Elusion(20)

I kick off my platform heels and give my sore feet a quick rub, staring at the Equip components. I try to push away a rush of anxiety that’s needling at my shoulders like bee stings.

I know the return from my Escape will hurt as much as it did a few months ago, but I have to take this risk. After all, how can I defend my father and Elusion if I’m not truly honoring what he created? And how can I say without a shadow of a doubt that it’s not dangerous if I’m not facing this one fear of mine?

My tab vibrates on my steel-top window-ledge desk, signaling that I have an unread text. I snatch it up and swipe my finger across the touch screen to wake it out of sleep mode.

There are not one but two messages.

Patrick: Let me know when you get home, okay?

and

Patrick: Can we pretend tonight didn’t happen?

I close my eyes and laugh. God, it is so hard to stay mad at him.

I glance down at my tab, my fingers dancing across the screen. I quickly type:

Regan: Stopped for something to eat. Back home now. TTYL

I’m about to hit Send when my hand hovers over my tab and freezes.

A minute passes and then another.

I finally send a text.

Regan: Going to Elusion to check out the Universe. Come with?

I guess, deep down, I don’t want to go back there alone.

I touch the screen and the blue status bar zips along the bottom as my tab attempts to engage the Elusion program. A second later, a message pops up on the screen: ELUSION? is only supported by Tecno 115 or higher. Press Enter if you would like to download now.

I press Enter and wait for the app to be updated. A message pops up: Download successful. Installing ELUSION?. My heart banging in my chest, I sit down on my bed again and slide the wristband on, making sure the tips align with the pressure points and the digital dial is facing up. I press my start code on the small numeric keypad, connecting it and the tab by satellite to the main server.

An emergency warning flashes on the screen, a warning I’m guessing was CIT mandated:

If your wristband alarm sounds, please leave Elusion immediately. Staying in Elusion longer than recommended might result in brain injury.

I reach for the earbuds as my tablet buzzes with a message.

Patrick: Meet you there. 7-3-4-8

My pulse is picking up steam. I enter his companion code into the keypad and then wait.

A second later, I have another prompt from Elusion on my tablet:

User 7348 has accepted invitation request.

Another instruction flashes on-screen.

Please insert earbuds.

I take my earbuds and slip them in place.

Please engage video visor.

I slide the visor over my eyes, balancing it on the bridge of my nose, and push the switch on the temple forward. At first I’m surrounded by darkness, but then a glowing panoramic rainbow, created by the microlasers, stretches out in front of me.

A robotic female voice begins to speak in a droning tone, accompanied by a low hum, the kind of sound that electric transformers make.

“Escape immersion in five . . .”

I lie back on my bed, my hands folded comfortably over my stomach in what Patrick always refers to as the “casket” position.

Four . . .

I have a vision of Josh in his uniform, his amber eyes staring at me intensely as if he’s trying to read my mind, but just as quickly it’s gone, replaced by a fuzzy white airiness.

Three . . .

I’m beginning to feel a little light-headed, like I did after Mom and I painted my room three years ago. I see her standing on the ladder, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, the familiar laugh lines etched around her eyes as she smiles and says, “At least pretend like you’re trying not to get it on the ceiling . . .”

Two . . .

A bright, all-encompassing white light dances around me.

One.


I’m floating in outer space among a cascade of stars, slowly spinning in circles, my arms stretched above my head and my open hands dangling loosely from my wrists. I’m amazed by how weightlessness feels—it’s like swimming through a pool filled with the fuzzy petals on one of those flowers you make a wish and blow on. I can’t remember what they’re called. Actually, it seems like I can’t remember much of anything—the name of my calc teacher, what sector I live in, or why I’ve been away from Elusion for so long. I keep searching the recesses of my memory for anything to hold on to but I’m coming up empty.

It’s the most soothing feeling I’ve ever known.

Patrick’s virtual universe—all the planets, moons, and stars—is completely astounding. Luminous yellows, greens, and reds come together like large blotches of oil paint mixing together on a blue-black canvas. Pinpricks of glowing white light are scattered everywhere, like someone has thrown confetti up into the air and it’s never sprinkled back down. Strangely, the sound of nothingness is something I can taste on the tip on my tongue—it’s sweet and soft, like melting caramel. I look down and see that I’m dressed in an aquamarine neoprene jumpsuit and heavy moon boots that have soles built for maximum traction.

My body feels warm, every cell channeling an indescribable energy that makes me believe in things I know aren’t true, like my father is still alive, and I belong out here, hurtling through the galaxy. When I arch my back, I swing into an elegant, gravity-defying somersault. And then I see it—a comet blazing toward me. But unlike the one in the Orexis demonstration, it seems as though this comet has been designed just for me, in all my favorite colors. Vivid streaks of blue, purple, and magenta fill a sphere of charcoal gray, and orbiting around it is a wide stream of neon-pink stars.