[ WP ] Last night you dreamt that you were posing for Civil War photo . Today you woke up and saw it . A government agent just showed up at your house .

Alexis reached behind her head, feeling for the thick cord plugged into the base of her neck, and pulled. A metallic taste filled her mouth instantly, iron and bronze, sour. It passed after a few moments. 
 
 `` Sleep activity has been recorded. Shall I run a sequencing report?'' the disembodied voice of her prescribed Sleep Guard filled the room with a hollow echo. It was the hard surfaces. Her interior designer had told her it chic contemporary. Alexis found it easy to argue the point. There was no warmth to her space. 
 
 `` No, that's fine,'' she remembered the dream. The reverberations of artillery fire shook the trees. Fog crept across the fields that morning. Yet, amidst the dust, dun, blood mist of that cool, early morning, there was time for a photo. The mustaches were the most familiar, straight out of her textbooks. She closed her eyes against the dark that came to take the images from her. Shadowed eyes, a grimace, a general. She could n't remember which one. Uniforms. Blue? No. It was gone. 
 
 Her psychiatrist had told her this was normal for people who just started the program. Her dreams would be erratic at first, especially as the Sleep Guard calibrated incoming synaptic information to identify what caused her distress and what calmed her. She was, naturally, skeptical, but being as her insurance covered the hardware and counselling, she saw no point to refuse. It made use of the spinal implant she had had inserted for her epilepsy when she was 24, no further surgery needed. 
 
 `` Emotional variance, -0.6 standard deviations below normal threshold. This is a 14 % change towards targeted value. Shall I submit the report to your physician?'' 
 
 `` If you must,'' she sighed. The Sleep Guard always did that, spit out random numbers and tell her she was improving. She never felt better rested. 
 
 `` The report has been submitted,'' the Sleep Guard said, `` switching to standby.'' 
 
 Alexis rose to get her breakfast ready so that she could take her medications. A quick glance at the wall clock informed her that she was late. It was n't unusual, lazy Sundays being what they were. Her psychiatrist had told her that one or two hours was n't life-threatening so long as it was occasional. She had n't had a seizure in almost two years, and while she certainly did n't want to relapse, she had become comfortable the normal life. 
 
 To be changed by the knock at her door. She pulled a random shirt from her armoire over her head, not bothered to straighten it out before walking down her apartment's main hallway to open the door. She was greeted government standard - a leather bound badge, a man in crisp and tailored Italian cut, and a Senator's haircut. 
 
 `` I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Agent Farris. Confirm your identity please.'' 
 
 `` I work for the District Attorney and know my rights. I do n't have to-.'' 
 
 `` Please understand,'' her eyes caught his hand disappear behind the door, presumably reaching for his coat pocket, and pulled out a document, `` this is a signed Directorial from the Federal Commission of Citizen Services. You are not in trouble, Miss. I just need you to confirm your identity so I know I'm in the right place.'' 
 
 `` If that is in fact a genuine document, then you can at least tell me why you're here.'' 
 
 `` To discuss a matter that does not compromise you in any legal capacity. I've already spoken to the District Attorney and the Attorney General and have signed pardons should you require them. I'm just here to talk. Again, if you could confirm your identity please.'' 
 
 `` Alexis Valesko.'' 
 
 The man smiled, folding the document he held and returning it to his coat pocket. `` I realize that my approach could be off-putting. Protocol is protocol. Now that we're acquainted, may I come inside?'' 
 
 `` If we're going to talk, I'd rather it be in a public place.'' 
 
 `` You're cautious, well-informed, rightfully suspicious. Perfect,'' he smiled again. What was it about his face, the structure seemed familiar. The cheek bones were in the right place, but right? What was right? `` I, again, apologize. The nature of our conversation has to be, discreet, in nature. Your apartment would be preferred. While I am on a tight schedule, I am not above contacting my home office, requisitioning the proper clearance to request a NYPD detective to be a witness, and returning with a court-ordered approval for us to have this conversation in an interrogation room. I can have all of this done within the hour. This would be annoying, but not outside my reach. I ask that you be reasonable so that I do n't have to require it.'' 
 
 _______ 
 
 `` You'll have to excuse me if I do n't have any refreshments. You caught me before I had a chance to make breakfast, or change out of my pajamas for that matter,'' Alexis took a seat on the couch in her living room. 
 
 `` I was n't expecting it,'' Agent Farris remained standing, leaning against the wall with clear line of sight of the apartment's front door, `` I do n't suppose you've heard of Dr. Neil Desmond?'' 
 
 `` From MIT, specializing in Psychiatric Disorders and Neuro-Chemistry.'' 
 
 `` The very same. He wrote a number of articles on the neuro-plasticity of epileptic patients who had had at least two tonic-clonic seizures within a five year period. He suggested-.'' 
 
 `` That the brain, when recovering from significant and traumatic neurotransmitter imbalance, would be highly malleable to stimulus as it attempted to restructure relevant pathways. The fact that the brain remains largely functional despite there being scar tissue, stem cell treatments to repair damaged sections would increase the brain's plasticity. I've read all his papers. I was n't a suitable candidate if that's what you're wondering,'' Alexis tried not to sound bitter. 
 
 `` There's a section of his paper that we asked him to redact.''
