Wired

by Caytlyn Brooke

  For a second I pause, the copper device sitting in my hand. Do I really need to shower? I just had one yesterday morning, I should be fine.

  I face the mirror and wipe some of the condensation off. My dark violet eyes appear distorted, and my face looks desperate. Stop it, I scold myself. It’s only for a few minutes, I’ll be fine. But I should skip washing my hair, because I probably do that too much. I turn my face, studying the roots of my thick hair.

  “This is stupid. Just get in the dumb shower,” I say aloud, as if actually hearing the words will help my resolve. I place the Vertix on the counter, forcing myself to let go, and duck back under the water.

  It’s scalding. I adjust the temperature and rest my head against the white wall. For a few moments the silence is nice, but after several minutes my mind begins to wander, searching in vain for the happy music and colorful images that moments ago danced across my vision.

  In an attempt to distract myself, I grab my purple loofah and squirt a generous amount of my favorite Plumeria-scented soap. I think it was trendy when my mom was in college, but it smells amazing. I rub the loofah against my skin, spreading white frothing bubbles all over. The soft netting feels good against my body as the slight friction cleans away patches of dead skin. The constant pounding of water along my scalp feels great, lulling me into a drowsy state as it washes all the soap away. I can stay here forever.

  My stomach gives a sudden lurch and before I can stop it, pale yellow bile climbs up my throat and spills out between my teeth. My body shudders as another wave of nausea attacks, causing my body to crumple to the slick tub floor. More foul liquid spurts from my lips as my empty stomach heaves the last remaining contents onto the porcelain surface.

  I watch my disgusting saliva slide down the drain, my throat burning and raw. Catching a break, I lean my head against the shower wall, the water splashing my closed eyelids. “What is happening to me?” I groan, clutching my rumbling stomach. “Stop, please stop,” I whisper. “There’s nothing left.” I think back to last night. When I connected, the nausea went away. Maybe it’ll work this time too.

  I swipe the back of my hand across my lips and reach up to shut off the waterfall above me, but my hand slips off the handle. I rip the shower curtain out of the way and leap out, tangling myself in the curtain and tearing it from the plastic rings in the process.

  “Shit,” I mutter, staggering to my knees. Hopefully Sarah won’t notice.

  My eyes roll in their sockets as the room sways, a bout of dizziness hitting me out of nowhere. Before I fall again, I manage to grasp the edge of the counter, holding myself upright until the walls slow and come back into focus.

  Again, I stare into the mirror, my violet eyes barely visible through the collecting steam. My blurry reflection stares back at me, distorting my features so my skin looks like it’s melting off my scalp, exposing pale white bone beneath. I take a step forward, pressing my fingertips to my warm cheek to make sure the flesh is still in place.

  I can’t feel the smooth bone that’s staring back at me, but my flesh continues to fall away nonetheless. I shake my head to try and dislodge the vision but the hallucination continues. The warm steam warps and begins to swirl, transforming into small yellow butterflies.

  I gape at their tiny wings carrying them through the air, spreading a warm glow like tangible sunshine. My fear of melting flesh is replaced by wonder; I feel like a child again, overcome with the urge to touch their powdery wings.

  A soft kiss brushes across the back of my other hand and I glance down. Standing there is one of the cheerful creatures, its thin legs seeming to dance among the tiny blonde hairs on my skin. I bring my arm closer to my eyes, studying the intricate white and purple designs decorating its wings.

  My eyes widen as the butterfly’s long curling tongue slips out, tasting the flavor of my skin as if I were a delicious flower. A small giggle escapes my lips as the tongue searches for the missing nectar and the strangest sensation occurs. With every gentle touch, a bright spot of lemon bursts on my tongue. I try to concentrate, unsure if the two are connected.

  The butterfly walks forward, hardly a tickle on my skin, but explosions of lemon fill my mouth and my head swims with the intoxicating flavor. Several more butterflies land on my bare skin, igniting a brand-new wave of flavors. Raspberry, tangerine, and cherry wrap me in a sweet cocoon and all I want to do is dance with the tiny creatures. Gone is the nausea, gone are the scary images. This can’t be real, it’s nothing but a wonderful illusion, but isn’t that what the Vertix does anyway? I twirl in a slow circle, the butterflies now covering me from head to toe.

  My empty stomach growls as the tempting flavors tease me, confusing my body because there’s nothing to swallow, nothing to dull the ache. I begin to dance, moving my arms as if I’m sliding them through water. I feel detached, content. I can stay here forever.

  I lift my arms high overhead and close my eyes, smiling as the papery wings brush the last few patches of bare skin still available. With my careful movements, several of the butterflies alight, circling high above me. Their yellow painted wings fly faster, resembling bright streaks as even more butterflies join to follow. My eyelids flutter open, alerted to the change as the air is displaced by their frantic wings.

  I look around in confusion. All of the butterflies have fled, leaving me naked once more. I shiver, missing the pretty creatures and their warmth. “Come back,” I whisper as a gnawing sensation begins to build in my chest.

  Without warning the rapid fluttering turns, now aggressive, violent, and I transform from goddess to target. It’s as if a switch has flipped and the butterflies swarm, pelting and hurling their soft bodies at me with surprising force. I drop my arms and use them to try and shield my vulnerable body, tucking my chin and hunching my shoulders. I squeeze my eyelids shut against the brutal attack and feel a strange pressure grasp the edge of my jaw. I have no choice but to give in and raise my chin upward, letting the invisible hands guide me.

  My head tilts up until I am staring at the small light above. Velvet fingers slide along my skin, prying open my lips with a vice-like grip. The butterflies are a torrent of motion around me. I rear my head back, trying to escape the invisible grip. I’m stuck fast.

  My heart rate increases, pounding against my chest. The velvet hands spread my lips wide and hold them open, stifling the building scream wrenching from my throat at the same time. My hands claw uselessly at my invisible attacker, unable to find a solid hold. Above me, the butterflies gather, coalescing in a giant horde. I watch in horror as the large mass stops their mad fluttering and look toward my open and waiting throat.

  The butterflies are gathered so thickly that I cannot tell where one set of wings begins and another ends. The creatures increase their velocity as they aim for my lips and no matter how hard I try to shut my mouth or turn away, the steel hands manage to hold me still. I brace myself for the attack of the silent horde.

  Tears spring in the corner of my eyes as the relentless pressure intensifies. The front of the mass is inches away, the wind of the wings touching my face, and then without delay, they are entering my throat. I am choking on furry bodies, the sweet flavors that had delighted me gone.

  On and on the insects fly, burrowing inside my mouth, squishing together inside my dry cheeks, climbing down my throat until they are released into my empty stomach. The nausea returns and this time I’m pretty sure it’s due to the fact that I quite literally have butterflies in my stomach. I’ve ingested almost all of the butterflies, and those that remain are no longer interested in pouring down my gullet.

  The strange hands prying my mouth wide relax and I fall to my knees as my aggressor releases its hold. My fingers claw at the back of my neck, eager to disconnect. I must have wandered into some awful virtual horror film. I reach up and realize that is not the case.

  The Vertix isn’t clinging to my neck, fueling this psychedelic trip. It’s sitting in the same place; I left it on the counter before I got bac
k in the shower. I’m not connected…this is really happening. I press my fingers against my temple, attempting to banish the crazed visions from my sight, but it doesn’t work. I even press a hand to my stomach and swear I feel the butterflies moving within.

  “This can’t be happening,” I gasp again, wrapping my arms around my torso. “It’s not real, it’s not real. It’s all in my head,” I whisper, rocking back and forth. “It’s just food poisoning and lack of sleep, get a grip. Focus, Maggie!” More butterflies are banging against the lining of my stomach, trying to get out. “No, no, no, no,” I shout, refusing to let the image of the rabid insects tearing through my gut fully form.

  Leaping up, I snatch the Vertix off the counter and activate it, shoving it onto the back of my neck with enough force to leave a bruise. I squeeze my eyes shut as the butterfly onslaught increases, feeling my shoulders twitch as I absorb the butterfly blows from the inside. I can’t defend myself. All I know is that the Vertix saved me once, and perhaps it can do it again.

  At last the sensors respond, sliding under my muscles to link up with my brain stem. As soon as the sensors settle into place, I’m transported along a hurricane of color and my mind and body relax, as if someone has at last said the magic words to take me out of my terrifying trance.

  I don’t fight the urge to lie down, barely catching myself as the tile floor rises up to meet me. I rest my warm cheek to the cool ground and exhale in relief. The butterflies are gone, just like before when the Vertix took away the sickness, leaving me whole and perfect again.

  • • • • •

  “Maggie! What the hell are you doing in there? Turn off the freaking water!” Sarah’s angry voice slices through my safe haven, bringing me back to reality, back to where I’m lying naked on the bathroom floor. “You’ve been in there for over an hour! I need to go, Maggie!”

  I flinch, stirring out of my strange state of exhaustion. What’s going on? Why am I on the floor? I try to remember the past few minutes as I push myself onto my elbows, extending my weight onto my palms. Why is my body so sore? I press a hand to my temple, desperate to stop the aching pulse behind my eyes.

  With the Vertix secure on my neck, the nausea is very minimal and the dream-like illusions seem like an elusive nightmare, slipping out of my grasp every time I get close to remembering. What happened? Why did my body react like that?

  “Maggie? Maggie, open the door!” Sarah bellows again, smashing her fist against the wood, her voice turning frantic. “Maggie, are you all right? Maggie? Maggie!” A machine gun burst of kicks and thuds rapidly smash against the door so hard that the weak lock gives way and the door blows open wide, bouncing off the pale-yellow walls.

  I look up in alarm and see Sarah standing over me, her gray eyes frantic. She gasps and drops to her knees, taking in my nakedness and position. “Maggie! What happened? Are you okay?”

  I lean back from her intense accusation, wishing I could escape back to my own little bubble, one without my roommate inches away from my face. The Vertix seems to understand, already transporting me to a remote beach. I close my eyes, loving the way the warm sun shines across my skin, the way the rough sand rubs against my toes.

  “Mags, what is wrong with you?” Sarah’s voice slices through my fantasy, her cold fingers gripping my shoulders. She turns my body and yanks my hair out of the way, then makes a disgusted sound and lets me go. “Of course, why did I think any different,” she spits, reaching into the shower and turning off the water.

  Without the constant rhythm the room feels eerie and too quiet. It doesn’t help that I can feel Sarah’s eyes boring into my back. I hear a metallic ringing sound and then I’m hit with a soft object, the force of which blows my hair, revealing the copper device again to my judgmental friend.

  My fingers pull the towel over my nakedness and a strong sense of déjà vu assails me as I picture the same scenario from several weeks ago. I look straight ahead at the wall, seeing the beautiful beach. After the terrifying images I just saw, it’s a relief to be surrounded by such a serene setting.

  “I hope you know you’re paying for all this water. You probably racked up an extra three hundred dollars,” Sarah says, her voice acidic. She nudges me out of the way of the vanity, reaching for the toothpaste.

  I sigh, trying to tune her out to go back to my happy place. It’s no use.

  “I’ve been pounding on the door for five minutes and you’re just lying on the floor, all zoned out connected to that stupid thing. I don’t even know why we bought those things in the first place. It’s like a poison,” she spits, not looking at me.

  I know Sarah is waiting for me to answer, to say I’m sorry, but I stay quiet. I pull myself off the tile floor and wrap the warm towel around my small torso and sit on the lid of the toilet. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the bright yellow flash of the pale walls and my heart stutters as the ferocious butterflies leap to mind. But nothing happens, nothing comes for me. I’m safe in the little virtual cocoon the Vertix encases me in.

  “Now I’m late for my appointment and I can’t just walk in late, you know? I booked that appointment weeks ago,” Sarah says, practically snarling around her toothbrush as the minty paste froths between her lips. “You’ve been acting weird, like you’re a slave to that thing. Like you can’t stop.” She pauses to spit into the white porcelain sink, then rinses and deposits her toothbrush into the small cup shaped like a golden leaf. “Well?” she says, turning to me at last.

  I pull my eyes from the floor and find her face. I try to focus on her angry expression but a happy chattering sound interrupts me. The beautiful waves in my right eye crash against the dark brown sand and a pod of dolphins play just feet from the shore. The sunlight glances off their rubbery silver skin, throwing a patch of bright light across my sight. I flinch and raise my hand to cover my eye, squinting against the reflective waves.

  A hard slap resounds off the back of my hand, smacking it down. “Maggie. Look at me,” Sarah says, her voice hard.

  “What?” I ask, rubbing my red hand as I hold it to my chest. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” Sarah repeats in disbelief. “Oh, well now that you’ve decided to pay attention to me, I’ve only been trying to talk to you,” she scoffs. “Just look at you, Maggie. You’re a mess. I don’t know what happened. The other day you were normal. But this—” she points at my neck, “isn’t normal, Maggie.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper, rubbing the soft towel between my thumb and forefinger.

  “What?” Sarah cries. “I saw you! I had to break down the door for you to even notice I was out there screaming your name.”

  At last I raise my head, doing my best to ignore the cool water running down my calves. “Sarah, I don’t know what’s happening, it’s something…something strange. I had the Vertix in but I took it out. I got in and was washing my hair when all of a sudden, I got sick again. I tried to wait it out but I think I still had a touch of food poisoning from last night. So I got out and was going to put the Vertix in because it worked before, but before I could, weird stuff started to happen,” I summarize, not bothering to go into detail. “I thought I had stumbled into a new app or something but when I went to disconnect, I didn’t even have the Vertix in.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  I groan and touch the back of my neck. “I’m trying to tell you that whatever crazy side effects the food poisoning gave me, the Vertix helped to combat it. Once I connected, I was no longer nauseous or dizzy and the creepy images went away. And then…the other night when you guys found me in here again, the Vertix was trying to tell me something was wrong, I was just too thick to realize until Andy pulled me out. It’s not a monster Sarah, this machine is amazing. It saved my life.”

  “No, Andy saved your life. That machine had nothing to do with it,” Sarah fumes, throwing up her hands. “You know what? Whatever. I’m not going to sit here and argue with you. If you want to connect and d
isappear to some virtual reality then be my guest. I’m going to the salon to have a conversation with someone who actually cares about what I have to say. And just so you know, that’s really sad when a stranger cares more than my supposed best friend.” She stomps out the door.

  “Sar, wait,” I call, but she doesn’t hear, or doesn’t acknowledge my plea.

  I shuffle out of the bathroom and down the hall toward my room. Vertix, Wall Art. Show me someone laughing and having fun. I need a pick-me-up.

  Of course, Maggie. I am always here to help, the smooth voice says.

  • • • • •

  I awake to my bedroom light snapping on, bright and bold. I roll to the left and curl myself tighter under the warm covers, unwilling to surrender the peaceful dregs of unconsciousness. My neck cracks stiffly, unable to bend with the curve of the pillow. I reach up and touch my neck, surprised to find the Vertix pulsing hotly against my fingertips.

  I grimace as I sit up, trying to stretch my sore muscles around the solid machine. How strange, I don’t remember falling asleep with it in. I massage the muscles around the copper device while my eyes squint against the piercing light. Why is that on?

  It hits me and my eyes flash open, no longer concerned with the light. Someone turned it on, someone is in my room. I glance around the messy clothes strewn about the bed and floor, my left eye scanning back and forth several times before an unfamiliar spot of blue catches my gaze.

  “Andy?” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”

  My older brother takes a step further into my room, sitting on the edge of the bed. His usual close-cut hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it and he has dark purple circles under his eyes. “Hey, Mags. How you doing?” Andy asks, his voice hoarse, his smile weak.

  “Are you okay? Are you sick?” I ask, ignoring his question.

  Andy shakes his head and reaches up to comb his fingers through his hair. I don’t miss the deep blossom of red hiding on the back of his neck. His fingers run along his head, running down the Vertix to then drum on my yellow bedspread. He shrugs, pursing his lower lip. “Nah, I’m fine, great actually. I’ve been using this new app and it’s really helping me tone and work certain areas,” he says, eyes shining with excitement.