Brendon stirred awake from a deep, contented sleep. The rich softness of the bed enveloped him like the womb. Sunlight streamed through the large open patio windows, flooding the spacious room with a crystal glow. It was so bright that he had to blink against it at first. Taking in his surroundings, he saw the floor gleam beneath him, marble tiles reflected the light, while thick pile rugs softened the sleek surface.
He raised himself on the bed, resting on his elbows.
He groped at the plushness of the bedding he was lying on. A thick goose down duvet with a smooth silky cotton cover. There was a large seating area beyond the foot of the bed. Two elegant Louis XVI sofas flanked a polished antique coffee table, perfectly arranged beside a grand white marble fireplace. The faint scent of cedar lingered in the air, mingling with the crispness of the outside breeze. The linen curtains wafted gently. Beyond the patio, he saw what seemed like a vibrant, lush forest with thick vegetation that sprawled out infinitely in all directions.
He felt groggy, but familiarity was beginning to set in.
He heaved his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the cool floor. He stood, feeling a momentary wave of dizziness that faded after a few seconds.
He glanced down at himself.
Familiar black trunks and nothing else.
His heart raced as he made his way to the large standing mirror by the bed. The reflection that greeted him was familiar. He looked like himself, just a bit thinner, perhaps even younger. The lines that had begun to settle around his eyes seemed less pronounced, as if time had been rewound slightly. He didn't feel any sense of heightened awareness, super strength, or latent combat skills that he had before.
He just felt like himself.
Was he still in Cyberdome? Was he in The Sanctuary? In Grace's Villa? He couldn't be; his left arm had no console.
He tried to replay his last memories from his memory banks. His time with Grace, in her kitchen, came back, her children, her son, the cleaver, his arm, and then the chase through the jungle. The last thing he remembered was being cornered by the Sentinels and barely avoiding the same fate as Riley.
Suddenly the door opened and Grace glided into the room. She looked happy. A wide smile beamed across her face as she carried a large silver tray across the room. On the tray, a delicate teapot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of biscuits. The warm sunlight framed her face in a golden halo.
"I'm so glad you're awake, baby," she said, in a happy tone. She placed the tray down on the polished coffee table between the two sofas.
Brendon stood frozen, looking over his shoulder. His feet rooted to the ground. His eyes remained glued to her. She looked different to before. Her hair was back to her natural brown. She wore it down, like she used to do, her skin looked flawless. She looked radiant. Her smile seemed to brighten the room even more than it already was. She looked as Brendon remembered her when they first met.
"You've been asleep for hours, darling," she continued. Happiness in her hazel eyes.
"What the fuck is going on?" Brendon's voice cracked. He was quickly forming an idea of what was happening and where he might be, but he needed her to confirm it.
Grace settled onto one of the plush sofas, her manner unchanged, as if she was hosting a coffee morning. She gestured for him to join her on the opposite sofa, but he simply rotated to face her square on.
He remained a statue of disbelief.
"What have you done, Grace?" Brendon's words came out like a strained whisper. His heart started to race as adrenalin flowed. Clearly he didn't have any of the stress inhibitors of his previous persona. This was him.
She stood up, gliding towards him, her expression unwavering. "I'm giving you the life you always wanted," she declared, a hint of determination underpinning her tone. Or was it malice?
"Where are we? Is this your house?"
Grace smiled warmly, "We can live here together, or we can start again, Brendon. A fresh beginning for both of us."
"What about your kids? Your husband?"
"They're gone, Brendon. I let them go, to be with you. So we can be together. The way we always wanted to be. You have no idea how happy this makes me. I can't wait to show you all the amazing things we can do here. It really is living a dream. Our dream, baby."
His heart thudded in his chest as she continued. This was beginning to feel too surreal. She'd never called him "baby" before. He was starting to feel nauseous, her words wrapped around him like a chokehold. "No more hospitals, no more illnesses, no grief. Just paradise. We can have our children like we always wanted. Build our family and we never have to worry about anything ever again."
Brendon listened to her, a deep frown started to gouge into his forehead. For a second he could feel himself being drawn in. After so long searching for her. After so many years of watching Lucas slowly drift away and then finally go, perhaps this was the answer. Perhaps it was even some kind of divine reward for all the pain. Heaven?
Then his mind snapped back.
He remembered.
Grace lying on the gurney in the warehouse. The operation he'd assisted on to butcher that woman's kidney, and he realized this was not an option. It was just an illusion, a mirage to draw them in and take their bodies, by twisting their souls.
Brendon took a few steps towards Grace, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "Tomorrow, you're going to have an operation, Grace. They're going to take your heart and lungs. They are going to kill you."
Her smile faltered for the briefest moment, but it quickly returned, laced with confusion. "What do you mean? What kind of operation?"
"You won't be alive, Grace. They're not doing it for your health. They're taking your organs. You'll be dead. I told you. This is what this whole place is about. It's organ harvesting. They lure you into this and then cut pieces out of you to sell. You're like cattle." He searched her eyes for any sign of understanding, but the light in her gaze remained stubbornly bright.
"Brendon, you don't understand," she replied, her tone steady and warm. "It's like I told you. Here in the Sanctuary, your perception of time is altered. Minutes out there are like days or weeks in here. Out there it may be tomorrow, but here, we still have years. You'll see, it will be amazing, Brendon."
He clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him. "This isn't life, it's a fucking computer game! We don't have time to play house, Grace, while they chop us up and sell us piece by piece. I won't let that happen."
Grace stepped closer, her voice dropping to a soothing tone, almost as if she were coaxing a child. "But think about it, Brendon. Don't you want to grow old together? We'll have years where we don't have to worry about the past or the pain. Just us, we can change things as we go, we can build our perfect life. Together." She emphasized the last word.
Brendon shook his head, his resolve unwavering. "You think they're going to let us just live forever? This isn't a fucking fairytale. They'll keep taking until there's nothing left."
"Maybe," she said, her voice still soft and melodic. "But in this place, we are guaranteed to live our best lives. We can grow old, watch our children grow up." She stood up and stepped closer, locking her eyes on him. He felt his breath hitch, torn between the vision she painted and the reality he knew.
"Brendon, we may have time for two lifetimes, and we will be together. Who can hope for that?" Grace whispered, her expression unwavering. Like a Siren calling out to Odysseus, she was drawing Brendon in.
Brendon's frustration boiled over, anger flashed in his eyes. He stepped forward. The distance between them now small.
"This is madness, Grace! You can't seriously be thinking like this!" He waved his arms, gesturing emphatically. "You're committing suicide by playing this game! They'll harvest you, and then throw away what's left!"
Grace's expression hardened, her brow furrowing as he pressed on. "You're not just signing up for some kind of virtual paradise. This isn't a simulation where you can hit reset. This is your life, your real actual life!"
"Stop!" she snapped, her voice cutting his tirade short. "You're being a fool, Brendon! Out there, there's nothing for you. Nothing like this."
"What do you mean?" Brendon's voice rose, disbelief mingling with desperation. "What could be worse than this?"
"They've taken your console!" Grace shot back, pointing at his bare left arm, her anger flaring. "You're trapped! Do you think you can just waltz out of here? There's no way out for you. They won't let you go. Ever!"
Brendon's heart sank, the weight of her words crashing down on him. He shook his head, unwilling to accept what she was saying.
"Then let's figure this out together! We can find a way to escape, Grace. Please, just come with me!" His voice cracked, raw and pleading, as he reached out to her.
"Decide what you want to do, Brendon," Grace countered, an air of finality in her tone. "You can stay here with me, and live the richest life possible. Where you can have everything you've ever dreamed of. Or you can leave and live your life as nothing in Cyberdome. You'll have no home, no money, not even clothes. Just an endless, never-ending hell, where anyone can do anything they want to you for years. Maybe centuries."
Brendon clenched his fists, fear and anger twisting his gut.
"Either way, you're never going back, Brendon. They won't allow it."
Then she got up and walked out of the room, leaving her words hanging in the air.