![]() ![]() But we need you to help us help you.” He nods at me in encouragement, his familiar face wreathed in wrinkles I’m not yet used to. Max Donovan, my other visitor, clears his throat loudly. He’s been in here every few days since the Raleigh search and rescue team dropped me off into Verux’s care three weeks ago. ![]() It’s not difficult to do these days, but with Reed, a junior investigator from Verux’s QA Department, I’m almost always clear. An older, executive-type in a black suit and a vintage watch paces just behind him, supervising our conversation, with a thoughtful-and yet still disapproving-scowl. “I said, you lied to us.” Reed Darrow leans forward impatiently. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” My tongue feels thick, unwieldy. Resolutely, I turn my gaze away from the hallucination and attempt to refocus my attention on the living visitors across the scarred and battered plastic table from me. His hand waves frantically in a “come here” gesture, his eyes wild with panic. My head is throbbing again, a white-hot line of pain from the back of my skull down to the right side of my jaw, and a dead man is signaling me from across the common room. Verux Peace and Rehabilitation Tower, Earth, 2149 ![]()
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