“Can’t forget that. If you’d like to try out any non-forbidden activities, let me know. I’m sure I can pencil you in.”
“Your people will call my people, huh?’
“Exactly.”
His disinterest in visiting the city is disappointing, but, given his situation, certainly understandable. After just a few hours with RPS, Eliza, and, worst of all, Gideon, the thought of a prolonged placement in their care is not something I’m sure I’d be willing to risk, either.
Charlie glances down at his bracelet and scrolls through its information. “We’d better get going. Don’t want to be late for Morning Meditation.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The morning slides by in a blur of motivational speeches, lectures, pointless exercises, and questions. Too many questions.
Tell us about yourself.
What happened last night?
What are your greatest fears?
What do you hope to achieve in your time here?
Were you really in the park all night with Crosby?
Is something going on with you and Charlie?
What is your greatest regret?
Through it all, Bobby keeps his nose in a book, never speaking and never participating. Franklin doesn’t bother to chastise him, or to even acknowledge his presence, which, judging by the non-reaction of my floormates, is standard operating procedure.
Active Body, Active Soul is the only session that doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my own skin. We spend the time doing yoga, and despite the dirty looks from Abbey, I do find a bit of relief. A sense of calm pushes in at the edges of my mind, softening the persistent ache I’ve felt since arriving.
The relief is short-lived, though. Since the start of Morning Meditation, I have the feeling that someone, or something, is watching my every move.
“Don’t be paranoid,” Hannah tells me when I bring it up. “You’re just feeling on display, like a fish in a bowl. Happens to everybody. You’ll get used to it.”
At the start of free time, I spot Bobby making a beeline for the elevators. I run to catch up to him, and he invites me to join him on his walk to Jhana Park. There, we settle on a bench in a serene spot by the water.
Chin in hands, I lean toward him, pondering this boy-genius whom time has long since made a man. Here he sits, a life stopped before his birthday by his own hand. Forever a day shy of eighteen, time be damned.
It’s a struggle to find the right words for the conversation I’m eager to have. Bobby has been at Atman my entire life, and I have to know what’s keeping him here. My assumptions aren’t enough. My own death, the struggles I face to adjust to this new reality, the link-burst, the lectures—they should be more than enough to occupy my troubled mind, but there’s something about Bobby that tugs at my heart.
He’s in his own world, writing notes in his journal. I clear my throat. “Bobby?”
“Yes, Dez?” He doesn’t pull his focus from his work or even slow the pace of his writing.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You certainly may.”
“I’m not quite sure how to ask you this.”
“By all means, fire away. I am an open book.”
“You think we’re in another dimension, don’t you?”
The tip of his pen stops moving. He doesn’t speak.
“That’s what’s keeping you here, isn’t it?” I ask.
“You’re not like the others.” His tone of admiration and sad smile make an odd combination that’s hard to decipher.
“You’re treating death like a research project.”
He closes his journal and sighs. “Well, someone ought to, don’t you think?”
“Look, I’m way out of my depth here. I’m going off a single lecture from my AP Physics class last week.”
“What is your interest in my theories? Priorities would seem to dictate you be more concerned with your own predicament.”
“You got to be somebody, Bobby. You may have only lived a few months longer than I did, but you had your shot. You got to be brilliant.” I’ll never get my chance. To make a difference. To be somebody. To matter.
“Yet here we aren’t,” Bobby says.
“Yet here we are.” We stare at each other for a moment before I say, “You’ve been dead as long as you were alive, you know.”
He runs a loving hand across the cover. “No.”
“No?”
“As to your question, no. I do not believe we are in another dimension.”
“Then where do you think we are?”
Bobby scoots closer on the bench. “The question isn’t where, but when we are. I am quite certain this is all just a creative exercise of my brain. It would seem my aim was not as true as I had planned, and I am living a tiresome semi-existence on life support.”
“Your mom scattered your ashes at your family’s summer home on Nantucket. It was in the documentary.”
“Just the sort of thing a mischievous subconscious would tell me.”
“What’s the worst that could happen if you tried?” I ask. “If you did more than read a book through the sessions every day? If you gave in to this non-reality you seem to think we’re in?”
“One should avoid dispensing advice they, themselves, are unwilling to follow.”
“But I’ve only just arrived. It’s been eighteen years for you, Bobby. That’s a long time to be stuck here.”
He waves his hand like he’s swatting away a fly. “I’ve heard all of this before. Your aim is noble, but you have no chance of success.” He scuffs the toe of his shoe in the dirt, distracted. “I find your sudden fixation on me to be quite puzzling.”
“What if I told you something you didn’t know? Would that help convince you?”
“Ah, some sort of vital information to convince me you’re real. Clever, but unlikely. It would have to be something astonishing that I’d not come to on my own.”
“So, telling you scientists cloned a sheep isn’t going to cut it?”
“No.”
“How about a world-changing, history-making event?”
“Continue.”
It seems I’ve piqued his interest. I rattle off a lesson like I’m reciting the dry text of a high school history book. “On September 11, 2001, terrorists hijacked four commercial airliners, flying one into each of the towers of the World Trade Center and destroying both. One plane flew into the Pentagon, which suffered significant but localized damage. The final plane, which experts believe was meant for the Capitol building or the White House, crashed into a field in Pennsylvania after passengers attempted to take back control of the plane from the hijackers. In the end, three thousand civilians died and two wars were started.”
“While horrific, it isn’t unimaginable,” Bobby says, his voice soft. “The World Trade Center was attacked not long before my … apparent coma-inducing event. A more calculated attack isn’t outside the realm of something my bored mind could create.”
“I’m kind of surprised no one has ever told you about it before.”
“I tend to keep to myself.”
Frowning, I struggle to think of something, anything to convince him this odd existence is real. I decide to try the technology route. “Let me tell you about the smartphone. Very cool, and much less depressing.”
He looks skeptical. “A smart phone? Is it self-aware?”
“No, nothing like that, but it is pretty amazing. The cell phones you remember are dinosaurs. Imagine a phone the size of your hand that can access the internet”—I count off the points on my fingers—“give you driving directions, play music from your favorite artists, record video and take photos, recommend restaurants, show you where your friends are, and about a million other things, all with a touchscreen.”
“While interesting, it isn’t an enormous leap in logic. It is not beyond the realm of imagination. No, Dez, I’m going to need something bigger. A game-changer, as they say.”
“Challenge accepted. Let me think about
it. I’m sure I can come up with something.”
“I wish you nothing but the best of luck in your endeavor.”
“I wouldn’t think someone like you believes in luck.”
Bobby bows his head in deference. “Quite true. It was merely a stylistic expression. An idiom, if you will.”
“Fair enough. I’m off to think.”
“Dez? Might I be so forward … ” He hesitates, and his cheeks turn crimson.
Bobby, blushing? Now I’ve seen everything. “What’s up, Bobby?”
“I would very much enjoy the pleasure of your company this evening.”
“I probably shouldn’t skip out on any more sessions. Franklin will flip out.”
Bobby bows his head in deference. “You might be pleased to hear I have it on good authority that there will be an ideal moment this evening during which we will be able to slip away undetected. I overheard a rather useful conversation this afternoon.”
“That’s handy,” I say.
“It is a rather routine occurrence, as my presence often goes unnoticed.” He puts his journal down on the bench beside him, at last giving me his undivided attention. “It would seem our young Heracles has a pressing appointment this evening that will require the escort of one Franklin Hicks. At the conclusion of Evening Reflection, we will be instructed to return to our rooms for quiet time, at which point Franklin and Herc will depart. As you know, quiet time leads directly into DSR.”
I nod, smiling. “So if we wait until he and Herc leave for the admin building, we can slip away without Franklin having any clue we’re gone.”
“And he always spends the DSR hours in his suite.”
“Do staff do DSR?” I ask.
“No, that is reserved solely for transitional souls.”
“What about us? Can we just skip it like that?”
“You can for up to two nights with no ill effect. Beyond that point, you may experience disorientation, drowsiness, nausea, and tremors.” He lists off the side effects like a narrator in a drug commercial.
Ask your doctor if skipping DSR is right for you.
I jump into the scheming with both feet. “If we arrive back on the floor after Franklin and Herc are in their rooms, no one will notice our return.”
“Our roommates alone will know we’ve left. Shawn is most accustomed to my, shall we say, unusual schedule.”
“Which just leaves Hannah. I’m sure she won’t say anything.”
“Excellent.”
“So what do you have planned for tonight?” I ask. “Are we hopping a train out of this place?”
Bobby chuckles quietly. “No, no, nothing of the sort, although that would be an interesting journey indeed. If you’d be so kind as to indulge me on an evening stroll, I think there is something you may quite enjoy seeing.”
“Is that so?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
His face goes red. “I did not mean to suggest … I was merely — ”
I let him flounder for a few seconds, until a smile gives me away. “Come find me when you’re ready to go.”
“If you’d like to meet me by the elevators approximately half an hour after Franklin’s departure, it would be an ideal time to take our temporary leave of floor ninety-five.” He grabs his journal, opens it again, and returns to his high-speed note taking.
After several minutes of silence, I get the impression I’ve been forgotten. I clear my throat to no response. “So, Bobby, should we meet at nine, then? Twenty-one hundred hours?”
His head snaps up and he looks at me with bewilderment. “Yes, of course. I thought we’d settled the matter.”
“Okay … well, I’d better get going. I’ll see you tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I hear the hollow thunk of a message arriving via pneumatic tube as I walk in the door to our suite. “You’ve got mail,” I say, echoing my dad’s favorite quote. Ugh, the nineties called and they want their catchphrase back.
I tear into the envelope, which bears my name.
Hey kiddo,
Come see me ASAP. A little birdie tells me you’re up to no good.
—Crosby
Up to no good? Whatever.
With an unimpressed “pfft,” I throw his note down on the table and head for my closet. I may not be able to go shopping with my mom anymore, but there are racks and racks of retail therapy in here. With as many outfits as they’ve given me, I’d be crazy not to change clothes a few times a day.
The door opens and shuts. I hear Hannah shuffling through the growing pile of messages on the table.
“Uh-oh. You heading down to see Crosby?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“You sure about that? Crosby’s not a fan of being ignored.”
“Whatever it is will have to wait. I don’t think I can take one more second of rules, regulations, and being ordered around. Besides, I’m busy.”
She walks over and peeks in the closet. “With what?”
“For starters, I’ve been trying to come up with a way to convince Bobby this place is real.”
“Good luck with that,” she scoffs. “Do you even believe it’s real?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Apparently so. Look at Bobby.”
“Well, he’s both of the reasons I’m busy.”
She gives me an intrigued look. “What else is going on?”
“We’re going for a walk tonight, but that’s all I know. Not sure what he has planned.” I grab an armload of clothes and brush by Hannah, who is taking up most of the closet’s narrow doorway. I sling the hangers over one arm and use my free hand to toss the outfits onto my bed to get a better look.
“Are you crazy? Franklin’s going to—”
“To what? Make me more dead? Bobby’s been getting away with whatever he wants for years. I think I’ll be okay for one night. Besides, he has a plan. Franklin won’t even know we’re gone.”
“Sneaking off with Bobby, huh? You sure are a hit with the boys around here.”
I drop the two outfits I’m comparing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She folds her arms across her chest. “Some people might see it like you’ve got Charlie interested, and now you’re stringing Bobby along.”
Ignoring her jab, I turn back to the clothes. I discard the outfits I don’t like—which is all of them—on the floor.
Hannah looks down at the growing pile. “You’re just going to leave those there?”
“Relax. I’ll put them away when I’m done.”
“You really think it’s a great idea to sneak off to god knows where with Bobby in the mood you’re in?”
“We’re only going for a walk. I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay.”
“Fine, suit yourself.” She walks away, heading for the door. “Have fun,” she calls as she slams the door behind her, leaving me alone with my heap of clothes.
“Well, I was going to pick you up.” I change into the solitary acceptable outfit I’ve found. “See you later, floordrobe.”
I slide into a vacant seat next to Charlie at 19:59:45, just under the wire. “How nice of you to join us this evening, Dez,” Franklin says. A wave of quiet laughter runs through the group. “Tonight is going to be an abbreviated session, so let’s get to it, shall we?”
The room falls silent and he continues. “Today we discussed the cognitive differences between life and death. Many of you mentioned how slow you found the process of reaching what we call ‘full participation’ at Atman, so I would like it if we could reflect on steps new-arrival afterlifers—like Dez, for example—can take to speed up this process.” He turns to Herc. “You’re still pretty new here, so you should pay attention.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Herc says. He sinks low in his chair.
“Anyone want to start? Any tips?”
“Don’t jump out windows?” Charlie offers, eliciting more laughter.
“A good point, but not exactly what I was looking for.” Franklin tries not to
smile. “Kira,” he says. “You look like you have something to say.”
“What helped me was making time to sit in the park for like a half hour a day. I’d just sit there, and really concentrate on seeing everything. Really seeing it. All the details. And the sounds and smells, too. Just taking it all in. When you are fully aware of the surroundings, accepting this place and being a participant instead of just an observer gets a lot easier.”
“That’s a great tip, Kira.” He waits for volunteers, but nobody else speaks up. “I’m going to let this utter lack of participation—Kira excluded—slide tonight, but don’t go thinking this is a trend. I expect hard work from each and every one of you tomorrow, okay?”
Everyone mutters an affirmative.
“Good,” Franklin says. “Since Herc and I have somewhere to be tonight, let’s wrap up by taking a few minutes for personal reflection. What achievements are you proud of today? What regrets do you have? What do you hope to accomplish tomorrow? Get comfy, close your eyes and think about it.” He checks the clock. “Time starts now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“So, you’re really just going to sneak off?” Hannah walks out of her closet carrying pajamas. Her face is set in a scowl. "You know what? Don’t even answer that. I’m going to go take a nice, long bath, and if you aren’t here when I get out, and somebody comes looking for you, I’m pleading ignorance.”
“Hannah—”
“I see nothing, I know nothing.” She stomps into the bathroom and shuts the door.
Bobby has a small lantern and leads the way as we cut across an empty Jhana Park.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask.
“There,” he says, pointing toward the glowing skyline of Atman City.
I freeze in my tracks. “What? You mean tonight? Right now?”
Bobby turns the lantern toward me. “Do you not wish to visit? I was under the impression that you have a pressing desire to take in the sights and sounds of the forbidden jewel.”
“I did. I mean, I do,” I say. “I just didn’t think it would be tonight.”
Life, A.D. Page 13
