Ardes was inside a room with a large rectangle table. He sat on one side with his hands firmly placed on top of the white table. To his left he saw his own reflection from a large black mirror. He had black hair and tired looking black eyes. In the 27 years that Ardes had lived, he saw far too many police and crime shows for him not to know that the large black mirror on the wall was actually a two-way mirror. Usually there would be some big shots, chief investigators or the chief of police, behind the mirror trying to observe the suspect's actions and listening in on his every word.
'However, why am I here?'
Before the police investigators arrived to take care of the mess, a few reporters have managed to ask him a few questions. He wasn't the only one though. With alcohol still in their breaths, the two people who accompanied the victim told their side of the story as well. They basically told the reporters, and later the police, that the three of them were out partying and had way too much to drink. They exited the club and began walking aimlessly for a while until they arrived near the Boni Station overpass. That was when a guy started running down the stairs as another man on a motorcycle aimed a gun at them.
'Wait. Is that the reason why I'm being held here?'
Ardes didn't know what was happening. During the whole commotion, Ardes even forgot about coming to work. Rather than that, it was safe to say that he didn't get the chance as a police officer told him they needed to bring him to the station to answer a few more questions. Unfortunately, the police confiscated his phone and refused to let him out of the room before the supposed interrogation was done. As such, he hadn't had the opportunity to contact his supervisor since his last chat with her. He could already imagine Jenny's distorted face, fuming mad. The thought made him sweat a little and he wiped his brows with the back of his hand.
'Relax! This time, I totally have a legitimate reason for being late.'
Just when Ardes was trying to reassure himself and busily recalling the labor code, an old man in a maroon suit entered the room. He was a foreigner who looked quite fit for his age. He had white hair and sported a trimmed white goatee. Ardes guessed he was around late 50s to early 60s. In truth, the old man was actually 71 years old.
He regarded Ardes with his eyes and sat in front of him. He smiled widely when he saw Ardes' inquisitive expression and extended his hand towards him. Ardes took the old man's hand in his and shook them.
"It's nice to meet you, Ardes Lee. My name is David Jefferson." The old man then took out a card from his breast pocket and handed it over to Ardes.
Ardes was surprised. This David Jefferson fellow was a foreigner but he spoke fluently in Ardes' mother tongue. He couldn't help but admire him for that. He looked down and looked at the card he received. It had an elegant indigo color with gold trimmings at the edges. It had a matte finish and a faint flowery scent. At the center of the card were three words: THE BIAS INITIATIVE. Ardes flipped the card over and saw a phone number at the back of the card.
"You're not from the police station?"
"The station? Oh, heavens, no!" Jefferson guffawed. It was a laugh that sounded like a goose during mating season as it called out for its partner.
"I was visiting some acquaintances of mine here in your country when I happened to hear about the incident that happened earlier," said Jefferson.
"You just happened to hear about it?"
"I heard quite an interesting story, actually. I spoke to the woman who was with the victim before coming over. I believe her name was Cherry. Lovely girl, lovely figure, but her breath stank of alcohol."
Ardes raised an eyebrow.
"Cough, cough. Anyway, she said you were running down the stairs right when the three met with the hitmen. Was that true?"
Ardes pondered for a bit. To be honest, even he couldn't completely understand his actions from back then. Besides, what does it matter to this old man? He was not affiliated with the police so why was he asking him this? All he knew was that he had to satisfy the itch inside his head at that time. How does one explain that without sounding like a lunatic? Speaking of itch…
'02:34'
Jefferson saw him look at his watch and smiled even wider than before.
"At that time I thought something bad was going to happen so I ran. I can't really explain why I did it. It's not like I was trying to be a hero or anything." It wasn't a complete lie, Ardes told himself. "But why are you here, Mr. Jefferson? Did you personally know the victim?"
"Oh, no. I didn't come to you because of him. You see, I simply wanted to meet you."
"Me?"
"Tell me, Ardes. Have you ever heard of the term Synchronicity?" Jefferson continued to speak without waiting for a reply. "It's a concept popularized by analytical psychologist Carl Jung. It is a concept that talks about two or more events interacting in what is perceived to be a meaningful manner, but are actually causally unrelated. This means that what you may perceive as meaningful in your own personal way, such as seeing 02:34 on your watch or any other seemingly random number arrangements, are actually not as meaningful as you may believe. It is a concept used to argue against the existence of the paranormal."
Ardes was a little confused, but he got the gist of what Jefferson was trying to say. He was asking if Ardes believed if meaningful coincidences existed or not. But why him? Does he know something about his "talent?" But how could he? Ardes decided to be a little more honest.
"There is no such thing as meaningful coincidences, Mr. Jefferson. At least, I don't believe in them existing. Whether or not I see a bunch of numbers arranged in the most perfect way possible or not, it doesn't have anything to do with me. I don't believe in the paranormal."
"What if it's not just numbers?"
Ardes was taken aback. What if it wasn't just numbers? Like a meaningful coincidence that made three drunk young people, two hitmen, and a call center agent meet in one place?
"I'm here to tell you that Carl Jung was wrong. Meaningful coincidences exist. You exist." Jefferson smiled at that last bit. "You want proof? I'm right here in front of you, aren't I?"
"What do you mean?"
"You'll know soon enough. I already gave you my number. It's up to you to decide."
"Wait. I don't understand. Do you know something?" Ardes wanted to ask him about his "talent" and about the itch in his head he's been feeling for a long time. He just met the old man but he felt like the old man knew something he didn't. Either that or this was just some crazy old loon who managed to get inside the police station. The actual investigators are really outside the room. In a minute they'd come bursting in and take this crazy old man away. In spite of his doubts, Ardes couldn't help but ask. "Who are you?"
Jefferson didn't answer. He simply smiled and took out a coin. He tossed it in the air, caught it then flipped it on top of his hand. His hand covered it so Ardes couldn't see.
"Care to guess if it's heads or tails?"
Ardes made a complicated expression. Was Jefferson making fun of him? If meaningful coincidences are indeed real then guessing the face of the coin doesn't really matter. He can only guess. Ardes was not psychic; he couldn't see the future even if he wanted to. If he guessed right then that doesn't really prove anything.
He decided to just play along with Jefferson just to get things over with. However, it was then that he felt a subtle itch in his head that made him turn towards the two-way mirror for a very brief moment -- it was barely a glance -- before answering the old man.
"Tails."
Jefferson removed his hand and revealed the coin. However, it was not tails. There wasn't anything on the coin! It was a trick coin that was blank on both sides, Ardes realized. He got tricked! This old man really was crazy.
"Nobody said you could predict the future, Ardes. You can do something much, much more." Before leaving, Jefferson gestured over to the two-way mirror. The black rectangle suddenly became transparent and Ardes could see a man through the window. He had a hand on top of his other hand. When he lifted the hand on top, Ardes saw a coin. The man carefully took the coin and showed it to Ardes. It was tails.
"You have my number," Jefferson urged as he left the room.
Ardes was left expressionless at that. This crazy old man. He still didn't know what to believe. He sat there for a few more minutes until finally an officer entered the room and told him he was free to go. He also gave Ardes back his phone.
34 Missed Calls.
12 Unread Messages.
'I am so dead.'