Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Nineteen

I gasp and sit up. Pain crackles at the edges of my vision and sears through my veins. A broken groan trickles past my lips as I sit up and observe my surroundings. And then I freeze. Dying grasses and leaves conform to the shape of my back and a forest blossoms overhead. A dark gray color permeates the air surrounding me, smelling of ancient vegetation. A clearing. I'm in a clearing in the middle of a forest. How hard did I hit my head? Growing scared, I fight to stand on my feet. There's no way out of this clearing: walls of leaves and vines block all of the possible exits. But they're all wilting. I spin around, growing desperate. Behind me, a single tree stands alone, thriving. Twisting branches stretch towards the sky. It has black and white leaves.
Am I dead? No, I can't be. I can feel my heart slamming against my chest. I'm very much alive... So what's the other option? Am I crazy? Perhaps.
"Matthew!" I call desperately. "Gale? Leah?"
"Don't worry about them." I know that voice. I cry out and spin around on my heel. A man casually leans against the beautiful tree. He wears a simple, dust-colored robe and has salt-and-pepper hair. He looks to be in about his fifties, slightly overweight. I raise a shaking finger and point it at him.
"You're the Voice," I mutter, thrilled to find that my vocal cords work. "How did you get here? Where am I?" I nod at the multi-colored tree. "And what is that?"
"My child, you must cease to ask questions that may be answered in the near future." Child? The man smiles cheerfully, and even from this distance I can feel the pure happiness that radiates outwards from him. Somehow, it makes me feel a little bit calmer. I know for a fact that this person won't hurt me.
"Can you at least tell me who you are?" I mutter. He nods. The smile doesn't leave his face. He motions for me to come over to him, and I do. Slowly.
"I have many names. Infinitely many. But, for our current purposes, you can call me Father." My breaths slow to weak gasps. Is this real? It can't be. It can't be...
"You... You're my dad?"
"Yes, but not in the way you believe." I briefly bite my tongue, annoyed by the lack of straight answers that I'm receiving.
"Well, what does that mean?"
"You will discover the truth soon enough, my child." Father opens his arms, as if asking for a hug. I stay put, and a small twinge of sorrow enters his gaze. He sits down on the dying lawn and twirls a blade of grass around his finger. The image is so strange that I can't help a small grin from stealing onto my face. "I am so, so proud of the progress you've made in this life. So incredibly proud."
"Do you know me?" I ask carefully. Father smiles and searches my face with such naked pride that I can feel myself blushing.
"Always, my child. But the real question is not if I know you, but if you know me?" I hesitantly join the man on the lawn, searching his face. Who is this guy that gives me orders in my head and speaks like some sort of out-dated philosopher?
"I don't recognize you at all."
"No! Not physically! Close your eyes." Hopelessly confused, I close my eyes and wait. "Now, do you know who I am?" Suddenly, unprecedented feelings surge through my chest. Sadness, fear, love, anger, jealousy, happiness... They are so strong that I find myself short of breath. I gasp and force my eyes open. The emotions leave as quickly as they came, catching me by surprise.
"How did you do that?" I ask. Twinges of fear start to swarm around my head and I stumble to my feet. "Get me out of here."
"Enna." Father's voice carries such a gentle quality that I almost forget my desire to leave. Almost. "I know that these are startling things to understand, especially after the conditioning you've faced by the world. But you must know that you are the only hope for the continuation of society."
"What are you talking about?" Father smiles again, but this time it's more reassuring than gleeful.
"I'm the Creator."
"The creator of what?"
"Of everything. Everything you see and can't see." My mind struggles furiously to keep up with Father's impossible ramblings. I'd rather stack crates than be here, any day.
"I think you're crazy," I mutter, surprised by how calm my voice sounds.
"And how many things have happened to you that others would label 'crazy'?"
"I had proof," I whisper, starting to become scared again. "At least a little. It wasn't all in my head."
"And you have proof now, child. Search yourself. I know that somewhere, somehow, you believe that I am telling the truth to you." Father's eyes are full of such wisdom, such pure love, that I find myself wanting to believe him.
"Okay..." I start warily. "If you really are what you claim to be, tell me why I'm here."
"Do you want the truth? Or do you want me to tell you that you're dreaming?" He stands and crosses over to me, taking my hands in his own. I'm surprised by their warmth. "All are called, few are chosen, and even fewer choose to accept." I stare into his eyes. Even though I know that I must be experiencing all of this in my head, I feel like Father is home. Like this is where I belong, where worries can't touch me.
"I..." The words catch in my throat. What would Matthew think? What would Leah do? But then the doubts escape my brain as I recall the sense of belonging and power I felt upon first looking into Father's calm gaze. I take a deep breath.
"I accept."