{Earth}

Kyle stopped Sagan before she left the Medical Ecology. “Hey, I wanted you to know that Korac’s repressing some serious shit. His memory is a wasteland of trauma the size of Enki. Feel me?”

For the first time in a long time, Sagan wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. Her voice came out tight as she said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” She pulled away and spared him a sweet smile before departing back to Gait.

He got it. The way things unfolded here, he expected to find all the couples pairing off for a little stress relief—

“Kyle?”

He turned to find Silence waiting at the top of the suspensed stairs. It took a force of nature not to flashback to the memory of her in Twenty-One’s arms. Satisfied. Beautiful. Not his.

Why did that hurt so much? Kyle barely knew the Icarean female and with all the trouble she caused… Ah, fuck it. He trusted her already. Dense fog shrouded her memory-scape, leaving her so lost and alone. Yet he wanted to help her find herself. Even if some of that journey included sex with men of her species.

The woman approached Kyle as he contemplated her trustworthiness. Or his inherent trust in her, rather. It was the day after the last basket of surprises. She changed into new clothes. Gone were Lucas’ sharp white slacks. Today, she wore one of his longer t-shirts. Kyle didn’t even know Lucas owned a t-shirt. It covered enough of her, but just barely.

Silence glided on long legs left exposed in their grace.

Losing his self-control, Story Taker barked out a laugh.

She stopped and frowned at him. Head tilted questioningly to the side.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… you’re so comfortable in your own skin that it makes the rest of us uncomfortable because we aren’t equipped for it.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I’m too immature for your level of confidence, Silence. You’re calling me out on it every time you change your clothes.”

She peered down at the shirt and looked up with… Oh Elden help him. The gorgeous woman pouted. “This is the most comfortable garment I found in his wardrobe.” After a little flustered pause, she added, “It’s a very big wardrobe.”

“You look beautiful.”

That wiped the frown from her face.

“I—”

They both went to their knees. Against their will. Open to the floor below, Kyle checked around the banister. Techs knelt on the slate tiles. Cries and shouts carried throughout the facility. But one very loud bellow carried from the patient rooms.

Andrew.

“Don’t sedate him!” Kyle called out before groaning as his face hit the floor. “Andrew! Andrew, it’s Kyle! I want to try something new. Let me help.” The sound of his own voice echoed through the rafters and their beams. Softly, to himself, he repeated, “I want to help you.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Just. You.

What the fuck? Andrew’s voice came from inside of Kyle’s head. Whatever, he stopped straining against an invisible barrier of his will. Released, he scrambled by Silence and called to her as he took the stairs, “I’ll be back. Try to relax.”

She watched him go, bewildered. A little excited, even. Her curiosity never satisfied.

Later. Worry about her later. He ran into Andrew’s room with its door wide open. Lucas lay unconscious on the floor. With a raised brow, Kyle regarded his best friend, “You do that?”

“In six hundred and seventy-two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-two probabilities, Lucas betrayed us during the war.” Andrew turned to face Kyle. He looked starved. Not just of food. Affection and warmth. Elden, he looked close to the edge. “You betrayed us in twice as many.”

Kyle winced and looked away.

“But you were honest about it with me. I felt it in your intentions. You and Tameka. Sagan. You’re real to me. I can feel Rayne, too.”

Story Taker’s brows shot up in surprise.

“She’s always the same. Sometimes she’s in a relationship with one of the Progeny, but… Always the same Rayne.” He blinked and stopped, staring into the abyss. “Help me.”

Crossing the room in two strides, Kyle made to reach for Andrew. “You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Kyle touched the other Progeny and walked into his memory. His nose bled immediately. His head pounded as if someone banged it between two cinder blocks. Could he throw up in a memory-scape?

Swirling static. Corrupted data. Like Celindria.

Andrew flashed in a strange panorama of spinning fan blades. The blades swiped away one memory and replaced it with another. But that wasn’t exactly right. It was the same memory with different Andrews. Different colors in the background. Different people wearing different things.

Andrew stood in the same room over and over again, but never the same life.

“Messed up, isn’t it?”

His brother’s voice from behind startled Kyle. “Jeez, get a bell or something.”

“Sorry. I can’t explain this to anyone. Lucas says he understands, but… I really think I needed someone to see it.” Andrew swept his arm to indicate the ever-shifting moment.

Kyle swallowed hard and wet his lips before he confessed, “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You’re being here helps. But…” Andrew brushed at Kyle’s top lip, coming away with blood. “I don’t know how much longer we can stay.”

“Andrew, I don’t know how to say this…”

“You think I’m dying. I feel it in your intentions.” Conscience pointed to the screen as the scenery changed.

The dark of night lit by roaring fire as acres of Vittle crop burned. As the fan blades spun, the events of the scenes morphed and multiplied.

Jumped in. Thrown in. Fell in. Pushed in.

“I can’t solve it. But… I think we’re in one of the Probabilities where I was pushed. They intended for me to die from it. I think.”

“I’m afraid to ask how many pushed you in?” Kyle wished he had a fucking blunt.

“Only twelve.”

Holy shit. “We can solve it then. We can do it together. We’ll find that motherfucker and make them pay for this.” Kyle stared at the scene and felt even more sure as certain details rendered. “There’s a hand on your back in all of them. But the hand is never the same.” White. Gray. Brown. Ring. No ring. Nail polish. Nothing. How fucked was that?

Andrew fell quiet, prompting Kyle to turn toward him. “I need to orient myself to these Probabilities. I’m limited to my experience and perspective. But I can still hear… their minds.” He stared at the display and set his jaw. “I won’t die.”

“Then you need to eat something. Drink something. You can’t keep laying in that bed—”

“Will you help me? They tried to kill me with this. I want to stop them with it.” His soft blue eyes burned with determination.

“Yea. I think I know how. But you have to trust me. Implicitly.”

Andrew cocked a brow and looked at the images beyond.

Kyle took a step into the messy kaleidoscope and held out his hand to his brother. “I’ll highlight the memories you lived so far that I can corroborate. I’m hoping it will anchor you to this Probability. It may take hours, and I suspect we’ll have to refresh it often… maybe forever. Are you ready for this?”

Without hesitating, Conscience took Story Taker’s hand, and together they went down the rabbit hole.