Jacob sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, using the frame as a backrest. He was losing his mind in that room. He couldn’t do anything other than watch the people walk by and listen to their muffled conversations. It was rare that he could hear true, recognizable words. Sometimes he questioned if he truly understood the language. He never fully fell asleep either. He would wake up to any slight sound he heard. No matter how many times a day people came by to attempt to reason with him, he wouldn’t budge. The only thing he could rely on was me, but he didn’t know when to give up. There was no way of telling my whereabouts from that room. He felt like I should have been there by now. It had been days, and I was right there when he was taken. I should have been right on his tail the whole time. Even strategizing a plan wouldn’t take this long. He was starting to fear that something had happened to me, but he didn’t want to get into that spiral quite yet. His expectations of me were the only thing keeping him going. When the door opened, he clutched the bar in his hands, but it was Hunter. Not a doctor or a soldier. The look on Hunter's face was a little different this time. When he visited him—what felt like days ago—he didn't look like himself. His expressions were off, but this time, he looked a lot more familiar. Jacob stood up and put the bar on the bed. Sweat had formed between his cold hands after he gripped it for so long. Jacob still didn’t trust him, but if they sent Hunter to do their dirty work, Jacob knew he wouldn't hurt Hunter. He couldn’t bring himself to do it because he knew better, and Hunter wouldn’t.

  “They are running simulations on us," Hunter got straight to the point. He spoke quickly, as if a ticking bomb was strapped to him and ready to go off any time. "Machines that are hooked to our minds, and they root through our memories, and they can jump into any rabbit hole they find. When they found you in Dylan’s head, they deep dived into Dylan's memories of you. In mine, when they saw your cousin, they tried to dive into information about her. They saw her in Dylan’s head, too. They're rooting around for information on your guys." he took a quick breath and continued with his explanation. Jacob didn't have long to process the information individually. He had to be quick, and he had to see it as a whole. "Somehow I lied. I don't know how, and they don’t know either, but I lied to them. I said your cousin was dead from the bombing, and the simulation shut down. When I overrode it, the whole system just malfunctioned. I think they’re trying to find candidates to get through to you while also finding our strengths and weaknesses.” Jacob silently listened to everything Hunter told him. He wasn’t sure what to say, but Hunter had a new topic to bring up. The first words he said made Jacob forget everything previously stated. “That radio, Jacob,” He leaned forward. “She’s on the other side, isn’t she?” Jacob looked up, right into his eyes. That’s how Hunter knew he was right. “I just figured,” Hunter started to twist the bracelet on his wrist. “She’s not here, and she’s not dead. You wouldn’t be doing this if she were dead. Both of you got away. You were free. You don’t stumble upon the same army twice like that. You're here on purpose, and she has to be on the other side.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jacob looked away from him.

  “I’m not sure what you’re thinking they’ve done to us, but we are still in control of ourselves, Jacob. We’re trying to protect you and her. Why won’t you just tell me-”

  “The less you know, the easier it will be. You’ve said it yourself, okay? They’re digging in your minds, so anything I'm keeping from you is keeping you safe, too. Why are you here, Hunter? If it’s not to tell me you’re getting me out of here, there’s no reason for you to be here.”

  “Jacob, we’re doing everything we can. We can’t just barge in and get you out. We’re a part of something bigger here." They both were standing, looking at eachother. The pause they took between their words was louder than anything they could speak. "There’s no home and no family to go back to. If we leave, we have nowhere to go. It’s safe here. If we wanted to leave, we would fight tooth and nail to get out of here. I have done everything I can to get them to let you out, but you need the injections.”

  “Why do you think they’re pushing so hard to give me those shpts? If it’s life or death, I am still alive, Hunt. They’re controlling you. It’s not to keep us healthy, it’s to keep you unbothered. I’m not having this conversation with you again. There is nothing for you to know.” They both sighed and let the silence overcome them. “Just take care of them all. I’ll be here. Don’t see me again, Hunt.” That last part felt bitter on his tongue. His throat burned as the words echoed inside of him. Hunter got up, staring at the ground for a while, then he walked away. The moment the door closed, and he walked out of sight, Jacob leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. He couldn’t keep going like this.

  Back in the room, Peter was the next one to go into the simulation. He was put into the chair and hooked up, just like the other two had been. Tabitha didn't explain much to him, though, but he wanted to know everything. He found it necessary to take it into his own hands. Before she went to inject him, he stopped her. “How do you see what I'm thinking?” She flicked the vial and froze. She slowly dropped her arms. “How do you know what my memories are?” She seemed intrigued by his curiosity. Peter was the first one to ask that.

  “Well, these straps track your vitals and are sent into the computer inside of this chair you’re in. The waves of your heartbeat, breathing pattern, brain activity, each turn into a code that’s transferred into the computer and decoded into… a movie,” She looked towards the blank wall behind him. That was where the computer was, but he didn’t see it when he walked in. It had to be a seamless door somewhere. “This shot is similar to some hallucinogenic drugs you would find on the street, only it doesn’t have the deadly or addictive side effects. Everything you think about is wildly enhanced. It’s fascinating, and it allows us to see how you process information and act towards certain situations.”

  “And there haven’t been any failures?” She flicked the vial again.

  “Well, we've had some groups come through here before. Nobody's come out without medical assistance. Few body types have been able to go through a little quicker than others, and from what we've detected, nobody has bypassed our intrusion. Dylan was picture perfect, but your friend Hunter must have metabolized the hallucinogen faster. We try to maintain a controlled memory scape. The more adrenaline you have in your memories, the quicker your blood metabolizes the serum. There’s a lot more to its microscopic anatomy. This is the most advanced medical advancement in decades. Using it for our purposes is just the baseline to its full potential,” She brought the needle closer to his arm. He stared down at it, starting to trick his mind. He wanted to think about the worst-case scenarios to raise his adrenaline. “Your friend Dylan is very calm. Even when he broke his arm, he never got a true adrenaline rush. His adrenal glands must have had a significant difference compared to those of the average person. Hunter, though, his memories were full of adrenaline, even the calm ones,” she stuck the needle into Peter's arm. He tensed as she did so, making the insertion hurt much more than it needed to. He kept telling himself that she was going to kill him. She was going to get information, and all of his friends would be in danger. She would see his true intentions. He was never going to make it out of here, and the rest of humanity relied on him. She pulled the needle out, and he tensed again. He tried to move, but the restraints kept pulling him back down. He tried to take a very deep breath, but the chest strap held him down too. He couldn’t freak out too quickly, or else the heart monitor would go off, but the more he realized he couldn’t leave if he wanted to, the more scared he started to become. He could easily keep a sound mind, but it wasn't hard for him to purposefully lose that mental landscape.

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  “How long is this going to take?” He felt sweat starting to drip down his forehead.

  “Depends on the person. You’ll feel it kicking in here shortly. Just relax,” He started to hold his breath and tense his whole body. He could feel his head starting to slow down, like he was trying to learn in a classroom after being awake for too long. He sluggishly moved his eyes around, then started to fight against it. Tabitha was trying to kill him. She told him all of this information with the expectation of him not making it out of this room. How would someone so smart think it was a good idea to spill all of their secrets? especially for equipment this advanced? His vision started to get dark blotches, turning the world into small snippets of color until it ultimately took over his sight as a whole. It was all black, and his whole body went numb. His ears started to ring. He could hear Tabitha trying to speak, but couldn’t make out the words. He started to think back to the football game. He imagined the bombs, the people he watched disintegrating in front of his eyes. He could hear the ringing in his ears then, too. He knew he was going to die. He knew he should have died. He looked to his right, Tristan reaching up for him, blood all over his body. He should have been running by now; that’s what he did back then when it really happened, he ran from him, but he planted his feet this time. This was altering the memory. He stood there and looked up, staring at the bomb coming right for him.

  His eyes shot open just as quickly as he had closed them. Nothing in the room had changed, and Tabitha was still standing there with the shot in her hand. “That’s weird,” She looked at the monitor. His blood pressure had drastically changed, and his pulse rate was rapid. “Hold on there, Peter,” She walked up and unhooked him from the IV’s and the table. He stood up and took a few deep breaths. In a matter of seconds, his heart rate went back down. He felt perfectly fine. “How do you feel?” She grabbed him a cup of cold water.

  “I feel mild... burning? What happened?” He was a little tired, but really, he was fine. “Is it over?” She stared at him, tapping the end of the pen on her bottom lip.

  “For now. You may have had an allergic reaction. We’ll retry you tomorrow, alright? Go on ahead to the bunkers.” He nodded, holding the cup in his hand as he walked out. Everyone watched him when he went out into the waiting room.

  “It didn’t work on me,” he glanced to the side. He didn’t once stop to look at them and talk. He immediately went through the door, speaking as he moved. “I got my adrenaline up, and it ended the simulation. Imagine your worst moments.” He walked through the door and closed it behind him. Even though the simulation hadn’t worked, he still relived a terrible memory. Just one. The memory that haunted him from his day-to-day life. Tristan was his best friend, and he had seen him die. Tristan’s face was what Peter saw every night when he tried to sleep, and the first thing he thought about when he woke up. He had figured it wouldn’t hurt as much since he relived it every single day, but it never got better.

  He rushed back to the bunks to find Hunter and Dylan, but only Dylan was sitting there. “Peter? What’re you doing here already?” Peter looked up, watching Hunter walk through the far door across the room.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t feel right about the whole thing. Tabotha told me about it and… it just didn’t seem right." Peter sat down and took a few long sips of his water. “Ever since we got here, I haven’t cared about anything. I see Tristan every day, and that's the one thing that never fails to bother me, but everything else? Why are we training like this? What are we doing? Jacob is in there, stuck, and we’re here training, willingly, for a mission we know nothing about. It's messing with my head,” He leaned forward and pinched his temples between his thumb and index finger.

  “You’re starting to sound like Jacob.” Dylan looked at the door Hunter had walked through. “I don’t know. I feel weird. I just need a second,” Dylan laid back and closed his eyes. Peter sat, tapping his feet for minutes. Someone else should have been out here by now. As the door swung open, he turned around, but it was just Hunter. He wiped one of his eyes and made his way past the bunk and into the bathroom, slamming the door open against the wall. It was rare for Hunter to get worked up like that. The door fell shut on its own. Peter looked back at Dylan, but he had his eyes closed. He was unbothered, so Peter got up and followed Hunter into the bathroom. He stepped inside and looked at the rows of stalls. All of them were empty, so he locked the door behind him. He spotted Hunter near the middle sink, leaning forward on his arms and staring into the running water.

  “Hunter? What happened?” Hunter slowly turned off the sink and stepped back, rubbing his hands on his wet face he had previously splashed with cold water. He turned, fully collected.

  “I talked to Jacob. He told me to leave and to stay gone. Whatever he knows, he doesn’t want to tell me. He thinks if we know what he does, they’ll find that-”

  “Stop, stop,” Peter rubbed his head. “Don’t tell me. He’s right!" Hunter froze. "Whatever I know, I'll be thinking about how much I don’t want them to know. Tomorrow, when they try to dig through my head, and any other time they dig through our minds, what he tells us and you tell me is up for grabs at any point. He’s right, Hunt. Jacob came here with a plan, and he knows that they’re looking for something in our heads. He might even know what they're looking for. The less we know, the better. I trust him, don’t you?” Hunter sighed.

  “I do, but he’s suffering in there. We can help him with what we know,” he slowed down his speech. Out of the last twenty minutes, this was the least urgent thing he had to speak on. “We can help him. We keep going in there, telling him what we know, then he decides what’s safe to tell us. We need to figure out what they're looking for.” Peter walked up to the sink and looked in the mirror.

  “Tabitha said they’re monitoring our responses to certain situations, and how we process them. My guess is they’re going to use that information to determine where we falter, and then build simulations to cure our weaknesses. Hell, they might find what makes us human and correct it. We've seen how far Reaper has made it with humanity. You understand what I'm saying?” Hunter nodded. “Good. Unless they find something alarming or something to build off of, then we just have to keep trying to fight against them. Subtly, though. We retaliate and preserve ourselves until Jacob can do whatever he’s trying to do. I broke the simulation, and I think I can help everyone else break theirs. We all need to get through it and connect the dots. Maybe then we can find the truth as to what they’re looking for, or maybe a pattern so we know what to expect.”

  “You broke the simulation? How did you do that?” They both started to walk out into the bunker room to meet up with Dylan as they spoke. Normally, if soldiers were around, they would keep their voices low. The other kids, though, seemed to be in a deeper trance than the rest of their group. The connection to their lucidity was also unknown.

  “They try to control your memories to make them calm; that way, you produce a minimal amount of adrenaline.” They stared straight ahead, ignoring the people watching them as they walked by. “I just worked myself up beforehand and burned it all off. She said you got out fairly quick, too?” Hunter sighed.

  “Yeah, I did. Being an athlete revolves around adrenaline. Man, now it all makes sense,” He rubbed his hand through his thin hair. “That was all of my memories. All of them were action-packed. I brought myself out of it after reliving the bombing. She started to dig into my thoughts, asking me about Jacob’s cousin and the danger I felt after that... It really does make sense,” They both sat down next to Dylan. Nobody else was out yet, which was weird. All three noticed the unexpected absence.

  “Okay, Dylan,” Peter reached over and grabbed an empty notebook from the chest underneath the beds. “Can you tell me the order of your memories? We’re onto something here. I'm going to need you to trust me.” Dylan glanced over wearily, but he didn’t care enough to ask questions. Not yet, at least. He complied and listed off how his simulation had gone while Peter took notes.