I am in Barcelona. I am an assassin. I approach a man in a dead end. He is my target. I ask if he is ok. He has bad teeth. Juan, another assassin approaches. We give the guy paracetamol and Juan takes him to the nearest NHS dentist.
I walk into a paved square with sandstone buildings. Children draped in the English flag run past. The flags are burning. They sit in a large fire but are not harmed, I can hear them talking. I sit on the top of a grassy hill. In the distance I see that the worlds cities are on fire, but what looks like the end of the world is actually a festival. Below me is a festival food van called “The Dark Universe”.
It has become dark. In the sky, the moon is in three different phases, and positions, at the same time. I know this is impossible.
I meet President Obama. He hands me a hand-written dossier on my next targets. They are all fellow assassins. Juan is top of the list. At the bottom is my own name. I am to switch identities and kill the body I presently inhabit.
I think how easy it will be to execute myself. I know all of my habits and routines so well.