Unreality

7. The Road to Recovery

When she opened her eyes, Ariadne found herself in a strange room — so strange that it appeared to be in motion.

'Where...' she murmured, immediately realizing even speaking would take more effort than usual.

'You are currently aboard an Ethos emergency vehicle headed towards a treatment facility in District 5. We should arrive at our destination in approximately twenty-seven minutes.'

Still laid down — on not too comfortable a bed —, Ariadne turned her head to the right, where she was able to glimpse the one conveying information to her.

It appeared to be a spherical robot, made out of some dark metal, whose surface was covered in mechanisms with functions she failed to identify. But her eyes were first and foremost drawn towards a glowing red light in its center, which she immediately assumed to be the robot's cyclopean eye.

After a few seconds of gazing upon it, she remembered it had accompanied the man who had come to visit her house that morning, and then it all came rushing back to her head, although certain segments of her memory appeared to be fragmented.

'Your tension is rising,' informed the machine. 'Please try and remain calm so that your mental health is not compromised.'

Breathing deeply, Ariadne decided to do just that. As she did, she inspected the rest of her surroundings; the inside of the vehicle resembled what she assumed the inside of an ambulance would look like, only far more spacious and empty. Other than a few pieces of presumably medical equipment — including one connected to her wrist, piercing it with a needle and injecting her body with some liquid substance — there was but a single white surface to her right, upon which rested the aforementioned robot.

'Am I... sick?' she asked, unsure of whether that was even the right word to use.

'A difficult question. The hypodermic intervention is merely for precaution, given the possibility of post-traumatic stress. Physically, other than a marginally twisted ankle and a minor bruise on the right foot, you are healthy.'

'But... mentally...' murmured Ariadne, her soft voice marked by unease.

'Yes, there is a problem, however manageable or surmountable it may prove to be.'

'Of course... there's no way that...' once again she seemed unsure of what words to use, so she turned to the robot, with pleading but resolute eyes, 'Tell me, please, what was that? What exactly am I going through?'

The spherical machine hesitated for a second, before answering in a voice that sounded grave in spite of its mechanical speech.

'We call it unreality.'

'Unreality...?' murmured Ariadne, 'what is it?'

'I am afraid there is more than one way to qualify it, for there are various theories regarding its nature. Some call it a mental disorder, while others prefer to label it a metaphysical phenomenon. Many have refused to believe its existence altogether — at least, until they personally witnessed its effects —, claiming it to be a severe case of mass hysteria.'

Despite being somewhat overwhelmed by such notions, Ariadne pressed on with the inquiry, her inquisitive eyes focused on the small robot's cyclopean one.

'...What do you think it is?'

Although the machine's expression could not change, the young woman felt like she glimpsed some hesitation stemming from it.