Alternity (23 page)

He scowls. “That’s not a fair question. You know I’m needed here.”

“Well, I’m needed there. I know you don’t think the cause is as noble. Hell, I’d be the first to tell you that. But it’s still my role. My life. My existence. My destiny. And I need to fulfill that.”

“But it’s not your world and your destiny. You just think it is because of the drugs.”

I sigh. Here we go again. No matter how he plays it, at the end of the day, he really, truly still thinks I’m Mariah. “Dawn, as much as you want to believe that, it’s just not true. I’m not sure what happened to your girlfriend. But I know that I’m not her.” I pause, then add in a choked voice, “as much as I’d kind of like to be.”

His face falls. He crouches down to pet Noah, seeking comfort from the animal just as Earth people have been doing for generations. Noah licks his face, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him. But the kiss does nothing to lighten the atmosphere this time. My stomach aches as I watch the scene, wishing there were some other way, some method to split myself to live two existences. But even as I wish it, I know it’s no use. And the sooner I rip off the band-aid and resolve myself to just go home, the less difficult it will be for everyone.

Dawn nuzzles his face up to Noah’s and my heart lurches. I can’t believe I’ll never see him again. “Dawn—” I start. But he waves a hand to interrupt.

“Save it,” he says, rising to his feet. “I’ll take you to Moongazer Palace. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

I cringe at the pain in his voice. The bitter hurt. “No, no,” I protest. “It wasn’t a waste of time. I’m so thankful you showed me all you did. I’m so impressed by your work. But don’t you see? It proves that you don’t really need me. Mariah’s just a figurehead. You’ve done all this on your own, and you can keep it going as long as you want.”

“Right. We’ll be fine without you. Whatever eases your conscience at the end of the day,” Dawn mutters. He ushers a reluctant Noah back to his pen. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Bye, Noah-boy!” I cry, looking back at the Aussie. The dog whimpers in response, looking as abandoned and lost as Dawn.

*

Dawn slows his bike next to a ladder that leads up to Stratum One. Time for me to emerge from my rabbit hole and head back to Earth. Alice, no longer in Wonderland. I jump off the bike and shake myself off, then look over at Dawn. He stands still, one foot on the ground, one on the gas pedal, as if more than ready to take off into the night.

Even under the dim track lighting, I can see his face is cold, stone, ashen. Either he’s glad to see me go or he’s hiding his sadness well. I’m not sure I’m doing quite as good a job. The lump in my throat, the quiver in my jaw, both make it hard to throw on a brave smile.

What’s wrong with me? I’m getting what I want. The chance to return to Earth. To be back with my family, my friends, even Craig. But I feel only emptiness gnawing as I stare at Dawn. Why do I have the overwhelming urge to throw myself into his arms and beg him to let me stay?

“Well, I guess this is it,” he says. “Have a nice trip.”

I drop my head, feeling the tears coming. I can’t let him see how his blasé statement crushes me. “Thanks,” I say. The word seems so empty, so useless to profess the gratitude I feel toward him. For needlessly risking his life to save mine. For holding me close last night, even though the thought of me as someone else probably broke his heart.

He pauses for a second, as if considering something, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of paper that appears to be some sort of currency. He thrusts it in my direction. “Here,” he says. “Pay with these. If you use your thumb, the government will know you’ve gone. It’ll make it easier for them to find you if they want to.”

I accept the bills gratefully. “Thanks,” I say. “I really appreciate that.”

Dawn shoves his foot onto the pedal and revs his bike without responding. My heart breaks as I realize this is good-bye. Forever good-bye.

“Dawn …” I try to grab his shoulder, but he jerks away, hand up to stop me.

“Enough,” he says. “You’ve made your decision. Just go.” He yanks the bike’s handlebars and starts down the road, leaving only billowing smoke in his wake. He doesn’t turn around once. I stand under the rabbit hole, watching the bike’s lights fade into the darkness until there’s nothing left but a blackness.

I sigh. I slip the wad of bills in my pocket. Then I start to climb.

A few minutes later I emerge on Stratum One, down the street from Moongazer Palace. The gaudy neon lights are buzzing, still on their (evidently very sturdy) last legs. Wind from a nearby fan whips up debris and I hurry to enter the building, creeped out by the desolation.

Inside, the place is packed with young Indys eagerly sucking on their ‘Gazer inhalers and getting ready to vacation on Earth. I now realize that some are going for a short visit, a quick lark to another land. Others are here for permanent migration, weeping as they say good-bye to loved ones, begging them to join them on Earth as soon as they possibly can.

The old Asian proprietor I met during my first few minutes here greets me with a low bow. He’s still wearing the same old-fashioned suit. It seems so long ago, and at the same time as if I never left. “I’ve been expecting you,” he says. His chuckle is low and guttural. “Ready to go back in?”

Go back in.
The choice of phrase causes my heart to stutter. “I’m ready to return to Earth,” I correct, pulling the cash from my pocket.

“One way or round-trip?” he asks, walking over to the computerized cash register.

“One—” I stop, something making me reconsider. I hand him my wad of bills. “Is this enough for a round trip?”

He counts it. “Yes,” he says. “Exactly enough. One way costs more. Also, you’d need your official migration permission papers from the Circle.”

I remember now how the Eclipsers said a permanent migration to Earth cost an Indy’s life savings. Something I certainly didn’t have at my disposal. Did Dawn know I’d be forced to buy a round-trip ticket? He must have. Sneaky bastard didn’t warn me.

“I guess I’ll take a round-trip,” I say with a shrug, resigning myself to figuring out the whole thing once I get back to Earth. Maybe I can hide out somewhere and just never take that return ‘Gazer bus back, whenever and however it comes.

The proprietor nods, giving me a once-over. “Let me get you your charm,” he pronounces, walking over to the cabinet and pulling out one of the many. He drapes it over my neck. “And here is your ‘Gazer,” he says, handing me the inhaler.

I stuff the inhaler in my pocket. “Um, what’s the necklace for again?” I start to ask, but he’s already turned away to help another guest.

“You push the button here,” a blond elfish girl next to me says, reaching over to flip the necklace’s charm around. “It’ll indicate you’re ready to return to Terra.”

“Ah cool. Thanks,” I tell her. So that’s how the tourists get back. Interesting.

“The return’s only good for one week,” she informs me. “And they’ll totally charge you huge late fees if you stay overtime. Best to get out with an hour or so to spare, just to be safe.”

“Okay,” I say, not that I really expect to ever activate the thing. I’m going back to Earth, and this time I’m staying there for good. No matter what I have to do.

She looks at me oddly. “Aren’t you Sister Mariah?” she asks.

“No,” I say quickly, before she starts alerting the others. “But sometimes people say I look like her.”

Luckily, the girl seems to buy this. She wanders back over to her friends and plops down on the couch next to them.

“Remember,” the oldest-looking one in her group, a guy, is saying to the others. “Once you’re there, you’re supposed to pretend that you’re, like, from Earth. It’s called role-playing. You don’t go just to be your same old boring self. When you’re on Earth you’re like a rock star or an actor or something.”

“What’s it like on Earth?” asks a pig-tailed girl. “Is it really as cool as they say?”

“Cooler,” the guy affirms. “In fact, it’s like one big, never-ending party. Lots of food, lots of booze, and lots of …” He trails off as he eyes the younger members of his group. “Lots of dancing,” he finishes, though I’m pretty sure that’s not what he’s really looking forward to. “Well, you’ll see for yourselves.”

“Let’s do it!” cries a redheaded boy in the back. “Let’s go look into the moon!” He says the last bit exactly like the guy in the commercial, and the other members titter.

Their leader nods and pulls out his inhaler. He raises it up as if he’s toasting someone’s health. “To the moon!” he cheers, putting the inhaler to his mouth and taking a chuff.

The others follow suit. “To the moon!” they chorus.

I realize I’m just standing there, watching them, totally stalling my own trip to the moon. As if I don’t really want to go back. Stupid. I take a deep puff from my inhaler and head down the hallway and toward the ‘Gazing booths. I remember my first time walking through this corridor. How lost and confused I had been. I had no idea where I was. Or even who I was. Has it gotten any clearer?

I square my shoulders as I approach room 12. Clarity doesn’t matter at this point. I’m through with Oz. I’m clicking my ruby-red heels three times and returning home.

So why do I suddenly feel more like the cowardly lion than the heroic Dorothy? And just who is the wizard behind the curtain?

FIFTEEN

I woke up in my bedroom, not screaming from a nightmare, no cold sweat soaking through my clothes, no anxious roommate by my side. Just a dark room with a glowing clock illuminating the hour of 9:00 P.M. At least the Moongaze machine had dropped me off safe and sound in my own dorm. How it was able to pinpoint where I lived and send me there, I had no idea, but I didn’t want to know. I was just glad to be home.

Though, the whole thing did make me wonder: How did it work for real Terrans? Were they allocated an apartment or house before they ‘Gazed? That seemed unlikely, especially for the ones who were just visiting. Maybe they got assigned hotel rooms to wake up in. Or was there an arrival platform somewhere? A Grand Central Gazing Station perhaps? But then, why would I wake up here and not there? Were all Terrans dumped in NYC for that matter? Or were they spread out around the country? Or the world, even. I guess it wouldn’t be a bad thing to end up in the Big Apple. Here they wouldn’t have to worry about not fitting in, as no one knows their neighbors anyway. And what were a few extra bodies in a city of eight million? The cash the government gave them on arrival probably really came in handy. Did they get identification documents as well? A black market immigration operation just for Terrans? Were there Terrans living and breathing and working among us? I wondered if any of them worked at Chix0r.

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I was back and supposed to be concentrating on my real life from here on out. The Moongazing Terrans would have to take care of themselves. Their reality was fading, even now.

I slipped out of bed and padded around the dorm room, taking in all my treasures that I’d left behind. I picked up my teddy bear, Melvin, and hugged him against my body, triggering a memory of me buying him on a trip to Tahoe. But for some reason now that trip seemed distant. Almost generic. I could remember going, but I couldn’t recall any of the details of what happened. No quirky anecdote to share.

I glanced over at the posters hanging on my wall.
Star Wars
,
The Matrix
,
Blade Runner
. My eyes caught on the last one, squinting in confusion.
Blade Runner
? But the movie was
Phaze Runner
. I’d seen it a thousand times. There was no way I’d confuse the title. Did I buy the wrong poster? Some Japanese import or something? But no. The last time I was in my bedroom it was definitely
Phaze Runner
. I’d bet my life on it.

What was going on here?

Unnerved, I dropped Melvin back on the bed and headed to my bookcase, pulling a book out at random. I knew I’d read the fantasy epic in my hands a hundred times. I could see my ink-stained fingerprints at the page edges, the folded corners where I’d left off for the night. But while I had an overall impression regarding what the book was about, it wasn’t in any greater detail than what was written on the back cover.

I set the book down, a panicky feeling fluttering through my insides. Everything in my room, all my precious possessions tied up with memories and meaning, suddenly seemed fake and altered, flat, one-dimensional, almost an obscene parody of a character I was supposed to be playing. I was in a cliché bedroom of a college geek girl. I had the sci-fi posters, the fantasy epics, the killer computer. It could have been a movie set.

I grabbed my photo album, plopping into a butterfly chair and flipping through to find pictures of my parents and quell the fear bubbling to my throat. I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on the people in the pictures. Smiling. Waving. But were these shiny, happy people really Mom and Dad, or just some random folks that came with the album?

I felt sick. I threw the album across the room and jumped from the chair to make a dash for the bathroom. My stomach heaved and I barely made it to the toilet in time. I threw up violently. Hacking. Coughing up something I didn’t remember eating. Then I sank to my knees and leaned my head against the porcelain seat, sobbing my eyes out.

What was I doing? Why was I freaking out like this? I knew going back to reality might take a little adjustment, but I had no idea it’d be this hard for my brain to accept. Was I losing my mind? I should be dancing around my apartment, overjoyed to be back, instead of doubting all the things I’d trusted throughout my life.

This was my stuff. My reality. My life. It was Terra that I didn’t remember. Terra that I should mistrust. So how come memories of Terra suddenly seemed so solid and real and those of Earth so fake?

A vision of Dawn, of his beautiful glowing eyes, his comforting smile, his warm embrace, flooded my consciousness. If only he were here. If only he had come back with me and could comfort me in my terror, tell me everything was going to be all right. But Dawn was gone from my life forever. That was my choice, and now I had to live with it. I had another guy here on Earth who would be overjoyed to have me back. My real boyfriend, Craig. A popular techno DJ at a Lower East Side club.