Moments after Cedar swallowed the contents of the vial, the tranquil midnight seascape before her fizzled into an abyss of darkness. She was once again paralyzed, motionless in a reclined position with her eyes sealed shut.

  thought Cedar. It was the second time she found herself ensnared in that peculiar, ominous darkness. A place that felt like a threshold, hovering between the tangible world and the ethereal realm of dreams. There were no clocks or calendars within her dreamscape, but she guessed months had elapsed since the last time she found herself there, stuck in that place. It could've been years, or weeks, she really didn't know.

  She strained to open her eyes, whether they were her physical eyes or spirit eyes, it didn't matter. Cedar just wanted her journey to be over, regardless of the consequences.

  She endured countless deaths and horrors, unimaginable cruelties and torture—enough suffering to cause her to no longer care if her universe reset. Her efforts to save humanity left her with a clear conscience. She tried her best to save everyone. And now, she was tired.

  Over the next several minutes, Cedar exercised her forehead muscles. Raising and lowering her eyebrows, flexing them until she gave her eyelids another try. With immense mental fortitude, she gradually opened them.

  As her vision cleared, a white room materialized before her, accompanied by the muffled bleeps and bloops of concealed machinery. A tall figure came into view, speaking in an authoritative tone.

  "Cedar Wells you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to a paid attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

  “Where am I?”

  "I'm Detective Harris. I've been appointed to oversee your case. You just underwent virtual rehabilitation which upon its completion, deems you no longer a threat to society. You do however, may need to pay fines and penalties for any crimes you committed. Nachiket Joshi has been assigned as your lead defense attorney, he will work with you and your paid attorney, if you wish to appoint one, to build your defense before the court date. You are not to leave the state of Connecticut until after your court hearing. You are not to correspond with the press. You are not to correspond with witnesses or officers in the prosecution. Do you understand?"

  Detective Harris sounded off each point as if reading a script, not differentiating between sentences. Cedar nodded her head. "I think so?" It was hard to nod since her head was placed inside a large metal dome.

  "Do you or do you not understand?"

  Ignoring the officer, Cedar looked for Nachi and Everly. She knew that they were close by, hooked up to the same machine as she. A long cylindrical tube connected to the machine next to her. Cedar followed it with her eyes, seeing that it led up into the ceiling, adjacent to a mirrored wall. Two-way glass she assumed. Nachi and Everly must be in the room next to her.

  "Can I speak to my attorney?" Cedar said while trying to move her arms which were tethered to the chair.

  "You'll meet with Mr. Joshi momentarily," Detective Harris announced before leaving the room. As he exited, an older woman in a white lab coat, a stethoscope dangling from her neck, attempted to enter. Detective Harris brushed past her without a word. Their lack of interaction suggested to Cedar that such encounters were common between them, or perhaps the detective was simply a jerk. Cedar was inclined to believe the latter.

  "How are you feeling, Miss Wells?" the woman asked.

  "Dandy, you?"

  "It's another wonderful day here in rehab. I can't complain," she said, holding the cold end of the stethoscope to Cedar's chest. "Take a deep breath in for me."

  Cedar breathed in and watched the doctor's face as she listened for a heartbeat.

  "That's great, you're doing great. Just one more time for me?"

  Cedar obliged.

  "Okay, now look up."

  "I don't think I need to be handcuffed for this," Cedar said while looking up so the doctor could shine a light into her pupil.

  "We'll take them off, no need to worry about that. We don't want you standing up right away, that's why we keep them on. You've just been through an extreme experience, after all."

  "Eh, it was no biggie."

  "I'm sure if you remembered all that you went through, you'd have a different opinion."

  Did Cedar remember? Yes. All of it. She also remembered to do a reality check.

  The doctor viewed the display on the whirring machine and jotted down a few notes before pressing several buttons. The powerful whir calmed itself to a gentle hum.

  "Let's get you unlatched and unhooked from all this, shall we?"

  The doctor pressed more buttons, triggering the headgear to lift several feet above Cedar's head, freeing her to stretch her tight neck muscles.

  "How long was I out?" Cedar asked.

  "The whole process only lasts five minutes. You were under for exactly . . . " the doctor glanced at her clipboard, making a clicking sound with her tongue, "four minutes and fifty-five seconds. That's cutting it close, I'd say."

  "What would've happened if I went over the five minutes?"

  The doctor put her clipboard down and resumed unhooking Cedar from the machine.

  "That's something we don't like to talk about here. It's sad, really. The brain shuts down after five minutes. It's hard on everybody. A lot of paperwork, legal fee's."

  "And telling their family . . . " Cedar added, sounding somewhat sorrowful.

  "Escuse me?"

  "You know, somebody has to notify their next of kin, right?"

  "Oh honey," the doctor said shaking her head. "Those people, sad to say, don't usually have anyone notify. Don't ask me why that is, lord only knows. Their deaths don't even reach the news."

  The doctor removed the last piece of equipment from Cedar, a featherlight necklace that she wasn't aware of wearing. After putting the necklace aside, she swiveled up a stool so she can sit in front of Cedar.

  "I'm going to ask you a few questions. You don't need your lawyer—it's just a brain check, to make sure you're in tip-top shape before we get you out of here."

  "Fire away."

  The questions were rudimentary: What year is it? Who's the president? What day is it?

  After the simple verbal intake, the doctor had Cedar memorize objects, then recite them back. The most challenging test was counting backward from one hundred in increments of seven.

  "It's okay, everyone struggles with that one," the doctor winked.

  "Did I pass?"

  "With flying colors," the doctor said as she stood up and wheeled the stool under a table. "I'll send someone in to uncuff you. You're a free woman, Cedar Wells."

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  The doctor hurried out the door to her next client. he wondered. Cedar also couldn't believe she was free, at least not while handcuffed to the chair. Out of habit, she checked in with herself again, asking herself if this was really happening.

  It seemed legit. Her dreamscape was never this orderly or tame. She felt out of danger and couldn't wait to see Nachi and Everly, the only two people in the world who knew what she had been through.

  Cedar knew in her gut that she had not ascended. A sinking feeling of dread settled in her stomach.

  She felt herself falling into denial.

  Cedar needed to see Nachi and Everly now more than ever to reinforce her belief that her experience wasn't real. But then, how did she remember all of it? She wasn't supposed to remember the rehabilitation process, but she did—vividly.

  As time passed, no officer appeared. Cedar sat and waited, not that she had a choice, being clamped to the chair. She glanced at the digital clock on the table next to her. The numbers glowed a strong and steady neon blue—a small proof that she was no longer in the dream world. In the dreamscape, numbers never appeared clear.

  Fifteen minutes passed until the officer finally made his appearance. Without a word, Detective Harris proceeded to unlatch the cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

  "My attorney . . . Officer? Can I see him now?"

  "I'll take you to him."

  With brute force, the detective grabbed Cedar by the elbow and lifted her, practically picking her off the chair without requiring her to use her legs.

  He pushed Cedar in front of him and directed her to go right.

  Cedar turned right out the door, with Detective Harris following close behind. "It's the third door on your left."

  Upon opening the third door on the left, Cedar was greeted by Nachi's smiling face. He sat at a table in the small office. "Nachi!"

  Without thinking, Cedar rushed over to him, bumping her hip against the table as she made her way to his side. They embraced.

  "Do you two know each other?" Harris asked, looking stern.

  "Uh, well . . . " Nachi looked at Cedar. "More like passing acquaintances."

  The detective grunted as he shut the door behind him, leaving Nachi and Cedar alone.

  "You remember me?" Nachi asked, looking stunned.

  "How could I forget you?" Cedar grabbed Nachi's plump face, covering his cheeks in kisses. "Are you real? Is this real?" She felt his arms and gave them a squeeze.

  "Yeah, I think so. I mean, it seems pretty real to me," his face blushed crimson as he glanced around the room. "If this were just a dream, that would mean I'm not real, right?"

  "Is Everly here? Can I see her?"

  "You can, but not now. You're not supposed to make contact with the prosecution, so we have to keep it on the D-D-L."

  "D-D-L?"

  "Double down low."

  "Right."

  "So, did you do it?"

  Cedar knew he was referring to her ascension. His face looked hopeful and pure. She shook her head.

  "I'm sorry."

  "No, no this . . . " Nachi was at a loss for words. His face fell flat as he continued, "Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it was all part of the rehabilitation. Yours was just exceptionally . . . different."

  "I hope so."

  "It couldn't have been real," Nachi asserted.

  They both paused, grappling with the same nagging questions that echoed in their heads.

  "The security footage," Cedar said, as if she had just remembered.

  "The laser eyes . . . " Nachi added. "I have no idea how to defend this case," he said, looking up and taking a step back.

  "It had to be real then, right? You know that I didn't rob Hyperion. How could I?"

  "It couldn't have been real," Nachi countered, almost tearfully. "We have no defense. What do we tell them?"

  "We agreed to tell the truth."

  "?" Nachi questioned.

  "Back at the . . . inside my subconscious, we—Ari, Everly and I, all agreed to tell the truth."

  "The truth." Nachi snickered as he rubbed the back of his head.

  "But it doesn't matter. I don't care about any of that," Cedar changed the subject. "We're all going to die anyway."

  "Don't say that."

  "Can we stop it from happening? I'm not powerful. not powerful."

  "Everly needs to get started on her book," Nachi ventured.

  The book, as it turned out, might be their only chance to prevent Hugh Gaines from being elected president. But who reads books anymore?

  "What good will a stupid book do?" Cedar asked.

  "It's all we got."

  "We need to talk to Everly. I need to go back in. Going back in the program is our only option, not Everly's book."

  "Of course, yes. That might work," Nachi's shoulders relaxed a bit. "You have to commit another crime. As soon as possible."

  Cedar paused for yet another one of her habitual reality checks which she preformed every few minutes.

  "This might not be real. I could still be in it."

  Nachi shook his head, looking doubtful.

  "What if you stuck yourself with the pin to wake up?"

  Nachi looked down at the freckle on his wrist. If he were still inside the program, his pain sensors would be muted, all save for one—the freckle on his wrist. The freckle connected to a specific pain receptor that, when pressed, would alert his body to wake up.

  "I already used it, remember? The zombie bear?"

  Cedar groaned. Of course she remembered the bear—how could she forget monstrosity.

  "Do it anyway? For me?" Cedar offered a pained smile.

  "Okay, okay," Nachi complied. He reached into his deep trouser pocket and pulled out a small, capped needle.

  "You keep one in your pocket all the time?"

  "It's easier to conjure one if I keep a real one in my pants," he blushed, not divulging what other secrets he kept there.

  "Here, see?" Nachi rolled up his sleeve and gently pushed the point of the pin into his freckle. "Still here," he grimaced.

  "I have to see Everly. She has to do it too, to be sure."

  "You'll see her later. We'll both stop by your place after this, okay?"

  Cedar nodded with a pout.

  "And then we can get back to our regular lives, like none of this ever happened. You can see your friends, visit your family. Feel normal for once—for a little while at least," Nachi said as he straightened out the paperwork and placed it neatly into his briefcase.

  Cedar turned away, looking at the door. Beyond it lay her life, unsullied by the time she had spent in hell. She may have changed as a person, but the life that she knew had not. How was she supposed to go back?

  "Everly will know what to do," Nachi assured.

  "Everly hates me."

  "She doesn't hate you," Nachi said with a sigh. "She just doesn't like being challenged. She takes offense to it."

  "She likes to be the one in control," Cedar thought aloud.

  "That's putting it nicely," Nachi grinned.

  "So, what do we do now? We need to figure out our next move. I can't relax, not knowing what's real, or if we're all doomed. I can't wait until later."

  "Everly probably wants to see you as much as you want to see her. I'll talk to her. The faster you check out of here, the faster you'll see her, deal?"

  "Yeah . . . okay," Cedar nodded. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

  The two of them stepped into the hall, and Cedar began the long process of checking herself out of rehab. She spoke with their appointed psychologist and underwent a brain scan before finally finding herself standing outside the rehabilitation center, entering the backseat of a police cruiser.

  "Where to?" asked the officer from behind a plexiglass barrier.

  "Home. Take me home," Cedar gave him the address and off they went, back to her domicile. Nachi promised to meet her there as soon as he contacted Everly. With any luck, they both would be at her place waiting for her. The process of checking out had taken hours.

  It was early morning when the cop dropped Cedar off at her apartment. The sky lit with dawn, warming the chill from the damp air.

  "I'll be sure to give you five stars," Cedar joked as she closed the door to the police cruiser.

  For the first time in years, Cedar set foot inside her cramped apartment, her home. Everything was just as she had left it. She viewed her belongings with new eyes, almost as if she were a stranger. Items that she had once believed to be sentimental treasures now sat like piles of clutter strewn about the corners of each room. The place was a mess. The junk drawers were truly filled with junk. Why had she kept old batteries that had lost their charge? Or half-used tubes of sunscreen well past their expiration?

  After reacquainting herself with her possessions, Cedar collapsed onto the bed, a weary soul seeking respite. Images of her parents' faces danced in her mind, prompting her to reach for her phone. Yet, she hesitated, realizing the dawn was still too tender for calls.

  Dressed in the same pajamas the police had originally found her in, she surrendered to sleep, drifting into oblivion well into the late afternoon.

  Awakening to the buzzing of her phone, she saw Nachi's name flashing on the screen.

  Despite the prick of guilt, she let the call slip into voicemail. Cedar wasn't prepared to plunge back into the whirlwind just yet, not with traces of her ordeal still clinging to her, not with her teeth yearning for a thorough scrub. Instead, she dialed her parents, seeking the comfort of familiar voices.

  "Hello?" came a strained, dusty voice. It was her father, sounding tired.

  "Hey, Dad."

  "Cedar? How are you?"

  She longed to see them, to embrace them and spend time together. Yet, she had to meet Nachi and Everly first before she could allow herself that luxury.

  On the phone, she strived for casualness, aiming to sound as normal as possible under the circumstances. She didn't want to burden her parents with the gravity of her troubles. Fortunately, news stations had ceased publicizing small-time criminals, adopting a policy of 'out of sight, out of mind' to deter copycats. However, the town's Harald still had a penchant for such stories.

  "I'm fine, how's Mom?"

  "Mom is Mom, you know. She's doin' good. When are you coming to visit? You have some mail here . . . "

  "I'll visit soon. I just have to sort out some things at work."

  "How's that going?”

  "It's good, still busy," Cedar responded.

  "That's good. I'm happy for you," her father replied.

  They continued their conversation for a few more minutes, discussing family updates, local news, and the weather. Eventually, her dad handed the phone over to her mother, who immediately began detailing her latest health concerns.

  "Okay, Mom, go see a doctor. Okay . . . it shouldn't be red, go see a doctor. Okay, I have to go. I'll visit later, maybe tomorrow."

  After ending the call with her parents, Cedar switched on the television, intending to gather another piece of evidence that she was no longer in the dreamscape. She had learned from Everly that if she were still dreaming, the TV could disrupt her lucidity. According to Everly, this happened because the broadcast was a creation of her subconscious. Exposure to dream imagery would cause Cedar to connect with it, leading her into a deeper sleep.

  As she skimmed through the channels, none triggered a lapse into sleep. Wasn't this proof enough? Every fact she gathered thus far had convinced her that she was, indeed, back in the real world.

  Unascended.

  The world’s going to end.