Lost in La La Land(21)

The maids, who I’d hired, had cleaned it to the point that the filth was gone and the wood shined, but nothing would fix up the old look or feel. The furniture gleamed from the wood polish and vacuuming but the decor was still fifty or more years old.

The fridge was filled with food and drinks and the dishes were all washed and ready to use.

It would have to do for now.

Lana strolled about, analyzing or exploring, I wasn't sure which, while I called and booked a realtor and stager to take on my Manhattan apartment. I gave up my lease on the dentist office that was likely being raided at that very moment.

I wasn't going back, not for a while.

Then I turned off my phone and went to get the equipment.

In the dark room of the basement where it was, I crept through the shadows the dim lights cast. As I grabbed a box a noise startled me. I spun, jumping when I saw Lana staring at me with her dead-fish eyes and mussed hair.

“I thought I would see if you needed help.” She said it so flatly, I wasn't sure if she was being real or if she’d quickly come up with something while getting caught spying on me, plotting my death.

“Sure.” I pointed at a box. “Grab that one and I’ll grab this one. We don't need the other boxes right now.”

She moved with no emotion or purpose. Like a zombie.

We carried the boxes upstairs to the top floor, to the bedroom I had designated the one we’d use for the machines.

I plugged the equipment in and glanced back at her.

She was staring at the glass container of nanobots, marveling maybe at the bright blue light that shone from within them. It reminded me of a bright blue lava lamp, only the nanobots had capabilities beyond the average human’s comprehension. Apparently, also beyond my comprehension.

The glass container was pressurized and controlled by a compartment below, run on batteries that didn't require changing. The microscopic robots had been programmed to always keep their population at a set number, reproducing as they needed. Them and the container would outlast all of us. It was a genius invention, one I’d always admired.

I grabbed the second container, the sirens, and placed them on the dresser next to the others.

Once I had it all settled, as close to set up as I was going to get in the small room, I plugged in the lavender diffuser and closed the drapes. I lit a candle, creating dim lighting so I could watch her but not have it bright in the room.

“Thank you, Emma.” She shook slightly as she spoke, her voice cracking. Her eyes had come to life again.

“Don't thank me, Lana. I’m going to experiment on you. This is a business transaction, nothing more. I’m paying you in trips inside.”

“As long as I go inside, I don't care.” She lay back, offering her veins, like a heroin addict handing over her arm. “I just need to give birth to this baby.”

Seeing the mess she was didn't give me pause. It should have.

I hooked her up to an extra machine this time, using the old software I had from when I created Lucid Fantasies. It allowed me to track her, to explore with her. The nanobots would report back with visuals but also send signals from the different areas of the brain, showing the stimulation the experience was creating.

She took a deep breath, squeezing my hand like we were old friends, which in some ways we were, and then closed her eyes.

I sent her in, putting her to sleep, and watched the screen of the old laptop I hadn’t used in ages.

My belief in my product had been blinding.

Sitting back, watching her nanobots start their journey, I expected the initial reaction. They sped for her dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and hooked in but something gave me pause. I sat up, watching the code popping up, realizing a small part of the cluster had strayed from the herd. They headed into a different part of the brain as if they were commanded to. Each nanobot moved with speed and efficiency as though heralded to the cerebral cortex.

My stomach clenched as I watched her run her own show. Her dreams were her creations. Her mind had evolved, not the nanobots.

She wasn't a zombie, she was a puppet master.

She had experienced them so many times she had changed to suit the skill set they offered.

She had a need and unconsciously solved the problem.

“No,” I whispered, certain this was impossible. This level of long-term use wasn't something we’d tested against, but we hadn’t thought we needed to. Everyone dreamed. Every single day people dreamed. They daydreamed. They read books and watched movies and imagined things. It was never hazardous. However, a forced dream, inside a forced world, apparently could potentially create a problem, as shown here.

I watched, in half horror and half fascination, as she used the nanobots to her advantage, masterfully creating the world in which her heart lived.

At the six-hour mark I brought her out, desperate to ask questions. She woke much the same as the last time I had put her in. She was partially awake and still stunned. I ran the sirens call a second time, forcing the biosensors to commit suicide. I made a note to up the dosage and the length of time the siren’s call ran for Lana.

“Tell me how it works. I want the full explanation, from start to finish. How it feels going into the world and what experiences you have while there. I need to know what you recall from being there, what memories are formed, and how they exist in your mind. Be detailed.” I grabbed a pen and paper and turned my laptop camera on, recording the conversation.