The Horton Dilemma [ONC 2022]

JOURNEY FROM INNER SPACE

The crocodilian creature and the hyper-futuristic world that surrounds him are suddenly zooming away at a million lightyears per moment. Lightyears isn't even an adequate unit of measurement; an adequate unit of measurement, once that measures the space between universes, or somethingverses (since the prefix "uni"—which often means "single" or "only one existing"—no longer makes sense), hasn't been invented yet.

Although it first felt like I was static and his world was the thing moving away from me, it now feels like I'm falling back to reality, breaking through each plane of existence I had to break through on the way up. Shrinking, going inward: nearing the center of the concentric worlds (at least, the center where I began).

Until I'm back in the room. The forest room.

I can make out the trees on the walls, but hallucinations still obscure my vision; colorful strands grow from the tree branches. Other perceptual hallucinations continue to confuse me: sounds, smells, feelings.

Still, I can tell where I am.

I had thought this room, in all its serene glory, would make the trip feel calm and forest-like. But nothing about that space-like journey was remotely foresty. This room could have been a sewage treatment facility, and it probably wouldn't have had any bearing on the hyper-futuristic destination I eventually reached.

My body feels uncomfortable, like I don't belong in it, like I've just been stuffed back inside of its small shell-like form even though I grew so much on the journey and no longer fit. It feels like a trap, something grounded, something chained to this physical space.

I realize I'm still on the floor, next to plushy pillows, though in a different place than I started. The discomfort causes me to rise and pace. The guide tries to sooth me by grasping my hand. "Are you okay, Izzy? Are you back?"

I can already feel the memory of my encounter slipping away from me, and an urgency to share everything that has just occurred overtakes me.

"I gave him my curiosity! It felt red. We were in place. Cold. Lemony. A space station."

"Oh, you visited a space station! That's a common theme amongst users."

A common theme? It had felt like so much more than a "theme."

"I saw reptiles with jewels. Like they were... royalty or something. But they were so intelligent...they could communicate with me without talking, they knew what I was, and they had all this really advanced technology. They took it. He took it. He took my curiosity!"

He nods flatly. "Reptiles. Another common theme."

My agitation grows as my body begins to quake slightly. "What do you mean by theme?"

"Research has shown us that our brain waves are manipulated when we take drugs like Vivecta. Each human brain shares a similar structure, and the drug manipulates each brain in the same way, which is why users experience similar episodes. Themed episodes, you could say."

Nakomi is suddenly next to me, and smiling. "I saw fairies, the most beautiful fairies! They brought me plates of sugarplums, and I blew on them to add my own flavor, and they danced around me and fed me without even needing to put anything in my mouth. They just seemed to say, 'Taste this,' and I tasted their delight! Oh, it was so magical!"

"Oh, fairies," Winston smiles. "One of my favorite themes."

She and Winston go on and on about her fairy journey, and each new word revealed by their conversation distracts me. I can feel the words tainting my memory of what I just experienced, and I know that soon the recall of my memory will be flimsy and falsified. Soon, I might just wonder if I'd seen fairies instead of lizards.