Just as he entered the lounge, Alan stopped and scanned the place. People were dancing, drinking and having a good time. But his eyes were focused on something else. Something only he could see.

Numbers – floating over everyone’s heads.

A “7” hovered over one man’s head. The number climbed to “8” as he downed a drink. Another man’s number dropped by 50 units as he paid the bartender for his drink.

Alan strolled towards the bar, not a hint of surprise in his stare. He was used to seeing the numbers. As he made his way through the crowd, he saw a woman sitting all alone. The number “30” hovered over her head. She looked up and for a brief moment, made eye contact with him and went back to doing something on her cell phone. Alan headed towards her and took the seat next to her.

Woman: “Yes, that seat is taken. Thanks for asking.”

Alan: “You see the numbers too, don’t you? You didn’t look me in the eye. You were staring just above my head.”

The woman looked up again and saw the number “1,377” floating above Alan’s head.

Woman: “What’s your pattern?”

Alan: “Pattern?”

Woman: “The Pattern is what limits your vision. What do you see?”

Alan points at the other patrons.

Alan: “I see how many drinks that man had, how much money that man’s got...”

He then pointed at her number.

Alan: “How old people are…You don’t look like 30...”

She ignored the compliment.

Woman: “You’re a Random then. Everyone starts as a Random. Then a pattern emerges.”

Alan: “Why do we see these numbers?”

Woman: “I’ve met others like us. But nobody has a clue.”

Alan: “So what’s your pattern?”

Woman: “I am a Polyg.”

She looked around and saw 5-digit numbers floating over everyone’s heads.

Woman: “I can see how many lies people have told in their lives.”

Alan: “Wow! That sounds cool.”

Woman: “Newbies only see the good side. It’s not “cool” to know when someone is lying to your face.”

Alan: “How do I choose a pattern?”

Woman: “You don’t. The pattern chooses you.”

Alan: “Any pattern I should be worried about?”

Woman: “All of them. I wouldn’t mind being a Cupid though. When a Cupid sees two people with matching numbers, it’s a sign of a potentially good couple.  Let’s you save your friends from nasty divorces.

Alan: “Or ruin their weddings.”

Woman: “I did that when I was a Random. I thought I was doing them a favour.”

Alan: “Newbies only see the good side.”

Woman: “You’re a fast learner.”

Alan: “You’re a good teacher.”

He looked at her empty glass and signalled to the bartender to get them two more glasses.

Woman: “Trying to get me drunk?”

Alan: “No, just being courteous.”

She noticed the number above his head go up by one unit.

Woman: “Not the best idea to hit on me.”

Alan: “I am not.”

The number went up again. She smiled.

Woman: “You’re the first adult I’ve met with a four-digit number. That’s the lowest I’ve seen. Impressive.”

Alan: “Let’s drink to that. What the worst pattern I can hope for?”

Woman: “Reaper. They can see how many days someone has before they die. They see everyone’s number drop at midnight. It’s pretty sad.”

Alan: “Can’t they warn or try to help the person?”

Woman: “A Reaper I met once told me this – Destiny corrects itself if you try to cheat it. Let me teach you a little trick. It will help you turn off the numbers.”

Alan: “You can do that? How?”

She closed her eyes.

Woman: “Close your eyes and clear your mind. Remember how you saw the world before the numbers appeared.”

She opened her eyes and looked around. The numbers were gone.

Woman: “They are only gone for a while though.”

Alan tried to follow suit.

Alan: “Didn’t work for me.

Woman: “That’s because you’re missing the key ingredient. Pain.”

For some reason, the woman’s eyes welled up with tears. Her eyes darted to her phone’s digital clock as it beeped. It was midnight. Alan looked up and noticed her number drop to “29”.

Woman: “Still want to hit on me?”

Alan looked at her, speechless. He felt pain for the first time. He could feel her pain. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. After a few seconds he opened them and looked around.

The numbers were gone – for a while at least.