Wake Up To Reality × Novels & Stories

“But it wasn’t what I thought it was. I was just imagining it, and I almost killed my brother because of my inability to determine what’s real and not. What’s wrong with me?” Nothing. “You know what my mom said right before she…” I couldn’t finish that thought. I abandoned that idea. “She said I wasn’t a Foreseer. And that we weren’t actually imprinted, and it was all a trick.” That time, Nathan growled, but I ignored it. “And I don’t know if she’s right or not. My reality seems to be all mixed up right now, and there is no way for me to know what's real and what isn’t. What am I supposed to do?”

“ Migo came having shreds of limbs scattered on his clothes. He is in a mess… just what happened up there while I was here? No, that can't be compared to what I realized… it is making me crazy. Tell me I am just dreaming. I am just dreaming and none of these things are true. I am just having this surely realistic dream which is made up in my mind. Everything will be alright since I open my eyes again. I can continue my life as a shut-in person who just plays on his computer. Yeah… right, that is how it should be. So why is there a popping image in my view!? [Congratulations. You successfully completed the quest of getting through this event. Here is your reward]

Wake up. A familiar ghastly voice fills my mind What? My eyes search but only find darkness. Wake. Up. This time it's a lot more angry sounding. Who are you? I look around and yet again see nothing. You. The answer comes simply. Now... Wake. The. Fuck. Up! It feels like a jolt of electricity runs though my body and my eyes fly open. My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid I'm going to faint. The room is spinning and I'm filled with nausea.

How can one man illicit this much fear and disgust in me? I stay there, on his bed. In his room. Waiting for my fate. Unable to move, unable to fight back. In a constant state of dread. The soft touch to my palm makes me gasp awake. I open my weary eyes to the faces of my mom and my love. It takes me a few seconds to register that I’m not in hell anymore. Once again, I’m back where I belong. Or… am I? Which one is reality? Is this an illusion? Am I tricking myself into seeing my loved ones?

Mia’s cry, piercing, young, and terrified. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No. No. No. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.” I curled in on myself, rocking as my fingers dug into my scalp. “Wake up, Elena. Wake up. You have to wake up.” But I didn’t. Because it was real. A raw, animal cry tore from my chest. I clawed at my arms, my legs, my hair, anything to wake myself from this living hell. I was alone.

Awakening sequence: 14%. I tried to scream, but the sound stayed trapped inside me. No. No, no, no. I forced my eyes open. The real world snapped back hard. The shattered window. Snow drifting into the room. Alex kneeling beside me, calling my name his voice sharp, desperate, terrified. But I barely heard him. Because something else was pulling me under. A flood. A memory. A program. A command. Project Rebirth wasn’t just inside my body. It was inside my mind rewriting, unlocking… invading.

It defies logic, it defies everything I know about the world, and yet, here I was, experiencing it. And then there was the message itself: "Wake up." Wake up? I'm awake am I not? I pinched the skin on my arm, feeling the slight sting, the undeniable proof of my conscious reality. I was standing, I was speaking, I was thinking. If this was not being awake, then what was it? Or am I really dead?

"Stop pretending, Harold. I saw all those photos on your laptop and the tattoo above your heart. "Let this go, Harold," I said. "Don't you feel guilty doing this to Elise?" His lips wobbled, but no sound came out. When he saw the disgust in my eyes, he finally realized that arguing for his own sake would only make things worse, and all blood drained from his face. With trembling hands, he fished out a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket. On it, someone had written with a childish scrawl: "Reconciliation Ticket."

I'll make you understand as soon as I return home. 'Alright then.' But she was very eager to hear it, to feel his voice saying those three words. There was silence. Frank Sinatra's refrain was stressed with full force. 'Wake up to reality, use your mentality . . .' And before long he had heard himself saying goodbye. 'Don't forget to call, okay? Take care of yourself JC . . . Bye.' 'See you in one week.'

"Is this psychosis? Sim-damage? Is Evelyn watching us right now, laughing? Damn. I'm coming apart." "What the hell is reality?" I whisper. "Reality is a consensus," Echo’s voice answers from the dark. "And you have lost the vote." I sit up. "Echo?" "You are addicted to the simulation now," the voice says. It sounds like it’s coming from inside my pillow. "Reality isn't enough. It’s too dull. Too slow. I’ve broken your brains beautifully." "Get out!" Alex shouts, throwing the lamp at the wall. It shatters. But there is no noise. The bulb breaks, but the light stays on.