28th September, 2026

I woke this morning and didn’t recognise my hands. At first I was sure I was still suspended between wakefulness and dreaming. I haven’t been sleeping all that well, have noticed increased fatigue and a faint undercurrent of dread in my everyday life. It’s not a constant malaise, more a faint background hum that I only notice in the quiet moments.

My shower felt wrong. It seemed perverse to massage my scalp and guide a wash cloth over my skin with unfamiliar fingers. After cleaning myself and brushing my teeth, I dressed and made coffee and toast. While I ate and drank, I examined my unoccupied left hand. On the hand I knew, there were three small moles on the back, forming a perfect Orion’s Belt. I couldn’t find them. Granted it had been some time since I’d looked for them; one’s own features tend to lose their novelty after a few decades.

Once done with breakfast, I exited my flat and began the walk to the office. On the way, I stopped in the supermarket as I do most mornings. A man followed me in, about my height and build. Can’t tell what he looked like otherwise as he was wearing a heavy hooded coat with the hood pulled low over his face. It was a decent coat, a grey outdoorsy type with lots of pockets and an unfamiliar logo in white on the back. The sort of coat I’d be looking to buy as the weather turns. We both performed the same short circuit around the shop. I picked up an iced coffee and some beef jerky then proceeded to one of the two manned tills. I hate the self-service devices. Modernity has robbed us of more than enough human interaction. The hooded man went to the other cashier. I glanced at his purchases. The same as mine. I tried not to think anything of it, tried to avert my eyes, but I couldn’t help but notice that one part of him was visible. His hands. And on the left hand, the one closest me, I thought I could see three small moles forming an Orion’s Belt.

I left the shop, entirely convinced I was having a funny turn. Perhaps I’d eaten something that didn’t agree with me. I walked the rest of the way to work, where I found myself unable to clock in. The biometric scanner didn’t recognise my thumb print. One of the IT guys came down to the front desk and had me set up a new scan. I could hardly focus for the rest of the day. Fortunately, business had been rather constrained in the surveying trade, so I wasn’t drowning in admin and could afford a subdued shift.

Email Exchange between Sarah Johnson and Frank Morley, 28th September 2026

To:      fmorley@morleysurveyors.co.uk
From:    sjohnson@morleysurveyors.co.uk
Subject: Re: Tramps
Date:    2026-09-28 10:43:16

Hi Frank,

Yes, I noticed it too. A couple of them look familiar, oddly.

I'll contact the police and see if we can get them moved on.

Kind regards

Sarah Johnson
Executive Assistant, Morley Surveyors

On 2026-09-28 10:06, Frank Morley wrote:
>Sarah,
>
>A lot of tramps hanging around near the entrance of the 
>office. Not a good look for interviewees, given the ongoing 
>staff refresh. Do something about it, would you?
>
>Frank Morley
>Chartered Surveyor and Company Director, Morley Surveyors

Diary of Jason Neith: 29th September, 2026

I slept through my alarm. Upon waking, I rushed out the door, barely taking the time to ensure I was properly dressed. On my walking commute, far brisker than I’d like and with more than a little drizzle, I couldn’t help but feel that there were eyes on me. Very odd, I know, and probably meaningless. Restless sleep and a poor diet, I suppose. Or a sickness. Certainly I was feeling more unfit than normal. It was entirely possible that I needed to step on a scale and adjust my habits. My clothes weren’t fitting quite right.

As I approached the office, I couldn’t help but notice that the people around looked a little rougher than I was used to. As I opened the front door of the building, a particularly twisted-looking man spoke.

‘They’ll replace you too, y’know.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I used to have a comfy little office job. Now look at me. See your future.’

I smiled in a manner I hoped conveyed compassion and proceeded to the office. I smiled at Jill on reception, but she just gave me a blank expression. Given how haggard I felt, I assumed I must have been looking quite a state. The door to the right of reception led to the stairs; I proceeded through. At the top was the entrance to the office floor, a ‘STAFF ONLY’ sign serving as a ward against interruption. On the other side, it was quite quiet. I advanced through, checking the time on my wristwatch. Five minutes early. Good enough. Only thing left to do was find my cubicle and clock in.

‘Can I help you?’ Said a slightly accented, irate voice.

I turned to face Valentin, the office manager.

‘Morning, Val,’ I said.

‘Do I know you?’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Jason. From accounts. We’ve worked together for almost five years.’

‘Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m not wearing my glasses. And you look a little different. Have you changed something?’

‘Just ageing, I think.’

Val nodded. ‘Happens to the best of us. Still, we’ll be all right as long as we stay sharp, eh?’ He clapped me on the shoulder and shuffled off to do whatever he did when he wasn’t kissing arses.

My cubicle was much as I’d left it. The cleaners seemed to have moved some stationary around, which was irksome. Far more annoying was my glitchy biometric scanner not clocking me in again. I called IT and they sent someone to sort it out, but he didn’t come for twenty minutes and so I had to stay late to make the time up.

Over all, not my best day.

Sample stanzas from the poem ‘Identity’ by John ‘Longfinger’ Langley

Painted on with loving brush strokes Legacy, hope and joy Bound by ink to sounds and symbols Engraved in stone, my boy

Choosing names; a dangerous game Terms of reference shared wide Who we are is determined long Before we’ve chance to hide

Diary of Jason Neith: 30th September, 2026

Big meeting this morning. I arrived five minutes early, last but for Frank himself. Over half the company was crammed into the conference room on the ground floor, a collection of faces and voices that Morley’s had acquired over the course of two decades all vibrating on the same frequency. Nervous anticipation was the order of the day. I found myself too preoccupied with my co-workers’ appearances to absorb the trepidatious vibe. I recognised everybody, but a sizeable subset of the workplace population just looked off. Darren from legal seemed to have grown a few centimetres, Frank’s assistant appeared younger and her eyes were a brighter blue than I remembered.

Frank arrived right on time, strode to the head position off the conference table and leant heavily on the back. ‘Morning, morning,’ he said. ‘Just a quick one. Not to worry. Just wanted to keep you all abreast of developments within the company. As you all know, we’ve got some fairly big commercial contracts coming up, so we’re doing a little team refresh. Nobody will be getting their P60, but don’t be surprised if you see some new faces about and some of you may be redeployed depending on the needs of the firm. Training will be provided where required but for the most part it should all feel like business as usual. For you lot, anyway. I’m developing a hernia and poor Sarah’s about one lengthy phone call from throttling me, but we’re through the worst of the administrative labyrinth now I think. That’s it.’ With that, he stood tall and clapped once before marching out of the room, followed closely by Sarah and a couple of other senior managers.

Silence suffocated the conference room for a few moments, then chatter began as people filtered out and headed for their offices and desks. Several people glanced at me without any hint of recognition. People I’d worked with for years. I overheard people talking about company expansion, reorganisation, the opportunities it might bring. But none of that chatter was directed at me. I was utterly alone among the people I’d spent most of my waking life with for over half a decade. I felt like a trespasser.

Once I’d gotten out of the room, I headed for the men’s toilets. It had been crowded and stuffy and I needed to splash water on my face to feel human. Crossing through the threshold into the bathroom, I noticed how light-headed and generally fuzzy I’d been feeling, like an ephemeral film separated me from the world. I approached a sink and waved my hand under the sensor attached to the tap; no dice. I slid over to the next sink and tried again with the same result. Sighing, I leant on the counter and checked my reflection in the mirror. My face looked ragged. Puffy and saggy to the point of unfamiliarity. I leant in closer, examined my eyes. They were slightly bloodshot, the irises appeared a murky near-brown rather than the bright hazel I’d come to expect.

The bathroom door swung open. Frank entered, eyeing me. ‘Everything all right there, Jason?’

‘Feeling a tad peaky. A little anxious about my prospects, perhaps.’

Frank chuckled. He approached me and laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘Rest assured, we’ve got a lot of use for Jason Neith in the future.’ With that, he turned and left the bathroom.

Ferenbrooke Times article, 1st October 2026

Council under fire as homelessness crisis reaches new heights

by Stephen Porter

Local campaign groups and businesses have raised concerns with the city council over a visible increase in the amount of homeless people around the city centre. Many of these people have reportedly shown signs of ongoing mental health crisis and some locals feel this represents a safety concern.

‘It’s just awful. The mad house down in Fairbourne is supposed to keep these lot safe and separate. Are they full or something?’ Said Bryndon Blake, a resident of Burrow Lane.

Many locals expressed similar sentiments, with growing calls for a review into the management of the Fairbourne mental hospital two miles south of the main Ferenbrooke hospital.

Patrick Nolan, owner and operator of The Bloody Duck pub on Stone Street, feels differently. ‘Times are hard, a little compassion wouldn’t be a bad thing.’

Councillor Liz Holborn (Independent), of the Cambrey ward, agrees. ‘While Ferenbrooke has been shielded from some of the worst effects of the economic stagnation within the UK over the last two decades, it is unfortunately true that unemployment has begun to rise and the cost of living crisis is hitting quite hard. Many people are being pushed into vulnerable positions that would otherwise be living productive lives. We’re doing what we can to help, but many individuals appear to be suffering from stress-induced breaks from reality, which makes identifying them and getting them the help they need quite challenging.’

Diary, 2nd October 2026

This morning was clouded, hazy. I did my morning routine on autopilot and clearly missed a few things. Halfway to work, I checked the time and saw that I’d be over an hour early. Very much not like me to get so divorced from the flow of time. For a moment I teetered on my heels while I wondered what to do. I decided to go home and have another coffee.

Heading back to my flat, I felt around my pockets for my keys and found nothing. My phone and wallet were absent, too. Somehow I’d forgotten everything. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled off my rucksack and checked its contents. This diary, a jumper, nothing else. I was perplexed. How had I managed to leave the flat with literally none of my daily carry essentials? I hoped I’d left a window open so that I’d be able to get back in. My flat was, thankfully, on the ground floor.

Back at my building, I checked the outer door. Locked, of course. I’d hoped it might have been left on the latch. I circled the exterior until I was by my living room window, unfortunately closed. Curses were muttered. I looked into my home and froze.

Packing a bag with mechanical efficiency, moving about my home with fluent familiarity, was me. A bright, healthy me. No puffy sagging skin, no extraneous greying or grease in the hair, no bags under the eyes. The other me finished packing up his work bag and retrieved a grey hooded coat with a white symbol on the back from the hook by the door and exited.

When I heard the exterior door open, I snuck back towards the front of the building. I watched the other me make his merry way down the street. I followed at a distance. He stopped for a coffee en route, at my favourite independent place. I skulked on the street while he asked a vanilla latte – my order, in my voice. He then proceeded to my workplace and entered. I couldn’t follow further. The office now had security guards, some new measure on account of the increase in homeless people, and they didn’t know me and wouldn’t let me in.

I retreated to a park bench on the green outside the police station, sat there and tried to make sense of what had happened.

Email exchange between Sarah Johnson and Frank Morley, 2nd October 2026

To:      fmorley@morleysurveyors.co.uk
From:    sjohnson@morleysurveyors.co.uk
Subject: Re: Progress?
Date:    2026-10-02 09:51:20

Morning Frank,

Rollout of new security measures has gone well. Staff refresh
is on schedule.

We'll need to find a more permanent solution for the old 
crazies hanging around on the street, some method of dissuading
them from hanging out by the office. But that's a Monday problem.

Kind regards

Sarah Johnson
Executive Assistant, Morley Surveyors

On 2026-10-02 09:03, Frank Morley wrote:
>Morning Sarah,
>
>Regarding the security and staff adjustments, anything needing
>attention or are we all good? Just want to know if I can sleep
>easy over the weekend.
>
>Regards
>Frank Morley
>Executive Director, Morley Surveyors

Diary, 5th October 2026

I’ve been following the replacement all weekend. Can’t take it any longer. I’m going to do it. I’m going to get my life back.

Ferenbrooke Times article, 6th October 2026

Man in critical condition after knife attack

by Stephen Porter

A man has been left fighting for his life after an unprovoked attack.

Jason Neith, 39, was on his way to work when an unidentified assailant came at him with a knife. Neith was left with injuries to his abdomen, hands, eyes and face.

The assailant was quickly apprehended but is as yet unidentified. He is a middle-aged man with an unkempt appearance and police are requesting assistance with identifying him.

‘We’re clearly dealing with some sort of mental health crisis,’ said Detective Constable Amelia Russell at the scene. ‘The attacker is claiming that he is Jason Neith and the victim is an imposter.’

This incident is part of a rising tide of violent crime that has put many Ferenbrooke locals on edge.

Frank Morley, Executive Director of Morley Surveyors, where Jason Neith is employed, says, ‘We’ve recently had to beef up security, not that it did poor Jason any good. We hope he recovers quickly and fully, the office isn’t the same without him.’