Baran returned to his room and searched for the gun. The gun was standing in the pocket of his jacket. He thought he was prepared, but he wasn't. Was it preparation to go to hell with a gun? He laughed in pain. He didn't know what to do. He got a message on his phone at that time.

He was living as an Uber and the message was coming from his client. The client wanted him to pick her up from the subway station two hours later. He quickly replied to the message. He'd be there in two hours. He may have experienced Hell, but he was still living in the modern world. He was supposed to make money and needed a good plan within a week.

The sky was the same blue sky, the traffic was the same disgusting traffic. For Baran, who has been to Hell twice, life was making fun of him in all its banality. He stopped in front of the metro station. He had arrived ten minutes before his client. He would search for people like him on the internet.

But what was he supposed to write?

He could search for strange dreams. When it happened he thought it was a nightmare. Others might still think it was a dream.

When his client knocked on the window, he jumped in fear. He remembered the creature that jumped from the ceiling to his head yesterday. He couldn't find what he was looking for on the phone. The woman sat in the back seat. Baran looked at the woman through the mirror. He remembered the woman from somewhere, but where?

"Sir, are you okay?" the woman asked.

"Sorry?" Baran replied.

"Your skin is very pale."

He looked at himself in the mirror. He looks like someone whose blood had been drained. He didn't look like this when he left the house.

"I'm a little sleepless, that's all. You're going to Zafer Avenue, right?"

The woman shook her head. Baran drove the car. He should have focused on his job. He would have time to think in the evening. As he moved on the road, he noticed that he was constantly looking at the woman. The woman had not seen him looking. He didn't know her, but he was sure he had seen her recently. He tried not to look at her so that she would not get the wrong idea. He focused on the path.

''Where did I see her?''

''Excuse me?''

''Ah... I just talking to myself.''

''...Okay.''

The woman was busy with her phone. Baran turned his head to the road. He noticed the red light late and pressed the brakes a little hard. The woman looked forward anxiously. At that time, Baran remembered the woman. The slight fear on her face helped him remember where he saw her.

He saw this woman on the subway yesterday. He thought she was killed by the creatures along with the other passengers. He was surprised to see that she was alive. He shook his head quickly. Rubbed his eyes. The lamp turned green. He heard the horns of other cars behind him.

It was very difficult to focus on the road. So that woman was going to hell like him, right?

"What… What business are you in?" Baran asked. He was surprised that the woman did not remember him. He had killed a creature in front of her eyes. This was not something to be forgotten. The woman looked up from the phone.

"I am an accountant."

Is that all? No creatures and subway to hell? They almost had arrived at her address.

"I saw you somewhere before, but just remembered. I think I saw you on the subway last night." Baran finally asked.

"I left work late yesterday. I was terribly tired. I don't remember you. It's an interesting coincidence."

''So you don't remember…" He continued, fearing that his sentence might have a strange meaning.

"So of course. The human condition is after all. My memory is a little strong. Otherwise, I wouldn't remember you either.''

"I can get down there around the corner."

"Huh? Yes. Sure." He stopped the vehicle. The woman thanked him as he got off.

Shortly after, he received a notification of the money deposited in his bank account.

"She does not remember anything about yesterday. If she did, she would not have been so cool. There is no way. Even if your nerves are made of steel, everyone would be afraid of an experience like yesterday."

So they don't remember like that woman on the other passengers. So why do I remember? Or am I schizophrenic? No, I'm not a schizophrenic. If I were, why would I start seeing these after all this time? It was real there. ”He started the vehicle and set off.

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In the evening he was returning to his apartment. The street where the building is located was lit by the lights of the police car. The vehicle was standing in front of the building and two police officers were waiting next to their vehicle. A third policeman was talking to the apartment manager in front of the door. Baran slowly drove his vehicle into the street. As he approached the building, the manager pointed to his vehicle. The police had put him under-eye arrest with his wet hat. Without looking at the manager, he said a few more words and started walking towards Baran. Baran parked his vehicle and got out. Why were the cops looking for him?

He was a normal citizen with a clean criminal record. He hadn't been out of business before, other than asking the police for directions. Cops came to him, wearing uniforms slightly wet from the rain.

"Mr. Baran, right?"

"That's me. Is there a problem, officer? I went through the red light once or twice today. My customers were in a hurry. I did not know that I was causing enough problems to come to my house."

Officer replied, "Stay calm. It's not about the red light."

Baran was a little embarrassed that he was suddenly excited. The cops didn't care about the red light. Why did they come anyway?

"Is that so? Well, I'm relieved. Why were you looking for me then?"

"You're an Uber driver. There was a report that complained about physically abusing one of your passengers. You have to escort us to the police station."

''What? I didn't harass anyone!''

He wouldn't have physical contact with any of his clients. He wanted them to send the fee to his bank account, not by hand. In fact, this habit earned him good comments and rates in the uber app.

Who should report him?

He was someone who had no enemy. It could not be said that he had got so many friends. He was one of those roasted in his own oil.*

Or were the woman who reported him? Did she notice that he was constantly looking at her from the mirror?

He felt guilty.

"You don't tell who report me, would you?" The cops shook their heads. He thought so. "Let's go then."

When they got into the police vehicle, the rain started again. Drops were falling fast on the top of the vehicle and rattling. One of the policemen sat next to Baran. The two of them were sitting in front. On the way, the police asked him for his ID. Police entered his credentials on the tablet he was holding and looked to see if he had any track record.

As Baran thought, his record was clean. He put his identity back in his wallet. The rest of the road passed in silence. The police station was calm. There has been a situation like the events have decreased recently.

They took him into a room and told him to wait until the authorities arrived. They offered hot tea for him to drink, but they didn't give him sugar. He drank unsweetened tea without question. His palate was dry. He was nervous. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes had passed and nobody came.

Didn't they have the way to forget him here? Of course, they would come.

Maybe there was an incident in the neighborhood and they were busy stuffing the vagrants into the jail.

After half an hour two men entered. They weren't wearing police uniforms. They were in their daily clothes. But their faces were more serious than the cops. He felt tense. He swallowed. The man put the file in his hand on the table.

"We're coming from MIT, Mr. Baran." They showed their identities. "Has anything changed in your life recently?"

"Like what?''

"Like going to hell?''

These guys knew!

"You… You guys know. I was really relieved. Yesterday I was in the subway… I went there, it was horrible. There was a woman in that carriage. I thought she was dead, but she got into my car today as if nothing happened. I tried to talk to her but it seemed like she didn't remember yesterday. The first time I thought it was a dream when I died and came back."

"The first time? How many times have you been there?"

"Two."

"Why did you decide to go again? Nobody wants to go to hell a second time. Is there something that drives you to go there?" This time the other man spoke. There was a real surprise in his voice.

"I… I'm looking for my brother. To find out how he died. I think I can find him in Hell."

"You seem sure of that. So your brother is in hell. What if he is in heaven?" The man was not kidding. He was serious with his question.

"That fool wouldn't deserve to go to heaven. Which of us do we deserve? Of course, this is something that God will decide, but… I don't know, not many people believe that Hell exists." The man interrupted.

"Until you see it with your own eyes."

"Exactly. If hell exists then heaven exists too?"

''Right. Heaven exists. It's like hell."

"Have you been there too? I mean Hell?" They shook their heads.

"What about heaven? How is it there?" The man sounds clear.

"I've never been there. I don't want to go either."

"I don't understand. Everything seems so pointless."

"We are here for you to understand. Calm down. We will tell you. Not everyone can see what you have experienced. The woman you just mentioned did not actually experience any of what happened yesterday. Only you did. They went to where they were going by subway. You were never there. You were there, but they did not see you. You took the same subway but traveled to different worlds. "

"I'm still having trouble understanding. What do you mean they couldn't see me? I could see them."

"This is because there are cracks in the world. These cracks appear from time to time. Not everyone can see them. Those who see them have terrible memories. Let me tell you that most people who go there for the first time do not want to go the second time. But people like you are very few. Our job is to find people like you."

There was too much information. Baran could not handle them at one time. Scratched his forehead.

''Who are you people exactly?''

The man replied like a robot.

''We are MIT as I mentioned. And now, you are a part of our organization.''