“He doesn’t really think Devon is brain-damaged. He knows we could go home. He just doesn’t want to go back empty-handed.”
“What does that mean, empty-handed?” Farah says.
“We’re pretty sure people naturally make it back to the ordinary world once in a while. Not often, but sometimes.”
“So?”
“But there are still no stories of this place. Somebody would have come back with evidence by now if it were possible. A scientist would have known how to convince people.”
“What are you saying?” I say.
“Our best theory is that even if somebody makes it back, their memories are garbled when they return. Bright lights. Rushing tunnels. Religious stories. Think about it. So many of the stories in the ordinary world might come from glimpses of this place. But no detail, nothing coherent. I hate to admit it, but Benedict’s right. Devon hasn’t told them about this place, which means he has no memory of our time here.”
“So?” Chiu says. “At least he’s alive. If we go back, at least we’ll be alive too.”
“You don’t understand,” Abi answers tightly. “Do you think they grant ethics approvals for this sort of thing? This whole project is entirely unethical and probably illegal. But we figured when we came back with world-changing results nobody would ask too many questions.”
“But if you go back with nothing…” I say, realizing what she means.
“Benedict will go to prison for sure,” Abi says. “Maybe Vikram too. And the rest of us will be a cautionary tale of ethics gone wrong for every medical student for evermore.” Abi glances anxiously up the stairs like she’s afraid Benedict has come after her. “Benedict’s got too much at stake. As far as he’s concerned, there’s no point going back unless he’s sure we can remember what happened here.”
“But we can go back,” Chiu says. “I don’t want to remember this place. I just want to see my parents again.”
Farah reaches out and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Abi says. “I know him and he won’t let you. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“We think we can change the field protocol in the machine to preserve some of our memories. But there’s an element of trial and error and we only get one shot for each of us.”
“So he wants to keep us here and use us as guinea pigs?” Farah says.
Abi nods. “I’m afraid so.”
“He can’t stop me,” Chiu says firmly. “I’ll go. When he’s sleeping.”
“Benedict is the only one who knows enough about computers to get the system running,” she says. She sighs, her face softening for the first time. “He won’t let you near the machine until he has a new protocol to test – then there might be a chance.”
“But that might be too late,” I say.
“I’m sorry.” Abi turns to go. “Try to enjoy your shower.”
We rummage in the lost-property boxes, digging through years of forgotten towels, gym outfits and water bottles. In the ordinary world they probably stink, but here, it’s fine. Just a dry staleness no different to anything else and far better than our own blood- and mud-caked clothes. Farah finds a turquoise sports top and a pair of black leggings. They’re loose, but she uses the belt from her jeans to cinch them tight. I find jogging bottoms and a white T-shirt. Chiu hardly bothers looking. His face is dark and brooding, still reeling from Abi’s news. He sifts half-heartedly through one of the boxes, then gives up and disappears upstairs without even bothering to shower.
The water in the shower is so cold it feels like it’s burning my skin. I get the peculiar sense that it might be cold enough to propel me back to the ordinary world and I close my eyes and plunge my head into the water again and again. But it doesn’t work. When I open my eyes, the world is just as real and immovable as ever.
I’m towelling off my hair afterwards, still only half dressed, when the door opens a crack and Farah slips inside. The sports top she’s wearing is about three sizes too large for her, but it sets off small explosions in my brain when I see her. She walks purposefully across the changing room, reaches her arms around my neck without a word and kisses me. I stumble back, causing one of the locker doors to slam shut. She laughs, then kisses me again, and this time I kiss her back.
After a few moments she pulls away just a little, her face still very close to mine.
She says, “Hi.”
“Um … hi.”
She kisses me again, and I feel the weight of her pressing against me. There’s an urgency in the way she kisses me. Even when we stop, we stay like that, holding tightly on to each other, breathing each other’s fresh, soapy, shower gel smell. I never held anyone like this before, I never knew how it felt or what I was missing.
“Let’s get out of here,” she breathes. “Somewhere we can be alone.”
“We’re alone here?” I reply, hopefully.
“I mean … somewhere else.” She grins. “Let’s go to the Ritz!”
I stiffen. “We need to persuade Benedict to let you use the MRI and go home.”
She sighs and pushes away from me. The coolness of her absence makes me ache and I want to reach out to her again. But we can’t avoid this conversation.
“Talk about a mood killer,” she says.
“I’m serious,” I reply. “We don’t have time to wait around for him to come up with a new protocol. We need to make him understand.”
“Or…” Farah says, her eyes flashing. “We don’t. Let’s go to the Shard! Let’s go to the very top and give God the finger.”
“No.”
“I’m not going back to the ordinary world,” Farah says, darkly.
“You’re not serious—”
