“AHHHH! FUCK!” John yells, violently jerked away from his slumber. Amy got an awful fright as she was just trying to wake him up. “Jesus! You okay?!”

  John looked around the room hurriedly. As his senses come back to him, he looks out the window. “Woah… shi— why— why isn't the Sun out?” He hyperventilates.

  “Oh. That's right.” He remembers as his breathing slows. And reality arrives all the same. “John?” Amy asks. He replies.

  “Yeah, whoa, yeah I'm sorry. Just had a bad dream.”

  “Dream? I wish I could dream.” Amy comments nonchalant. John recalls the events of the morning, still processing a lot of it, understanding a lot more.

  He looks to Amy as he adjusts from where he slept. The ever-present rain, the ravenous gusts, and a lightning strike invade the senses.

  “We really can't stay here now. We have to— we have to run. They took Clyde. They killed Mourner. And we really know how bad we're being lied to.”

  Amy turns her body towards him, seeming to agree.

  “And we have the VR device which we really shouldn't have. And we— we know too much, I suppose.”

  The two are rather matter-of-fact despite the grim arrangements. Mental overload does well to numb the mind. John checks his digiphone for anything new, seeing another message from Anonymous.

  “I know you went around Platte City, silly~ You should come pay me a visit at Unity Transit Point sometime! My place is nice and cozy. Hint, hint~”

  “Who the fuck is this weirdo?” John mumbles, the itch in his leg the one thing which has stayed with him from his dream. He tries to scratch it again but his pants get in the way. Now a pale red, and filthy. John remains fixed on them for a moment.

  “Wait… Unity Transit Point?” He asks, a connection between his pants and this message forming. It only took a second before he announced his epiphany to the world.

  “OH THAT'S RIGHT! QUE! Or whatever his name is!”

  “Hmm?” Amy asks, pulling her attention away from her digiphone.

  He sits back down and crawls closer to her. “So, I got this uniform from a guy called Que. He worked at the station when Mourner died. He's been messaging me and has said he wants to meet again sometime.”

  John's eyes flickered out the window, somehow surprised at the view when all he sees are smokey clouds, rain and mute advertising.

  “I can't do that John.” Amy says after thinking about it. “After all the shit we've been through. After everything I have done. I can't do it.” John is surprised by her reaction. “Why not?”

  “Oh my God.” Amy says, closing her eyes. She's clearly very frustrated and emotional despite how she tries to present.

  “John. We almost died getting here, twice. I had to watch you lie unconscious for three days only to come back up here by myself and with a useless AI.

  Do you know how hard that was? Being alone by yourself with your thoughts after something like that? And then to have you ripped away, again.”

  Amy grows worked up through her numb apathy. She feels, even if it isn’t nice to.

  “Because a company did something to you never asked for.

  Only for me to be left by myself, AGAIN, with more questions to ask about shit because, SUDDENLY, the world feels fake and I need to know why after all of that BULLSHIT! Do you know how that feels, John?!”

  John replied calmly. “I understand.” He says, not quite understanding. “But there’s something else. I’ve slept on it— I’ve been thinking about it. About all this crap. I want to give you another perspective.”

  He sits up and gets closer to her, turning off her digiphone and his own. Lightning strikes as he throws them aside.

  “Remember before all of this. That all-consuming void. How it never went away? How we lacked purpose?” Lightning strikes in the background behind Amy. She nods reluctantly to his question.

  “Shit would just happen and nothing would change. We were constantly moving and going nowhere. But now it seems we're learning why.”

  He puts his hand on her shoulder, then looks deep into her eyes.

  “The lies. The distractions. The illusions made us feel wrong. We were dreaming in a hellscape, and even worse, we didn't even know we were dreaming.

  It was in that cab crash— the tornado. That was when we actually woke up; when we could sense all of these illusions.”

  He looks aside, finding the right words before he continues. Amy remains upset, as any reasonable person would. And yet still, John continues, perhaps speaking more for himself than he is for her.

  “And in that headset Amy? That is when we finally opened our eyes. For the first time since we were born.”

  He puts both his hands on her shoulders, magnetizing her attention.

  “You opened my eyes Amy. I can see now because of you. But… it's only a matter of time until they see us too. And when they do— when they find us, we have to run. Because we can't fight right now. And we'll never see them coming. And…”

  John pauses as he considers his words carefully. “...they will kill us if they ever get the chance to.”

  Thunder growls from the distance as John finishes his monologue, put into words he thinks make sense in his limited vocabulary. Amy's face changes. Where it was confusion and frustration, it is now both resolute and satisfied.

  She looks down, nodding solemnly to the ideas. The connections form in her head, and fog and noise clears.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Then we have one objective.” She says. “Unity Transit Point.” She decides.

  They improvise bagging from the blankets. They shove the food, the virtual device, the digiphones inside.

  “Everything complicit in creating these lies can no longer be trusted.” John tells Amy as they exit the room. “We've gotta find new clothes. Get better bags, and then gun it on a hyperrailer to Unity Transit.” He continues with as they enter the elevator.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Amy says. “Do you know about what time we'll get there?” Oh shit, the time, John realizes. He turns his head to Amy during the descent.

  “Ah… well… yeah we'll have to use our digiphones sparingly then.”

  The door opens and they walk into the lobby. Amy reaches the exit before she realizes John is by the bot, talking to it for some reason.

  “Did you see a man with yellow eyes exit here?” He asks the SERaMACs machine. “Yes. What is the occasion?” SERaMACs asks.

  John leans forward, negotiating with the AI.

  “I need to know what happened. If you know the names on my phone, you sure know what went down up there. Is Clyde okay?”

  Amy leans on the doorway, eaves dropping in the conversation. SERaMACs replies. “Which Clyde do you speak of? There are roughly seven thousand unique ones in the United States alone.”

  “You know exactly who.” John asserts. “The ones on the same level as us. What happened to him?”

  The robot, with its stupid square face, has its eyes display the word ‘thinking’ on them as it takes forever to answer. The ‘thinking’ turns to ‘memory updated’ as it replies.

  “I'm sorry, but I don't think I can discuss that topic.” AI generated Hawaiian music begins playing over the lobby speaker system.

  “Please enjoy some relaxing tunes instead.” SERaMACs replies.

  John was about to say something nasty, but two whores approach the reception. “Uh, excuse me, dick-weed. Some of us have to earn a living out here.” One of them says.

  He bites his lip for what he was going to say, instead leaning further over and whispering to SERaMACs. “We'll continue this discussion on my phone later, now that I know how you work.”

  He joins Amy in the stairway as they retrace their tracks back to the nearest hyperrailer depot. John sees the ads in a different light, feeling as if they are looking back at him.

  Amy notices more of the passersby on the street, judging them for their filth, yet empathizing with— even understanding their pain. Or at least, what she assumes to be their pain.

  The rain is rather calm and the outside rather warm at this time of day, a couple hours past noon. It isn't usually. It just so happens to be at this time and moment.

  The streets are much busier than John recalled, a person being present at least once every five to six meters under the rain covers.

  All still lost. All still flawed. All still going nowhere.

  John looks at the cassette vendor from earlier. He thinks of the drive and of Crosby. It's nice for once to be happy remembering something. Though the deep blues he recalled have now been swapped for more greens and yellows. Probably a swap of ads.

  They both idle in wait for the next hyperrailer. They know where it will take them but not when it will come.

  Amy looks up to John. “Talk about crappy music.”

  “What music?” John asks.

  “The music that's playing. I mean they always play music in these places, come on.” Amy says. “It sounds like people are drowning in or something. Very crappy.”

  John gives her a confused look. “Amy, I don't hear any music.”

  “What do you mean? It's coming from that black speaker over there.” She points to the top left of the opposite wall, but John sees nothing.

  “Um… uh…” John thinks back for a moment. He is unsure of how to reply.

  “Uhh… well I see the speaker you're talking about but I don't hear any music.” He does not see a speaker.

  “Oh well. Maybe I'm just crazy!” Amy says, smiling up at John with her eyes closed. “Haha… yeah.” John replies, trying to shove this concern in the back of his memory.

  Before long the hyperrailer arrives, and from there they navigate the transport maze until they arrive at a station that'll take them through Pine Ridge to Badwater Depot. It's on the complete opposite side of the city, but you've gotta play the game, the two suppose.

  The route the hyperrailer takes them on avoids the valley they went through in the autocab the first time.

  There was no infrastructure along there for hyperrailer's, and so the trip is a round about one that lands them in the depot directly opposite the one they originally disembarked.

  John looks at the place with a little bit of melancholy. He was only there less than a month ago, and yet it's felt so much longer.

  “John.” Amy asks, a thought having come to her head as they wait once again.

  “Your work. When are you supposed to go there next?” John checked the time; about three hours have passed.

  “In about three days not including this one.” He answers. Amy's concern grows.

  “Oh no. How are we gonna get you back there? Won't they send enforcement if you're absent?”

  “Yes they will.” John answers. “And they'll send enforcement after us if we're relocated again and they discover we're absent from our place in North Platte City.”

  The two both leaned against the foe-ceramic tiles of the depot walls in waiting. “But we won't have to worry about that for quite a while. And I'll find a way to get back to work. In fact, I'll be counting on it.”

  Amy looks up to him as he stares at the rails, her concerns nullified on the matter. “Well that's cool. I have full faith in you.”

  The time ticks on until it arrives. The two board with the rest of the passengers, as boring and routine as ever. Though it is nice to not have that cloud looming over them.

  To know that, yeah, they are moving and, yeah, they are getting somewhere.

  Unity Transit Point. Though, of course many clouds loomed over them. It's been raining heavily for decades after all. As the hyperrailer slows, John and Amy waste no time preparing.

  “Welcome to Unity Transit Point!” The AI exclaims, likely another version of SERaMACs given what John has been learning.

  “Our facility is home to many leisure and recreational experiences which we hope you will use during your stay. Please leave us a five-star rating on MACStore? and DealPro?, we would greatly appreciate the help.”

  The sponsor section drags on as it usually does, but it shrinks as the two rush up that staircase and through the route up to the holding rooms. But instead of going to the rooms, they cut past out into the balcony John remembers looking from.

  Amy accompanies him as John sees a familiar face behind the counter.

  “Mhmm, kept me waiting huh?” Que solidly greets them with. “Come! Please, sit down. What can I get for you this evening?”