Rimelion: The Exploiter

17. Trapped in a dream

I couldn't control my body; it felt like being trapped in a dream. Oh, I must have fallen asleep.

"See? No one's around! Relax, Charlie," Lucas called in a soft, reassuring voice right next to my ear. His large hand patted my long hair, his smile easing my nerves. I looked up at him, biting my lip; the knot of fear in my stomach began to unravel, and I reached for his hand.

"I'll protect you, so don't be afraid." He had to yell over the roar of the plane's engines, and even then, I could barely make out his words. I just smiled as he gently caressed my cheek and lips. A loud siren blared, and the ramp began to lower. My heart shot into my throat as I looked down and saw just how high we were. We moved toward the edge together, but with each step, my fear slowed me until I was almost crawling.

"You can do it! I believe in you, Charlie!" His warm breath brushed my ear, sending a tingle down my spine. A pleasant warmth spread through me, and although I knew the reason, I didn't want to admit it. Despite my hesitation, his confidence gave me the push I needed to take that last step—and jump.

Back in my apartment, I woke up sprawled on the floor, massaging my temples. What happened? What was that? It felt too real to be a dream. Was I imagining things? Crap, gaming for hours in these old... I mean, these "brand-new-but-still-crappy" capsules must've messed with my head.

I reached for a spare bra lying next to the sofa and put it on. "Tin-can. How long was I out?" I asked.

"Twenty-six minutes."

Great. I really passed out. "Call Lucas." I could feel the cold, metallic surface of the capsule pressing against my back as I crawled over to it. It still had that sterile, "brand-new" smell—like something straight out of a hospital. Lovely.

The connection didn't take long, and soon his face appeared on the TV screen. "Hi, Lucas," I waved. "Took me longer than I expected. The old creep wanted to grope me..." I half-joked.

I hit a nerve—his face twitched before he sighed. "Charlie... do you still want to go to Patrick's?"

"Yep, we could," I nodded. "But first... I passed out and had this weird dream. Do you remember if we ever tried to jump out of a plane? And I was terrified of heights, but you helped me calm down and jump?"

"What? Hold on!" he said, sounding genuinely surprised, then abruptly ended the call. What the hell?

I shrugged, realizing I should at least tidy up before Lucas arrived. To his credit, he showed up in record time—just ten minutes—right as I was stepping out of the shower, wrapped in only a towel.

"Charlie!" He pulled me into a hug, his voice shaking. "Your stupid computer let me in! What were you thinking? We need to crush it! You can't trust anyone! We have to talk—about all of this, your memory, the future, everything. Do you hear me?"

I nodded, but stayed quiet. His sense of urgency seemed over the top; why was it so critical to talk? Was it just because I'd passed out after leaving my experimental capsule?

I sent him to the kitchen to grab us some beers while I slipped into a shirt and my old black—oversized now—hoodie. He returned with the last beers from my fridge, and we settled on the couch. I pulled my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees—my new favorite position.

"Lucas, you were in the military, right? An operative?" I asked quietly. He nodded, so I continued with a slight smile. "That's the difference between us. When I try to solve problems, kingdoms fall. When you try to solve problems, you create empires."

Lucas fell silent, lost in thought, then gripped my shoulders and said, "Charlie. Let's make a plan. I need to know what you're planning."

"Alright," I murmured, mostly to myself, tugging the loose hoodie closer. "The big picture is to make money, obviously." He nodded in understanding. "Maybe even get my old body back someday, but that's more of a long-term goal." He didn't react, so I let out a sigh.