Sean Dawson

‚False Names‘ Last month I was Michael. Associate Professor of Economics. Divorced. Two children. Mild pollen allergy. Four months of charity dinners, expensive wine & pretending my target’s stories about cryptocurrency were fascinating. Before that I was Peter. Charming architect. Terrible cook. I even dated a woman with the worst breath I’d ever encountered. Occupational hazard, I suppose. The Organization never cared what name I used. Only whether people believed it. They always did. By the time I walked into your office wearing another tailored suit, another expensive watch & another borrowed smile, I already knew exactly who I was supposed to be. Daniel. Senior consultant. Excellent references. Impressive résumé. You barely looked at the paperwork before offering me a seat. “Coffee?” you asked. “Black,” I replied. We talked for almost an hour. Business first. Then books. Travel. Bad coffee in airport lounges. You laughed exactly three times. I noticed because counting details is part of my job. Walking out of your office, I already had everything I needed to write my first report. Three weeks later, everyone called me Daniel without a second thought. Receptionists. Clients. Your assistant. Even you. One afternoon, you looked up from your laptop. “Daniel?” I didn’t answer. “Daniel.” I looked up with the smallest smile. “Sorry.” A brief pause. “I don’t like that one very much.” Before you, everything was easy. Daniel was easy. The fake résumé was easy. The fake stories were easy. Then you started trusting me.