"He's not on this planet. He's on Elysia with a man named Tobias Desruisseaux."
She turned to Helen and pointed at the door. "Mrs. Tillman, please step out into the hallway and allow me to handle this."
"Yes. Goodbye, Rav. Please be good. Please. I love you."
He didn't wait for Helen to leave before standing and shouting at the doctor. "Tell me where my son is."
She back away and ushered Helen out of the room. "Rav, calm down."
Rav grabbed the doctor's lab coat and shook her. "Give me my son! Who are you working for? Who paid you to do this to me? Did Vance set this up? Who did you hire to play my wife? She's good. She looks just like her. Sounds just like her, too. Is this Tirlmayn's doing? Tell me! I swear I'll kill you. I'll kill all of you!"
The doctor pressed a button on the collar of her lab coat and spoke into the small speaker beside it. "I need emergency backup in cell A-3."
Three large men in blue scrubs barged into the room. Before Rav could react, he was tackled to the tile floor and held there on his stomach with his arms and legs spread. "Let me go! Let me go! Give me my son!"
"You are going to be all right, Mr. Tillman." The doctor spoke to him as the guards cinched Rav's arms behind his back with a leather strap and buckled it tightly. "Guards, please give him the injections. We'll knock him out for the night and try again tomorrow. I'm sorry, Mr. Tillman, but violence and threats will only result in you being punished."
Rav screamed when his shirt was pushed up and three long needles were shoved into his spine. Within seconds, his voice left him and he stopped thrashing his head back and forth. Little by little, his breaths grew shallow, his muscles relaxed, and his vision blurred. With the weight of the strong men holding him down, he could only gasp as the darkness of unconsciousness swept over him.
Chapter 2
Two more weeks of arguments, confusion, and injections dragged by until Rav eventually gave up. He told the doctor everything she wanted to hear. He pushed his reality into the back of his mind so he could accept the one they had made for him. Little by little, Rav began to believe in it. With his wife alive, his best friend not a raging psychopath, and all the death and threats of invasions gone, it was certainly much more peaceful than the one had been living in . . . if he had truly been living in it at all.
Rav ate their health food, he let the nurses bathe him without complaint, he listened to the doctor telling him about the city outside his room, and he fabricated answers to comply with what they wanted him to say. It had started as a way to get more privileges, like a cookie or being able to watch monitored television, but it soon morphed into something more. The reality he heard from the doctor, the reality he repeated on a daily basis when questioned . . . that reality became his one and only reality.
It was enough to earn him his release.
On that morning, the doctor entered with a smile on her face and tossed a plastic bag filled with Rav's work boots, baggy jeans, underwear, and a black t-shirt onto the cot. "Get dressed, Rav. You're going home today. I'm sure your wife will be thrilled to have you back."
For a few moments, Rav only stared at the articles of clothing as he pulled each one out of the bag. He examined them as if they were foreign objects from some alien planet. Home. He was going home.
"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Tillman?"
"I'm fine. It's just overwhelming. I don't know what's going to be out there. How do I know I'll still be better?"
"Remember those tests we've been running the past few days? Those long questionnaires? That was all in preparation for this day. You will be perfectly fine out there in the city, Rav. You will have a week to stay at home and get reacquainted with your family and friends before returning to work full time. I am sure CyrinoTech will be more than ready to have such a talented engineer back at work for them. You can do this. Everyone here has the utmost faith in your continued recovery."
As Rav slowly dressed in normal clothes, the doctor kept her eyes trained on him, still observing his every movement. He blushed, but kept his emotions under control. If they were truly letting him go, he did not want to do or say anything that would jeopardize his impending freedom. He played the part they wanted him to play, not pulling against the puppet strings that forced him to move.
Deep down, Rav needed this. He needed to feel safe and secure.
Nemo.
He pushed those memories, those false memories of a recovering mad man, out of his mind. There was no one by that name in the database. There was no record of anyone with that name. Nemo Tillman never existed. He was not real. None of it was real. Rav buttoned his jeans then pulled the t-shirt over his head and breathed deeply of the fresh laundry detergent scent. This was reality, all the reality he needed.
"You can keep the beanie. I know you haven't taken it off since you got here."
"Thanks." Rav pulled the soft hat over his red hair until his bangs barely peeked out on his forehead. "So, I guess I'm ready? Ready to go . . . out there?"
"One more thing. I have something for you." She held up a paper bag that made noise when she shook it. "Your medication. I need you keep taking these on a daily basis. They all come with instructions. It's simple. Helen knows about them, and she will be able to help you keep up with them. Do not skip doses or stop taking them just because you feel like you don't need them anymore."
"Yes, ma'am. I want to do this right. I'm ready to move on."
"That's all we wanted to hear, Rav. I'm proud of you. You have come a long way these last two weeks. Seeing your wife and friend brought you around. Sometimes the people who love you most are the best medicine."
"Thank you."
"If you are ready, we will get going. Follow me, please."
Rav took a deep breath, but even that could not calm his nerves. Three years. For three years, he had been enveloped in a cloud of confusion and pain, of false memories, and a reality that only existed in his mind. This was the restart of his life, the dawn of the rest of his life in clarity and peace.
He followed closely behind the doctor down the white hallways, across the recently-waxed floors, and past the friendly smiles from the nurses at the reception desk. They waved to him and wished him well. They seemed genuinely kind and proud, just like the doctor had said.
Once they reached the sliding glass doors, Rav stopped in the middle of the entryway to gape at the neon-studded eternal night of the Under City. Hovercars sped by along the busy streets where citizens walked between stores and pawn shops. Tech Police in black riot gear marched in groups down the sidewalks, heading into the deeper bowls of the city to seek out crime wherever it would occur. Smells of fried food from the street vending carts, warm bread from a nearby bakery, and the metallic sourness of burning Vitalanum fuel made it so much more real. Everything was exactly as he remembered it.
"Well? What do you think?" The doctor placed her hand on his shoulder. "You're a free man, Rav Tillman. Go on, now. Go back to your life. You're officially discharged. Good luck."
Rav nodded his head and clutched the paper bag of pills close to his chest as he stepped out of the hospital. Instinctively, he headed down the road towards the elevator at the far end of the level. The streets were all the same, the faces of the people who passed by were the same, and the energy there was the same. This was real. This was Odyssia. This was home.
He rode in silence in the elevator, down to level 47. The lower he went, the less the air smelled like mouth-watering food and the more it reeked of sewage and mildew. The glittering clean lights became clouded with insects, dirt, and grime. The smiling faces of the citizens became downtrodden, exhausted, and troubled. Once the elevator screeched to a stop, Rav waited for the iron doors to slide open before stepping out into the dark depths of level 47.
No one walked along these dangerous streets. The only people around were the drug addicts, the homeless, the forgotten people in the alleys where they gathered, out of sight from anyone who could help them. Not that anyone would.
Rav felt pity for them. One mistake, one unlucky day, and he could be right there with them. They had their stories, their own lives, and their own guilt to carry.
A loud hovertrain raced along the neon-lined track, sending dust and loose gravel plummeting to the asphalt below the pylons and the thin rails. Large white rats darted in the shadows around orange dumpsters where piles of garbage had started to decay while plump green maggots munched on food scraps. Yep. That was home.
Rav made his way to the end of the main road that was cracked and spotted with potholes where the small metal-walled home with the corrugated tin roof sat. The neon streetlight popped and snapped, the flickering dancing across the front window where the curtains were closed on the inside. This was it. He walked up to the door and knocked on it. "Helen? Helen, I'm home now. They let me out."
When no one answered from the other side, Rav turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The house was dark as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. As soon as he flipped the light switch to illuminate the living room, he cried out in shock when the voices shouted at him.
"Welcome home!"
Rav covered his pounding heart as he watched Vance and Helen stand up from behind the sofa where green and pink balloons and silver confetti covered everything. "You scared the hell out of me."
They both laughed at him.
"What's all this for?"
"For welcoming you home. It's been three years, honey." Helen skipped up to him and embraced him, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. She paused to whisper into his ear. "I can't wait until later tonight when I get you to myself."
Rav's cheeks warmed, but he admittedly wanted that too. It had been so long.
Vance kicked around a balloon as he made gagging noises. "Gross. We have cake to eat. Don't make me puke before it. Get over here. I'm starving. Rav? Are you okay, mate?"
Rav felt an gnawing hollowness sinking into his chest as he slowly walked along the wall. This house was different. The red rug below the coffee table where Nemo's crayons had melted in a hardened mess was now clean. The couch in the corner where Nemo would watch the other children playing outside and where he had spilled ketchup on the cushions was now spotless. Rav stepped into the kitchen and his breath left him when he spotted the stainless steel refrigerator. He placed his palm against the cold hard surface. It was blank. All those stick figure pictures, the finger-painted masterpieces, and paper cutouts . . . they were gone.
Vance called from the living room. "Rav? What's up?"
"Give him some space. This is a lot for him to take in." Helen stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. "If this is too much for you, we can go to bed. You can get some sleep."
"No. No, I'm fine. I'm good, really. Let's . . . uh, let's get some of that cake, shall we? I'm tired of eating fruit and oatmeal for nearly every meal. Man was not meant to live on that sludge." Then he smelled it. The heavenly, salty, savory scent that could have been mana of the angels. "Is that . . . roast beef?"
"It's in the oven. I have fresh-baked bread for buns and liquid cheese to put on them. Oh, and caramelized onions, just the way you like them."
"I have never loved you more than I do right now. What are you waiting for? Helen, will you be the best wife ever and make me a sandwich?"
"I would be honored. You and Vance sit down at the table and let me tend to the food. Catch up, you two. And yes, Vance, you can cut the cake."
"Yes!" Vance pumped his fist in the air before rushing to the table and slicing into the cake with a sharp butcher knife. "Want a piece, Rav?"
"Sure. Why not?" Rav sat at the end of the table and watched as the large piece was placed on a paper plate and slid across to him. He picked up a plastic fork, but stopped. Blue and green frosting. He shoved the plate away and held his head in his hands. "I can't. It's the same cake. The same exact damn cake."
"The same cake as what, Rav?" Helen asked, pulling the pan of meat out of the oven and setting it on the stove. "Rav? What are you talking about?"
He bit his lower lip to push back tears and hide his turmoil from them. They would send him back. They would lock him away again if they saw him crying over a piece of cake. But that cake? It was the same cake they had for Nemo's fifth birthday. The tiny boy was so happy, smiling with blue and green frosting covering his mouth, filled with life . . . undeniable life. He was real. This house may have been sterilized, wiped clean of any signs of him, but that boy was real.
"Rav, you're okay. You're home. I don't know what they did to you in that room for three years, but it's all over now. We won't make you go back. We're going to help you."
"Yeah, mate. We're on your side. We won't abandon you if things get rough. We've got your back."
Rav listened to them, but his panic only grew. "I think I need to go lie down." Without another word, but stood from the table and stumbled across the kitchen to the narrow hallway and into the bedroom. He fell onto the bed and stayed there, face-down as he wept into the tattered comforter. "It's not real. It's not real. It could have been any cake. Cakes are all the same."
He looked up through his stinging tears to glance around the room. Then he spotted it. The painting of a circuit board on the wall by the dresser. It seemed oddly out of place, especially since Rav had hung that there to hide what was behind it. If he was right and that painting still concealed his secret safe, then he would have answers.
Glancing back at the door to make sure no one was coming down the hallway, Rav crawled off of the bed and tiptoed to the wall. He gingerly lifted the corner of the painting then shook his head. The hidden wall safe was there. Swallowing hard, he typed in the code for the electronic lock and it clicked. This was it. He pulled the safe door open then nearly fainted. There they were. The IV bags of purple and red fluid, complete with white labels in his own handwriting.
Nemo: Extra Blood and Coolant.
Rav took out a bag and peeled the top open. He sniffed it to check the smell, then dipped his fingers into the liquid and brought it to his tongue. It was the same stuff, the exact same fluid he had made for Nemo. There was no doubt then. Nemo was real. At one point, Nemo was real. Rav hurriedly closed the bag once again and tossed it inside with the other four bags before locking the safe again and replacing the painting.
With new-found life and determination coursing through his veins, his hands tightened into fists as he whispered angrily at the ceiling, hoping anyone aside the other two people in the next room could hear him. "You messed up. I don't know who you are or why you're doing this to me. I don't know what this is. Is it time travel? Is it all in my head? Is this some sick twisted mind game you're playing with me? Am I trapped in a maze like a mouse and you're teasing me with bits of cheese until I do whatever you want? Who are you? Is this Olonictu? Is this Tirlmayn? Or is this Vance giggling at my misfortune as he plays with me like a living doll? Well, you listen and you listen well, whoever you are. You've messed with the wrong man this time. You had me going, you really did. This is all very convincing. Well done. But you got sloppy. You got messy around the edges. You didn't think I'd get this far so quickly, did you? Yeah, you started throwing caution to the wind and you left me clues. Every program has bugs. Every system has a shutdown code. I would know. If this is anything made in the last two hundred years, I will be able to shut it down. It may take me some time, but I have all the information I need now. You can't keep in here. You can't keep me here. I will find the truth. I will get out. Then I will have my revenge. Oh, yes. I am coming after you, you intelligent bastards. I will find you and I will make you suffer for every microsecond I have been trapped in this hell. Watch your back. I'll be coming for you soon enough."
Chapter 3
Rav ate roast beef. He drank lime soda. He laughed at Vance's bad jokes. He made love to his wife. He watched television and listened to his music. He slept in the same bed where Nemo had once nearly died. He bathed in the same bathtub he had once saved his son's life in after he had overheated. He took a w
alk up a few levels to the side street where he had found a young and dying Vance who had overdosed on drugs. He sat outside to watch the hovertrains speed by, taking citizens away from this horrid hell. He did all these things, but not once did he feel alive.
He was following a script in his head, doing whatever the creators of this pseudo life would want him to do . . . but he was always watching, studying, and examining the fine details. There had to be another break somewhere, one more clue, one more bug to prove to himself that he was not simply going insane.
Every night, Rav woke up at two in the morning to go to the painting on the bedroom wall, open the safe behind it, and hold onto his son's blood packs. They were real. They were the only things he knew were real. As long as those were there and he could read the name of his son on those labels, he would continue trying to find a way out. There had to be a way out. He had to get out for the only thing he cared about in the entire universe. Nemo.
"Tillman? Tillman, stop sleeping and get to work. This motherboard isn't going to fix itself. Hey, idiot, stop drooling on my floors!"
Rav blinked out of his thoughts and looked around the CyrinoTech work room he new all too well. He was wearing his black jumpsuit, standing there in the doorway with a rubber-coated screwdriver in his hand while his supervisor was shouting at him. The same fluorescent lights snapped overhead, the same stale hazelnut coffee smell permeated everything, and the same low buzz of the computers drifted through the air. He was there again. It was real . . . or as real as anything in this strange reality could be.
Vance crawled out from under the pile of computer parts and wiped the grease from his forehead. "Come on, mate. You're okay. I'll help you get back into the hang of things. Marty, it's his first day back in three years. Cut him some slack, will ya?"
"Whatever. Just get this done by three or you're staying overnight."
Rav watched the always angry-looking supervisor storm out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. He tightened his grip around the screwdriver as he stepped up to where Vance was rewiring a control panel on the underside of the consoles. "Hey, Vance?"
The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10 Page 28