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All masters are just ordinary people who have suffered enough to see through what isn't real.
-Master Fjeld
***
Henry and Ket stopped before a door with a simple red symbol in the shape of a rectangle. The door did not automatically open for them. Ket peered sideways at Henry with a grave expression.
"What I'm about to show you isn't real," Ket told him, "and I know all too well the danger in such things, so I am only going to give you access to it once."
Though Henry was still shrouded in pain, he was intrigued enough to give him a curious glance.
"Only once," Ket repeated firmly, holding up a finger. "I'm only doing this because I think you need it. Afterwards, you will need to move on all by yourself, like everyone else in the world."
Henry nodded, though he didn't understand. He didn't care. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Ket gave him one more hard stare before tapping at his control panel. The door slid open to reveal a large cubical plain white room with a single white chair in the middle of the floor upon a steel rod that protruded from the floor beneath it. It was similar to a medical screening chair with its adjustable sections, though no equipment waited beside it.
"Come," Ket said, walking into the room. "Sit there and relax as much as you're able," he said, pointing to the seat.
Henry noticed that he was mildly afraid, but his gloomy mood overshadowed it to a large degree. He thought to himself that if the chair was some kind of torture device, he'd prefer it over the pain that still lingered within him. He went to the chair and sat, laying back in its semi-reclined position. Ket came to the side of it and attached a black plastic cuff to his left arm at the elbow.
"This will access your control chip. And this," he explained, while placing a soft covering over his eyes, "will keep you focused within."
"What is this?" Henry asked him.
"Well, you know of the virtual reality programs that upper class citizens used to entertain themselves long ago?"
"Yes, of course," he answered. He’d heard of them. He had no interest in games. Like any other kind of entertainment, they were used to escape from reality. It was the opposite of what he'd been trying to achieve in life.
"Well, the basic concept is the same, though this program is far more powerful and realistic," he told him. "No one else in the world has access to it."
Henry pulled up the eye mask to make eye contact with Ket again.
"And why are you sharing this with me?" he sincerely wanted to know.
"Because, Henry," Ket said slowly, "there are many things you need to face and none of them are outside of here," he said tapping on Henry's forehead.
Ket couldn't have known how much sense it made to Henry. He was aware that his mind was causing him to suffer, though knowing the fact didn't seem to help. He nodded and recovered his eyes. He took a deep breath and relaxed into the chair. He was ready for whatever the program could do.
"Good. A relaxed mind will help immensely. I will be monitoring you from another room," Ket told him.
With that, Henry heard the man's footsteps exit the room. Music began to play softly from somewhere as the chair gently purred beneath him, lulling him seductively into a receptive state. He felt it slowly lower him back even more.
"Welcome," a woman's voice rang out into the room. "You have been here before, long ago, though you don't remember it. This is the void. It is a place where nothing exists, apart from what your own mind creates. It may help to think of the void as a lucid dream state, in which you are completely safe, but where your mind can summon anything it desires. On the other hand, you can also bring forth anything you dislike or fear. It is important to understand that you are in control. You may command the experience with your thoughts.
"Let's try something," the voice said, as Henry's vision suddenly filled in. Though his eyes were closed and covered, essentially keeping him in darkness, he could see the blue sky above him. He sat up in amazement. He was in the middle of a serene grassy meadow surrounded by tall green trees. It was startling, and yet so intriguing that he didn't care how it worked. He turned his head to get a look around himself as the voice continued.
"Look at your hand," she instructed. Henry took his attention from a beautiful little orange and black butterfly that flitted past and held his hand up before him. He turned it over, studying it. It looked very much like his real hand, though he knew it wasn't.
"Right now, your hand is empty, but with a thought, you may place an apple there..."
Henry gasped when before his eyes, a shiny pink and green skinned apple appeared. Not only did it look real, but it felt real. The voice went on to explain the way the program was able to access his touch receptors, sight receptors, and even the ones for taste and smell. He couldn't stop staring at it, as he turned it around in his hand. Then, he transferred it to his other hand. He chuckled to himself.
"Now," the voice told him, "banish the apple from your mind."
Henry played with the apple a little longer before giving a silent command for the apple to disappear. When the apple vanished from his sight, he laughed in delight. It was like magic. For a moment, Henry reminded himself that he was simply using a program. It wasn't real.
"It is the same process for banishing anything else, whether something unpleasant or frightening. You must always remember that you are in charge."
Before the program's introduction was even complete, Henry was already beginning to use it to make various visions appear before him. A rose bush that bloomed with velvety red roses. A friendly brown dog who wagged his tail happily. A distant mountain complete with a waterfall. Some of them, like a huge hairy spider that he didn't consciously summon, were quite unnerving, but he didn't worry. He found it easy to make it go away, along with all the other sights that came forth.
It was several minutes before Henry stumbled upon something that truly unsettled him. He'd thought of Keralan for a moment, after which, she suddenly appeared. It was one thing to see an apple, a house, or even a monster, but to see a real person there disturbed his mind.
"Keralan?" he muttered.
"Yes, it's me, uncle," she answered, in precisely the correct tone of voice.
"Wait, but you aren't real," he told her. He was astounded that the program could be so accurate. He couldn't fathom how it was done, but there she was. She smiled at him and twirled around before him like she had as a child.
The program voice returned momentarily to explain to him that he could interact with people just as he did in real life, but he was already up on his feet, hugging her, by the time she'd finished.
"Keralan," he said to her, "I'm so sorry for what I did. I never meant to hurt you." The words came easily. It was far easier than speaking to the real Keralan, which he realized was odd. He made a mental note to speak his mind to her the next time he saw her.
"It's okay, uncle," she said with a sweet smile.
He'd wanted so much to hear her say those very words. The tears began to flow. There was more he needed to tell her. Much more. But before he could, someone else came to mind. Seeing Keralan had startled him but seeing the next appear mere feet away, absolutely tore him to shreds. He gasped and began to whimper, letting go of Keralan.
"Esmera!" he cried. "Merciful God above, Esmera!"
"Henry," she said, approaching him. "I've missed you so much."
There was nothing he could do but to pull her exceedingly realistic body into a firm embrace. His body shook with wracking sobs. He couldn't speak through the vortex of both joy and pain that overtook him completely. There was nothing he'd ever wanted more than to have her back again and he'd never thought it could be possible.
The wrenching pain, dredged up from so long ago, had its way with him until finally, he was able to say, "I've missed you so much. I think about you every day, even still."
"I know," she told him.
He ran his hand up and down her back and over her smooth straight hair.
"I don't want to let you go," he whispered.
He knew he would have to and the pain of that made him feel like he was losing her all over again.
"You don't have to let me go," she told him. "I'll always be with you."
Henry was aware that Ket might have been feeding the program commands. He knew it wasn't really Esmera, though it felt like her. It was enough like holding her that he could do nothing but remain rooted there, with her clasped firmly to his chest. He'd never felt so powerless to anything and in a way, it gave him newfound compassion for every living being who had ever felt out of control.
For a long time, they stood there in silence. He ran his fingers over the small of her back just the way he'd done in the past. There were so many things he'd never had a chance to tell her. Though it wasn't really her, and he knew it was only benefitting him, at last he gave voice to it all. Everything he'd been holding in for over two decades came pouring out of him like a deluge.
Henry wanted her to know how much she'd meant to him and how much he wished he'd been able to somehow prevent her death. He’d felt such a deep sense of responsibility for what had happened that it felt like an icy hand gripping his heart. It hadn't ever let go.
"You are not the reason I died," she told him. "You are the reason I lived."
Henry wasn't sure it was true, but he liked hearing it, nonetheless.
"I'm the one who received the gift of knowing someone like you," he told her.
"Did you love me?" she asked.
Henry smiled.
"Of course I did. I still do."
"You know better than anyone that I needed your love just as much as you needed mine. There need not be any weighing or balancing of scales. We were there for each other. We shared something special. Is there anything better than that?"
"Not that I can think of," he answered, squeezing her in his arms.
For a long time, the two of them walked through the meadow together, hand in hand, but at some point, Esmera stopped and told him that it was time for her to go.
"But I don't want to leave this place. I would stay here with you forever," he told her.
"I know, Henry," she said in her gentle voice. "But you must go on with your life. There is more for you to do here. And I'll see you again someday."
"You don't know that," he told her choking up.
"But I always believed in life after death," she told him.
"Yes, you did," he agreed.
"It doesn't matter what anyone believes anyhow," she said. "All that matters is the here and now. And this program is not real."
"I know," he replied, beginning to sob anew.
"And I'll always be right here," she said, placing her hand over his heart.
Henry placed his hand over hers and squeezed. Her love had been with him. He would be forever grateful to have known her. He pulled her in for one last embrace.
"Goodbye my love," he murmured into her hair. It was the final thing he needed to tell her. He'd never had the chance. It took all his will power to let her go. Then, with great reluctance, he watched as she turned from him and walked away. She looked back one last time and smiled at him. Her form slowly faded into the background of trees.
He breathed out, feeling as if he'd been holding his breath. He'd been holding onto her memory for so long. The act of allowing her to leave felt to him as if he were setting her free, though he would always keep her in his heart. He sighed and decided to return to reality. It felt as if something had mended deep within him. He no longer needed the program.
But he was wrong.
The program voice urged him to use the opportunity to confront every person that he'd had any kind of issue with. Henry frowned, not knowing who else remained for him to face, though he relaxed and readied himself. Abruptly, the peaceful meadow was replaced by an inky black void that surrounded him on all sides.
As Henry thought of the people from his past, they appeared one by one. Some of them were childhood bullies. It was easy to tell them how they'd made him feel and to banish them. The same was true for those he'd wronged. He explained himself to them, gave a sincere apology, and felt a weight lift from his soul. He breathed in and out, feeling truly purged.
But he wasn't done. There was one more individual left.
A figure appeared before him that he hadn't seen in nearly half a century. A man with sunken cheeks and missing teeth. The clothing he wore was ratty and ill fitting. He had dark hair and brown eyes like his. The man fixed Henry with a cruel scowl that instantly made him nauseous.
It was his father.
"You're the worst kind of son, Aaron," he growled. "You're no good for nothing!"
The insult hit Henry deep within his heart. Aaron. He hadn't been called his real name since he'd joined the outliers. The name, along with the long-forgotten voice, brought up ancient feelings that he'd thought had dissolved. But they hadn't and they were the raw and vulnerable emotions of a defenseless child.
Henry could do nothing but stare back at the awful man he'd known so long ago. He recalled the name. Quin Fjeld. Henry's name had been Aaron Fjeld. It seemed like another lifetime. A stick appeared in his father's right hand suddenly and he began to creep towards him. Henry remembered the stick. It had been the source of so much pain and fear. But now he was bigger than his father.
"You can't hurt me anymore," he told him.
His father's lips curled up into a wicked grin. The gap where his front teeth should have been reminded him of the poverty they'd lived in. There were no dentists or doctors or help of any kind in Betax. In was a hell hole and for the first time he considered how the environment had shaped his father. And himself.
"Aaron, I'm going to get you," his father goaded.
Despite Henry's awareness that his father was merely a digital reproduction, the old familiar phrase brought up the same feelings of fear that he felt as the abused youngster he once was. He'd hid so many times. But he didn't have to anymore. He stood firmly before him.
"I will not run and hide this time," he said.
His father raised the stick and swung. The stick connected with Henry's shoulder and pain radiated out from it instantly. He gasped, not expecting to feel real pain. His father made to hit him again. Henry stopped him by grabbing the stick with both his hands. For a few tense moments, he wrestled against his father's surprising strength until he could wrench it from his hands. Having gotten it free, he tossed it far away into the void that surrounded them.
Without the weapon to use against him, his father turned to verbal insults.
"You're worthless, Aaron. You never should have been born. There's a reason I left you and your whore of a mother, you piece of garbage. This world," he snarled, "would be better off without you in it."
That was when Henry snapped. Rage, like nothing he'd ever experienced, burst forth like a white-hot inferno. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd struck the ugly frail form before him and sent him flying backwards. It was something he'd never have done, but knowing he was merely inside a program meant he could express the hatred he harbored without consequence.
He wasn't finished. Henry stomped over to where his father lay and began to kick him.
"You're the garbage!" he bellowed at him. "It is people like you who are the filth of this horrible fucking world!"
He watched the man curl into a ball for protection as he moaned. Henry's feet kept pummeling his little body, over and over. It felt good; better than he ever imagined it could. His father still managed to peer up at him and speak through the blows.
"You...are...nothing...but...refuse," he hissed.
"No, you are!" Henry yelled. "You left me when I was only five. I had to eat moldy bread to survive while you went off doing God knows what with whores and thieves and dealers and other pieces of filth. And you never came back to check on me! You didn't care one bit if I died!"
He continued to kick him, over and over. Still not satisfied with the amount of pain he was inflicting, he reached down to pick his father up by his grimy collar. He threw him across the blackness and stormed towards where he lay.
As he stood over him, his father said, "you think you're better than me. But the truth is," he said, wincing in pain, "you are just like me."
"I'm not!" Henry roared.
"Yes, you are," his father said, spitting out a tooth. "And you hold the same anger. Look at yourself. You have the capacity to hurt people, just as I hurt you. And just like me," he growled, "you ran away from your responsibilities and abandoned those you loved."
Henry glared down at the man. He hated him. He was about to tell him off and defend his own honor, but as he stared at the defenseless man he'd been beating to a pulp, he realized something startling.
He was right.
The rage inside promptly drained from him. Henry sank to his knees.
"I'm sorry," he moaned. He said it partly to his father, but also to the others he'd hurt. He shook his head and a wave of shame washed over him. His father, or more accurately, the digital form of his father, was right. He was no better than him. He'd spent years and years of his life trying to make up for the things he'd done by trying to be someone better; someone that God would be proud of. But, at his core, he was still just a sinner, like everyone else.
Ket was right.
The façade he'd built around himself of a good, pious, virtuous, serene, loving man, came crashing down. He was not any of those things and anyone who was, didn't need to pretend. The truth was, he was just a man. He was far from perfect.
He was human.
"It's time for your session to end," he heard the female voice say. "You have been inside the program for five hours and forty-three minutes."
Had it been that long?
The vision of his father disappeared as he felt his body moving in a strange way. Then, abruptly he felt himself lying in the chair once again. It occurred to him that his body had been reclining in it the entire time, though he'd felt as if he'd gotten up and walked around. The power of the program was great. He moved his arms and removed the mask that covered his eyes. He blinked under the bright lights. The room was as it had been, empty and white.
The door opened. Ket came walking towards him, stopping just a foot from his side. He knelt to the side of the chair so that his line of sight was at Henry's level.
"I have been inside this program hundreds of times," he said, "Eventually, it broke me apart. I lost my mind, Henry. For some time, I worried incessantly about getting back to the person I once was. I felt that I had lost myself. And," he said with a pause, "I had."
"Are you telling me that you are crazy?" Henry asked him.
"Crazy? I don't like that word. It is a dismissive label we attach to behaviors we don't understand. But, no, I am not crazy in the way you mean. I am simply a man who has been stripped to the core."
Henry waited for him to say more.
"You see, Henry, I have come to know that the only real part of me, is the part of me that is no one, that is nothing. It is the same with you to a large extent. And that is why you are just the person to help me."