The apartment was a lot quieter than he remembered. The silence bothered him. It wasn’t just an annoying little boredom or awkward feeling that simply needed a stimulating, distracting sound to help keep balance. It was a dreadful death of sound that forced Vern to think of everything that had transpired. The absence of anything stimulating led to the last stimulating events repeatedly playing in his mind. He could still smell the stench of dead dolo. He could feel the weight of the debris crushing his arm.

They were still out there. General Wolf and the others were stranded outside the dome with those monsters, and they would never again be welcomed home. He wondered if they were going through with the mission or not. Knowing General Wolf, that hive was already on fire. It was the only thought that provided any solace, but he knew they were far-fetched. The more likely outcome was that something or someone had gotten to them already, and they were all dead.

I could have spared them whatever horrible fate is currently awaiting them. I could have slit their throats in their sleep, and they would have never known anything or felt anything. The more he thought about it, the more he cursed himself. Ending them quickly and painlessly like that would have been the best course of action for everyone involved. They would have never known the horrors they were about to encounter, and Vern could continue living his meaningless life as Vern Slupman, instead of… whoever he was going to be after tonight.

His MoShun-Aide V600 sauntered toward him from the bedroom. She stood near the kitchen table sporting the familiar smile Vern missed dearly while outside the dome. He wondered if he’d still miss it once his memory was wiped. She whipped a lovely lock of brown hair over her shoulder with an elegant movement of her head. “Good morning, Master. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Sure, Sandra,” Vern said. “I’ll just have the usual, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Sandra said, still maintaining that practiced smile. “I don’t understand that order. Would you like some breakfast, Master?”

He stared at her, and his bottom lip trembled. “They didn’t…”

She waited patiently, smiling all the while.

He got up and moved behind her. She didn’t move. He lifted the back of her yellow dress over her head and let it stay there. He unhooked the back of her bra and let that fall to the gray linoleum.

“Have I been a naughty girl, Master?” Her voice had taken on a more husky sound. “Where do you want me, Master?”

“No!” Vern stammered. “Just… quiet for a second.” He went back to the kitchen and collected a sharp six-incher from the knife block on the counter. He returned and almost let out a laugh at the sight of Sandra standing motionless with her dress lifted over her head. Her panties had tiny strawberries on them. He’d picked them out. That’s what you used to spend your money on, eh Vern? Maybe it’s a good thing this mind is getting wiped from existence. He returned to her and ran a finger up her spine until he felt what he was searching for.

“That feels good, Master,” Sandra said. “You have a magical touch.”

“Please, just be quiet for five minutes.”

“I’ll speak to you again in,” she paused for two seconds, “five minutes.”

Vern pointed the blade against the right spot on her spine and applied enough pressure to break her skin. He slid the knife down and made a five-inch incision. Blood poured down her back, over the little strawberries, over her white thigh-highs, and onto the floor.

“If you are unsatisfied with my service, contacting the MoShun Corporation customer service line may yield better results than your current actions.”

He pushed his fingers into the incision and began to dig around. Blood ran down his arm. Why do they make these things bleed? He felt the little latch amongst the warm blood and tissue. He unclipped it and felt it pop open. He dug a little deeper and pulled the memory card out from the back of her heart.

“If you are unsatisfied with,” her voice changed to the generic male MoShun aide voice mid-sentence. “my service, contacting the MoShun Corporation customer—”

“Shut up!” Vern snapped. He’d known Sandra for a while now. He’d even grown to love her, pathetic as that might sound to some, but this voice was not her. He could tell this one to shut up without feeling any bit of guilt.

“If that is your desire, Master,” the manly voice said from underneath the lifted skirt.

“It really is,” Vern said.

Vern cleaned the memory card with a wet cloth and let it dry before plugging it into his laptop. The interface loaded up, and he skimmed through the data. One line caught his eye and caused his heart to sink. It shouldn’t have surprised him, and it pretty much just confirmed what he’d already known, but it hurt nonetheless. They’d reset Sandra’s mind to the default ‘Maggie’ template the very next day after he’d left for the mission.

He looked at the comedic display standing still in his kitchen and couldn’t help but shed a tear. She wasn’t much, nor was she real, but Sandra had been special to him. They’d built memories and even had little insider jokes only they would get. She may not have been human, but she could think, and she had a personality of her own. And now it was dead, just like Vern’s was about to be.

“We had a nice run, eh Sandy?” Vern said to the data on the computer screen.

“Yes, master,” the generic man’s voice said.

“I’m not talking to you,” he checked the data to find the default male template’s name, “Claude.” He ejected the card and held it tightly in his palm. “I guess they wouldn’t want some robot going around with memories of some man who no longer exists.”

He brought the card back to Claude, clicked it in, and let the dress fall back into place. He turned away and walked around his barren apartment. They’d done a good job cleaning out every piece of Vern Slupman. He never thought they’d be that thorough, but again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew how these higher-ups operated, and he knew it when he agreed to the mission in the first place.

“Permission to repair myself, Master?” Sandra’s voice was back. Or Maggie, he supposed.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Vern said.

“Thank you, master.”

Vern went into his room, where so many memories used to look back at him from the now empty walls. Picture frames were replaced by slightly off-white rectangles, and even his wall screen, whose projector held gigabytes of photos and messages, was gone, likely incinerated by now.

He sat on his bed. They’d even taken his blankets. Are they seriously getting rid of every bit of DNA they might find? They’ll probably come back after the deed is done. He sighed and felt sick butterflies in his gut. How did he get himself into these things? Last time, I guess, unless I’m just as foolish in my next life.

A light went off in his mind. He flipped his mattress over onto the floor and returned to the kitchen for the bloody knife he’d used to cut Sandra open. He brought it back and scanned the bed for a small line of stitching. He found it, cut it up, and reached inside. Just where he’d left them were a card loaded with about a million credits and a couple of wallet-sized photos.

My past self finally did something right. He couldn’t get the smile off his face. He’d gotten this done about a week before General Wolf’s doomed ship took off. A couple of days before I sabotaged the engine. The smile wavered, so he looked at the photos.

The first was of himself as a very young man with a very much ‘in his prime’ Uncle Von. He laughed at the photo. Better times. A time before I knew everything sucked. He put it down on the overturned mattress and looked at the next. His heart sank—Erina’s high-school graduation photo. Maybe the last time she smiled.

She was so beautiful in those days with her presentable blonde hair, red lipstick like professionals, decent clothing that didn’t reveal much, and a spark of life in her blue eyes. I wish I could have stopped everything that happened to you, but you were doomed the moment you were born.

He held her photo to his heart, and it shot a lump to his throat. He was never going to see her again. Did she even know? They’d never said their goodbyes. Maybe it was for the best. She’d been through enough without having to worry about all this, but at the same time, he felt he owed her the truth. All sorts of lies were going to be told about the late Vern Slupman. Not only that. Wolf, West, Sterling, Rosek, and Belmont were all going to have their illustrious careers besmirched. It wasn’t going to be as simple as making up some story about noble deaths against the dolo. Vern knew how the higher-ups worked. It was going to be some humiliating story that would ruin their legacy. Run away. He made a fist, and it took everything not to launch it into his own face. Running would be the most foolish thing. Even if he did somehow manage to escape, it would mean the deaths of Uncle Von and Erina.

He wasn’t going to do anything about it. He made his choices, and he was man enough to face the consequences. But he wasn’t going to face them without saying goodbye.

* * *

Sneaking in was easy enough. It was the building he’d grown up in, and being a child in the big four, one had to know every nook and cranny in case there was something to hide from. In this case, the cranny was a seldom-used portion of the upper parking lot, and the nook was the old welded off metal door that opened into the seldom-used stairway. It was known as the welded-off door, but it only looked welded from the inside. In truth, the thing opened inward, and there was no handle on the inside. The entryway could have been easily overlooked even if the stairs were used occasionally.

Vern didn’t like the textured beige Von had used on the walls and missed the blood-red of childhood. There was always something mysterious and intense about the stairway. It had always felt like their own little play area. Their own little place where the scary grown-ups couldn’t touch them. It isn’t the time to critique your uncle’s aesthetic choices.

His legs burned as he climbed floor after floor, but it was worth it. At least there weren’t any zombies chasing him this time. No. Something much worse is after me now. He reached the thirty-third floor. That was Erina’s apartment. He got to the door and was about to knock but thought better of it.

If Erina were home alone, then everything would be fine. He’d knock, she’d answer, and there’d be hellos and how are yous. If anyone else at all was there with her, be it her father or even a friend, then they’d have bigger problems.

The door itself might’ve been an issue. If he knew Erina at all, which he did, she’d never once taken the stairs in her life. She was also a bit paranoid and often thought some weirdo stalked her. She’d likely bolted something over the door or pushed a heavy piece of furniture in front of it.

He stood there scratching his head like an idiot for far too long before finally trying the door. He didn’t knock. He simply turned the handle. He winced as the handle clicked. If Erina’s paranoia had progressed to a certain point, she might have had some sort of Zapp alarm installed. That company’s products and methods had been controversial at first, but once they got the MoShun seal of approval, they became the number one name in home defense.

Nothing. No shock. No siren. Maybe a silent alarm that had a squad of killer MoShun hounds on the way, but Vern was willing to take that chance. He pushed the door open and was greeted by a dark room and a sweet smell. He clicked the door shut behind and frowned. He knew the smell. It was flavored wak, as the kids called it. A pill that was first developed to combat depression, and it worked a little too well. Vern remembered his father green-lighting the product, and even at his young age, he’d disagreed with the old man. And what did you do about it? Nothing.

The advertisement campaign was the worst. “It’ll cure the depression you didn’t know you had!” That was the gist of it. It was a genius way to market what was basically a legal replacement to a popular street drug. And now they had them in all sorts of flavors, and the flavors were intense, and they filled the room once the cap was off.

He stepped around her messy coffee table and skirted a fat pleather chair. Faint light strobed out from Erina’s bedroom. It was dark as night in the apartment despite it being just after noon, and the sun had been shining on his way over. He froze at the sound of a voice. It was Erina. Just a curt sound. Was it a ‘hmm?’ as in ‘is someone there?’ He supposed it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he were made now. She seemed to be alone.

The voice came again. His face turned red. She was moaning. Pleasurable moans. Please, Erina. Don’t be doing what it sounds like you’re doing. What a horrible last memory that would be. He proceeded a few steps. Maybe he didn’t hear clearly. Maybe she’d just coughed or something. The moaning came again. Clear as day. Goddammit. Well, I’ve come too far now. I’m not gonna stand here like a weirdo and wait for… this… to finish.

He stopped right before the open door of her room and stood with his back against the wall so that he couldn’t look inside. He cleared his throat in a loud, exaggerated fashion. Sorry if that scared the Hel out of you, but you leave me no choice. There was no response—only another moan.

He cleared his throat again, longer this time, but got the same results. He didn’t want to risk knocking or doing anything else that might alert others in the building. He was nearly working up a sweat. Out of all things that could have gone wrong, this was the last he’d ever predict. I suppose she’s not that little girl in the photo anymore, but I mean, come on…

Erina moaned again, but this one was odd. The moan bubbled as if she were partially underwater. Her voice also trailed off as if she were falling into a deep sleep. Then it hit him. That little shit! He barged into her room and saw what he feared most. Erina, his little cousin, who he’d loved more than anyone else since she’d come into this world, was connected.

Drugs, in general, were bad. Fun at first, but they rarely led to sustained health and happiness. It didn’t matter if it was Wak, funky smoke, fun fumes, or good old-fashioned opiates. Prolonged use always led somewhere dark. But there was one drug that far exceeded the others in its potential harm. It went by a few names: giggly-bite, brain-saver, X-rom, or just rom. It was the first virtual drug.

It was developed by some kid in the lower districts ten or fifteen years ago. The user dons a crown of electrodes that send signals to the brain. He then installs whatever software he wants depending on the high he’s chasing. Once he runs the program, the experience begins. The computer sends signals to the brain and puts the user in a trance. It then fabricates the most dopamine-producing memory possible, which sends the user into a state of bliss.

At first, not many people saw the harm in it. There was no actual toxin entering the body, so maybe they’d finally done it. They’d finally invented a ‘healthy’ drug. They were wrong as it turned out to be an absolute mind fuck. After only a few weeks of moderate usage, secret Slupman studies found that the user began to forget which memories were real and which had been created by the drug.

Many wept for lost loved ones who never existed. Aging women nearing the end of their fertility window would call out for a baby who’d never been conceived. It led to such inevitable trauma and raised the suicide rate of moderate users to eight hundred times that of the general public’s average, albeit a relatively small sample size.

And there Erina sat with her back against her dresser. A laptop sat between her legs, and a mess of wires snaking from the laptop to her cranium. Her white tank top was drenched in front from the steady stream of drool from her limp, lolling tongue.

The bottle of wak spilled beside her. Dozens of costly pills lay scattered on the floor. The sweet smell was overwhelming in the small room. “Erina.” There wasn’t the slightest response.

He moved to the blinking laptop and was about to shut it off but froze halfway to the power button. Who knows what kind of damage stopping that so abruptly might do. Vern gritted his teeth, unsure of what to do. Did Von know about this?

He looked around for answers and cringed when he heard another labored moan slip out of his cousin. Her head rolled to the side, rattling the crown of electrodes. This is insane.

Erina convulsed a bit and went still again. A slight smile appeared on her lips. He wondered what sort of blissful memory she was living right now. He couldn’t deny the temptation, especially since his memory was going to be wiped clean anyway, but there were bigger things to worry about right then, like getting the twenty-one-year-old with her whole life ahead of her out of that contraption.

He crouched beside her and raised her head gently by the chin. Drool leaked over his fingers, and her head nearly rolled back, but he caught it with the hand of his shattered arm. “Goddammit, Erina. I know you’ve gone through some bad stuff, but this isn’t the way out of it.” His voice was hoarse from the pain.

Her eyes flickered. Only the whites were shown, but it was something.

“Talking? Is that what I have to do? Is there some weird thing where if something from your true life interferes, it brings you back? I don’t know, but I’m just gonna keep yapping to see if it works or n—”

Her eyes opened fully. They were wide and crazed at first as if some sort of demon was standing behind Vern. The look in her eyes sent a shiver of fear through his spine, but he didn’t let it show. He had to exude confidence and calmness as she came to.

“Uncle Vern?” Her eyes rolled back, and her head flopped again.

“Yes, it’s me, Erina,” Vern grabbed both sides of her head in a loving embrace and held her neck straight. “Are you alright? Do you know where you are?”

She chuckled, reached up, and undid the crown of electrodes. She dropped the mess of wires and wiped the drool off her chin with a long swipe of her bare forearm. “Yeah, I’m alright. What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Now that it was clear she was unharmed, Vern felt the rage fire up inside. “What the Hel are you doing here? What is this shit, Erina? You’re connecting now? Are those pills not enough anymore?”

“Oh, come on,” Erina shifted out of his grip and turned her head away. “I hear this enough from dad. I don’t wanna hear it from you.”

“Fine,” Vern wrestled to keep calm. “Do you know how dangerous this can be?”

She shrugged. “I heard it messed a few people up. But Jackie says it only messes you up if you’re already a little bit crazy.”

“Then Jackie must be lost to the stars by now,” Vern said.

Erina laughed and playfully slapped his arm.

Vern’s eyes welled up with tears, and he put his arms around her.

“Ew, stop,” Erina said. “I’m all gross and full of spit.”

“I don’t care,” Vern said. He held her tight. He didn’t know how to tell her this was the last time they’d ever see each other. Where do I even start?

“You’re the one who’s acting crazy,” Erina chuckled. “What’s your deal? You’re always a little weird, but this is a bit much.”

Vern let go and gave her some space. “Hey. I’m not the one drenched in my own drool.”

She lowered her head and looked at him with raised eyes and a smirk. “Whatever.”

“Don’t even try to act bashful,” Vern said. “I know you too well.” His smile faded. “Seriously, can you promise me that you won’t do this shit anymore? The pills and smoke are bad enough, but this can shatter your soul.”

“Good thing souls are bullshit, then,” Erina said with a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

You’ve broken her, you ghouls.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Erina said. “The software didn’t have to make anything up. It used one of my actual memories.”

“Well, that’s good,” Vern said. “Which one did it use?” I didn’t know she even had a positive memory, poor thing. Wait a second. What if she only thinks it used a real memory because the memories the program fabricates seem so real? Is it affecting her already? How long has she been using it?

“Remember when I was a little girl, and I wanted to be a pop star?”

“I remember your name was Lioness,” Vern smiled.

Erina threw her hands in the air in disgust. “Oh my God, don’t remind me.”

“You brought it up.”

“Yeah, well, I had drawn up these little tickets on paper and sold them for ten credits each to all my loved ones,” she made quotations with her fingers for the last two words, “they sold out quickly, but a month later when my little concert was about to happen, no one showed up. No one but you.”

He did remember. That was a relief. “What a minute. That’s a good memory?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I don’t know why but I’ll never forget that.” Her eyes welled up too. She launched her hands around his neck. “Aw. You’re the best uncle.”

Vanno, this is hard.

“Erina. I’m here for a reason. I’ve got bad news.”

He could feel her posture deflate in his arms. Just another upcoming heartbreak in her young life. How many more can she take? I shouldn’t have come.

“What is it?”

He looked into her eyes. She was still a bit woozy, but that might’ve been from the pills. “I’m gonna be going away for a while.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long.”

He fought the lump in his throat but let out a sob as he spoke. “Forever.”

Her eyes widened, but her posture wavered as if she were drunk. “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“I can’t tell you why.”

She thought about it. “Oh. I see. I hate them all. Why couldn’t I have been born to a normal family? I’d rather have been born in the lower district than here.”

“I know.” He embraced her again, and she wept into his chest. “If I could ask one thing of Vanno, it would be to let you start over again, free of all these monsters.”

She pulled away from him. “Vanno…” she scoffed at the name.

“I would have reacted the same way before I saw what was out there beyond the dome,” Vern said. He’d even surprised himself by speaking Vanno’s name. He’d never been a religious man. It was tough to believe in a god when you knew nothing but pain.

“Horror made you believe in Vanno?” Erina forced a laugh. “That’s a pretty shitty god.” She sniffled and reached for her toppled bottle of pills. She’d already seemed to have forgotten what he’d just told her about going away. She must’ve been more ‘messed up’ than he’d thought.

“If one side of a coin exists, the other must as well,” Vern said. “That’s how evil proved Vanno to me.”

Her brows raised at that. “Woah. That’s pretty deep,” and she popped another pill.

“Can you please focus?” Vern said. “I’m going away forever, remember?”

“Why?” There was no emotion in her voice.

“You’re not even really here right now, are you?” Vern looked deep into her eyes. She might as well have been asleep.

She chuckled.

Her apartment door swung open, and a dozen footsteps rushed in.

Men in black suits spilled into the room and swarmed Vern. They pushed him to the carpet and cuffed his wrists behind his back. One of the men had a sharp knee pushed between his shoulders and another applied weight to his legs.

Von walked into the room. “Sorry, Vern. Don’t worry. I knew you’d be coming here, so I contacted MoShun to let him know about it.”

“Why the Hel would you do that?” Vern snapped. “I just came to say goodbye to my little cousin.”

“Exactly,” Von said. “I didn’t want to risk you coming here and saying something you shouldn’t. I didn’t want MoShun to find out about your visit somewhere down the road, which would make him see us as problems. You understand?”

Vern turned his head to look at Erina. She was just fascinated by everything going on around her, like a cat in a room of shiny floaters. “I’ll always love you, Erina. I promise you that somehow, I’ll always be there for you. No matter what they do to me. You hear me?”

“K.” One letter was all she’d said, and she’d never even spared him a final glance.

“Will you be taking him back to his apartment?” Von asked the man in black beside him.

“No, Vonny,” they must have been buddies. “He’s going to his appointment next. I’ll give you a second to say goodbye if you need it.”

Uncle Von shook his head. “No. That’ll only make it harder.” He grabbed Erina by the hand, and they left the apartment.