You have been an intern at Alistair Pemberton’s trading company for six months. It’s been a wild ride and you’ve learned so much about how to navigate the financial markets, and maybe a few lessons about how not to do it. Your review last week went surprisingly well. You were commended for your work ethic and your eye for balancing risk, and the firm offered you your dream job: personal assistant to the CEO, Alistair Pemberton. You could hardly believe it but the contract was on your desk later that day. You reported to Pemberton’s secretary the following day only to be told that he was out on business right now. You moved some stuff into your new office, updated your email signature, and waited. And waited. This was not what you expected. After lunch you received an email from Pemberton instructing you to travel to a location out in the mountains. There’s an itinerary involving a private jet (what?) and a limousine (are you kidding?). You have a great journey out there and are shown to a guest room by a butler (this is too much!) when you arrive late at night. The following morning you come down into the baking hot heat of the day to find there is no Pemberton. The butler, a lovely man called Brian, tells you that you have just missed him so you should, instead, report to Mrs Pemberton who is out by the pool. Every time it looks like things might be turning in the right direction, they turn right back on you. Fine. Let’s see Mrs Pemberton. Office gossip says she’s dumb and pampered. You really hope that they’re wrong.

Your college lecturers call you the Three Musketeers. You’re inseparable friends in class and outside of class. You attend a good college in the Midwest of the USA. You decide to go on a hiking trip to the UK. You do your research and decide that the Lake District is the perfect destination. In theory, the plan was perfect. You flew into Manchester airport, checked your luggage in with a courier service and then got a train to Penrith before hiking to the isolated log cabin you have booked. The hike was long and it rained constantly and the last hour or so involved hiking in pitch black conditions but you still had fun. You were glad to get to the cabin and, typically, the rain stopped as soon as you arrived. Your luggage wasn’t there when you arrived. You called the courier service to find out what was going on but got no reply. It is now midnight and all the clothes you’re wearing are soaking wet which is really unpleasant. The rainclouds have all cleared off and the temperature has dropped so you’re beginning to feel really cold. And you don’t have any clothes to change into. Your perfect plan is beginning to look really stupid.

You’re a fairly young journalist, in your first job out of a degree. You interned for a year and then, suddenly, a post opened up in the gossip and fashion department of a national magazine. You jumped at the chance. Two years on, you can’t help feeling that there should be something more. You want to find a scoop: something amazing. You start doing extra research into the models and designers you’re commissioned to do these little features on but so far… nothing. You’re asked to interview Amber Finsbury. She seems nice enough and her career record is impressive. She has good taste when it comes to the jobs she’s taken on and she seems to be a natural in photos. You did your usual digging and came across something strange. Up until 6 years ago, there was no such person as Amber Finsbury. What’s more, there’s no trace of who she was before then. You found a birth certificate that matches, but no record of that person for sixteen years before… It’s like she had been hidden away for all that time. You tried to get more out of your police contacts but they went quiet. It’s probably nothing. But… what if it isn’t nothing?

You have been tailors to the Aberfeldy family for generations. At least your firm has. You’ve just taken over after your parent’s retirement. And Damian is your first Aberfeldy. He has come for his first fitting. You look down at the measurements and curse silently. This is simply not right. He must have bulked up since his last measurements so none of what you have prepared will fit correctly. It will just be too tight. Although…

You’ve been with your boyfriend, Jamie, for just over a year and it feels like things keep getting better. You’e taking a break from studies to have a walk around campus when you run into Mia. Mia is so much fun. She sort of crashed into your lives a few months ago but now it feels like she’s such a part of your lives.

You hate this job. You’re a university student working in a hotel doing housekeeping just to pay tuition fees. The mess that people leave in the rooms is unbelievable and quite frequently disgusting. Any illusion you had about these upmarket hotels being glamorous has been thoroughly dispelled. You’re in the middle of your morning shift cleaning the unoccupied rooms and you go into room 37. Hello… it’s supposed to be unoccupied… and it clearly is occupied….

Your friends said you were mad to go and stay in the mountains at this time of year but the forecast seemed good (cold but it wasn’t raining or, thank god, snowing) and you really needed to get out of the city. It has been too long since you were in nature, hiking and wild swimming. You yearn for freedom and enjoy being able to just relax and get rid of the trappings of everyday life out here, to be as the universe created you without pretence or coverings. You started up the hot tub this morning so that it would be ready for you after a trek up the nearest summit but when you return it is clearly malfunctioning and not heating up fully. You sigh and put on a thick dressing gown. You call the number for maintenance and after a brief wait, a jeep pulls up and the technician jumps out.

Your assistant, Luca, is waiting for you in the workshop. You’ve been working on a large marble sculpture for the last two weeks and he has been invaluable assisting with moving materials, carving the marble, and even acting as a model for some of the anatomical sketches you need. The two of you have grown quite close and you don’t know how you would be able to complete this particular work without him.

You are writing your dissertation and have got into the habit of just existing in the library for most of the day, sitting by the window and admiring the beautiful grounds of the campus. You feel lucky to be in such wonderful and inspiring surroundings rather than the usual concrete jungle that students are planted in. This time of year sees the forestry science students out on the grounds tending to the trees which never really impinged on your consciousness much before. But this year, there’s this girl. This woman. She climbs the trees with such grace. She moves so fluidly. You know you shouldn’t but you start picking the window that you work by because she will be working on that tree. You studiously avoid eye contact but one day it happens and she smiles… You blush furiously and leave your desk that day. When you come back the following day you decide to be well away from all windows. But you can’t focus on work. You keep on thinking of her. So you go for a walk. As you are walking under a tree, you hear a voice from above you.

“I will do your gardening in my pants” is what the advert said. You couldn’t resist. Your garden is sort of beyond the time commitment you have to maintain it and anyway, it sounded sort of fun. So you emailed him and made an appointment. And here he is. Doing your gardening. In his pants.

You work for the university newspaper. It’s actually quite a competitive position and you were one of over a hundred applicants for the job. Your editor has given you one job for the whole month and that is to trap down The Egg, the notorious creator of Pandora, the viral game that is obsessing the chat on campus. You’re not a player yourself and, to be honest, you don’t really understand the complexities of either the programming or ethical so you’re coming at this article from an angle of the person behind the identity. It took many light night sessions working on surveillance footage and a lot of favours called in with your computer science buddies to look at IP addresses and something like “coding signatures” or whatever (you lost interest at this point) before your team traced a “critical intervention into the game virtual mainframe” to a single location on campus. You go alone. You knock on the door. It opens.

You’ve been a fan of Odins Hævn ever since you heard their debut album in the back room of a club. As you have followed them more and more obsessively you’ve been drawn to the figure of Erik, the statuesque lead guitarist who seems to have been fulfilling more and more of your fantasies with each successive video, release, and performance. You go and see them live in their latest tour and are thrilled to get close to the front, right in the mosh pit. You revel in their latest songs and then, Erik takes the front stage. He casts off his vest into the crowd, as is standard for him and stands, muscular and heroic, screaming out his solo on his guitar. And then with another gesture he throws something else out into the crowd. Instinctively you grab it and you know what it is instantly. That smell, that manly smell of sweat and musk and something slight salty and undefinable... Is that? You gasp and stuff it inside your pocket before anyone notices but you see Erik meet your eyes and smile. You catch sight of something under his kilt and you know what he’s done…

It’s been a great party… lots of fun… wild times. There is a knock on your hotel room door. You look through the spy hole and see a woman there. She doesn’t look happy but there’s something in her eyes that makes you wonder if she’s looking for something. You open the door to her.

You walk into your usual coffee shop for your daily hit. You join the queue and… wait…. How is this possible? The guy behind the counter is exactly, exactly the same as the AI chatbot you designed a few weeks ago. You have been playing around with these chatbots for a while and you have been making new ones but this was one of your favourites. You keep going back to chat with him. And now… he’s here? What?

Your roommate has a secret. You’re not sure what it is but she definitely has a secret. It’s been bugging you all year. And then last week you found this card in her pocket… It led you down a dark alley to a dingy club. You showed the card at the door and they let you in… You walked into the main room and… Is that Diana?

You’re a student librarian who has been working in the university library for a year now. You enjoy helping people find books and resources, and, it’s weird, but you enjoy the smell of the books. You also enjoy having the place to yourself late at night when you volunteer for the final shift. Sometimes it’s completely dead but other nights, like tonight, there are a few night owls finishing essays. The desk bell rings.

You’re walking home after a few drinks. A woman runs past you, brushing your shoulder as she does so. For a brief second, an intoxicating mix of pheromones, sweat, and something else hits you and then it’s gone again. You can’t help but admire her physique as she runs on but then she suddenly stops and turns.

One minute you were reaching out to return Patrick’s serve, the next your ankle gave way under you and you were lying on the ground and… ow!… that really hurts. It’s like you have technicolour waves of pain passing in front of your eyes. Is your leg supposed to be at that angle?

You’re staying in this beautiful hotel. This is your second night here. You thought that getting away from everything would be liberating… scratch that itch that you feel… but… You take a walk along the beach and it’s beautiful. You have a wonderful meal overlooking the harbour and it is perfect. You try to get an early night. Maybe that’s what you need. You lie awake for an hour. Maybe the bar is open. It’s on the roof. You throw some clothes on. Just enough to be decent but not so much that you will be too warm. Even though it is dark, it’s still so hot out. The lift doors open and you step out into the bar. It seems like they’ve stopped serving. You swear under your breath and turn to leave but then you see… her.

You’ve had it. This is the fifth night you’ve been woken by your neighbour making so much noise. I mean, you don’t know what he’s doing (although it sounds like… well… he certainly sounds like he’s enjoying himself) but enough is enough. You decide to go and tell him to shut up, just so you can get some sleep. He opens the door and grins at you.