Anna sat cross-legged on the narrow cot in the windowless room they'd given her..more storage closet than bedroom, with its concrete walls and the lingering scent of old wires and disinfectant. The VR headset lay on the floor beside her, tucked under an oversized hoodie she hadn't taken off in two days.
She stared at the ceiling, chewing the inside of her cheek. Her thoughts churned like a storm...about Andrew, about the strange facility, about David. Most of all, about the choice she was about to make.
She hadn't been kidnapped, not exactly. When David had found her under the desk two days ago, he hadn't dragged her out or called for guards. He'd simply offered her a room. Said she could stay "until she figured things out."
Which, frankly, was the most fatherly thing anyone had said to her in years.
Not that she was big on dads...or moms. Or family in general.
Anna lived with her aunt. A woman so disconnected from reality she once referred to Anna as "that kid who's always in the fridge." Two days without returning home? If anything, her absence gave her aunt more uninterrupted wine time. No search parties. No frantic phone calls. Just peaceful, wine-sipping apathy.
But Anna wasn't brooding about that. She was brooding about Andrew.
She reached over and ran her fingers along the edge of the VR headset. Cold plastic. Slightly scratched. Heavy with implications.
She stood.
Enough sitting.
She slung the headset over her shoulder and slipped out into the hallway, walking past the rows of white-masked workers who still scurried like background extras in a dystopian indie flick. The place smelled like ozone and stale coffee. The flickering lights cast long, disjointed shadows across the metallic floor. A few workers nodded as she passed—she had the uniform now, after all. She blended in.
Kind of.
The massive disc in the center still pulsed softly, like a giant alien heart.
Anna ignored it, her steps steady, until she reached the glass-walled office.
David—Mr. Huntsman, in professional mode..sat inside, wearing a crisp white shirt and thin-rimmed glasses. The sleeves were rolled up, tie undone, hair ruffled. He looked like a worn-out professor grading essays he didn't believe in anymore.
She stepped inside.
"No, Anna," he said immediately, not looking up from the papers on his desk.
Anna blinked. "I didn't even say anything."
"You didn't have to," he said, still not looking at her. "You've got the headset with you. You've got that stormy look in your eyes. And you always pace three steps before doing something reckless."
Anna looked down.
Sure enough..three steps forward. Busted.
Everyone does that right?
"My friend is trapped in the dream," she said, gripping the headset tighter. "This is the least I can do to prove my love for him."
There. She said it.
Love.
Even as the word left her lips, it sounded dumb. Not that she didn't mean it—Andrew was the first person who ever made her feel that way. She just couldn't control the stupid feeling! Damn!
But still—she'd only confessed to him a month ago.
You know that one friend who posts their new relationship on social media like it's a Nicholas Sparks movie? Yeah. That guy. This is that moment. Calm down, Anna. Let the cement dry before you walk on it.
David sighed and stood. "No, Anna. Just because you were chosen doesn't mean you have to do it."
Anna's eyes narrowed. "So what? We wait? We pray? We hope for a miracle?"
"We find another way to save Andrew," David said, voice low but firm. "You don't need to go full action hero."
"Another way? Leo's been stuck in that place for a year! People at the hospital have been in dream limbo even longer!"
David looked at her, the fight draining from his face.
"Anna… I know it's hard. But look at the bright side. If Andrew wakes up on his own, it means he's strong enough. It means he won't be damaged. And then you two can continue your love story with no... interruptions."
Anna folded her arms. "I don't think there's anything you can say that'll change my mind."
Fun fact about Anna: She doesn't take advice. She does what she wants, when she wants, how she wants—and commits to it like her personality is a Greek tragedy.
David studied her for a long moment.
"Okay," he said quietly. "If that's what you want to do... you're free. But please, wake up on time. Don't make me explain to the hospital staff why another teenager tried to become a dream hero and ended up in a coma."
She wasn't the only stupid hero? Who else has done that? Like she cared about that right now..Purrrlisss..
Anna smirked. "Thanks, Mr. David."
"Don't be formal," he said, softening. "Call me David."
They exchanged a small, strange smile..the kind of smile two war generals might give each other before heading off in opposite directions.
And then, as she turned to leave, her eyes caught on something.
Around David's neck, mostly hidden beneath his collar, was a pendant. A spiral design, the exact one she'd seen on the comatose patient at the hospital.
Her blood chilled.
"Huh... that necklace?" she asked casually, trying to keep her voice steady.
David looked down, then quickly tucked it into his shirt. "Oh, this? It's nothing. Just some cheap product. Probably on Amazon."
"I saw it on a patient's neck."
"Coincidence," he said too quickly. "They mass-produce this stuff. I think I saw an influencer wearing one on TikTok."
He followed that up with a joke about "spiraling into trends," which fell flatter than a pancake in low gravity.
Anna squinted at him but let it go.
For now.
She had more pressing matters.
David had already explained how the dream worked. Dreamsurge, he called it. A VR-meets-consciousness experience created by someone—or something—much bigger than this facility. Most people just played the game. But some... some were chosen by the creators themselves. People with the potential to influence the dream.
Anna was one of them.
She knew that now.
Yesterday, when she put on the headset for a preview run, the game responded. Symbols had appeared. A message whispered in her ears: "You are seen."
Andrew never did the preview. He dove straight in, impatient, excited. Typical him. And maybe that was his mistake—if he had previewed it, the creators might have passed on him.
But they didn't.
Because he mattered.
And now they had him.
Maybe they wanted Anna too. Maybe they were watching her. Laughing. Betting on her like a chaotic wildcard in their cosmic game.
Love makes people stupid. Cheers to those of us who lack the organ entirely. You're the real winners.
Anna held the headset tight.
"Andrew," she whispered, walking toward the disc. "I'm coming."
The lights flickered again. Somewhere above, the disc hummed louder.
The game was waiting.
And so was she.