Actual Reality

OPENING

It almost felt like I was stuck in a void, floating in the air, until I felt something touching my skin. I moved my arm in the sloshing liquid. God, Where was I? The dislocation was hard to stomach. My head was heavy, and my belly felt sick. I flailed my arms, rapping my knuckle off something firm. A second later, I realised I wasn't breathing. It's not that I needed to; it just felt like something I should have been doing. In a half-conscious state, I opened my eyes.

The viscous amniotic solution burned. I remembered what should have happened next. The ports should open; the fluid would drain. A mechanism would gently lower me onto the floor where I'd wait for my uplinks to disconnect.

That's what should have happened.

Instead, I heard a dismal creak, a humming sound that was quickly drowned in my ear. There was a reassuring whirr, followed by a stubborn click. Something in the subroutine was stuck! Whether it be by age or broken software, the ports were sealed. Suddenly I felt the urge to breathe, to eject the CO2 building up in my lungs. The feeling made me panic.

I kicked and flailed, rocking the pod on its fixings. My lungs were burning; I was going to drown. Only five seconds in the AR and I was already dying; I should have listened to Audrey. I shouldn't have broken my promise. I let my body go limp – I accepted my fate.

But with acceptance came clarity. I waited on death, content to let the amniotic solution become embalming fluid. But then I thought, what if...

I wedged myself in the pod with my legs against the door. My vision was blurring, and with one last desperate surge, I kicked.

SHUNT!

The door cracked open, and fluid surged from the gap. I pushed my way up towards the incoming oxygen and tried to gulp in air, but I still couldn't breathe!

I clawed at my face, desperate for breath. A mask and tubing were blocking my airways. Pain engulfed me as I tried to tear free, and just as my pitiful struggle felt like it was ending, the pod kicked back into life!

The subroutine was going into overdrive, releasing all the mechanisms, burning them out. The pod door swung open, ejecting the fluid, tossing me headfirst onto the floor. My atrophied muscles were cracking and tearing, the uplink wires tangled, attempting to pull me back in. I fell, and the connections ripped away, with only the cardiac aperture holding fast.

I lay on the floor in a puddle of blood-infused sludge; my skin burned with the agony of a hundred destroyed input ports. I looked at my naked figure, shrivelled and pruned. My cardiac aperture still connected me to the uplink, but it didn't matter, the beast had finally set me free.

I looked to the ceiling, cold and shivering. Most of the bulbs were blown, but some were still flickering. Shadows hung in the corners of the walls. I peered down at my emaciated body, and after a few failed attempts, I managed to sit upright.

And God, what a state I was in – pallid and grey. The heavy cable still attached to the pod was like a monstrous leech, drinking straight from my heart. I grabbed its head and gently pulled. A ring of blood oozed from the circular metal implant in my chest. It felt like pulling a fingernail, but with a solid twist, the cable released; the aperture in my chest closed over, and I got to my feet.

I was in the basement of our old house in the League of New England – I was sure of that – but the real question was why? I wiped my hand across my eyes and took a deep breath of stale air. There was a trunk close by; it had my clothes in it. I took a wobbly step forward. I'd try remembering later, but for now, I'd just focus on getting dressed. My wet feet slapped on the tiled floor, and out the corner of my eye, I saw a looming shape.

"No, not yet," I whispered, as I passed the dark place.

The bathroom's bulb had blown. I walked to the mirror and reached for the shaving light.

Click.

The weak glow brought my figure into the fore. I wiped the dust from the mirror until I cleared a small surface, and recoiled at the sight staring back at me – a ghoul.

I tore my eyes away, held down the revulsion.

"Christ..."

I found the box and pulled out my things – a jacket, a shirt, some waterproof trousers; a holster, a gun; a backpack, a torch, and some other supplies.

I got quickly dressed; I needed to get out of there. But, first I had one thing left to do.

I stepped into the darkness just beyond the flickering light. There was another pod there, opposite to mine. I buckled up my belt and gathered the courage to look inside. The thick film of dust came away stubbornly against my sleeve, and my eyes struggled to see through the opaque liquid. I saw a phantom, floating. It had grey hair and shrivelled skin; its eyes were closed; its expression was pained. It held its hands over its chest as it bobbed and swayed like driftwood. That flotsam was my wife, Audrey.

That was enough; I couldn't take it anymore. I stormed towards the stairs, my weak bones straining. A rebreather hung beside the bottom step. I grabbed it and made my ascent.