that held the other simpods in the Pavilion facility was set up. The engineers started getting to work, joining a crew of rebels who had been calibrating the contraption when they first flew in.

While she watched the men and women work like drone bees in a hive, Tera noticed someone walking towards her. Turning, she saw the warm smile of Mrs. Clevinger.

“You’re back in one piece!” she declared.

“You could say that,” Gauge replied. “Though we had our losses.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Clevinger said, turning her gaze to her feet. “I cannot even describe what their sacrifice means.”

“There will be time to mourn, Betsy,” her husband said through the speaker in her skull. “We have to act quick, though. We’ve just played our hand and the element of surprise is gone. It’s only a matter of time before the Council comes knocking on our door.”

Gauge nodded as Tera spotted another form approaching her. It was Adviser Orram, still dressed in his simple robes. He clutched his ceremonial hat between his fingers as he walked over to them.

“Orram!” Tera greeted the old man. “What are you doing here?”

“My people and I came as soon as we learned what happened to our king,” the adviser replied. “We’re here to help however we can, and I’m sure Hum will agree when he’s awoken. As far as I’m concerned, the Holy Kingdom of Opes is at war.”

Purple Pill

Ethan sputtered up some of the snot-colored fluid as he was heaved from the simpod. He gasped for air, trying to avoid getting any more of the vile stuff in his mouth. Clumps of the substance clung to his skin like gelatin.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He wiped away the fluid from his face, stinging his eyes as he did so. With one eye squeezed shut in pain, he looked up and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

The lights were bright, but there were few of them and they were so far above him that they didn’t blind him. A form over him started to clear up and become defined. It was Tera; she was staring down at him with what he thought were emotional glowing eyes.

“Ethan?” she asked. “Can you hear me?”

“Tera?” he replied. “What — what’s going on?”

“You’re safe,” she said. Her voice choked up a little. She gave a warm smile.

“Where?”

“The Furnace,” she replied. “We were able to bring you back home.”

Ethan wiped a bit more of the stuff from his eyes, then looked up at her, his brow furrowed. He scanned over her robotic form, his eyes dark with suspicion. Without warning, he jolted up to his feet; his gaze never left the woman’s face. She stepped back, taken off guard. He stumbled a little as he moved closer, trying to get a good look at her.

“Are you real?” he asked. “Is this real? Is this another one of your fucking simulations?”

“Ethan?” Tera said. She didn’t know how else to respond.

“Are you real, dammit?”

“Of course!” she answered. Her face was distorted with confusion. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” the young man replied. “I’m either in another simulation or this is really the Furnace. But I don’t know.”

Tera’s expression grew concerned as the Clevingers entered the makeshift room.

“He’s up?” Martin asked through the speaker in his wife’s head.

Tera nodded, but didn’t say anything. Betsy’s face became one of inquisition.

“Something wrong?” the old woman asked.

Ethan slumped back down to his knees, then relaxed onto his bottom. His face was cold and hard to read; there were flashes of terror and confusion, but there were also moments of emotionless calm and almost joy. Betsy and Tera shared a worried look.

Is anything even real? Ethan thought, burying his face into his arms. How can one tell? Just wait for another glitch?

He looked over at the empty pod he emerged from. It looked even smaller from the outside — he wasn’t even sure how he fit in it. Just beyond it, he saw a second simpod. It was still full of the viscous green stuff. He could see a form floating within. He squinted through the goop that still clung to his eyelashes, but he couldn’t make out the other pod’s occupant.

“Who’s that?” he asked, turning back to face Tera and the Clevingers.

“King Hum,” Betsy explained. “He was a hostage in one of their simulations, just like you were.”

“Why’s he still in there?”

Tera and the woman with the speaker in her head shared another glance. Ethan felt a little upset, like he was being left out of an inside joke.

“It’s going to be a bit more complex than that,” Betsy replied.

“You see, they tricked the young monarch into letting them scan his brain — and create an installed intelligence from it,” Martin carried on from the skull-speaker. “We’re working on getting him out, but doing so with his organic body may be a different story.”

Ethan looked back at the curled form in the simpod. After knowing who it was, he could see the subtle features of the young king. His heart dropped a little.

“So this is definitely real?” he asked again, more to himself than to the others.

Tera still answered, nodding. “Yes, Ethan,” she said.

“They tried to trick you as well,” Martin explained. “They put you in an isolated simulation, created computer programs to emulate your friends. They tried to make you think that everything we’ve done together here was little more than a fever dream. But it was a trick, Ethan. You have to understand that.”

“You do understand that,” Tera started, “right?”

Ethan’s eyes shifted over to her. In his gut, he wanted to call her out for being another simulacrum, but in his heart, he was glad to see her. Even if this was just another layer of the seemingly endless mind game being played on him, he took relief in Tera’s presence. If everyone was a phony, he figured he’d rather be with the phony he liked most.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I understand. I was fooled.”

“They put an astounding amount of effort into that

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