What am I?

Bread’s appearance being a shocker was an understatement. As he stared at the bedside mirror, he saw strands of wires dangling off his sides, frayed cables running up his torso. Irregularities in supposed human biology were rampant, and his face… It was a mess. Like he was missing the face part of his face. Just two holes for eyes and a metal framework with none of the skin that was supposed to have been there.

He was far from being real. No, he wasn’t even close.

Coach has insisted—no, forced him to be tethered to the nearest wall outlet. Since his energy core—which was supposed to be his heart—was weak, it couldn’t maintain itself when disconnected. In his words, it wasn’t supposed to be fed like some sort of iv drip. It was supposed to make him cordless—depending on the quality of the core, on average from a day to even a decade of time without having to connect to the walls.

But Bread didn’t care about any of this. He didn’t ask for this; he didn’t want this. What he wanted was to go outside—see the city and the beaches that he was promised.

He could try sneaking out. Right now, Coach wasn’t around. He was on the other side—the gym area of the building.

A few minutes without cables couldn’t possibly shut him down. He could fight it. How would a lack of energy manage to stop him? He was more human than that. All he had to do was rush back to bed and plug himself in.

Bread slid off the bed with as little noise as possible. The hefty cable was plugged directly into his chest, so he grabbed it tightly in his hands and pulled. It slid out without much resistance. Then he paused as if to gauge himself.

Nothing. He felt the same as he’d always felt.

He could feel a newfound grin spreading across his face as he tiptoed past all the tools and junk to finally arrive in front of the backdoor—the same one Val had left through in a hurry last night. And he turned the knob—it squeaked just loud enough for him to tense up—and pushed it open as slowly as he could.

Sunlight.

The ultraviolet rays dripped down his neck, splashing into his eyes. He could feel the heat prickling his mechanical back like a light rash. He scratched his arms; it all felt so real. Everything felt so much more touchable. As he walked, he could even feel the slight aches in his joints, the changes in weight that distributed throughout his legs. With this supposedly less human body, he could somehow feel so much more than before.

It felt so different. Nothing like the simulation; nothing like the world he’d left behind. Was this what it really felt like to be alive?

The feeling—it was rougher around the edges, not so smooth, but he liked it. All his movements felt like they had some sort of impact. Like there was actual weight to everything he did. It was harder to walk, harder to talk, harder to even grasp which way was up, but it all just felt so much more real. Like he’d opened his eyes for the second time.

Then everything gave out.

His hips creaked and groaned. Everything was off balance. The world around him swirled upside-down, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground.

A strong thud reverberated through the dirt like a miniature earthquake. Every small tremble could be felt through his fingers. There was a sense of serenity he’d felt when he realized how everything was all connected back to him—the earth, his fall, his legs, the world around him. But then…

Panic.

It slowly seeped in, settling deep in his throat like some sort of unwanted lump. There was no feeling in his back. None of that warmth he’d just felt before.

What?

He tried to move. He couldn’t.

No, what’s happening?

He tried to feel his legs, his arms. Anything! He couldn’t feel them! And there it was again, that feeling—a memory… He wasn’t real. None of this was. What if he was just imagining things? What if this wasn’t actually the real world? Was his mind still here? Was he dreaming? Had he already been reset?

No!

He was trapped; he couldn’t get out. He was going to be reset! No, he didn’t want that. He wanted to be free! He wanted to—

The sun dawned on him, warmth finally flowing back through his body. He could feel it again. Not just the arms. The prickling in his legs. Breathe in… He started to slow himself down. And out… in…

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This wasn’t Simular. He wasn’t trapped anymore. No, this was real. He had to believe it. Dad wasn’t here. It was all real. He was real. He was going to be okay. Val had said so. He was still human…

“Lad?!” Coach rushed out of the gym; tools and utensils flew in the air. “What’re you doing here? Ah, now you’ve done it.” He grabbed Bread’s legs and pulled.

No…

Coach started to drag him back. All the way into the abyss.

“No!” He grabbed at the dirt. He clawed his way back towards the sun. He wasn’t going to be trapped again!

“What are you doing? Stand still! You’ve dislodged your spine!”

“No!” There was a flower. A flower the color of the sun, beautifully growing through the cracks between the paved asphalt. He grabbed the stem and held on for dear life. It was going to save him! This flower that looked like the sun he so wished to be a part of. This flower that had pierced through the hard, solid blacktop—it was going to pull him to freedom.

“Lad! Let go!”

“No, I don’t want to go back!”

But the flower started to tear…

No, don’t die.

The roots revealed themselves from between the cracks. It wasn’t going to hold for much longer. It was ripping at the stem…

Let it go.

It wasn’t going to hold much longer. It was going to die…

Let go!

And then—it snapped.

“I said LET GO!” Coach smacked him across the head. Bread’s eyes rumbled around; his vision blurred. “You can go outside after!”

The flower—it was a dandelion. His records told him so. It had been trapped in the earth, rooted beneath all that asphalt. It had been trapped underneath all that dirt. And it was free now. It was free to go wherever it pleased, and yet…

He gazed at the dying flower in his hands, ripped out from its own underground home. It was going to die. All because of him. All because he didn’t let go…

I’m so sorry…

Was he going to die too? Just like that flower. Maybe he already was. Maybe… His eyes started to feel heavier by the second. What? It took all his might to keep them open. What’s happening? Like he was getting ready to fall asleep, but why? Am I finally… Why did he feel so happy? …going to die? The flower, the dandelion. What was that about… Flower… I need… to sleep…

…

Dandelion!

When Bread woke up again, he was back on the bed. The cable was already plugged in securely to his chest. Coach was beside him, tinkering with a bunch of tools. He looked annoyed, muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Bread croaked out. It was almost instinctive at this point. It felt like he’d said that phrase so many times now. But just now, there was something else that had itched his mind. What was it that he was thinking about? Something about a dandelion? That flower…

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Stop talking. Can’t concentrate.” Coach moved in closer and started screwing away, twisting and turning at his joints. He hammered a little, then fastened another bolt in place with the most delicate of hands he’d ever seen. He muttered loud enough for Bread to hear, “Just like the lass. Causing so much trouble all the time.”

“I—”

“Stay still.”

Bread stiffened up.

“Not that still. Loosen up.”

He relaxed his body a little.

“Good. Now stay like that.” After a few more swings, he stopped to admire his work. “Try moving your legs.”

He raised his legs up and down.

“Good.” Coach placed his hand on his shoulder. “Ouch!”

Sparks flew.

There was a weird taste in his mouth. Then his records immediately took over, and he said it aloud—“Blueberries.”

“Blueberries?”

“I taste blueberries.” Didn’t this kind of thing happen before? Bread was sure something similar happened just a while ago. When did it happen? Was it yesterday? Something about… Beef?

“Ah, maybe it’s the smell. Just had them with cereal this morning,” Coach said.

“But I taste it right now.”

“You’ve got funky taste buds, lad.” The man put away his tools. “Maybe we’ll have to get that fixed too.”

Bread didn’t really care about that though. Taste wouldn’t suffice as a means to explore the world. There was only one thing currently on his mind—

“Can I go outside now?”

Coach groaned. “No, but you will. Soon. When Val comes back.” He strolled over to the other side and called through the walls, “But don’t even think about getting out of that bed, ya hear?”

Bread wondered if Coach really cared about him. Like Val. All he wanted was go outside—into that new and unfamiliar territory that he was promised before. The only way for him to see the world, at the moment, was through the small window beside the bed.

Outside, there were half-eaten slices of what looked to be roast beef dangling out from moldy BLTs, and tangles of rainbow wires sprawled across the empty downtown streets. Plastic shards, broken restaurant signs, and crushed paper cups cluttered the corners of tall, worn-down architecture.

It was supposed to be trash—colorless and dull garbage. Nothing about it was pleasant to the eyes, but to him, it all looked like treasure. They were the signs of a new world with new possibilities. A chance to finally be out there instead of in here. And yet, he still couldn’t leave. He was stuck.

Just like before.