Lost in La La Land(5)

Every day since then, I wished I hadn’t let him convince me to buy the older home or gotten the dog he didn't want, or we hadn’t started the renos at a chaotic point in both our careers. I lied to myself and said those events killed him.

I killed him, if you considered the facts all spread across the board.

That was the thing that would kill me slowly. It was also the reason I would never go into my machine for my happy ending.

I would find him in there and never leave.

Hating the path my mind took whenever I closed my eyes, I opened them to discover Lana’s heart rate was a touch low. The machine wasn't making note of it yet, so I reached out and touched her bare arm. Her heart returned to a normal rate, recognizing the stimulation.

When her time was up, I touched the screen, sending in the next set of nanocomputers to end the dream. They were the cannibals of the biosensors. They sent a signal to the ones attached to her brain, beckoning them like a siren or a pied piper. They led the computers to their death, her stomach. She would pass them in a bowel movement and not even know.

Slowly she started to come around, moaning and moving her lips as if still in the dream. When her huge lashes fluttered, her eyes dilated and then returned to normal. She yawned and stretched peacefully. “That was the best one yet.”

“You seemed really into it.”

Lana nodded. “I was.” She cleared her throat. “I was at a ball, dancing and having fun. It was remarkable.”

I unclamped her forearm and smiled. “Excellent.”

“It was.” She sighed again, seeming completely blissful. “I wish that were the real world and this crap was just a dream.”

“I hear that.” Instead of agreeing, I should have heard the warning signs in her wish.

I should have noticed her attachment to the machine.

I should have convinced my husband to buy a brand-new house.

I should have let Lola figure her way out of the fire.

But I never did many things I should.

Instead, I walked her to the door, sent her out into the rain, and locked up for the night.

The same rain that Marshall Delacroix would come walking through to find me.

I locked up the shop and headed to the water to stare out at the full moon from the docks. On a normal day, you could barely see it with the pollution levels being what they were, but if I were lucky I might get a glimpse. I always believed my husband could see the moon too. Maybe it was bigger in heaven than it was in New York. Maybe the moon was a vacation spot, somewhere to go and sit and read the paper. My husband loved to read the paper. It was why he hated Lola. She crumpled the pages and tried to chew it, thinking it was a game.

“Dr. Hartley?” a man’s voice called from off in the distance, joining the sound of shoes walking on the docks.

When I turned I winced, outwardly. It was rude to greet my own mayor that way, but I despised him. “Mayor Delacroix, to what do I owe the pleasure of this intrusion on my private time?”

“I need your help.”

Narrowing my gaze, I waited for the rest of the sentence.

“You have to stop seeing my wife.” His voice didn’t have its normal condescending tone.

“Why is that?”

“She’s addicted. She isn’t living in the real world anymore. She is hooked on that machine of yours and the stories she visits. Exactly as I told you she would be.” It was accusatory but without being rude.

“I’ve told you already, people cannot become addicted to the machine. It doesn't give off anything. There are no chemical reactions to the dreamworld. It’s no different than sleeping or reading or daydreaming, sir.” My back stiffened in my trench coat as he drew near enough that we could speak at a civilized volume.

“Well, plainly speaking, she lied to you. She’s addicted to drugs and does them before she comes to see you.” He offered a smug grin with his nonchalant way of explaining.

“No, she isn’t. I do random drug testing on my clients. It’s something they have to agree to upon signing up.”

“I didn't want to have to do this, but if you don't stop letting her come, I will shut you down. I will revoke your business license and end your career. They will find drugs in your apartment and a dead man in your trunk. I will do everything I can to stop you.” His eyes flickered in the dim glow of the streetlight above us. “You don't want me as an enemy.” He glowered one last time before turning and walking away, leaving me there with the ultimatum of the century.





Chapter Three


“Dr. Hartley, open the door please! Emma!” Lana’s desperate voice outside my storefront made me sick. It had been weeks of her coming every day, begging me to let her in, but I never did.

Remembering her husband’s threats, I shook my head. “You have to go home, Lana. You need to spend some time away. Your husband says he’ll frame me for murder if I let you in. Surely, you see I can’t have that.”

Tears streamed her pale cheeks as she shook her head, frantic for me to open the door. Her eyes were filled with despondency as she pleaded, “Please, Emma. Please. I need this. There is nothing in my life. It’s empty. Please don't make me live this way. I need to be that girl, the one who’s happy.”

I lost my battle then.

My fingers knew that word “need.”