Cedar sat on the beige bed in the equally beige motel room, watching the three strangers before her. They held hands, eyes closed, resembling a group in deep prayer. Despite her efforts, her situation remained incomprehensible. She ran her hand over the blanket, noting its softness—a testament to its resilience through countless washes. The clock on the nightstand glowed 3:11 in red neon. She urged herself to wake up, pinching her arm hard enough to leave a sting, then soothing the spot with a rub.
“You can open your eyes now,” the doppelgänger said.
“Finally,” Nachi muttered, releasing his grip and stepping away from the others. “That was wild,” he added, rubbing the back of his head.
Cedar had no idea what he meant by that—she didn’t understand any of it. To her, they hadn’t gone anywhere.
“I’d really appreciate it if none of you said anything about this,” the doppelgänger continued.
“That’ll be hard since Everly wants to write a book about it,” Nachi commented.
“Nachi!” Everly snapped, scowling at him.
“Whatever,” the doppelgänger shrugged. “We’ll worry about that later.”
They glanced in Cedar’s direction, confirming she was still there. The doppelgänger exhaled heavily before turning to Everly. “You’re going to let us do this, right?”
Without hesitation, Everly nodded. “Yes.”
“This is nuts,” Nachi exclaimed, pointing at her. “You’re nuts!”
“You don’t have to come,” Everly replied.
“I don’t want to,” Nachi shot back.
Cedar listened to their exchange, feeling completely adrift. Asking questions now seemed pointless—she was starting to feel like the only sane person in the room. The woman, an objectively more attractive version of herself, confirmed Cedar’s suspicions: none of this was possible. It wasn’t real. She had to be lying in a coma, likely on her deathbed.
“I bet you have a lot of questions,” the doppelgänger said, addressing Cedar.
“Nope,” Cedar replied curtly.
“She must still be in shock,” Nachi observed.
“I’m not in shock—I’m in a coma!” Cedar announced, throwing her arms up before slumping back onto the mattress. “None of this is real.”
“Good grief…” Nachi muttered, pressing his palm against his face.
“Cedar,” the doppelgänger began gently, sitting beside her on the bed. “This is real. Well, this—” she gestured to the room—“is a simulation. It’s not real. But you’re actually here, in a sense. This is really happening.”
“Why are you here? And why are you a prettier version of me?” Cedar asked, exasperation creeping into her voice.
“Prettier version? What? No,” the doppelgänger protested. “Cedar… I’m an exact copy of you. This is what you look like with a little makeup.”
“Yeah, right,” Cedar scoffed, draping her arm over her forehead to cover her eyes.
“It’s true,” Nachi piped up. “I can’t tell you two apart, and… I think you’re very pretty, Cedar.” His face reddened. “Without makeup,” he added quickly.
Everly rolled her eyes at his awkwardness.
Cedar peeked out from under her arm, narrowing one eye at the doppelgänger. “Why are you a copy of me? Why are you here?”
“There’s no easy way to explain this,” the doppelgänger admitted, her lips tightening into a thin line. “Let’s just say I’m you from the future. I’m here to help, but first, you need to do something very difficult. Do you understand?”
The absurdity of the situation finally pushed Cedar over the edge. She burst into laughter.
“Did I say something funny?” the doppelgänger asked, frowning.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Cedar asked, sitting up and inching away from her double. “How am I supposed to take anything you say seriously?”
“This is my superhero attire,” the doppelgänger explained, standing up and spinning dramatically to display her costume. “I thought it was appropriate, seeing as I’m here to save the planet.”
“You look ridiculous,” Cedar said flatly, her amusement fading.
“I’m quite literally the best version of you, so you might want to get on board with this look. This is your future,” the doppelgänger quipped, adjusting her cape and striking a heroic pose.
“God help me,” Cedar murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.
“How do we proceed from here?” Everly asked, her tone direct and businesslike. “If she won’t believe us, can’t we just take her home and put her in front of a TV?”
“It’s not that simple. She has to be ready for what’s to come, or she’ll never ascend. She needs coaching, direction, strength,” the doppelgänger said, punctuating each word like a checklist.
Everly scoffed. “Well, that’s a tall order to accomplish in…” she glanced at the beige clock, “seven and a half hours? Weren’t we gone longer than that?”
“Time stands still inside my memories.”
Nachi’s eyes widened. “So, time isn’t an issue—we can just scoot back into one of your memories and prep Cedar there,” he suggested.
“That’s right, time isn’t the issue,” the doppelgänger agreed, her gaze locked on Cedar, as if implying she was the real challenge.
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Cedar. She squirmed under their collective stare, sensing they were waiting for her to agree to something, though she had no idea what.
“What? Why are all of you looking at me like that?”
“Do you understand what’s happening to you? Why you’re here? Do you know who we are?” Everly’s tone was sharp, interrogative.
“No,” Cedar said, shaking her head. “I don’t wanna . . . I don’t want to do this.” Her eyes flicked toward the door—the only way out.
“Let’s take this one step at a time.” Everly straightened. “I’m Everly Ellis, your prosecution witness.” She extended her hand toward Cedar. “And this is Nachiket Joshi, auditor for your defense.”
Nachi eagerly shook Cedar’s hand once it became available. “Hey, how’s it goin’?” he said out of habit.
“Uh-huh,” Cedar replied warily.
“This is day two of your virtual rehabilitation,” Everly continued. “Nachi and I agreed to stay an extra day since we didn’t find any answers on day one. But then you became lucid, aware that this isn’t the real world. Do you follow?”
Cedar nodded.
“Since you have no memory of committing the crime, we deemed you innocent. We were about to leave when we encountered your doppelgänger. She proved to us that she was the actual perpetrator, not you.”
“Okay…” Cedar paused, frowning. “I don’t know who this person is. I’ve never met her. She may look like me, but—”
“Yes, we’re aware,” Everly cut in.
“Am I still in trouble, then?” Cedar asked.
“We’re all in trouble without your help,” the doppelgänger cut in, sitting beside her on the bed. “The world is in jeopardy and needs you. That’s why I brought you here. It was the only way.”
“The only way for what?” Cedar asked, growing more agitated.
“Long story short, you need to ascend in order to acquire my abilities—abilities you’ll need to stop the bad guy from destroying your world.”
Cedar’s face flushed as a knot formed in her stomach. This scenario sounded like every superhero plot she’d ever seen or read about. There was nothing special about it: a bad guy needing an ass-kicking from a self-doubting hero. It was absurd to believe any of it. Yet, she couldn’t shake the nervous energy coiling inside her. Cedar took a deep breath, forcing herself to regain composure.
“I’m just a massage therapist,” she blurted.
“I can’t transfer my abilities to anyone who isn’t me—it has to be you,” the doppelgänger insisted.
“This can’t be for real,” Cedar said, looking to Everly and Nachi for support.
Nachi nodded firmly. “I believe her. She showed us… things.”
Everly, arms crossed, gave a curt nod, further confirming the legitimacy of the doppelgänger’s claims.
“This is nuts!” Cedar flared. “How can you believe this? Can’t she just be a figment of my… my imagination?”
“That’s what we thought at first,” Nachi said, straightening his tie. “But she’s real. She proved it. She showed us everything from the bank robbery footage—things you have no memory of. And she showed us other things too.” He gulped, glancing briefly at Everly. “Personal things.”
“Maybe you’re not real,” Cedar countered. “Did you ever think of that? Dr. Jones thought he was real. This program is messed up—it’s flawed or broken or something!”
Nachi looked helplessly to Everly and the doppelgänger for support.
“Okay, you’ve got me there,” Nachi admitted, raising his hands in surrender. “I can’t prove I’m real, but…” He paused, tapping his chin before turning to the doppelgänger. “Future girl,” he said, addressing her directly, “can you take Cedar to the hub, like you did with us?”
“I don’t think that’ll help,” the doppelgänger replied. “She doesn’t believe any of this is real, so why would she trust anything I show her?”
They all fell silent, each lost in thought. Nachi rubbed his chin, the doppelgänger stared blankly at the floor, and Everly, growing bored and impatient, shifted her weight with an audible sigh.
“All she needs is time,” the doppelgänger suggested finally. “I could take her somewhere in my memories—someplace peaceful—and let her process for a bit.”
“How long will that take?” Everly asked, eying the clock.
“You two don’t have to join us. I can take her now and be back in a flash,” the doppelgänger offered.
“I like that idea.” A smile tugged at the corners of Everly’s otherwise pouty lips.
“I can even prepare her there—for the trials that await her. When we get back, she won’t be the same Cedar you know now.”
“That’s unbelievable,” Nachi muttered, resting both hands on his head. “I mean, it’s incredible that you can do that.”
“Then let it be done,” Everly said, her tone imperious, as though she had the final say.
“Are you ready, Cedar?” the doppelgänger asked, extending her hand.
Cedar recoiled before the doppelgänger could touch her. She stood abruptly, her eyes darting to the door—the way out. Without warning, she lunged for it, shoving Nachi out of the way in the process.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Everly hissed, grabbing Cedar from behind in an ironclad bear hug. Her spindly arms wrapped around Cedar with a force that felt unyielding, like a stone statue.
“What are you, titanium?” Cedar huffed, squirming and kicking her legs in a desperate attempt to break free.
“Do it now—I’ve got her!” Everly gasped, her grip unwavering.
The doppelgänger seized Cedar’s hands, prying them open to form a palm-to-palm connection. “It’s better with your eyes closed,” she warned.
“No! No, no, no! What are you doing?” Cedar shouted, thrashing against Everly’s hold.
“I’ve got it,” the doppelgänger announced confidently.
“Got what?” Cedar demanded. An image appeared in her vision, small at first—a square shape hovering faintly in her mind’s eye. “What is that?” she cried, panic creeping into her voice. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the image didn’t waver. Instead, it expanded, growing until it filled her entire view, blotting out the beige motel room.
Desperate to escape the vision, Cedar threw her head back, the motion jerking violently—and slamming the back of her skull into Everly’s face.
That was the last thing Cedar felt before Everly vanished. With the gangly arms no longer restraining her and the doppelgänger releasing her grip, Cedar fell forward, landing hard on her elbows. But instead of the beige carpet beneath her, her fall was cushioned by soft, green grass.
“What is this? Where am I?” Cedar stared at the grass, its vivid color so different from the dull motel room. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
“We’re at my family’s cabin,” the doppelgänger replied, inhaling deeply. “It’s been in the family for generations.”
The scenery felt like stepping into a postcard. The air carried the delicate perfume of lilacs, calming Cedar’s trembling hands. A still pond mirrored the skies above in pristine detail, the glossy surface so tranquil it wrapped her in a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in ages. Somehow, it felt familiar. Like home, yet not quite home.
She turned her head slightly, and a prickling sensation swept over her skin when her eyes fell on the cabin.
“I know this place.”
“Yeah, that can happen. It’s strange, isn’t it?” The doppelgänger knelt beside Cedar, her voice soft and understanding. “It’s like meeting someone for the first time and knowing, deep down, they’re going to be a part of your life.”
“How do I know it? Have I been here before?” Cedar’s voice faltered.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
“This hasn’t happened yet. This is from your next life,” the doppelgänger explained. “All the experiences you’ve had, all the lives you’ve lived—they all lead here. You recognize it because everything you’re doing now is guiding you to this moment.”
A wind chime dangled from the cabin’s porch, its delicate notes dancing in the summer breeze like a whispered melody. Wooden carvings of animals decorated the cabin’s exterior, each one crafted with care and personality.
Cedar didn’t respond. She simply took in the scene, the sights and sounds filling her senses.
“Are you feeling better?” the doppelgänger asked gently.
Cedar rubbed the back of her head, where a dull ache lingered from her earlier struggle. Only moments ago, she’d been fighting tooth and nail to escape, and now… now she wasn’t sure what was real. “I can’t tell what’s real anymore,” she admitted.
“It’s a lot to process,” the doppelgänger said, her tone reassuring.
A blue jay landed gracefully on a nearby bird feeder, its small movements punctuating the stillness of the moment. To Cedar, it felt like an unspoken affirmation: this place was safe.
“You have all the time in the world here,” the doppelgänger continued. “Take as much time as you need. That’s why I brought you here.”
Cedar sat silently, reflecting on the whirlwind of events that had brought her to this strange place. She was exhausted—tired of fighting, tired of being afraid. She couldn’t even remember what normal felt like anymore.
“You’re frightened because you don’t understand what’s happening, right?” the doppelgänger asked, her voice soft.
“Nothing feels real. You being here doesn’t feel real,” Cedar confessed.
The crunch of gravel broke the stillness as an all-terrain vehicle approached the cabin. Its deep tread stirred up a cloud of dust as it rolled to a stop.
“Who’s that?” Cedar asked, alarm flickering in her voice.
“Oh, that’s just me,” the doppelgänger replied casually. “He’s your future and my past self.”
A robust man stepped down from the truck, his young face radiating energy. As his boots hit the ground, the impact sent a small puff of dust swirling around him.
“Can he see us?” Cedar shrank back, suddenly self-conscious. She felt grimy and out of place compared to the handsome figure before her.
“He’s you, Cedar. Don’t you understand? This is a memory from my past—and your future. No, he can’t see you.”
“Daddy! Daddy!” A child burst out of the cabin, his tiny legs carrying him swiftly to the man. The boy launched himself into the man’s thickset arms, and the man caught him effortlessly, lifting him high into the air before pulling him into a warm embrace.
“Ari, is that you?” A woman’s voice called from the cabin. The screen door squeaked open, revealing a dainty woman in khaki shorts and a long-sleeve tee.
“It’s me, babe,” the man called back. He grinned, hoisting the giggling child above his head as though offering him to the heavens. “And I brought home dinner!”
He looked at the boy and laughed. “We eat tonight!”
“That’s my son?” Cedar asked, her eyes riveted on the boy. She couldn’t help but smile at his infectious laughter, the sound tugging at something deep within her.
“This is a future worth saving, don’t you agree?” the doppelgänger asked softly.
Cedar snapped back to the present, her purpose beginning to crystallize. Her scattered thoughts sharpened into focus. She was here to save the world—to save him, her son. Yet her mind still struggled to assemble the pieces. Believing this to be a lie, or perhaps a dream, seemed far easier than accepting the doppelgänger’s story. And yet… how did she know this place? How did she know the little boy? Everything felt unnervingly familiar, a truth she couldn’t deny.
“Why me? I can’t do this.” Cedar’s shoulders slumped, her expression heavy with doubt.
“I personally think you’re amazing,” the doppelgänger said with a warm smile.
Cedar glanced at her, studying her flawless features and wide-set hazel eyes. “You’re freaking me out,” she muttered.
“What? I’m just sitting here.” The doppelgänger shrugged innocently.
“You’re me! It creeps me out that you’re me.”
“That’s an easy fix,” the doppelgänger said, rising to her feet. “Give me a moment.”
Suddenly, the doppelgänger’s face stiffened, as if encrusted in ash, freezing her last expression. With a shake of her head, the ash flaked away, falling in a dusty cascade. Remnants clung to her, coating her body in soot. She resembled someone who had just emerged from a coal mine, shaking herself off like a wet dog.
When the dust cleared, Cedar no longer saw her mirror image. Standing before her was the man from the earlier scene—the one who had greeted his family.
“Oh man, that’s tight,” the man said, adjusting the superhero spandex now clinging to his muscular form. He tugged at the fabric around his crotch and backside with an exaggerated grimace. “I need to make some minor adjustments.”
He closed his eyes, waving a thick finger in the air as if navigating an unseen menu. The superhero costume began to shimmer, muted geometric shapes flickering across the fabric. The constricting tights morphed into dark denim, and his knee-high red lacquered pumps transformed into heavy black cowboy boots with spurs.
“Ah, much better,” the man groaned as the rest of his outfit completed its transformation. A plaid flannel shirt replaced the leotard, layered under a leather vest, and a black Stetson settled atop his head.
The man looked down at Cedar, a pleasant smile alighted his countenance. “Howdy, ma’am. Name’s Ari. Ari Kobrakowski. My friends call me Kobra.” He tipped the brim of his hat with a small nod.
Cedar stared up at him. As she took his outstretched hand to help herself up, laughter bubbled out of her.
“Ma’am?” Ari asked, puzzled.
His old-fashioned formality only made Cedar laugh harder. The absurdity of the situation—Ari’s sudden transformation into a cowboy straight out of a child’s wild west fantasy—sent her into fits of giggles.
“I should have changed the clothes first,” Ari admitted, shaking his head. “I know that now.”
“Now you’re a cowboy?” Cedar managed to ask between bursts of laughter.
“We all have a little cowboy inside us,” Ari said, his voice adopting a faint Southern drawl.
“I’ve never had a cowboy inside me,” Cedar shot back. “I think I’d remember.”
“Is this a better look for you?” Ari asked, holding out his arms and spinning around with a theatrical jingle of his spurs.
“Are the spurs really necessary?” Cedar asked, eyeing his boots.
“We’re going horseback riding, aren’t we?”
Cedar blinked at him, her laughter fading into mild confusion. She had never been on an actual horse before. Horseback riding was for rich people, not someone like her. She’d always had more pressing things to spend her money on.
“Are we?” she asked cautiously.
“Mi casa es su casa. Everything here is yours, and everything you don’t see is also yours,” Ari said with a grin.
Cedar blinked, unsure how to respond. His words were disarming, almost too generous. She turned her gaze to the pond, hoping its tranquil reflection could lend her some mental clarity.
“If we’re going to stay here, we should set up accommodations before your riding lesson. We’ll need to build something from scratch,” Ari continued.
“Umm…” Cedar hesitated, glancing left and right, unsure what was expected of her.
“I’ve got this,” Ari assured her, his voice brimming with confidence. “You just stay right there—I was an architect in a past life.”
Puckering his mouth in concentration, Ari began outlining the space for the structure with his hands. His finger flicked through invisible menus, making selections Cedar couldn’t see.
Meanwhile, Cedar tucked her hands into the back pockets of her yoga pants and idly kicked at the grass. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape.
I can do it tonight when he’s asleep. I’ll need a phone. Maybe there’s one in the cabin… if this is even real. If it’s not real, there is no escape.
The brief respite gave Cedar a rare moment alone with her thoughts. She felt overwhelmed, her mental defenses crumbling under the weight of too many impossibilities happening too quickly. She desperately needed more time to process, but the whirlwind of events gave her none.
Then, muted geometric outlines began flashing several yards away, catching her attention. It was just like Ari’s earlier transformation into his cowboy ensemble. Slowly, a small log cabin began to materialize—at first faint, but gradually gaining substance until it stood before her, fully formed.
Whoa.
Cedar eyed the structure. Part of her wanted to explore its interior, but another part feared she might be trapped the moment she crossed the threshold.
Ari approached the cabin with pride, throwing open the door. “After you,” he said with a flourish.
The scent of freshly cut wood hit Cedar as she stepped cautiously inside. Everything was neat and orderly: a tiny kitchen, a single bed nestled in a loft accessible by ladder, and a large-screen TV positioned in front of a cozy couch in the main living area.
On second thought, maybe this won’t be so bad.
“I wouldn’t mind living here at all,” Ari commented, his satisfaction evident as he surveyed the cabin.
The remark sent a jolt of confusion through Cedar. There was only one bed. Why hadn’t he built a larger cabin for the both of them? Anxiety clawed at her chest as a new, unsettling possibility took root.
Before she could voice her concern, Ari draped an arm over her shoulder and guided her back outside.
“You’ll be over here,” he said, leading her behind the cabin to a small, solitary tent tucked in the shadows. The picturesque view of the pond was nowhere in sight.
“What? But why?” Cedar asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“I can’t let you get too comfortable here,” Ari replied matter-of-factly. “You’d never leave.”
Cedar’s stomach sank as she stared at the cramped, isolated tent. Hugging her arms to herself, she felt a wave of discomfort and disappointment crash over her.
“You’re a bully,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Cedar prided herself on being the epitome of calm, often too laid-back to indulge in emotional turmoil. But this—this was different. She was a captive now, a prisoner in a situation that defied logic. Something inside her ignited, an unfamiliar spark of defiance.
“I’m going to leave,” she declared, her voice rising. “Unless you tie me up, I will escape. You can’t keep me here. It’s easy to sneak out of a tent—you can’t stay awake all night.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Cedar’s heart sank. Why did I just say that? How could she be so foolish as to give away her plan?
“Hey now, I know you,” Ari said, his cheerful tone grating on Cedar’s nerves. “You won’t make any progress if you get too comfortable.”
His words stung, even if she couldn’t entirely deny their truth.
“We’re going to have fun here,” he continued. “You can have and do anything you want, but you can’t just lay in bed all day watching TV or playing video games. I know you, Cedar—you’re a slouch. If you don’t sleep in the tent, you’ll never leave the cabin to explore.”
Cedar eyed the tent, grudgingly admitting he had a point. At least he couldn’t lock her inside it—there was always the option to escape. Whether it was a cabin or a tent didn’t matter much in the long run; she had no intention of staying here longer than necessary.
Still, she hated being told what to do. Ari was the one calling the shots, not her. He had the authority, the control. Forcing her to sleep in a tent was just another way of exercising that control.
“I don’t want to control you,” Ari said, as though reading her mind. “I’m just trying to guide you in the right direction.”
“You can read minds?” she asked skeptically.
“No, but I can sense emotions,” he replied. “It’s a bit like mind reading, but without the words. No language, just feelings.”
Cedar looked away, unsure how to respond.
“Feelings and emotions,” Ari continued, “are the true language of the universe. Words are logical—you either understand them or you don’t. But every living being in this universe experiences emotions. Animals understand them better than we do. They’re the real mind readers, if you ask me.”
Cedar stayed silent, unwilling to engage.
“Let’s sit by the pond for a talk,” Ari suggested. “How’s that sound?”
Cedar tugged at the skin of her elbow, a nervous habit she had long developed. Reluctantly, she followed Ari to the pond and settled on the flat rocks at the water’s edge. She briefly considered taking off her shoes to dip her feet in the cool water but decided against it—keeping them on felt safer, more practical for a potential quick escape.
“Do you ever wonder why we have emotions?” Ari asked.
“To know when to run,” Cedar replied bluntly.
“Is that what you’re feeling right now?” he probed.
“Of course,” she said, fidgeting with her elbow again.
“So, why aren’t you running?”
“Because it’s pointless.”
Ari studied her for a moment, then turned his gaze to the water. “Emotions are like dreams,” he said, his reflection rippling alongside his words.
Cedar didn’t respond but felt a pang of recognition. She’d always known, in her own way, that emotions were fleeting and illusory. In her younger years, she’d prided herself on her introspection, striving to understand her own nature. She viewed emotions as little more than a chemical tapestry—a hormonal trick—not something that defined her. And yet, she often found herself ensnared by their power, their ability to feel so overwhelmingly real.
“Once you’re in them,” Ari continued, “they feel like everything. You forget who you are, and you accept that imaginary world as reality. Dreams are nothing more than raw emotions captured as images.”
Cedar glanced at him, her curiosity piqued despite her resistance.
“You can’t control them, and you shouldn’t try to,” he added. “It’s about remembering they’re an illusion and that they’ll pass. If they don’t pass, it’s because you’re still stuck believing they’re real. It takes practice—just like it takes practice to become lucid in a dream.”
Cedar remained quiet, processing his words.
“If you get really good at recognizing your own emotions,” Ari said, “you’ll get better at reading other people’s. Especially if they’re stuck in theirs. The more stuck someone is, the easier they are to read.”
“I’ve been told I’m hard to read,” Cedar said, her tone edging toward defiance. She hoped the comment would show Ari she was different from most people—and didn’t need his lecture.
“That’s a good thing—it’s not an insult,” Ari said, his tone calm but earnest. “It just means you don’t let emotions govern you. Some people are drawn to that stability—it’s like a foundation they can stand on. But it frightens those who feel more comfortable around people they can control.”
Cedar glanced at him skeptically, unsure where this was going.
“Power seekers manipulate emotions to gain control over others,” Ari continued. “But with someone like you, who isn’t ruled by emotions, they find it challenging to exert their influence. You become someone not worth their time. That is… unless they’re a coworker or your boss. In that case, they’ll try to destroy you in other ways.”
Cedar stiffened, unsure how to respond. Ari’s words felt oddly insightful but also manipulative, as if he were trying to shape her view of herself for his own ends.
“Want to guess again what emotions are for?” he asked, tilting his head toward her.
“To know when to run,” Cedar repeated flatly, doubling down on her earlier stance.
“Not necessarily,” Ari replied with a patient smile. “At their core, emotions are a means of communication. They help us convey messages, not just to others, but to ourselves. Why do you think that is?”
Cedar shrugged, unwilling to engage further. To her, emotions were still just alarm bells telling her when to flee.
“If emotions are tools for communication,” Ari said, pressing on, “and we are inherently emotional beings, it suggests communication is fundamental to our existence. It’s one of the primary reasons we’re here.”
Cedar turned her gaze back to the pond, her expression guarded. In her mind, this was his first attempt at brainwashing her into compliance. If you stop trusting your gut instincts, what can you trust? she thought bitterly. Your captor? Not a chance.
“But here’s the thing,” Ari said, leaning closer. “We can’t truly understand something unless we’ve experienced it emotionally ourselves. That’s important. A person can tell you their saddest story, but if you haven’t lived something similar, you’ll never fully understand. You can’t connect with someone emotionally unless you’ve shared similar experiences.”
“So?” Cedar muttered, the comment breaking through her skepticism but still failing to connect to her brainwashing theory.
“So,” Ari said with emphasis, “it means we can only evolve together—as a whole. That’s why we have emotions: to keep us united while still living out our individual journeys. It’s like chewing the meat and spitting out the bones—all that processed experience churns into the next generation. You get me?”
“No,” Cedar said bluntly, shaking her head. She avoided his eyes, her voice dropping to a plea. “I just want to go home. Please.”
“It’s crucial that you conquer your emotions—all of them,” Ari said firmly.
Cedar’s eyebrows knitted together. The demand struck her as ironic, given that he was holding her captive.
“If you’re scared, you’ll attract more fear. Emotions don’t just go away—they cling. They find ways to attach themselves to whatever you put in front of them. The brain doesn’t distinguish between what’s real and what’s imagined, just like in dreams. If you stay scared, your mind will link that fear to innocent people or situations.”
Before Cedar could respond, the sound of clopping hooves and a low neigh startled her. She whipped around to see a massive horse standing behind her, its muscular body glistening in the light. The animal bobbed its head, almost as if agreeing with Ari.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Cedar exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. In her panic, she stumbled backward, landing with a soft thud in the pond.
Ari’s laughter rang out. “We can go swimming if you’d like.”
Cedar froze, momentarily horrified as she remembered her phone—her most prized possession. Then it dawned on her: she didn’t have it. Her phone was safe at home, not at the bottom of an imaginary pond from a future memory.
“This water isn’t wet,” she said, touching her dry hair in disbelief.
The horse pranced playfully around the pond, braying at the commotion. Without hesitation, Ari jumped in after her, fully clothed.
“I can fix that,” Ari said.
“No, wait.” Cedar dipped her hands in and out of the water. It left no ripples behind. Her hands came out dry, but the water still felt cool and buoyant. She repeated the motion, testing its strangeness.
Ari floated on his back, gazing at the sky as Cedar continued experimenting with the water. The sun dipped closer to the tree line, casting a warm orange glow over the pond.
“Maybe we should go horseback riding tomorrow instead,” Ari suggested, his voice light. “How about we have a nice dinner tonight and turn in early?”
“What’s for dinner?”
“Whatever you want—your favorite dish. Best part is, you can eat as much as you want without feeling guilty.”
Cedar paused, her hands still hovering over the pond. “Are you sure I’m not dead?”
“I’m sure,” Ari said, his tone unwavering.
“Then why am I here? What do you want from me?”
“Superhero grooming.”
Cedar snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”
The conversation drifted into casual, inconsequential chatter, easing some of the tension between them. Nearby, the massive horse that startled Cedar earlier palled around with a new friend—another robust Clydesdale, its frame nearly half the size of Ari’s cabin. The animals’ playful stomping shook the ground as the day faded into night.
Later, Cedar lay in her small tent, the discomfort of her new accommodations softened slightly by an inflatable air mattress. She stared at the nylon ceiling, her mind racing with the day’s events. Sleep felt like an impossibility.
This can’t be real, she thought, the familiar tightness of anxiety gripping her chest. I’m dead. I have to be. My family and friends are mourning me back home. Yet, despite this certainty, a small sliver of doubt lodged itself in her mind—a whisper in the dark, nagging and persistent. Could I really be a superhero? No. That’s ridiculous. Don’t be stupid.
A sudden rustling outside broke her spiraling thoughts. Cedar froze, pulling her sleeping bag over her mouth, listening intently.
“You in there, Cedar?” Ari called from outside. “I need to give you something.”
Cedar unzipped the tent cautiously. “What’s up?”
Ari crouched down, holding out a small leather-bound journal and a pen. “I want you to keep a journal while you’re here. It’ll help cement everything into memory. You can number your entries, like ‘Day One,’ ‘Day Two,’ and so on, since we don’t bother with dates around here.”
Cedar took the journal, her fingers brushing the worn leather. “Thanks,” she said softly.
“Goodnight,” Ari said, stepping away into the shadows.
Cedar zipped the tent back up and flicked on the small overhead lamp. She sat cross-legged on the air mattress, staring at the blank pages of the journal. With the pen gripped loosely in her hand, she turned to the first page and wrote:
Day One.