Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Oh, you will have questions for years, Nova. I’m sure of it.”
“But then… why all the… secret society bullshit? Why all the fancy drama getting me here tonight?”
“It’s your big send off. It’s a celebration. It’s just…” He shrugs. “Something special for your last one.”
“That’s what the sex was about?”
“What sex?”
“What?”
“What sex?” He looks genuinely confused.
“What do you mean, what sex? We just… I just… lived through a fucking porno.” He guffaws. “I’m serious. You’re not telling me that wasn’t real. It was—”
“It wasn’t, I’m afraid. Not that I don’t find you attractive. But that never happened.”
“Mercer!”
“What?”
“Stop it.”
He sighs, pats my hand. “Nova, you’ve had a long day. And you’re still in the middle of the last trial, which was set up as an espionage thing. Secret societies and things like that. You’ve been reading a lot of Dan Brown this past year. So we indulged you with something intricate and spectacular. But you’ve been through a lot of trials, Nova. Dozens. Several dozen, actually. We were doing them seven or eight times a year in the beginning because you’d crash out every few days. You’re going to be confused until you crash out one final time. So don’t get too upset about anything until that happens. OK? If you still have questions after your crash, then by all means, call me up. We’ll chat about it. But for now, your time here is complete.”
“You’re kicking me out.”
“I am. I’m afraid it’s necessary. The helicopter is on the roof. It’s for you. Now, let’s go over the rest here.” He turns his attention to the contents of the folder and we go through pages of legal things and benefits. My healthcare has been paid for life, I have a therapist—totally optional—paid up for five years, and I can resettle anywhere I want. All I have to do is tell the helicopter pilot where I want to go and when I get there, they will have a car waiting for me and a hotel booked where I am free to stay for as long as I want. There is a phone number to call if I need anything during the first year of my resettlement.
“Anything, Nova. Consider this number your personal concierge. If you need a reservation to a sold-out play, call them. If you get a flat tire on the freeway, call them. Nothing is too big, or too small, for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that so I just… stare at him. But Mercer is clearly done with the compensation part of this exit interview, because he places all the papers back into the folder and closes it. Then smiles at me. “How do you feel?”
How do I feel? I don’t have an answer for this. So I just shrug.
“Scared?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“It’s normal. I mean, you’ve been here for a long time. You don’t really have a life out there. And there’s no rush. You don’t have to decide where you’ll live tonight. Go somewhere, then change your mind. Change your mind all the time, if you’d like. No one is judging you, no one is watching you—”
I lose track here. Because what about Locke? What about Olsen?
Is he really Travis?
I’m so confused.
But Mercer is now standing up and he’s pulling my chair out so I can stand too.
Then the next thing I know I have the bag he packed slung over my shoulder and he’s holding the elevator doors open for me.
“Goodbye, dear Nova. I really enjoyed having you as my case.”
What can I do?
I step into the elevator and just blankly stare at him as the doors close between us.
Up on the roof, a pilot is waiting for me. He yells into my ear to duck and then grabs my arm and ushers me into the helicopter.
My phone rings and I snap out of the memory.
I look down and realize that I’m holding the phone in my hand. And then that oh-so-familiar panic sets in. Where am I? Who am I? Is this real? Is this my life?
I rush through the house, push Veda’s door open, and let out a sob of relief when the photo of us is still there, hanging on the wall.
Then it comes back to me.
Olsen, Locke, Mercer. Veda.
She’s real.
I was pregnant when I got on that helicopter.
We did have sex. All of that was real, I know it.
Except I don’t know it because my final crash out of the last trial never happened. And Mercer lied to me. He lied to me.
Then… something clicks inside me.
This is my crash.
The phone is still ringing in my hand and I tab accept.
“You OK?” It’s Travis. Olsen. Whoever. Who cares what I call him?
I let out a long breath. “Uhh… ummm… yeah. I’m OK.”
“What happened?”
“They left.”
“Together?” Travis doesn’t even bother to hide his disgust. “What a fucking dick.”