Orientation

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Wyler pulls me close to him as the other partygoers dance around us in circles. We stand perfectly still, faces an inch apart, neither of us caring that people are watching. His hand runs through my hair, then wraps around the back of my head, drawing my lips to his. I close my eyes, awaiting his kiss, but when I don't feel it, I open my eyes and step backwards, gasping in shock. Wyler is gone. In his place, stands Kelly. The corner of his mouth turns up in a half smile, at the sight of me, but it quickly fades when he remembers what's happened. His eyes turn sad and serious.

"You left me," he says.

"No," I shake my head, trying to remind myself of the truth. "You left me. I didn't have a choice. You wouldn't come with."

"You'll never be happy with him," he replies. "You'll always be wondering 'what if?' You'll always think about me, about what we had." He steps closer.

"No, this isn't real." I shake my head and step backwards, but he continues to move towards me, closing the gap between us.

"What we had is real. I know you remember it." He reaches out to touch me, rubbing his thumb along my cheek. His touch feels so real.

"You're dead. I have to move on," I remind myself.

He brings his lips close to my ear and whispers, "then how about one last kiss goodbye?"

He trails his lips across my skin, lightly tickling my face until he stops at my lips, lingering there, waiting. I don't move. "This isn't real," I repeat, my voice quiet and breathy. I close my eyes.

He's not real. He's not real, I tell myself. Then silence. Nothing. When I open my eyes, he's gone. Completely vanished. The room is empty and it's no longer a room, but a giant cornfield.

"Hello!" my voice travels across the vacant land, fading into nothingness. A cool breeze blows. Goosebumps run up and down my arms. In the distance stands a ghostly shape: an outline, blocked out by the sun. I hold my hand up to shield my eyes from the powerful rays, blazing so bright it burns my skin: the intensity of the sun, stronger than I remember.

"You can't go back," the ghostly shape warns. "Make a new path," she whispers. Her voice carries across the wind, Aveline's voice. Her words echo eerily in my ears. I want to get closer, to see her face, but it's lost in the shadows, eclipsed by the sun. Then something wet and sticky is on my palm. I turn it around to look at the substance. Blood is on my hand, dripping down the length of my arm. I scream, thrashing violently in my bed.

My eyes flick open, my heart races, my movements erratic, alerting the voice in the walls that I'm awake. My breathing slows. It was just a dream, well the first part at least. The rest was a nightmare.

"Good Morning 53. I hope you had a most pleasant rest."

"Ugh," I say aloud, irritated by my uninvited houseguest and her incessant optimism. "What would be most pleasant would be if you could stop using that phrase and leave me alone." I yank the covers up and over my head, burying my face into the mattress.

"I'm sorry 53," she apologizes. "I'm programmed to assist through positivity."

"It's okay," I sigh, feeling guilty for getting mad at the computer-generated voice, as if I've hurt her feelings. I can't believe I'm apologizing to a robot, but there's something almost human-like about her. In fact, the more I understand about Environettix and their creations, the less I seem to understand about what it means to be human.

"Do you have a name?" I inquire, peeling back the covers. I've never asked her any personal questions. I'm not sure she's even programmed to answer or understand them.

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