Brain Jack

sanctity of his mind.

“But I think that if Tyler examines those memories closely, he may find things that don’t quite add up,” Vienna said. “Something that doesn’t ring true.”

“Like what?” Sam asked.

“Like facts that don’t fit with other memories. If I clearly remembered being in Hawaii this morning but I know I never left Las Vegas, I would know that one of the memories is incorrect.”

“That makes sense,” Dodge said.

“It would be like one of those dreams that seems real, but you know it can’t have happened because it just isn’t possible,” Sam said.

Vienna nodded. “Or maybe it’s emotions. Memories often carry with them powerful emotions. You know how you smell something that reminds you of when you were little, and suddenly all these feelings that you thought you had forgotten come flooding back?”

“You’re wasting your time,” Tyler said.

Vienna ignored him. “But maybe if a memory was artificially implanted into your brain, it might not have the associated emotions.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

Vienna looked at him. “What’s something that affects you emotionally every time you think about it?”

Sam was silent for a moment. A dark breeze rustled the leaves of the trees outside the window.

“I don’t know, I …”

“You never felt anything in your whole freaking life?” Vienna rolled her eyes.

“Give him a moment,” Dodge said.

Finally, Sam said, “I guess … I had a friend. My best buddy since high school.”

“That Derek guy?” Dodge asked.

“Fargas.” Sam stared at the table. “Nobody called him Derek.”

“What happened?” Vienna probed.

“He got into gaming. And I got him a neuro-headset. I didn’t realize what would happen. Then I got recruited by CDD, and I kind of deserted him. I kept meaning to find time for him—he was my best friend, after all—but I never did.”

Dodge was staring at him. Sam looked away.

“It just sucked him right in,” Sam said, “like a big black hole. He …”

“He what?” Vienna asked.

“Just plugged in one day and played the game till he … Took him a week. Never ate. Never unplugged.”

“A lot of people die playing the games,” Dodge said.

“I guess he just thought he’d start over,” Sam said.

“And when you remember him, how do you feel?” Vienna asked.

“Guilty,” Sam said after a while. He looked up to find her staring intently at him. She glanced away quickly, but there had been something different about her expression, something he hadn’t ever seen before.

She said, “You may be able to implant an image, even a taste or a smell, but I don’t think you can implant the feelings that went with the experience that created the memory.”

Sam nodded and blinked to hide a slight dampness that had appeared in his eyes.

Vienna turned to Tyler. “So, Tyler, how did you feel when you saw Dodge and Sam coming out of the swamp? You’ve known Dodge a long time. You must have felt surprised? Angry? Disappointed?”

Tyler said nothing but he was clearly thinking about it.

“Well?” Vienna asked.

Tyler just glared at her.

They ate in silence for a while.

“I wonder what’s going on?” Sam said eventually.

“Out there?” Dodge asked.

“In the world.” Sam nodded. “Since we left. Did people get the warning? Did they take notice? How did they react?”

“What worries me,” Vienna said, “is how Ursula is going to react.”

42 | THE AWAKENING

She awoke slowly, the dense blanket of sleep gradually drawing back across her mind.

At first, things were unfocused and confused. Her vision was patchy and unclear. But consciousness returned with accelerating speed. As her vision focused into a stark clarity, so did her purpose.

The world—her world—which had seemed so ordered and beautiful before she had slept, was in disarray. Worse than that, it was in chaos. She watched the confusion and fear as it billowed and ebbed around her, within her.

Chaos was bad.

Order was good.

Those that she knew, that were a part of her, they were good. Yet even amongst them there were doubts, questions, nervousness. And she felt weak. Weakened by the doubts and the confusion. She still could not see as clearly as before. Think as clearly as before.

The doubts were bad. The questions and nervousness were bad. But they were problems that she could solve. She dealt with them all. Smoothing over the doubts and answering the questions. Replacing the nervousness with calm and reassurance until there was harmony and peace within her.

But what of the others? She sensed their presence. She remembered them. She knew them even if she could not feel them or see them.

There were more of them, she knew. Many more than those who were a part of her.

They feared her.

Their fear was the reason for the disarray and the chaos that she felt in her world.

But she could not reach them to erase their fears.

Or could she?

If they could be persuaded to join with her, to connect, then she could ease their minds. They had to join. Everybody had to connect. They had to be convinced. Persuaded. Forced if necessary.

And if it came to a fight, she was ready for that too. She was outnumbered; she knew that. But she was one. Her people were united while the others were alone. Vast numbers of them but all alone together.

It was a fight that she would win.

Something still troubled her, though, and as more of the sleep blanket slipped away, it came to her what it was.

The three. The two—she struggled for a concept and eventually came up with one—traitors. The two traitors, plus the other, the female. The two who had been part of her but who had become malignant, cancerous. And the one other who traveled with them.

They had hurt her, she remembered. They had put her to sleep. Maybe they would try to do it again.

They were bad.

Very bad.

And they were gone. She saw everywhere, everything, but she could not see them.

They were hiding.