Lake

 

 

If Stryker’s hypothesis is correct, Sophie’s feelings were hurt when I had a dream without her. I feel terrible if I caused her to believe I don’t enjoy working with her, because I do. Almost always. Though I do get uneasy when considering she may be aware of my every thought.

But that concern is moot if we never re-merge. Even though it’s early, I change into my PJs and crawl into bed. I force myself to focus on the positive. Sophie has already taught me so many invaluable skills. I love the work we’re doing, and she obviously loves it, too, or she wouldn’t have wanted to extend her life by merging with me. I can understand why she sometimes gets impatient, but my competence has been improving. We’re going to be an outstanding team in a year or two. I couldn’t have asked for a better Mentor. And, I’m certain, together, we’ll find the cure for Alzheimer’s.

I close my eyes and begin talking to her in my mind. “Sophie, I’m sorry if I made you believe I’d rather dream my own dreams than be with you. I didn’t invite Orfyn into our dreamspace, and he shouldn’t have been there. I want to continue our work. Together. Please come back to me.”

I drift off to sleep and find myself in a noisy cafeteria filled with people in white lab coats.

Sophie sits across from me, angrily spearing a cucumber with her fork. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

Is it a coincidence she returned after I just apologized?

She sighs dramatically. “Because of your stunt with that boy, we’re now weeks behind schedule.”

Boy? As in Orfyn? But my dream—that was wrong on so many levels—only occurred two nights ago. “How long have I been gone?”

“Twelve days, not that I’m counting.”

Until now, Sophie and I have always picked up from where we left off the previous night. Somehow, Sophie’s concept of time has become nonlinear.

“What’s done is done.” Sophie’s tone conveys that she’s not yet forgiven me. “I can only hope you didn’t neglect your other obligations. I’d hate to see you receiving a semester of Incompletes.” She lights a cigarette—in the cafeteria where everyone is eating—and takes a long drag.

“I’ll work hard to catch up,” I answer, because what else can I say?

I need to tell Stryker so he can get Bjorn’s input. A part of me wishes I can admit to Deborah about how Stryker’s Mentor will be helping mine adjust to her new life. It is significant. But I’m not ready to admit things aren’t going as well as I’ve led her to believe.

“I’m going to need longer hours from you to make up for the lost time,” Sophie says.

I stare blindly into my chicken noodle soup that wasn’t there seconds before, trying to fight off my panic. I want a life, too. One that she’s not constantly in. I recall what Stryker said about how the Mentors won’t be stimulated because of their lack of new experiences. “Did you go anywhere while I was gone?”

“How could I? Someone had to feed the octopuses.” Her bright red lips mash together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me lately.”

“Neither of us have been ourselves.” It would be funny, if it wasn’t. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Are you happy?”

She blows smoke out through her nostrils. “Happiness is a state of mind.”

Exactly. But she no longer has a brain. “What did … what do you like to do for fun?”

She looks at me oddly.

“If we’re going to spend even more time together, it would be nice to know each other better.”

She takes a few puffs, then finally nods. “I love to travel to new cities and explore their art museums.” Her face softens, and her eyes take on a wistful look.

My heart breaks for her. According to Bjorn and Stryker, she’ll never be able to experience that again. Did she truly comprehend what she’d have to give up to live this way?

I take a moment to mentally navigate this landmine of a conversation by stirring my steaming soup. If Orfyn appeared in my dream, then Sophie may have conjured someone else in our dreamspace. “Did you spend time with anyone while I was gone?”

“Just me, all by myself for weeks. Everyone must have decided to take a vacation at the same time.”

If she experienced time as she remembers, she had to have been confused when everyone she knows wasn’t around. And lonely. “I’m truly sorry I was gone for so long, Sophie. I won’t let it happen again.”

“I may have been pushing you too hard,” she says. “We need to get back to work, but how about we take it easy today?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

We smile at each other, and it feels like we’ve made a leap in our relationship. She doesn’t realize she’s intruding on my life, and once she understands I’m her Nobel, I’m sure she’ll respect my privacy.

True to Sophie’s word, I wake a mere seven hours later, feeling refreshed. I stretch, and my thoughts for some reason drift to Stryker. When considering all the factors, we would make the ideal couple. We really need to spend more time together and get to know each other better. I don’t even know where he’s from. There’s a tickling sensation at the edge of my mind. Lately, it hasn’t been as sharp as usual. It’s even been getting difficult to recall what Sophie and I worked on. I don’t think Deborah has picked up on it, but I have to concentrate to remember the particulars so I can give her a detailed debrief.

The long hours in our dream sessions must be wearing me out. I wish I could tell Sophie I’ll be more productive if we cut back on our work schedule, but for now that’s still impossible. Until then, I need some way to capture my thoughts.

I rummage through my desk and grab the journal I brought from home. I’d thought it would be interesting to document my time here, but I’d forgotten about it until now. Given all that occurs while I’m at work, it would be prudent to start writing down the important things as soon as I wake. I turn to the first page and shut my eyes, trying to piece together my dream.

We started off in a cafeteria. Sophie was angry at me for being with Orfyn. There was something about an art museum. I remember feeling good at the end because we’d crossed a hurdle. And then we went to the lab. What were we working on? I wince. I had to kill and dissect Ramona, the sweetest of all the octopuses, which helps explain why I’m having problems remembering my dreams. We’ve gone through octopus after octopus, trying to understand their nervous system, of which only a part is localized in their brain. Their arms contain most of their neurons, which gives them exquisite sensitivity. Their severed limbs show a variety of complex reflex actions with no input from their brains. And, octopuses can grow back lost arms, which could help us determine how to regenerate nerves or organ segments.

The key is to keep reminding myself they’re not alive for real.

I clutch the journal to my chest. It’s already helped. A fleeting thought appears, then disperses too fast to grab hold of. Was I supposed to tell something to Stryker?