by K M Frost
Rick joins us too, looking frustrated. I guess things with the computer haven’t been going well tonight.
“What is it?” he asks.
Abby grins excitedly. “I think I just figured something out.”
Leah snorts lowly, but she doesn’t say anything, and we all ignore her.
Rick massages his palms with a frown. “What?”
“How we can die in the simulation.”
We’re all quiet for a beat, and then Stew squeaks, “How?”
Abby sits forward eagerly. “You know how we’ve been having so much trouble remembering this world?”
I nod. “Like the itching in the back of your head when you hear or see something familiar, but you can’t remember what it is?”
“Exactly. It’s almost like there’s a barrier in our heads, a wall keeping all the memories at bay. I think that’s because of the simulation.”
Stewart’s eyes are wide. “Why would they want us to forget everything?”
Abby shakes her head. “I don’t think it was a part of the simulation. I don’t think they planned it.”
Leah huffs and folds her arms. “Then what do you think, oh wise one?”
“I think it’s because the simulation seems so real.”
Now Leah isn’t the only one scoffing.
Abby overrides them. “Think about it. Your brain controls everything you do. When you listen to music, or read a book, you can almost convince yourself you’re somewhere you’re not—like the beach, a forest, or a mountain. You can imagine you’re someone else, or living in another era. If you could convince your mind you were living somewhere else or doing something else—I mean, really convince yourself—it would be hard to remember which life was the real one. And the longer you spent in one life, the dimmer the other one would become.”
My head spins as I try to understand. “So, you’re saying the simulation convinced everyone it was the real world, and that’s why they don’t remember this world?”
“Yes.”
Stew frowns. “But, how come we can’t remember this world still? We know the other place isn’t real, so how come our memories haven’t come back?”
Abby hesitates, then shakes her head. “I’m not sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because we’re still in the simulation. If we were to leave the simulation, I think our memories would come back.”
“And this idea just popped into your head?” Leah scoffs.
Abby stiffens. “No. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ever since we found that first man.”
Stew’s face falls. “Curtis . . .”
Abby straightens to face Leah, more worked up than I’ve ever seen her. “All I do is read and think.”
Leah shrugs. “I guess it was bound to happen one day.”
“What was bound to happen?”
“You getting an idea.”
Rick interrupts them, folding his arms with a tight frown. “It still doesn’t explain how a person can die in a fake world.”
Abby turns her attention to Rick, though she still looks annoyed. “But it does. If a person’s mind believes a lie completely, like the simulation, they won’t doubt that death is real. And, if they can convince themselves they’re dead . . .”
“You’re saying a person can kill themselves just by believing it?” Leah’s tone is sarcastic, but she sounds scared, too.
Abby shakes her head. “They’re not actually killing themselves. It’s the circumstances that kill them—the lie. They die because they believe it’s real, and since their mind believes they’ve died, it stops functioning, and they really do die.”
We fall silent, and I can almost hear the breathing all around us getting louder in the stillness as Abby’s ominous revelation sinks in. As crazy as it sounds, the longer I think about it, the more I start to believe.
Finally, Rick sniffs and drops his arms to his sides. “We already knew the simulation could kill us. This is nothing new. We just know how it happens now. Now, if you could figure out a way to help these people, that would be useful.”
Leah looks smug, but before she can say anything, Rick frowns, glancing at the sleeping all around us.
“We’ve got to figure out how to get these people out of there. It’s too dangerous to keep them trapped in a wacked-out dream world that can kill them.”
Leah’s eyes widen in shock. “Get them out? You mean, wake them up?”
Rick nods.
My head spins with the idea. “But, how?”
“I’m sure the computer is what controls the simulation.” Rick sounds surprisingly confident. “There’s got to be a way to wake them up, to turn it off.”
Stewart fidgets nervously. “But . . . what about the Entities?”
I crouch down to his level and squeeze his shoulder. “This is the world now, buddy. We’ve got to have people to help us. Who knows—maybe we can even get rid of the Entities, make a new world. Don’t you want your family here with you?”
He nods, though he still looks worried. I wish there were something I could say to comfort him.
I straighten up and see Abby and Leah watching us with odd expressions and small smiles.
I don’t know what that’s about, but before I can try to figure it out, Rick grabs my arm.
“Come here.”
He pulls me along with him, and I assume we’re going to the computer room, but he guides me to one of the storage rooms instead.
He pulls the door open and tugs me inside. I’m surprised when he closes the door behind us.
A part of me is worried I’ve made him mad and he plans to throttle me, but his face isn’t angry—more a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”
I blink. “Uh . . .” I don’t know what he’s talking about (which is kind of ironic).
“They’ve been going at it for more than a week, and you still don’t have any clue.”
“What are you talking about?”
Rick suddenly laughs, a purer laugh than I’ve heard from him in a long time. He’s completely amused and entertained, and I wonder what I’m missing. Did someone cut off half my hair?
He speaks before I can check.
“You’ve got two girls fighting over you and you don’t even know it!” He falls against the door with a loud chuckle.
I feel like he’s pulled a rug out from under my feet and I’m not sure which is the ceiling and which is the floor.
“W . . . What?”
My voice is low and horrified—no, not horrified. Shocked, definitely. Mortified, maybe.
Rick just keeps laughing. Eventually, he manages to choke out, “Leah and Abby, of course.”
I glance at the door and am suddenly very glad it’s closed. Obviously Rick’s been alone with the computer too long—he’s starting to hallucinate.
I guess my disbelief shows pretty clearly on my face, because Rick fights down his laughter so he can speak. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the way they glare at each other, the way they don’t like to talk to each other if they can help it, and argue when they do.”
“Well, yeah. But they just don’t get along. They don’t like each other. There’s nothing too wrong with that. They have different personalities.”
Rick nods. “That may be true. But I think what really gets them mad is the thing they have in common.”
“What do you mean?” I have a feeling I don’t want him to elaborate, though.
He looks me in the eye and speaks clearly, so I won’t miss it. “They like you, Jonas. They’re both trying to get your attention, so they don’t like each other.”
I shake my head adamantly. “No way. You’re imagining things.”
Rick chuckles in amazement. “You know, if it was anyone else, I’d think you were being a jerk. I hadn’t realized you were just dense.”
I frown. “Thanks, Rick.”
“So, now that you know what’s going on and why they’re so moody, what are you going to do abo
ut it?”
“What do you mean?” I try to ignore the heat rising up my neck and face.
“You can’t just let this go on. They’ll both hate you eventually. You’ve got to choose who you like more, and then tell the other person it’s not gonna work out.”
I flush and sputter for a moment before I can get out an intelligent sound. “Choose? They’re my friends—both of them. I don’t have to choose which one can be my friend.”
Rick gives me an encouraging and sympathetic pat on the back. “Take it from a guy who’s been chewed out by his girlfriend many times: you don’t want to lead a girl on. Things can get ugly.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if you’re imagining it and I look like an idiot?”
He just grins. “I’m not wrong.” He pulls the door open, then turns back to smirk. “And you already look like an idiot.”
I stay in the storage room for a few minutes, trying to get my thoughts together and fight back my blush. I already feel like a fool—I don’t need Leah teasing me about a stupid blush.
As much as I want to brush off what Rick said, the more I think about it, the more I think he might be right after all. It would explain so many odd things both Leah and Abby have done lately.
Even so, I can’t help feeling it’s ridiculous and very scary.
You’ve got to choose . . .
Chapter 19
I thought about my predicament a lot over the next day. The last thing I wanted was to have an embarrassing heart-to-heart with both Leah and Abby, and I couldn’t help thinking Rick was imagining things.
One benefit of worrying over the girl problem, was I didn’t have a lot of time to stress about my poem. The last two weeks had vanished, and suddenly it was the day to give my poem in Artistic Literature. The terror didn’t really hit me until I was sitting in the shade with Leah and Ellie and I realized Artistic Literature was my next class.
I guess I was shaking pretty bad, because even Ellie noticed.
“Hey, Jonas. What’s the matter?” She dropped to her knees beside me. She and Leah had just finished a spontaneous game of tag, and she was breathing hard, but grinning.
I leaned my head against the tree behind me, trying to act casual. “I have to give a poem in class today.”
Ellie sat forward curiously. “What kind of poem?”
“A bad one.”
Leah shoved my shoulder playfully. “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad. But, I guess . . . I mean, you are a Conceptor . . .” She grimaced, but when I glared at her, she laughed. “Let me read it, and I’ll let you know if you should stop worrying or go jump in a lake.”
I shook my head. “No way. I just hope Instructor Lokina will go easy on me . . .”
Leah tossed Ellie a sly look and before I knew what was happening, Ellie had launched herself at me with a laugh, tackling me to the ground.
While Ellie had me pinned, Leah swiped my book bag and pulled out my poem.
I pushed Ellie off. “Leah!”
Leah just grinned and flourished the paper grandly.
“‘At night I have a dream
A dream as dark as night.
As night is often treacherous,
Treacherous my dream has been . . .”
Her voice softened as she continued to read, her smile dropping, and then fading.
“‘My dream is haunting,
Haunting and terrible.
Terrible that I can’t escape,
Can’t escape until morning.
Morning comes and brings more lies,
Lies believed by all.
All just sleep.
Sleep until the dream brings the end.”
By the time she read the last line, her voice had dropped to little more than a whisper.
She stared at the paper for several long seconds, eyes guarded, expression unreadable. At last she looked at me, equal parts impressed and sad. “This is good, Jonas.” She handed me the paper almost reverently.
I turned away from her honest eyes. “Sure.” I felt even worse now.
I’d tried to write something corny about flowers or birds—something Instructor Lokina would’ve applauded. But whenever I tried to write about a sparrow or daisy, nothing would come. After sitting beside a blank piece of paper for a couple hours, I’d finally just let my mind wander. It had turned to the Reality Dreams, which was not surprising. But then the words started to come.
But just because it was the only thing I could write about, didn’t mean I wanted people reading it. It was . . . personal.
Leah knelt next to me. “I’m serious, Jonas.” When I gave her a cautious look she smiled reassuringly and then teased, “After all, I am a bit of an artist. I think I should be able to recognize good art.”
“Is a poem art?” Ellie sounded skeptical.
Leah laughed and I cracked a smile. Leah leaned in toward Ellie and laid a hand beside her mouth to mock-whisper, “It’s art for special people.”
Ellie smirked knowingly.
I gave Leah’s shoulder a half-exasperated push. “Oh, get over yourself, Leah.”
She grinned but quickly sobered. “You’ll do fine.”
My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of reading that poem in front of a whole classroom of kids, but I forced myself to nod.
Her eyes took on a playful light. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Sure enough that I’ll even wait outside the door to Practical Literature until you come. I cannot, however, guarantee anything about the throngs screaming for your autograph . . .”
She grinned and I laughed.
When the chime sounded at the end of our lunch break, we walked back to the school. Leah and Ellie each wished me luck again before heading their separate ways.
Then I took a deep breath and walked into Artistic Literature.
To keep my mind off the reading, I thought about some of Leah’s comments and smiled. She might frustrate me to no end at times, but I was glad she was my friend.
* * *
When I reached Practical Literature at the end of the day, I was surprised to see Leah standing outside the door, her book bag slung over her shoulder. But then I remembered her promise to wait for me.
I was grinning when I reached her, and she grinned back before leading the way into the classroom.
“So, I guess you didn’t die.”
I smiled a little. “It really wasn’t so bad.”
“Told you.”
She took her seat and I sat next to her.
I shoved my bag under my chair. “I mean, the build-up was pretty bad. And getting up in front of the class was horrifying. But after I got going, I kind of forgot about everyone else.”
Leah nodded solemnly, though her eyes were full of laughter. “See, I’ve been telling people for years: just forget about everyone else, and life isn’t so bad.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
Leah pulled her tablet and book from her bag. “And the best part is now it’s behind you and you can look forward cheerfully to the next instance of public humiliation, provided by our generous education system.”
I grimaced as I thought about my upcoming presentation with Abby—we still hadn’t finished.
“Oh, you’ve already got one scheduled, then?” Leah sounded amused. “When’s the spectacle?”
“The second to last week of classes.” I snuck a peek at Abby’s empty chair. It seemed like forever since we’d been paired up and given the assignment.
Leah scoffed and waved a hand at the half-full room around us. “Oh, you mean the presentation in this class? Piece of cake.”
“Easy for you to say. Who’s your partner, anyway?”
She nodded toward the other end of the room. “Mr. Gregory Pinuk.”
“Are you serious?”
I didn’t know him well—in fact, I don’t think I’d ever talked to him—but he was known around school as a choice student, an instructors’ favorite. He had one of the highest standings in all the cl
asses, and he never got in trouble. In other words, he was pretty much my opposite lately.
I shook my head at the unfairness of it. “Do you even have to give a presentation for Greg to get the top score?”
Leah shrugged. “I dunno. But I’m not going to miss the chance to rub our victory in Grey’s face.”
I hissed at her to keep her voice down, but Instructor Grey hadn’t shown up yet.
She laughed at my reaction, and I relaxed enough to chuckle with her at the thought of shoving anything in Instructor Grey’s face.
“And your partner is . . . ?” She let the question trail off, but I knew she knew the answer.
I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, and I answered carefully. “Um, Abby.”
“That’s right.” Leah’s tone was off, but mostly I was surprised she wasn’t glaring at me or biting my head off. “How’s that going?”
“Um . . .” I hesitated and then proceeded cautiously. “We haven’t had much time to work on it, since she can’t make it to school, and my parents won’t let me go to the east side.”
“That’s too bad.” She almost sounded sincere.
I tossed her a look of confusion, but before I could ask why she was being so calm and reasonable, Instructor Grey stepped into the room and called for silence.
By the time class was over, I’d forgotten Leah’s strange reaction to our conversation, and when we met Mom at the door and she asked how the poetry reading had gone, my mind was solely occupied with telling her the story.
Leah and Ellie chimed in and told how they’d stolen the poem from me. Leah had a talent for storytelling, and we even got Mom laughing. It had been a long time since I’d heard her laugh—not since the fire—and it was nice to hear.
When we dropped Leah off at her house, she waved to us. “See you later.” She tossed me a knowing grin.
I glanced at my mom, but she didn’t seem to suspect anything. I was excited to see Leah tonight in the Reality Dreams, but I was sure I didn’t want my mom knowing we saw each other every night. That would bring up all kinds of questions I would have a hard time answering