It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity. It was an hour and 45 minutes before your alarm was set to go off, and your brain would not shut up.

You tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of milk. Maybe indigestion will help.

The stove light was on. A man in suit and shades sat at the table. You sigh.

"Boss wants you back," he growls.