by Wendy Devore
Michelle set her mug on the table and grew serious. “You don’t have to take the internship, you know. You haven’t signed anything yet.”
I straightened my shoulders and tossed my head, preemptively psyching myself up for battle. “I gave them a verbal agreement, and if I give up on this gig, there’s no way they’ll keep me in the running for the fellowship. I need to figure out what’s causing these night terrors so I can stop them. And the money’s crazy-good. So good that it’ll more than cover rent and leave extra to send to Mom and Dad.”
The doorbell buzzed, and Michelle rose to answer it. “Speak of the devil…”
She returned with a two-inch-thick FedEx overnight envelope with my name on it.
The package bore two copies of a sixty-page nondisclosure agreement—one with my name and one with hers. Michelle flipped through the pages and grimaced. “Okay, I get why you get the third degree, but why do I have to sign this?”
I scanned the legalese, trying to discern what I was actually agreeing to, but my eyes quickly glazed over. I frowned, flipping to the signature page. “This does all seem over the top for an internship, doesn’t it?”
Michelle shrugged, turned to her signature page, and picked up a pen. “I’m not crazy about this plan. It’s weird to ask you to stay shut up in their facility for months. It’s like you’re joining some sort of techno-geek monastery—or some weird science cult. Not to mention that it’s going to be totally lonely here without you around. But you know I’ll always be your biggest cheerleader.” She signed and dated the page, then handed me the pen. “Go. Impress the hell out of those guys.”
I took a deep breath and signed the document.
Amir arrived to drive me to Albaion clad in leather flip-flops and driving a dusty, unmarked white pickup. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday, and his black T-shirt read “404 Error: Beer Not Found.”
“Hey, Kate. You’ve signed your NDAs, right?” he asked.
I handed him the FedEx envelope. He tucked it under his arm and hoisted up my meager duffel bag and rolled-up meditation mat.
“Perfect-o. Hey, M-shell!” he called over my shoulder to my sister. “We need a rematch. You gotta give me a chance to win back my beer money.” He grinned.
“You know where to find me,” Michelle retorted with a coy smile.
I cast a curious sidelong glance at Amir before I turned to give her a tight hug.
“Text me or call me,” she said. “At least every couple of days, okay? I want to be sure you’re all right.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s an internship; it’s not like I’m moving to Tibet.”
“Be good, then.” She returned the squeeze, using the phrase our father always spoke in farewell.
“I will.”
It was still early enough in the morning that rush hour traffic was not yet in full swing. I shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat as Amir barreled down Highway 280 away from town and toward the rolling grassland hills, veering and swerving from one lane to another to pass slower moving motorists.
I grabbed the door handle in a death grip as he swerved and narrowly avoided hitting a white minivan that had slammed on its brakes.
“My other ride is a Tesla roadster—with racing stripes,” he said, chuckling. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “We’ll be back at the mother ship in no time!”
“That explains your need for speed,” I mumbled. I screwed my eyes shut but that just made his driving even more terrifying.
“Where is the office exactly?” I asked through clenched teeth. My foot slammed on an invisible brake as Amir took a curve at a questionably high speed.
“It’s hella off the grid. This setup puts the ‘black’ in ultra-black.”
“But Janine said it’s just outside of town,” I protested.
“Oh, it is,” Amir assured me, slamming on the brakes, then gunning the gas. “But let’s just say that no one ever accidentally pulls into our parking lot.”
When he took a hard right onto a dirt road, the rear tires spun out and I was sure we were both about to die.
“What the hell, Amir!” I protested as my seat belt locked up hard against my collarbone and I struggled to remain upright. “You’re not even on a road!”
His eyes twinkled above his mischievous grin. “Roads?” he quipped. “Where we’re going we don’t need roads…”
Amir was forced to lower his speed as we bumped along a rural gravel path surrounded by tall, golden grass, gnarled oak trees, and shrubby Pacific madrones. At a fork, we veered left and followed progressively smaller dirt tracks; it was difficult to discern if any of them had been recently traveled by a vehicle.
Below us, almost obscured by a stand of trees, sat a compact white building. There were no signs of life, no parking lot, and no identifying features. The walls were blank slabs of concrete, except for a row of narrow windows that ran along the eave of the roof.
As we swung along the side of the structure, Amir triggered a set of huge roll-up garage doors. I glanced around nervously as he deftly wedged the pickup between six other identical vehicles in the building’s industrial garage. Amir used his badge to open a cabinet near the door and hung the truck’s key on a hook inside. He badged us into the hallway. Our footsteps echoed off the polished concrete floor, and the plain white walls were an ominous indication of what lay ahead. This was not the “welcome the intern” greeting I was expecting.
Janine met us in the hall. She flashed a reassuring smile. “Thanks, Amir—I’ll take her from here. Breakfast?”
My stomach growled audibly.
Amir chuckled. “I’ll make sure your things end up in your room. Later, Kate.”
Janine’s warm welcome was a balm in an otherwise overwhelming morning. In her familiar presence, I noticed a minute release of tension in my neck and shoulders.
“I’m so pleased to see you,” she said, gesturing down the long, spartan hallway. I walked beside her, the deafening echo of her footsteps against the polished concrete interspersed with the squeaks from my Converse. We stopped before a looming unmarked door. She handed me a badge bearing my name and photo. I examined the badge critically, surprised to see the photo from my student ID staring back at me. How had they managed to get campus Card Services to release such sensitive information? Though I guess by now I shouldn’t be surprised. This company seemed to value its deep secrets, but apparently everyone else’s personal data was fair game.
Janine gestured toward the small raised box mounted on the doorjamb. “I know this is all very disconcerting, but don’t worry; I know you’ll catch on quickly.”
I held my ID to the trim black card reader, and the door clicked open to reveal an institutional break room on steroids. The bland white space was vast, scattered with plain tables and modern-looking chairs that didn’t look at all comfortable. A high-end stainless refrigerator and microwave on a long counter lined one long wall. Next to the sink sat a complicated-looking Italian espresso machine. Janine opened an enormous industrial freezer to reveal a wall of tightly packed, white wax-coated boxes on the shelf.
“How about some breakfast? Sorry it’s not fresh,” she said, looking genuinely sheepish. “But the prepackaged meals are gourmet, and I guarantee that it’ll heat up well. What’s your pleasure?”
My jangling nerves meant I wasn’t the least bit hungry, but I was running on nothing but coffee. I shrugged. “Anything is fine.”
She selected a carton and slipped a white cardboard tray from the box, placed it in the microwave, and punched the reheat button.
I slid my phone from my pocket to check the time.
“I should mention—there’s no mobile signal in here,” Janine warned. “You’ll need to connect to the corporate network. And even then, you’ll want to be careful about your communications. Big Brother will be watching.”
I eyed her curiously. Why would any corporation need to eavesdrop on a lowly intern?
The microwave chimed, and Janine placed a steaming plate of
French toast artfully draped with blueberry compote before me.
I could feel her observing me carefully as I nudged the admittedly beautiful meal with the edge of a fork. “Please, enjoy,” she urged. “It’s our best breakfast selection, by far.”
Janine nodded toward a gleaming industrial espresso machine. “I’d make you coffee, but Amir is our ace barista. Last time I attempted it, I backed milk up the steamer, and they haven’t let me touch that monstrosity since.”
I chuckled despite the butterflies dive-bombing my stomach. If we had a fancy espresso machine at home, I’d be equally likely to be banned from using it. “It’s okay.” I smiled. “I’ve already had two cups today.”
Janine tapped her watch and frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, but the cavalry will arrive soon. Enjoy your breakfast. And good luck.”
Her warmth was palpable and infectious and had apparently generated a force-field bubble of calm, because as soon as she departed, my first-day panic returned. I took a few bites of decadent brioche toast and closed my eyes in a moment of bliss as the blueberries melted on my tongue, but the events of the last twenty-four hours kept churning through my memory. My shoulders immediately tensed; breakfast no longer seemed so appetizing.
The mechanical sound of the door release startled me. Andrew burst into the kitchen, with a purposeful stride and an intense set to his jaw.
“Good morning, Kathryn. It’s time to get started.”
I dumped the rest of my uneaten breakfast into the trash. “Please call me Kate,” I suggested with a hopeful smile.
Andrew’s piercing gaze settled on me, and I tried hard not to squirm. “I prefer you as Kathryn.”
I trailed behind Andrew into a cavernous white room, easily as large as a standard lecture hall. Industrial LED fixtures hanging from the exposed metal beams lining the ceiling emitted a subtle electronic hum that only served to set me further on edge. Despite the vast square footage of the space, it was almost unoccupied. A modest conference table sat to one side of the room, flanked by just two very cushy-looking black leather office chairs. Several black server racks packed with what looked like medical sensors towered over the table. Next to them sat a full height filing cabinet, drawers secured by electronic keypad locks. Desk-height counters lined the perimeter, supporting the occasional spectrometer or tabletop centrifuge. Another wall held a number of unfamiliar machines, though one of them resembled a much more high-tech version of my dad’s old wood lathe. The final wall’s desk space was equipped with multiple top-of-the-line computers.
Amir was already hard at work, installed before one of the workstations. He looked up from his computer, lowered his headphones, and spun his chair around to give me a welcoming wave. Under those bushy black eyebrows, his brown eyes projected a look of anticipation.
“Hey, Kate.”
Andrew arched an eyebrow. Amir grinned and turned back to his keyboard. Andrew shifted his attention to me; his focus was so intense that I fought to avoid squirming. “About your assignment here. The man who runs our facility has a certain…vision. This facility is pursuing some truly groundbreaking projects. Game-changing work.” He stared earnestly into my eyes, without wavering. “Modified-REM dimensional shift.”
I blinked hard. “What?”
“Shifting dimensions—that’s what we do here. We’re going to knock you out of your own plane of existence. You are about to experience an alternate reality.”
A nervous laugh escaped me; was this some prank they played on all the interns? But Andrew showed no sign that he was joking. I looked from Andrew to Amir. He wasn’t laughing, either.
“Bullshit!” It was out before I could help it. “I don’t believe you. I know I’m new, but you can’t spout this kind of sci-fi nonsense and expect me to believe you.”
“Then let me show you.”
I followed apprehensively as Andrew approached the heavy-duty gray file cabinet and entered a long code into the keypad. Then he slid out a heavy drawer, reached inside, and pulled out a small device.
The little gadget was composed of a silver-colored substance, about three inches high. Its hexagonal pyramid-topped bulb sat atop a long stem supported by six jointed, spindly, insectlike legs. He held it carefully in the palm of his hand, as if it were a cherished pet. It reminded me of a model I’d seen before—the T4 bacteriophage, the classic virus included in every first-year biology textbook.
“Sit,” he instructed, pointing toward the closest leather chair at the small conference table. Display screens glowed on medical monitors behind me.
I shrugged and sat down.
“Take out your ponytail.”
I gave him a curious look, but he didn’t elaborate.
He carefully placed the spindly legged device on the table. With practiced movements, he pulled an umbilicus of wires ending in a twenty-four-sensor EEG cap from a small white bucket filled with saline solution and stretched it over my head, tightening the rig’s chin strap under my neck. He glanced at a screen on the rack as he began wiggling sensors so that they snuggled closer to my scalp and the dots on the schematic turned from red to green. Small rivulets of saline solution ran down my neck.
“Give me your hand,” Andrew demanded, looming over me.
“What?” I countered, confused about how his erector-set insect-virus model was going to clear up any of my questions.
“Your hand,” he insisted.
I stuck out my right hand, palm side up. He grasped it impatiently, turning it over. He snatched the device from the table and balanced it on the center of the back of my hand. Though it appeared to be metal, it was feather-light; I guessed that it was constructed of some kind of polymer compound or composite material. The points of its spindly legs were sharp and put uncomfortable pressure on my skin. The device began to hum and vibrate.
My stomach lurched. “What is this thing? I didn’t sign up to test prototype medical devices.”
Andrew’s gaze was cool. “Actually, you did. It’s all in the NDA.”
“Is it going to hurt?” I gulped, unable to suppress the tremor in my voice. My stomach dropped, and I was suddenly very sorry I had decided to take this internship.
A slender metal probe emerged from the body of the device and moved menacingly toward my skin, glinting in the clinical light. Andrew’s bright, preternaturally blue eyes locked onto mine, but his expression was completely inscrutable.
“This might be uncomfortable,” Andrew cautioned.
Without warning, the probe shot down from the underside of the device and pierced my skin, reaching deep into flesh and tendons. Undulating waves of pain raced up my arm as the device’s radial extensions burrowed under and attached to my median and ulnar nerves. My free hand involuntarily clutched Andrew’s as my vision began to swim.
The last thing I heard before the room dissolved into blackness was the banshee cry of my own piercing scream.
When I opened my eyes, I was sprawled clumsily on the cold, hard concrete floor of the lab. The back of my right hand bore an angry red welt, but the vile little silver device was gone. The only light illuminating the room was the dim glow from the screens attached to the medical monitors. The atmosphere was decidedly mad-scientist, and my pulse kicked into overdrive.
I massaged my temples in an attempt to dissipate the tension headache beating in my skull and realized my EEG cap had mysteriously vanished. I felt tremendously queasy, like I’d been riding backward along winding roads for hours. I took a few deep breaths to soothe my jangling nerves and steady my nausea. The lab was silent; Andrew and Amir had disappeared from the room. When minutes passed and still no one arrived, I pulled myself up and took an unsteady step toward the wall, searching for light switches. When I finally found them, I switched on the whole bank.
The newly illuminated room was much less sinister.
The pulsing in my brain had faded, but reason had completely failed me. I couldn’t process the situation at all. Just how long had I been unconscious? And why had
Andrew and Amir simply left me alone, in the dark?
I wandered around the lab and noticed small differences there as well. The conference table was in a different location. Workstations around the perimeter had been moved to a different counter and were powered down. My uneasy feeling intensified. Hadn’t the two men been working here just minutes ago?
The inexplicable need to escape intensified; everything about this place felt wrong. Just as desperation began to set in, I heard a beep and a click, and the door to the lab swung open. Andrew strode in and flashed a satisfied smile.
“Ah, excellent. You’re awake. And with no ill effects.”
“What are you talking about? Where have you been?”
“Waiting for you to wake up.”
“What the hell?” I demanded. “What did you inject me with? I want an explanation, and I want it now!”
“That went surprisingly well,” he observed wryly. “It worked great for you. Most people can’t manage it. The few of us who can don’t wake up so quickly, at least not the first time. And most are a bit more unsteady on their feet.”
“Answer my questions. Where’s Amir? Where did that evil little device go? Where are my electrodes? Why did you move the computers around?”
“I didn’t move anything. In this slice, that’s where the machines have always been.”
“In this slice?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say? Really, Kathryn, I expected more from you.”
“It’s Kate. And would you please lay off all the cloak-and-dagger and please just explain what is going on here?”
“I’ll try to use small words.” His smug expression made me want to punch him.
Instead I winced and squeezed my eyes shut as a new throbbing began, this time near the base of my skull. The intensity of the burgeoning headache rapidly increased.
Andrew grasped my arm. “Kathryn, you’re turning a little green. How are you feeling? Not everyone responds well to this sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?” I mumbled, suddenly light-headed. The throbbing was getting worse and spreading up the sides of my skull like a series of ice picks plunged into my brain. I’d suffered a lot of migraines, but I’d never experienced one like this. My stomach whined and gurgled, and I pressed my fingertips hard against my temples. Intense glowing auras exploded before my eyes and blurred my vision. I blinked hard and took rapidly quickening breaths.