Sometimes I wake up and, stumbling through the semi-conscious haze that obscures wakefulness, I think about all the other mornings stretching behind me to the earliest memories I can muster. The most memorable ones are the Christmas and birthday mornings of my childhood, but a few others stick out here and there. For the most part, though, they all blend together into a blurry amalgam of alarms, showers, breakfasts and haphazard commutes. But this morning, I find myself wondering about all those memories. I even find myself wondering if I've ever really wondered about them before.
"Are you awake, hon?" a sleepy voice next to me asks.
"Mm-hmm."
"Are you feeling okay? Do you need some meds?" my wife yawns.
I know I'm not feeling pain right now only because I'm lying here, perfectly still. "No, I'm fine," I tell her. Besides, I wonder if pain medication is the best thing for me right now. If things really are as that woman's voice said, I need to be as clear headed as I can be.
"You should try going back to sleep," Linda says. "And don't even think about work today."
I wasn't. Hadn't planned on it. Besides, is my job even real? How can anyone sleep when all of reality is in question? If I'm hooked up in some kind of lab with my thoughts being controlled by some computer, am I not actually asleep already?
"Richard."
I jump at the sound of the woman's voice. Pain spiders through my bruised muscles. I groan loudly.
"Oh, honey, are you okay?" my wife chokes with a hint of panic.
I take a few breaths as the pain notches down a bit. "Fine," I say through clenched teeth. "Just a little spasm."
"I'm so sorry, Richard," the woman's voice says. "You should take some of your medication."
I register my confusion in the clearest, most silent way I can.
"Trust me," she says.
"You know what, babe?" I whisper to my wife. "I think I will go ahead and take some of those meds."
"Okay," she replies, hurriedly jumping out of bed.
She's gone for a few moments, then returns carrying the biggest pill I've ever seen and a glass of water. I struggle to sit up as Linda tries to help. It's a moderately painful affair, but I finally make it and eagerly swallow the massive tablet followed by some enthusiastic gulps of the water. I can feel the medication creeping down my throat. If this all isn't real, why does it have to feel so...real?
"Stop thinking about it, Richard," the other woman's voice says. "I'm sorry to have startled you earlier, but when you spend a lot of time thinking about none of this being real, you run the risk of calling attention to yourself."
"Better?" Linda asks.
I stare at her for a moment. "Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, I still hurt, but this should kick in soon and I'll feel much better," I reassure her.
"Good," she smiles. "More water?"
I shake my head. "Nope, I'm good."
She smiles again and gets back into bed.
I wonder if she's still here...
"I'm here, Richard."
I wonder why I can't think about...you know...it, but she can sit here and talk to me about...it.
"Like I told you before," the woman's voice says from my wife's side of the bed, "I hacked the system. I might not be quite the computer whiz you are, but I do know the monitoring system back and forth. I worked with it quite a bit on you."
I squirm a little internally. That sounds really creepy.
"I'm going to try to do the same things for you that I did for myself. After that we should be able to talk pretty freely," she explains. "Well, not really talk. And you'll still have to act fairly naturally, but you'll be able to think openly."
Oh, how nice. I'll be able to think openly. Such a luxury.
"Don't worry, Richard. We're going to get out of this."
"Hmm," I can't help but say out loud.
"What's up, baby?" Linda asks.
"Hmm? Oh, nothing," I lie. "Must've started to doze."
"Mmm, that's good. Doze away," she encourages me with a yawn.
"She's right, Richard, you should sleep. I'm going to get to work here."
"Okay," I say to both of them. I look down at Linda. Her eyes are closed and she's breathing slowly. For the first time that I'm aware of, I wonder what will happen to her through all this. Is she another patient going through this memory therapy? Is she really my wife on the outside? When my treatment is over, will they send me to her? I feel like I have so many memories with her, like I feel so much emotion for her. Of everything, Linda's the one thing I think I would miss about this if it really was all fake.
I pause and look around the dark bedroom. Are you still here...Loretta? That is your name, right?
Silence. Dark silence. I should be used to that by now, I think. Shouldn't I? I look back down at Linda. "Love you, babe," I whisper.
"Mmm," she moans sleepily, a hint of a smile showing in the dim red light of our alarm clock.
I lay back gently, the pain in my muscles just a hint of an ache, more a tightness. My head begins to feel a little light. I close my eyes and breathe. The darkness closes in. My only reality.
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