Author: David Henson

“Hello, this is Claire Rains with Now You Don’t Enterprises, maker of the Light Bender Extraordinaire. Whom do I have the pleasure of assisting?”

“Claude Wells. I’m having problems with my new invisibility cloak. I —”

“I’m here to help, Mr. Claude. Let’s make your troubles …” — fingers snap — “disappear. Tell me: How do you know your cloak isn’t working properly?”

“Well, when I’m wearing the cloak, I can sort of see myself in the mirror. I’m not invisible. More like I’m wrapped in foggy plastic wrap.”

“We call that a phantom image, Mr. Claude. Your mind reconstructs —”

“No psychobabble, please. I’ve heard it all. Are you going to assist me or not?”

“Sorry, Mr. Claude. Let’s do some troubleshooting. Ready?”

“Yes, please, get on with it. I was counting on this thing to allow me to get out more.”

“Did you hang your cloak overnight when you first unwrapped it? Many people are so anxious to disappear, they skip this step. One wrinkle can screw up the photonics and adaptive camouflage dynamics of the whole cloak.”

“I did that. I promise you there isn’t a single wrinkle, crinkle, crimp or crease.”

“Excellent, Mr. Claude. Secondly, are you certain you’re not wearing the cloak inside out? That sounds silly, but it’s easy to do with an invisibility garment. It’s two-way, you understand. You can see out, but—”

“I’m certain. The thing doesn’t work. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I have to admit, Mr. Claude, I’m stumped so I’m going to elevate your case to second level support. Don’t go away, I’ll stay on the line. This shouldn’t take long. Our experts have seen it all. Except of course, when they shouldn’t.” She chuckles.

“Very funny. I just need the cloak to perform as promised. I’m so tired of people staring at me. You know in school, the other kids called me … I can’t say it.”

“So sorry to hear that, Mr. Claude. Have you — hold on. I’ve a message from second level support … We need to go to video call. Can you do that?”

“… I’ve accepted your invite. But wait til I put on the—”

“Oh … there you are.”

As Ms. Rains stares at him, Claude freezes then drops to his knees out of sight. “You saw me. Now you understand why I need to be invisible. I’m hideous.”

“Mr. Claude, I don’t think you’re—”

“Stop pandering.”

“Why do think you’re hideous? Sorry, that’s not what I’m here for. Please put your cloak on and stand so I can see you.”

Claude does as the agent asks.

“It’s as you said, Mr. Claude. You’re blurry but not invisible. You look like … a ghost. That’s a first. Creepy. Must be a flaw in the weave. Now that I’ve seen for myself, I can approve a return. Would you like a replacement or refund?”

“Like a ghost, eh? On second thought, I think I’ll keep it.”

“You … what? Your choice, Mr. Claude, but I’d think about. People are used to invisibles, but you might freak out people in that. It’s been my pleasure assisting you. And, truly, I don’t know why you think you’re…” Her voice trails off. “Please hold for a brief survey.”

Claude exits the video call, goes into the bedroom and looks at his spectral image in the dresser mirror. He decides to haunt the night wearing the cloak. Pay a visit to the old neighborhood.