I nod and let my eyes slide over him. Not only does he look tired and sallow, but his once buff biceps are looking deflated, a direct contradiction to his last statement. I stare at him, but his attention looks diverted, focused on something far away.
“So are you still working out every day?” I ask, wrapping my arms around my knees while I rub the dried drool off my cheek.
Andy looks down, playing with a loose stitch on the comforter. “Yeah, well kind of. I use the app every day and then when I get to the gym I know exactly what I should do. And I’ve been learning how to cook. There’s a great app that lets me train with Nadia Holt in her actual kitchen! Gone are the days of ramen and hot dogs.” He grins.
“Oh yeah?” I say, eyeing his thin frame. “Have you actually been eating the food? You’re looking on the slim side, bro,” I tease.
Andy looks down at his baggy t-shirt, his eyebrows furrowing. “Yeah…of course, I mean…I think I have been.” He laughs. “Let me tell you, I can make a mean chicken casserole.” He tries to brush my concern away, but I can see the way his lips twitch, his left eye flickering in its socket.
I nod, the Vertix dominating my attention as it displays a new app I’ve never seen before. What is that? I ask it, smiling as bright blue fireworks surround curling letters.
Welcome to Night Watch, the smooth voice of the Vertix answers. A new app recently available to you that records your dreams and replays them at normal speed. Due to your recently recorded REM cycle, you now have three minutes worth of dreams to view. Would you like me to begin them for you?
Wow, really? That’s kind of cool. Sure, why not. I’d like to see what I was dreaming. I can’t remember anything.
Excellent, Night Watch will begin momentarily, the velvet voice purrs. The screen navigates away from my last browsing session of My World to a deep navy landscape with shining silver starbursts in the distance. I feel as if I’m lying in a field beneath a sea of brilliant constellations.
At first, nothing happens. There’s only swirling black. Wow, glad they recorded this. Then the sky begins to lighten and I’m running, the soles of my shoes slapping the hard cement. I don’t know why I’m running, but a sense of urgency colors the scene and I feel like I’m being chased, pursued by some unknown creature. I glance over my shoulder and all I see is a forest of mannequins, their glassy eyes all staring ahead, looking right through me. For some reason it terrifies me.
I turn back around and try to increase my pace, but before I can take another step, the sidewalk crumbles beneath me, giving way to a massive black hole. I teeter over the edge, my toes curling over the precipice, but I’m going too fast and I slip off, falling into an endless ocean of thick shadows.
“Geez, that’s intense,” I whisper, pulling myself out of Night Watch. I wrinkle my nose as a feeling of fear grips my gut, but I shake it off. The happy sun streams into my bedroom, chasing away the gnawing thoughts, the creepy dream. Maybe I’ll steer clear of that app. I’m fine leaving my dreams a mystery.
I glance up and realize Andy is still sitting on the edge of my bed and my cheeks burn as I come back to reality. We haven’t spoken a word aloud in over five minutes. But unlike Sarah, Andy isn’t glaring at me. Instead, he resembles one of the mannequins from my dream, staring ahead, his features showing no hint of emotion, no hint of life. A cold shiver climbs up my spine and I lean forward to touch my brother’s hand and wake him from the spell.
“Hey, you all right?” I ask, pushing the thick comforter off my legs.
Andy continues to stare ahead, ignoring my question. I tap the back of his hand and at last his eyelids flutter in response. “What?”
“I said, are you okay? Geez you’re spacey today,” I tease, cocking my head to the side.
Andy shakes his head and purses his lips. “Whatever, I was just checking something. How’ve you been by the way? You look…” He pauses, taking in my disheveled state. “Tired,” he says at last.
I roll my eyes and slide my legs out from under the warmth of the sheets and place them on the carpet. “I wonder why,” I reply. “Sorry I don’t look more like sleeping beauty when my sleep is interrupted by an inept prince.” I cross over to my dresser, fishing a brown elastic from the cluttered contents and pull my long waves into a low ponytail.
The box springs wheeze under Andy’s weight as he turns to follow me. “Sorry, guess I should have seen that coming.”
“It’s fine, you’re just being your normal annoying self.” I laugh, rolling the band of my sweatpants once and exposing a narrow line of pale skin. “If I look awful it’s your fault. Because you keep blowing Sarah off, I get stuck entertaining her all night. And I haven’t been feeling well since last night. Don’t eat any of the leftover pizza,” I caution. Recalling my roommate’s concerns, I put a hand on my hip and narrow my eyes at Andy. “What has been going on with you lately? Usually you’re here like all the time, but I haven’t seen you all week.”
Andy looks away from my face, intent upon his fingernails. “I’ve just been busy. I told her I’ve been crazy busy with clients lately,” he replies. Both of us are silent for a minute and then Andy’s eyes find me again. “Is she mad?”
I sigh and plop down next to him on the bed. “Well, duh. She actually asked me if you were cheating on her last night,” I say, arching my eyebrows. “Are you?”
“Of course not,” Andy says with a frown. “I’ve been working late and trying to catch up on some other stuff, that’s all. That’s why I came over to see her… but I get stuck with you instead.”
“Lucky me.” I sigh, poking him. “But seriously, why didn’t you come over after work or stream her? The total silence for days at a time was definitely not the smartest decision.”
“Yeah, I know,” Andy groans, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, I’m just trying to deal with more distractions than usual, I guess,” he admits, touching the back of his neck once more. “The other day I even got in trouble at work with a client.”
“What do you mean? You weren’t…” I start but stop when I see the look in his eyes.
“Like I said, Mags. I’m not cheating. I was working with this guy and I was spotting him while he was lifting and I don’t know what happened. One second I’m there telling the guy to keep going and then the next thing I know, my manager is yelling, trying to get the guy to breathe. Apparently he dropped the weights and they crushed his chest and I just stood there like an idiot. I don’t know why I couldn’t hear my client crying out for help.” He shakes his head and bites the inside of his cheek, looking gaunt once more.
I frown, concerned at how different my big brother looks, how lost. I imagine him standing in the gym surrounded by the heavy black and silver equipment while a man writhes in pain on the floor. I shiver and my hair stands on end as the image from Night Watch blossoms in my mind, Andy among the hundreds of frozen mannequins. A question pops into my mind and I try to repress it, but the doubt is there all the same.
“Andy, were you…were you wearing the Vertix?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.
“Yeah, I have it in now,” he says, pointing to his neck.
“No, were you connected during the incident at the gym?” I clarify.
Andy’s brow furrows. “Yeah, but what does that matter?”
I chew on my tongue, feeling the tiny bumps between my teeth. “Nothing, it’s just…Sarah’s made some comments about me whenever I’m connected. And something weird happened this morning, but I think that was due to the bad pizza I ate,” I mumble, feeling self-conscious. What am I even saying? The Vertix caused those creepy hallucinations? I didn’t even have it in.
Andy stiffens, his knuckles turning white. “What happened this morning?”
I wave my hand in front of my face and rise off the end of the bed. “Nothing like what happened before, don’t worry,” I say in a rush. “I was just feeling sick from the pizza and then I started, I don’t know, seeing weird things. Sar
ah broke the lock on the door and found me on the floor. She wasn’t very happy and stormed out.” I cross my arms over my chest, prepared to defend myself.
Andy glances at me, a confused look in his bright blue eyes. “Weird things? Why? What app were you in?”
I groan, not wanting to get into this right now. My stomach growls. I still have yet to eat. “That’s the weird part, I wasn’t even connected. Like I said, I think it was a weird side-effect of food poisoning.”
Andy nods, drawing his lips into a thin line and rubs the palm of his hand over his dark jeans, not saying anything.
I circle the room for a moment, feeling anxious and wanting this conversation to be over. I interweave my fingers and lean against the wooden door frame. “I know, it’s crazy, right? I must be getting the flu or something,” I say, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in my gut as the silence stretches longer. “Andy?”
At last, my brother raises his head and stands and I notice the way his shirt seems to swallow him. That isn’t right. Normally the fabric is pulling tight across his chest. Maybe he’s going for lean rather than muscle.
“I don’t know what’s going on, if you’re getting sick or not, but…I’ve been seeing things too,” Andy whispers, his gaze unwavering.
His confession is like a punch in the gut and I dig my nails into the soft wood to keep my knees from buckling. “What do you mean?”
Andy shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets, a bewildered look in his eyes. “I’m not sure, but the other day…I disconnected to sleep and soon after I got sick. I even threw up,” he says, shaking his head. “I got a drink and laid back down, but as I tried to fall asleep, my bed transformed into a giant tongue and it was like I was being swallowed whole. I could even feel the taste buds, smell the rancid breath of whatever nightmarish creature was attacking me. Somehow, I escaped and I thought I was still connected too, but then I saw the Vertix on my nightstand, and felt my naked neck.” Andy reaches up to stroke the dark red Vertix. “I was so freaked out that I connected just to relax for a second, but when I disconnected again, the same thing happened. Not with the tongue, but another illusion. It was too much and I couldn’t sleep. Now every time I disconnect, I see things and get sick. I thought I was the only one.”
I stare at him, not sure what to say or think. “Andy, that sounds…insane,” I say at last. His hopeful eyes fall and his face crumbles. “I don’t mean I don’t believe you, but I think there’s something else going on. The way you described it sounds like a drug addict trying to make it between hits. And that’s not what this is,” I finish, wondering for a split second who I was trying to convince.
“Are you sure?” Andy asks, looking more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen.
I cross the room and place both hands on either side of his face. He feels warm, like he’s running a fever. “Definitely. The Vertix is a machine, a device for social interaction. It can’t hurt us.”
Mornin’, Miss Maggie. You sure lookin’ like some kind of storm today,” Acey greets me, pulling the heavy door open wide.
I rush past him, calling “Thanks!” over my shoulder. I am so, so late. Maybe I’ll luck out and they’ll still be catching up on their weekends. The tapping of my heels fills the empty lobby with a hollow ringing as I rush to the elevator. I jab the dull four button over and over, as if it can register my haste. “Come on, you stupid thing!”
A moment later the gold doors peel apart and I leap inside, hitting the close button before they have finished opening. Two minutes later, I reach the fourth floor and explode from the little square box, colliding with some curly-haired intern as I round the corner.
I don’t bother to apologize, frantically feeling inside my messenger bag for the papers I need. I’m going to be in so much trouble.
I look inside the conference room up ahead and see Robins gesturing to a colorful poster board, well into the meeting.
I pull open the door of the office and slide into the only open chair, sending a quick apologetic smile up at Ms. Robins. I am ignored. I glance to my left and see Jeremy out of the corner of my eye. I wiggle my fingers in his direction and he nods, his eyes remaining fixed on Robins.
“So are we all agreed then?” Robins asks, eyeing the small collective group over her white frames. She sounds as though she is daring someone to speak up.
At the front of the room four metal easels have been arranged. One of them is empty, but the others showcase final submissions for the cover design. I wonder where the fourth one is? I study the second one, where a dark silhouette stares into a gathering storm, his posture haunted somehow. It gives me a strange feeling, both nervous and excited. My design has survived the first cut. I stifle the little yelp of victory building in my chest. Now I just need to beat the remaining two.
“Moving on,” Robins states, grabbing the top of the third poster with her manicured nails. She rips it off the silver stand with force and the rejected poster tumbles to the floor, joining the first discarded design.
Ms. Robins trains her attention on the fourth design. It is a worn, old teddy bear, with a missing left eye and rumpled fur lying in a puddle of blood. The image churns my stomach, but it’s eye-catching, something that Robins demands for her covers. “Now this one is interesting,” she says, pausing to examine the art closer. “Which one of you came up with this?”
“I did.”
I turn to see Jeremy raising his hand.
“I wanted it to be frightening and whimsical at the same time, targeting the children in the story rather than the father,” he explains, gesturing to my poster.
I grit my teeth, preparing for the chance to defend mine.
“Not bad, Jeremy,” Ms. Robins says with obvious sincerity. “I like that you took a different approach. It inspires a feeling of innocence lost yet still clearly conveys the overall theme of desperation that drives the father forward. Well done.” She smiles at him and looks around. “Does anyone have anything to add?”
Multiple heads nod in agreement. I raise my hand and point to Jeremy’s design. “I’m sorry to stop you, Ms. Robins, however, isn’t this cover a little dark? The genre is thriller, not horror.”
Ms. Robins looks at me for the first time since I walked in, her green eyes stone chips behind her white glasses. For a moment I don’t think she will respond, and then she inhales and looks at the fourth poster again.
“I can see where you’re coming from, Margaret. However, even though it is at first glance a little disturbing, what with the matted fur covered in blood, Jeremy did an exceptional job with the bear’s face. The missing button for one of the eyes, the slightly torn stuffing puffing out of a popped seam here,” she says, gesturing. “You can tell that this little bear is fiercely loved, and it makes me wonder where the child is. Why is this beloved treasure lying in a pool of blood? Was there an accident or was it something far more sinister?”
I scoot closer to the edge of my chair. “Yes, but I think—”
“No, I’ve made up my mind. That was so much easier than I thought,” Robins says, running her fingers along the edge of Jeremy’s cover art. “We’ll go with Jeremy’s design and get it into print next week.”
Everyone around me nods and collects their Torches, murmuring congratulations in Jeremy’s direction. Color floods my cheeks. “Wait, no, wait. What about the other design? Why don’t we discuss this a little more? I really feel that the other cover would be more thought provoking and realistic—” I debate, but Ms. Robins cuts me off.
“No, Margaret, the decision has been made. The time to propose and defend your art was twenty minutes ago and you chose not to be here. So we will print Jeremy’s,” she says, a note of finality in her voice.
My cheeks flush an even darker red and I dislodge a long strand of hair behind my ear so that it covers my face. “Yes, ma’am,” I whisper, my eyes finding the floor. I can hear the whispers igniting around me.
What a loser.
Did you hear what the boss just said?
Someone better start looking for a new job.
I glance up out of the corner of my eye, amazed that my colleagues would gossip right in front of me. I try to catch whose lips are moving, who’s staring at me, but no one stands out, and no one is even looking at me.
Do you think she even showered?
Her hair looks so greasy.
I run a hand through my hair, pulling it to the other side. The voices seem to be growing louder, but I don’t recognize the speaker. I stuff my crumpled design into my messenger bag and stand, anxious to get out of the translucent office, get away from the babble of aggressive whispers.
Check out her eyes, has she ever heard of concealer? A throaty laugh erupts behind me and I turn, ready to confront the rude individual.
There is no one left but empty chairs and still furniture.
I press a hand to my head. What’s happening? Am I imagining this? My fingers dive into my greasy hair and run along the bare skin of my neck. For the first time in two days it’s empty. I had woken up to a blistering hot Vertix and been forced to remove it while I rushed around for work.
“Margaret, a moment,” Ms. Robins' voice finds me. “I need to ask why you were late…again.” Her voice is cold and uninviting.
I look around the office again. We’re the only ones remaining. “Ah, I know I was late today. I’m really sorry. I just couldn’t seem to get it together. It was a rough morning,” I say, trying to smile.
Robins crosses her arms and looks me up and down. “What’s going on, Margaret? Are you drinking, partying?” she asks.
She reminds me of a cobra, ready to strike. “No, ma’am. I never go anywhere,” I mumble.
“Then tell me what’s happening. Ever since I made you an agent you’ve completely changed. You used to be the first one here and the last to leave, diligently working nonstop throughout the day. Lately you rarely arrive on time, let alone early. Your appearance is lazy and as far as I know, you haven’t made any headway with your first author, let alone reached out to acquire others. Whenever I email you it takes nearly a day to receive a response and if I speak with you in person, you don’t even pay attention. Sometimes it seems like you’re miles away.” She pauses, dropping her hands to her sides to grip the table in front of her.
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