by Jim Kroepfl
I return to bed, but each time I close my eyes, I picture Orfyn kissing me. Why was I dreaming about him? It should’ve been Stryker on that train. He’s the more logical choice. Except, I shouldn’t be dreaming about either one of them. My purpose is to work with Sophie, not play hooky in New York City with a boy.
After reciting the elements of the Periodic Table too many times to count, I finally drift off to sleep. I wake after seven hours. Normally, I’d be thrilled, but I’m not. I’m terrified.
Lake
I need Stryker’s advice.
I knock. Unlike everyone else’s door, his is still white. Was it Orfyn or Stryker who chose not to embellish it with Stryker’s hometown? Now that I think about it, Stryker has never mentioned where he’s from, or anything else about his life. I make a mental note to have that conversation.
Just when I’m about to leave, Stryker opens his door. His damp curls glisten, and a towel is wrapped around his toned waist. It takes longer than it should to drag my eyes back up to his face.
“Are you up for a walk?” I flick my eyes upward.
“It’s not a good time.”
“This is important.”
He hesitates and finally answers, “Give me a minute to get dressed.”
He shuts the door, allowing my blood pressure to return to normal. I mentally recite the Arrhenius equation to regain my composure. Losing control of my emotions is most likely what caused this issue.
Once we’re outside, Stryker veers left. “Let’s go to the creek.”
“What creek?”
“It’s past those trees.” He points to the rise beyond the weedy meadow that was once the athletic field. The two rusty goal posts resemble long-forgotten sentries.
“We were instructed not to leave campus.” I know I sound straight-laced, but I don’t need to compound my problems.
“This place is bigger than you realize. And stop looking like you’re about to divulge the date the earth will be destroyed. They’re probably watching us.”
I re-adjust my face, despite the fact Sophie’s world may have already ended. Wasn’t I going to ask him about something? It had to do with … It must not have been important.
“I know you instructed me not to trust anyone—including you—but I have a situation,” I say.
He stops and turns to me. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was only trying to get my point across. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I’m the one person you can trust.”
I choose not to believe that. I trust Deborah. And even though I don’t know him well, I consider Orfyn trustworthy. Same with Marty, Alex, and Jules. The only person I don’t entirely trust is Anna, but only because she’s never allowed me to get to know her. I don’t express my thoughts, though. Stryker’s ability to trust others isn’t going to be altered through a debate.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“It started two nights ago,” I say with a shaky voice.
His eyebrows furrow. “Why don’t you hold off until we get there?”
We walk in silence while I press my lips tight, containing the news that makes me quake. I run my index finger against the scar on my thumb, but its usual soothing comfort fails me.
We reach a strand of weeping willows lining a creek bank. Their branches touch, forming a sun-dappled canopy, and I easily spot a crayfish darting beneath a rock in the clear water. It’s the ideal place for a picnic. Nix that. Contemplating a picnic is most likely what created my dilemma.
Stryker lowers himself to the ground, and I join him. Sweet-smelling oxygen rushes in, replacing The Flem’s stale, recirculated air in my lungs.
“I almost forgot what it feels like to have some privacy,” I say.
“That’s why I like coming here.” He pulls off his shoes, rolls up his pants legs, and dangles his canoe-sized feet in the water.
I kick off my flip-flops, wiggle my purple-polished toes in the cool water, and relish in the current tickling my ankles. This would be the perfect place to meditate—if I could forget about my last two dream sessions.
“Tell me what’s going on, Lake.”
I watch a robin gobble up bright red berries from a flourishing bush, and hold my gaze on the peaceful scene as I ask, “Have you ever had a dream session that Bjorn wasn’t in?” I dare a glance at his face.
His surprised expression provides me with the answer. “I take it this isn’t a hypothetical question.”
“I wish. Two nights ago, when I appeared in Sophie’s lab, I assumed she finally acknowledged my hints and was outside taking a smoking break. I began working, expecting her any minute. But after she didn’t appear, I went to look for her.”
By now, my heart feels like I’m running a six-minute mile.
“I opened the door, and there was nothing on the other side,” I explain. “Literally nothing. Absolute blackness. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took refuge in our lab until I woke up. The same thing occurred last night.”
He looks at me in disbelief.
I take a deep breath. And then another.
“Do they know?” he asks.
“No. I reported to Deborah that we’ve been repeating tests to validate our results.” It wasn’t an outright lie. It’s what Sophie and I had planned to work on, except with her there.
“Good thinking. You don’t know what they’ll do to you if they think she’s not coming back.”
I hate when he says things like that.
“Any idea what caused it?” he asks.
I nod, then sketchily describe the subway scene, glossing over the kiss. And failing to mention whom I’d been kissing.
“I think you’re right,” Stryker says. “The timing was too close.”
I didn’t intend to dream about Orfyn. And because of it, I’ve somehow broken my link with my Mentor. This is another example of why I need to avoid Orfyn’s company.
“There’s the possibility Sophie went on vacation and forgot to tell me.” I force on a wobbly smile.
“Did she tell you she planned to go somewhere?”
In addition to losing Sophie, it seems that I’ve lost my ability to be funny, too. “I’m joking, Stryker.”
“I am astute enough to realize that, but it would be a game changer if you weren’t.”
“What are you implying?”
“Bjorn and I have been testing our limits, and we’ve confirmed he can’t put us into a location he’s never been. He also can’t create a dreamspace he’s not in. He’s tried to place me in various locations alone, but he always ends up there with me.”
“Sophie and I’ve never explored how our dreamspace works, since she’d first have to realize she only lives in my brain.” I pluck a piece of quartz from the water and examine it. I’ve been telling myself it doesn’t matter if she’s confused about our roles, but I didn’t consider how much of the experience I’ve been missing.
“Lake, you’re not getting it. You’re able to do something that I haven’t been able to achieve. At least, not yet.”
I snort, which is so attractive. “It’s not an achievement, believe me.”
And why is he making it seem like a contest? We’re all trying to accomplish different things. But I suppose one of us will be heralded as the first to help our Mentor achieve their life’s purpose. I’ll be terminated if I can’t find Sophie. A prick of unease pierces me. They would let me go home, even after all this time.
Wouldn’t they?
Stryker cuts through my thoughts. “Bjorn and I realized that since our Mentors create our dreamspaces, they’ll never get to experience anything new. For example, they can’t go to Paris if they’ve never been, even if we go there in the future. And they’ll never be able to meet anyone new. We’ve been concerned that this lack of stimulation could impact their mental health. But if Sophie is having her own experiences … What you’re doing is amazing.” He’s staring into my eyes with an intensity that catches me by surprise. �
��You’re amazing.”
My cheeks flush while my mind scrambles to catch up. He’s acting as if he likes me. Or am I assessing the situation completely wrong? He’s never treated me as more than a friend. After these last two horrible nights, I don’t dare trust my instincts. I settle on the premise that he was only being encouraging.
“I appreciate that,” I say. “But at this moment I don’t feel amazing. I have no purpose for being here if Sophie doesn’t reappear.”
He moves closer, then ever so gently pulls me into his arms, as if I’m a fragile piece of glass. “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this,” he says into my hair.
Once I get over the shock, I tentatively lean into his chest. He holds me tighter, and I breathe in his clean soap scent. When I wrap my arms around his neck, he pulls back his head so we’re cheek-to-cheek. A random thought occurs: the kisspeptin hormone isn’t elevating my heartbeat as it should. Then Stryker leans back and looks at me in that way where I know I’m about to be kissed. I want him to. I think.
He suddenly releases me. “We should go.” He rolls down his pants legs and rises to his feet.
“Is something wrong?” He may have noticed my limiting reagent.
“No.” His sharp tone says otherwise.
He’s regretting what almost happened, but he was the one who initiated it. I stand and step into my flip-flops, trying to act as if nothing about his behavior is odd, hoping we haven’t destroyed our friendship.
We head back to The Flem, and after not speaking for an awkwardly long time, Stryker grabs my hand and gives it a quick squeeze.
“Sorry about that back there,” he says. “I still have some things to deal with.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Is it okay if we don’t?”
I hope one day he trusts me enough to share whatever happened to him. I study Stryker out of the corner of my eye. He’s the type of guy girls dream of. Brilliant. Practical. Dependable. Not to mention gorgeous. I could like him, perhaps even love him one day. But the lack of adrenaline and cortisol in my blood stream while we hugged is something I need to consider.
Maybe Stryker isn’t the only one who has issues.
“I’ve been wondering if that dream hurt Sophie’s feelings,” Stryker says, not-so-subtly changing the subject.
Finding Sophie is the reason I sought him out in the first place. And if I can determine how to get her back, Stryker and I’ll have the plenty of time to figure out our relationship. I return my attention to what’s most important right now.
“Sophie wasn’t on the subway,” I say. “She shouldn’t have been aware I was with … someone else.” I need to obliterate that kiss from my thoughts.
“She could have some level of awareness beyond your dreamspace.”
Unease ripples through me. “Are you suggesting Sophie is aware of what I’m thinking?”
“It’s one theory. Have you ever attempted to communicate with her while you’re awake?” Stryker asks, adding to my discomfort.
“Our Mentors are not supposed to be conscious when we’re awake.”
“The Darwinians may have underestimated the impact of combining two minds.”
Lake
If Stryker’s hypothesis is correct, Sophie’s feelings were hurt when I had a dream without her. I feel terrible if I caused her to believe I don’t enjoy working with her, because I do. Almost always. Though I do get uneasy when considering she may be aware of my every thought.
But that concern is moot if we never re-merge. Even though it’s early, I change into my PJs and crawl into bed. I force myself to focus on the positive. Sophie has already taught me so many invaluable skills. I love the work we’re doing, and she obviously loves it, too, or she wouldn’t have wanted to extend her life by merging with me. I can understand why she sometimes gets impatient, but my competence has been improving. We’re going to be an outstanding team in a year or two. I couldn’t have asked for a better Mentor. And, I’m certain, together, we’ll find the cure for Alzheimer’s.
I close my eyes and begin talking to her in my mind. “Sophie, I’m sorry if I made you believe I’d rather dream my own dreams than be with you. I didn’t invite Orfyn into our dreamspace, and he shouldn’t have been there. I want to continue our work. Together. Please come back to me.”
I drift off to sleep and find myself in a noisy cafeteria filled with people in white lab coats.
Sophie sits across from me, angrily spearing a cucumber with her fork. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”
Is it a coincidence she returned after I just apologized?
She sighs dramatically. “Because of your stunt with that boy, we’re now weeks behind schedule.”
Boy? As in Orfyn? But my dream—that was wrong on so many levels—only occurred two nights ago. “How long have I been gone?”
“Twelve days, not that I’m counting.”
Until now, Sophie and I have always picked up from where we left off the previous night. Somehow, Sophie’s concept of time has become nonlinear.
“What’s done is done.” Sophie’s tone conveys that she’s not yet forgiven me. “I can only hope you didn’t neglect your other obligations. I’d hate to see you receiving a semester of Incompletes.” She lights a cigarette—in the cafeteria where everyone is eating—and takes a long drag.
“I’ll work hard to catch up,” I answer, because what else can I say?
I need to tell Stryker so he can get Bjorn’s input. A part of me wishes I can admit to Deborah about how Stryker’s Mentor will be helping mine adjust to her new life. It is significant. But I’m not ready to admit things aren’t going as well as I’ve led her to believe.
“I’m going to need longer hours from you to make up for the lost time,” Sophie says.
I stare blindly into my chicken noodle soup that wasn’t there seconds before, trying to fight off my panic. I want a life, too. One that she’s not constantly in. I recall what Stryker said about how the Mentors won’t be stimulated because of their lack of new experiences. “Did you go anywhere while I was gone?”
“How could I? Someone had to feed the octopuses.” Her bright red lips mash together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me lately.”
“Neither of us have been ourselves.” It would be funny, if it wasn’t. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“That depends on what it is.”
“Are you happy?”
She blows smoke out through her nostrils. “Happiness is a state of mind.”
Exactly. But she no longer has a brain. “What did … what do you like to do for fun?”
She looks at me oddly.
“If we’re going to spend even more time together, it would be nice to know each other better.”
She takes a few puffs, then finally nods. “I love to travel to new cities and explore their art museums.” Her face softens, and her eyes take on a wistful look.
My heart breaks for her. According to Bjorn and Stryker, she’ll never be able to experience that again. Did she truly comprehend what she’d have to give up to live this way?
I take a moment to mentally navigate this landmine of a conversation by stirring my steaming soup. If Orfyn appeared in my dream, then Sophie may have conjured someone else in our dreamspace. “Did you spend time with anyone while I was gone?”
“Just me, all by myself for weeks. Everyone must have decided to take a vacation at the same time.”
If she experienced time as she remembers, she had to have been confused when everyone she knows wasn’t around. And lonely. “I’m truly sorry I was gone for so long, Sophie. I won’t let it happen again.”
“I may have been pushing you too hard,” she says. “We need to get back to work, but how about we take it easy today?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
We smile at each other, and it feels like we’ve made a leap in our
relationship. She doesn’t realize she’s intruding on my life, and once she understands I’m her Nobel, I’m sure she’ll respect my privacy.
True to Sophie’s word, I wake a mere seven hours later, feeling refreshed. I stretch, and my thoughts for some reason drift to Stryker. When considering all the factors, we would make the ideal couple. We really need to spend more time together and get to know each other better. I don’t even know where he’s from. There’s a tickling sensation at the edge of my mind. Lately, it hasn’t been as sharp as usual. It’s even been getting difficult to recall what Sophie and I worked on. I don’t think Deborah has picked up on it, but I have to concentrate to remember the particulars so I can give her a detailed debrief.
The long hours in our dream sessions must be wearing me out. I wish I could tell Sophie I’ll be more productive if we cut back on our work schedule, but for now that’s still impossible. Until then, I need some way to capture my thoughts.
I rummage through my desk and grab the journal I brought from home. I’d thought it would be interesting to document my time here, but I’d forgotten about it until now. Given all that occurs while I’m at work, it would be prudent to start writing down the important things as soon as I wake. I turn to the first page and shut my eyes, trying to piece together my dream.
We started off in a cafeteria. Sophie was angry at me for being with Orfyn. There was something about an art museum. I remember feeling good at the end because we’d crossed a hurdle. And then we went to the lab. What were we working on? I wince. I had to kill and dissect Ramona, the sweetest of all the octopuses, which helps explain why I’m having problems remembering my dreams. We’ve gone through octopus after octopus, trying to understand their nervous system, of which only a part is localized in their brain. Their arms contain most of their neurons, which gives them exquisite sensitivity. Their severed limbs show a variety of complex reflex actions with no input from their brains. And, octopuses can grow back lost arms, which could help us determine how to regenerate nerves or organ segments.