Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Suddenly, my mind is alive with images. People, and faces, and snippets of conversation.
People I’ve never seen, in such detail, they could be real.
They are real, Ambrose. But we’re not looking for them, we’re looking for Olive. Can you find Olive in these faces?
I search the faces. Hundreds and hundreds of them flash by. They’re doing things. Talking to people, but not me. It’s like… I’m a visitor passing through their lives. A part of it, but then a moment later, not. Just gone and on to the next one.
Find Olive, Ambrose.
“I’m trying. There are so many people here.”
But there is only one of them who acts for you.
“Because I think for her.”
That’s right! Good boy. Now keep looking. Push all the other faces away, don’t listen to their conversations. Stop hearing them. Seek only Olive.
“Olive!” I call. “Olive, where are you?!”
There’s no answer and no face, either.
Keep trying, Ambrose. This is your only task. Find. Olive.
So I call out again. “Olive! Olive! Where are you?!”
But this time, something weird happens. All the faces flashing by slowly morph into a grayish-black blur. The tunnel is back and I’m racing through it again. For a moment I think that this is not what I’m looking for, but then there she is. Olive. Standing in the darkness looking around. “Brose?”
I smile, ready to laugh and start telling her all about the weird shit that’s happening to me, when suddenly, I’m choking and gasping.
Let me have control now, Ambrose. Good job. You’re a very good boy. But I will handle things from here.
Before I can disagree with my grandfather’s proposal, I realize I’m paralyzed. I can’t move, I can’t talk, I can’t breathe and panic is starting to set in.
Just give me control, my grandfather says, and all these uncomfortable feelings will go away. Relax… and sleep.
I let go. The choking feeling fades, but I still can’t move.
Good boy, my grandfather says. You’ve done so well, my boy. Now stay very still while I give Olive her orders.
What orders?
“It’s me,” my grandfather says. But the weird thing is, he’s using my voice. “Bet you thought I bailed, huh?”
Suddenly I’m in a room, sitting in a chair. Olive is in the room too, but she’s on the other side of it. She’s wearing clothes I don’t recognize. Sweats and a t-shirt. I look down at myself, but I’m wearing a suit.
Words spill out of my mouth that aren’t mine. “Do you miss me?” I ask Olive.
“Oh, God,” she says. “You have no idea. Where did you go? Why did you leave me? What the hell is going on?”
“Shhhh,” my grandfather tells her using my mouth. Then he beckons to her with a single crooked finger. “Come here. Sit in my lap. Let me hold you.”
Internally, I recoil at this. Because he’s old and it came out like a proposition. Something I definitely do. But I’m young and Olive is mine.
I start struggling to take back control of myself, but my grandfather is too strong. There’s no way back inside my head. It’s like I’m a puppet and he’s pulling all my strings.
Olive doesn’t move. She scans the room with suspicion. She knows something’s wrong. Yes, I think to myself. Yes, Olive. This is wrong. This isn’t me talking to you! But instead of saying that, or acknowledging that she heard my thoughts, she asks my puppet master, “Where are we? What is this place?”
“What is this place?” My grandfather snickers. “It’s your head, love. It’s where I live.”
“I… don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. I live here, Olive. Inside your head. Just as you live in mine.”
She looks very confused. And I start to hope that she understands. That this isn’t me. That I’m not what we thought. That she’s not what we thought.
But before she can put any of this together, my grandfather says, “Listen, we don’t have much time.” His tone is curt and sharp now. And it sounds less like me and more like him. “Where is Shep?”
“Shep?” Olive shakes her head. “I don’t know. Somewhere around here.”
“Look for him.”
“How? I’m inside an MRI machine.”
“You know how. Relax and concentrate.”
“I don’t know what you want. I—”
“Olive?” A third voice interrupts, confusing me. “We’re going to begin again. Once for yes, two for no.” Who the hell is that?
“Easy,” my grandfather says. “Just relax, Olive. Answer their questions. Press that button each time—however many times you want, it doesn’t matter. But while you’re doing that, I want you to find Shep. I want you to look for him.” He points to the door behind me, which I didn’t actually realize was there. “You can go out there, Olive, and look for him.”
What the hell is he talking about? Who is he talking to?
“Go on,” my grandfather says. “Go look for him.”
Olive, who was distracted by the voice, turns her attention back to me. Who is not me at all. “Why?” She sounds defiant, and again, I have a spark of hope that she’s figuring this out. That she knows that this isn’t me talking to her.