by Wendy Devore
I paced across the room, trying in vain to fuse the unfamiliar theories into something coherent. “Okay, so you’re telling me that I’m actually a photocopy? That’s weird, but let’s say I believe you. Why is it that I’m out like a light in my ‘real’ reality?”
Andrew looked amused. “The current operating theory is that our puny human brains can’t deal with the cognitive dissonance of experiencing two realities at the same time.”
“This all sounds like a steaming load of hand-wavy nonsense,” I huffed.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever seen an electron?”
I stopped pacing and stared at him. “No, of course not. No one’s ever seen an electron.”
“But you believe they exist, right?”
“Yes…”
“You just accept it on blind faith?”
“I believe a hundred years’ worth of experiments that suggest electrons are real.”
His eyes gleamed with challenge. “And yet you don’t believe the firsthand experiment you’re conducting right now?”
Before I could refute his logic, I was interrupted by the distinct click of an access card triggering the lock. The door swung open, and I watched in fascination as I saw myself walk through. I stared at the other version of myself in shock, blinking hard. She was wearing the same outfit as I was, down to the scuffed Converse. I absentmindedly touched my straggling hair, half expecting to feel the messy bun I observed on my twin. It was exactly like looking in a huge, room-size mirror—with the mind-bending exception that my reflection was moving completely independently of me. I closed my eyes and opened them again, willing my brain to stop its futile attempt to reconcile her presence to my reality. In the second it took all this to occur, the light of comprehension flashed in my double’s hazel eyes. A wave of dizziness washed over me, followed by overpowering nausea. I clutched my head in agony as the migraine exploded at the base of my skull, coming on faster and stronger than any episode I’d ever experienced. I blinked hard for a moment as the ground seemed to lurch below me, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself sitting once again in the comfortable leather chair, monitors beeping behind me, my right hand still desperately clasping Andrew’s.
His self-satisfied smirk faded as I jerked my hand away and used it to pluck off my Bug. When I dropped the vicious little gadget on the table, it bounced once on its spindly legs and came to rest on its side. I pushed my fists hard into my eye sockets. The room was much too bright, and the migraine was unbelievably intense. The sudden ringing in my ears was so loud that I could barely hear myself think.
Amir sounded like he was speaking from the end of a long tunnel. “What’s wrong with Kate?”
“Migraine. Horrific migraine,” I groaned through gritted teeth.
Andrew’s voice came from far away, layered with a funny echo that made it sound like there were three of him speaking simultaneously. “Did her EEG spike again?”
Amir’s voice wavered. “Yeah, it did. Worse this time.”
“This is definitely unexpected. I’m going to move her to the dormitory. Please contact Christopher Daniels. Tell him it’s urgent.”
Chapter 11
Janine
September 22
Janine Mori pushed away from her perch at the lab bench and stretched. From her station, she could easily survey the entire room—her staff diligently at work. She glanced at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see that it was well after ten, and her growling stomach told her she’d forgotten to eat dinner—again.
She picked up a substantial pile of paperwork and paged through the research. She paused, added a few notes to the chart she was constructing on her laptop, then referenced the paper again.
She had concluded that her gnawing hunger could no longer be ignored when the lab door swung open and Andrew stepped in.
“Hiya, Doc.”
“Hi yourself.” Her affectionate smile quelled the fatigue lining her face. “How are things progressing?”
He took a deep, pained breath and sunk onto the stool beside her. “We’ve had a bit of a setback.”
She pushed the laptop back and turned to him, resting an elbow on the bench. “What sort of setback?”
He leafed through the stack of research papers but failed to meet her gaze. “Kathryn saw herself for the first time while slicing, right when we converged, and she developed a massive migraine.”
Janine’s look of concern deepened. “Let me see the traces.”
Andrew picked up her tablet and spent a few moments swiping and tapping before handing her the device. Janine examined the test results and frowned.
“Migraines aren’t a side effect we’ve observed in you or Lily, or any of the other subjects that we have tested. I don’t think the Bug is causing it.”
“We know she has a history of migraines linked to her nightmares. And if our hypothesis is correct, her abnormal REM state is inexorably linked to the slice state. Perhaps we’re closer than we think to a solution for far-slice exit.”
Janine’s eyebrows drew together. “What if she’s already cracking under the pressure? We should proceed with caution—”
“What if it’s simply necessary growing pains?”
Janine shook her head. “Why push her? We should take this slow, understand the risks…”
“I know she’s capable of more.”
Janine noticed a faint flush creep into his cheeks.
“Andrew, are you blushing?” Janine teased. “Perhaps you’re not made of granite after all! You never did share the details—how exactly did you acquire the information about Kate from the far-slice?”
Andrew simply arched an eyebrow. “A gentleman never tells.”
Janine blinked expectantly, hoping for elaboration.
Andrew met her pointed stare with an enigmatic smile. “Has our fearless leader asked for today’s status update?”
“Not yet.” But as she spoke there was a buzzing from her tablet and she frowned. Janine looked up at Andrew and his mouth tightened. He took a step away from her desk so that he was behind the tablet and out of the view of the video conference, and Janine answered the call.
On the screen there was a distressingly thin face, surrounded by thick silver hair falling in waves. His piercing gaze rested immediately on Janine Mori.
“Progress report,” he demanded succinctly.
“Good evening, Dr. Breckinridge,” Janine greeted him briskly. “Andrew is about to send you the latest summary on Kate’s most recent slice. There has been a slight setback.”
“What setback?” he barked.
As always, Janine felt uneasy beneath the stare of his ruthless blue eyes.
“Kate has had a bad reaction to the latest slice. Her EEG traces show some anomalies at the point of convergence. In addition, she developed a severe migraine. But we have brought in her physician, Chris Daniels, and with his help we hope to prepare her for another attempt in the next few days.”
“She will slice tomorrow.”
“Kate is unfit; we can begin the preparation in two days at the earliest,” Janine said firmly. “We hope to have her ready for her first far-slice test by the end of next week.”
“That is unacceptable,” Breckinridge said in a low voice. “There’s no time to waste. I want your people on this around the clock.”
Janine looked to Andrew; his face was thunderous. She turned her attention back to the tablet. “I am not risking the life of another innocent. It is hard enough finding subjects that can slice. If we lose Kate, we lose the project—”
Without another word, Breckinridge reached up and the screen went black. Janine released an audible sigh of relief.
Andrew’s voice was taut. “So now we know what we need to do.”
Janine pulled in her stomach and stared at him. “There is no way you’re slicing with Kate for the foreseeable future.”
“You heard him. We have no choice.”
“Andrew, this is insane. You are treating her like not
hing more than a splayed frog. She’s more than a science experiment—do you want another Lily on your hands?”
“Don’t bring Lily into this. Don’t even mention her name.”
“If you push her too hard, Kate will die.”
Andrew turned and marched out of the room.
Janine stared after him for a moment before reaching for her pile of paperwork. It was going to be another long night.
Chapter 12
Kate
September 23
I stand before the full-length mirror in a pale pink silk peignoir, holding a brush in my hand. The soft incandescent lights magnify the red highlights in my short, wavy locks. I feel my hand as it rises to plump my hair, then reaches for a tube of lip gloss. It tastes like strawberry and smells faintly of rosewater. As I purse my lips to distribute the gloss, I have the strange conflicting sensation of being out of body, while still perfectly attuned to each movement I make. I try to raise my left hand, but nothing happens.
For a moment I panic; I am trapped inside this body that I can’t control. I think I should be hyperventilating, but I’m not. As I move, the silk slides sinuously over my breasts and my reflection smiles. It’s a tremendously bizarre sensation, but I can feel her delight, mixed with something else. Anticipation. I turn away from the mirror, and my bare feet move across the cool tile floor. I flip the light switch and plunge the spalike bathroom into darkness. Cool tile gives way to soft, plush carpet.
I walk into a vast room; a kitchen clad in dark cabinets and sparkling white marble flows effortlessly into a comfortable sitting room. A warm fire crackles in a river-stone fireplace. I feel a lazy smile creep to my lips as I pass by the kitchen’s breakfast bar and pluck a sparkling crystal glass filled with a generous pour of white wine. I raise the wine to my lips and sip; the buttery chardonnay slips down my throat. The taste is both strange and utterly familiar. I experience a sense of comfort and well-being—a warm feeling that begins in the pit of my stomach and radiates throughout my body.
There is rustling behind me, but before I can turn, hands encircle my waist. A warm breath on the back of my neck becomes a soft, lingering kiss that makes me catch my breath and close my eyes. Then there is another kiss, and another, as he works his way down my neck and across my shoulder. The peignoir falls to the floor, and the warm relaxation of the wine blossoms into the urgent thrill of desire.
My back arches as he presses his body against mine. His right hand moves to cup my breast while the other begins moving slowly downward over my belly. His tongue tickles my earlobe as his left hand finds its mark. Pure rapture radiates through my body, and when I can bear it no longer, I turn and raise my head. My lips brush his, warm and soft, and unbelievably gentle. This teasing kiss feels utterly familiar, and I fleetingly wonder who he is. But then I smile coyly, and my eyes drift closed. My lips fall open, and my world narrows to a tiny pinprick of sensation as his mouth finds mine. The kiss is passionate and urgent. Every fiber of my being aches to be with this man. I slowly raise my eyelids to find Andrew’s startling blue eyes devouring me with an intensity and hunger I have never imagined.
I emerged from the dream suddenly, drenched in sweat, with an exquisite burst of pleasure radiating through my body accompanied by a loud and embarrassing moan.
Someone cleared their throat, and I turned in horror to find Dr. Daniels sitting beside my bed.
“I’m glad to see you’ve recovered,” he quipped with a sternly disapproving frown.
My face blanched in mortification, and I involuntarily clutched my arms over my chest to cover myself—then realized that I was still wearing yesterday’s jeans and tee. I opened my mouth, and my lips cracked, dry from the chill, sterile air. My jaw throbbed, and my eyes thrummed under the cold strip lighting that lined the walls, but there was no colorful aura. Astonishingly, my head felt fine.
Dr. Daniels stood and dimmed the lights.
My dormitory room was monastic and much quieter than my apartment. The silence was so dense, it was almost hard to concentrate. I inhaled a deep breath and tried to sit up.
“Take it easy, Kate.”
I slid back beneath the blanket of my austere bed and closed my eyes, as much to hide my embarrassment as to ward off any impending migraine.
“Do you still have the headache?” Dr. Daniels asked, reaching for my wrist and checking my pulse.
“No,” I murmured.
“And your nightmares?”
I forced open one eye; he made no effort to hide his reproach.
“Haven’t had any,” I lied.
Dr. Daniels’s doubt was written all over his face.
“I spent several hours yesterday evening with Dr. Mori, and she reluctantly explained the parameters of this project. I stand by my earlier assessment—I think this internship is a terrible idea. The stress alone…”
I wrenched open my other eye, and still my vision stayed blessedly clear.
“Dr. Daniels, I appreciate your concern, but I can do this,” I pleaded. “I promise, I’ll spend every spare minute meditating; I’ll minimize my stress, I’ll—”
“I can see you won’t be persuaded. I’ll see to it that they’re stocked with your migraine meds.”
I managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Dr. Daniels.”
His grim smile was less than encouraging. “I’m not leaving here until I’m sure you’re up and about. Go—get ready.”
I moved deliberately to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, then tackled the tangled mess of my hair.
“Oh! Ow…ow…son of a…” The hairbrush clattered to the ground, and I flexed my injured left hand. When I retrieved it, I made sure I held the brush in my uninjured hand. I brushed until my hair fell in loose auburn waves over my shoulders, but I frowned as I noted how sunken my eyes looked under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“Nothing like hideous lighting to make you look your worst after a long day skipping through alternate reality,” I said to Dr. Daniels in mock cheerfulness.
“I have known you for a long time, Kate Rathman, and I know how determined you can be. But as your doctor—and your friend—I want you to understand how concerned I am for your health—and your safety. Please be careful.”
“I will, Dr. Daniels. I promise.”
When I arrived in the kitchen, the tables were full, and a quick scan of the room revealed that Andrew wasn’t among the diners. I was immediately relieved. Amir whipped up a steaming latté on the complicated-looking Italian machine. He held it out to me with a broad grin.
“You’re going to need this after your trip yesterday.”
“Thanks, Amir.”
“How’re you doing?”
“Better than yesterday.” I took the coffee and wandered over to a table where Janine was picking at the remains of a frittata.
“Hi, Janine,” I said, sliding into a seat.
“Good morning,” she said, welcoming as always. “How are you feeling, Kate?”
“Better, thanks.”
It was easy to see the concern behind her smile. “Are you still experiencing any symptoms? Any at all?”
“I’m fine—really.”
I noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes seemed more prominent than yesterday.
I placed my still-useless phone on the table. “Hey, can you help connect me to the corporate network? I really need to get ahold of Andrew.”
Janine frowned, but after a moment’s pause, she gestured for the device. I unlocked it and passed it to her. She tapped for a long time; apparently the setup was complicated. Finally, she handed it back to me and picked up her cup.
“I know I’ve said this before, but it’s important,” she said, staring down into her coffee. “Be very careful what you say via the network. In any case, you may have difficulty reaching Andrew today. He’s at the hospital with Lily’s family. They’re pulling her life support. I don’t expect he’ll leave her until it’s finished.”
“Oh,” I replied awkwardly. For reasons I couldn’t explain
, I was suddenly awash with disappointment, which I objectively knew was crazy. If he were here right now, I’d almost certainly feel like a total amateur imbecile.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. “Is there something I can help with?”
“It can wait,” I said with more assurance than I felt. “I had another nightmare, but something was different, and I thought maybe he should know.”
Janine was suddenly alert. “What happened? Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
I sucked in a deep breath as I felt the brush of his lips on my neck and the quiver of my bare skin under his insistent touch. It was all I could do to hold back a gasp of pure, liquid ecstasy. Warmth flooded my body as blood rushed to my cheeks. I took a deep breath, then another, almost as desperate for the sensation to linger as I was for it to subside.
My hallucination abruptly faded when Janine laid a concerned hand on my forearm. “The subject matter’s not important,” I stuttered, forcing myself to focus. “But something really weird happened. I saw myself. Or, rather I was myself. That’s never happened before.”
“So,” Janine said slowly with barely concealed excitement, “you were yourself? Could you actually interact with your environment?”
“No. I was me—I mean, I could see and feel everything that was happening.” My skin began to tingle, and my cheeks grew increasingly flushed. I took several more deep breaths. “But I wasn’t driving, if you know what I mean. There was only one me, I saw things from my own perspective, but she—the other me—was definitely running the show.”
“Hmmm…” Janine replied, picking at a slice of red pepper in her eggs as she thought. “I wonder if it’s random? Or if the slicing is starting to change your experience?”
