I'd tried virtual reality once in my life, and I didn't like it. It made me woozy, motion-sick, and I think I puked the third time around. Maybe it was because when I'd tried it, it was Xerses' choice. And by that, I mean, a whirly, toppling, gun-shooter type reality. Still, that's exactly what the headset was—virtual reality. A place that resembled our world, mirrored our city.

Was this what Roger meant by simple? Because it wasn't.

The headset, the one I didn't want to use, was cold when Alex placed it over my eyes and secured its base behind my head. Within its frosted edges I made out the numbers that detected my body temperature and heart rate—it raced beyond belief. Alex spoke to me, but I couldn't hear her—I could only hear my thoughts.

I'd walked into the room with no real explanation. I took in Douglas' plan like a good soldier and agreed to every decision made on my behalf. Maybe it was Bessel's mocking attitude that strengthened my resolve because he was so sure I wasn't the one for the task. But I reminded him, with tightened fists and a glare that made both Roger and Matthews flinch, that without me, he'd still be in Old New York like the useless brute he really was.

The door had closed in his face before he could yell, and I was so ready to be placed under training, that my heart nearly exploded in my chest. Then it was excitement.

Now, it was fear.

"Yo." Matthews' hand pressed down on my shoulder to keep me calm. I saw him through the headgear, smiling down at me as Clark tapped away on a keyboard and Alex turned dials near the closest screen. "Me and Erica gon' be watching these screens with them two. Douglas says five hours is enough, but, you know, take your time. I got excuses made if you dip into later hours."

He moved back to give Alex enough space to check my pulse, but I couldn't help but hang on what he said. Why would I stay in longer than needed? And if I wasn't going to fight in the front lines, why'd I have to stay for five hours? I already felt nauseous.

"It's simple, Clara." Alex's voice was sweet and comforting. "Roger will tap in and react. He'll be your instructor through all of this. In the program, no harm can come to you. Whatever pain, fatigue, and illness you feel isn't real. Your mind will react as it thinks it should, but in reality, you are sound asleep. Can you continue?"

To her, I nodded, but I looked back at Matthews' grinning face and frowned. When Alex moved back, I grabbed his arm. "Why would I slip into later hours?"

"You know, in case Mr. Error has more to show you."

Did he really still call him that?

Roger sat over at my right, on a bed much like mine. Though I was made to lay on the cold sheets, he was all right to sit up. His hands were on his lap, his finger twiddling as he watched me get secure. A part of me wondered if he was scared, but then it hit me, he'd done this how many times? He shouldn't be. In whatever world we'd dive into, he was their program, the drill sergeant to every Peace member.

My turn was next.

"Would it really take long?" I asked him.

He turned to look at me. Even with the glass, I saw the shimmer in his blue eyes, bright as ever. "As long as it takes, Doll. I've seen you hold a gun before and well, as much as I like you, you're pretty bad."

I pursed my lips as I looked up at the ceiling lights. "And you're supposed to teach me to get better at shooting?"

I heard him snort. "That, among other things."

"What things?" I whispered, but by the time I turned my head to look at him, the glass on my headset had gone black. I saw only outlines, like shadows moving in a room. I gulped, my fear reaching new heights.

"You're going to sleep now, Clara," Clark spoke this time, his voice just near the door. "As Alex said earlier, nothing that happens while you're under is real, but your brain will be susceptible to the frequencies of this device. Roger, your teacher—for the lack of a better word—will instruct you on basic combat skills and weaponry. For us, you will be still and docile, but I'm sure for you, it'll be an entirely different scenario. All digitally created, of course."

Digitally created? I couldn't help but think of the world Roger used to live in. "And then, what happens after that?" I whispered.

I felt Matthews hands on my shoulders again. With his thumbs, he pushed out the nerves that bundled around my neck and instantly, I was calm. I looked up at his silhouette as he observed me. "We'll wake you up, real easy."

"O-Okay." Then, it hit me. "Does this hurt?"

Matthews chuckled. "Like a bitch."

Ah, there came the nerves again. My belly flipped uncomfortably. I heard Roger groan and laugh, shifting on his bed. "He's lying, Doll. You'll be fine."

"Just a prick," Alex added, her steps approaching my bed again.

"Who's a prick?"

"This is." I felt a needle slide into my neck and a warmth spread throughout my veins. I hissed in discomfort, gripping the sheets so tight in my hands I heard them tear. Next to me, Roger told me to relax. He said, "You're just going to sleep."

Right, sleep.

Further darkness crept over the glass, erasing the moving shadows, like a devouring force. I closed my eyes but didn't know if sleep came after the darkness, or before. What I did know was that I heard Douglas' voice right before I fully faded. He mentioned Bessel, the Loop, but that's all I understood as I sunk into silence.

♦

Every time I opened my eyes and walked into a room, I was cold.

And sick of it.

With virtual reality, I'd like to have woken up in a place that didn't exist. You know, somewhere pretty, with perfect temperatures. History books said Southern Florida had been nice in its prime. Couldn't we have gone there for training?

I was so over the Winter.

"Sleeping Beauty." Fingers brushed against my cheek and my eyes fluttered opened. "Gotta wake up. We've got things to do."

Roger's voice was like music to my ears. It echoed beautifully, and when I looked at him, I felt lost.

"Roger." His name left me like a breath. I sat up, and I couldn't help but look at his eyes. They didn't glow or dance with unnatural numbers and colors. They were just blue—a bright, brilliant shade of blue.

"Come on," he said and helped me stand. It took me a moment, but I managed to look away from him and around us. Everything was white, like I remembered from my dreams. But, with a wave of his hand, everything changed.

We were back in the room I'd been placed inside of to sleep. The screens were the same, so were chairs; only, they were empty, and the beds were, too. The computers were off and powered down. The lights above us were dim and grey. I looked up at them and allowed my eyes to travel over the ceiling, the walls until I went towards the room's door to open it. "Where are we?" I asked.

Roger followed after me. "We're in the base. Or a reflection of it."

Reflection.

The halls were the same, the rooms, too. The only difference between reality and the world I knew was the amount of people. The building seemed empty, as though it were just Roger and me. Still, I listened out for footsteps, expecting to hear at least one.

I did, but they were Roger's.

"Do reflections have replicas?" I said it as though I knew what I was talking about. I searched for them, the replicas. Stepping into the conference and medic rooms, I wanted to see a face. It wasn't until I stopped just outside of Xerses' prison room that I paused and fidgeted, letting one finger dance over the other.

"There are no copies of X here," Roger said as he stood beside me. "No replicas. Just you and me."

I suppose the confused look on my face made him laugh. The sound echoed as he took my hand and turned me around, taking me back down the hall we'd walked through. He led me towards the exit and I nearly hesitated, tugging my hand back away from him as he pushed the door open. "Wait," I whispered, pressing my heels into the floor, "it's cold."

It wasn't the thought of the Midwest Winter that made me hesitant. It was the idea that Hosts could possibly be outside that front door, just along the walls of our Dome. I could imagine their guns ready, pointed, bullets settled to shoot us dead.

But Roger didn't stop. He simply smiled at me before pushing the door open, showing me the greenest city, I'd ever seen. Was this... was this New Chicago?

"I control the weather here, Clara, so it won't be cold." He pulled me towards him, and my feet stumbled onto the sidewalk outside. Above us, a bird chirped and flew into the bright, blue sky. "Considering we'll be outdoors most of the time, I need the weather to be nice."

I looked out at the trees that bordered the streets, the buildings made of stone. There were streetlights that looked like the ones I'd seen in schoolbooks, and signs printed on metal shapes. Nothing looked like the city I knew; this wasn't my home.

Roger linked his fingers with mine as he sucked in clean air. "Out here, I'm going to teach you to run, to jump, and to—" He glanced at me before laughing. "—hold a gun."

Just like he did, I took in the air. I savored it. It was fake but still tasted oh, so sweet. The air I knew was more... clean.

"You'll teach me?" I let go of him and nearly ran out into the street. There were lines painted on the asphalt, separating the lanes for cars to drive. I did a slow spin before I looked at him. "How?"

Roger smirked and slid his foot in front of him, pretending to make a half-circle out of the dirt. "Did you forget I'm the only person with any kind of military training?"

I shook my head and watched him step towards me, one foot in front of the other.

"The Hosts out there?" He tilted his chin, pointing at nothing in particular. "The Codes that control them, each fought a war bigger than this. For them, this is child's play. For you and everyone else, this is a real fight."

"Real fight..." I covered my mouth as I repeated the last of his sentence and looked up at the sky. "I never thought this would ever happen in my lifetime."

"Oh?" Roger stood beside me, elbow to mine. "No one expects war. Do you think I did as I kid?"

I lowered my gaze to his. "Does anyone?"

Roger lifted the corner of his mouth into a small smile. The steps he'd taken towards me, he took them back, walking back onto the sidewalk just outside our Dome. The neighboring Domes sheltered the building, blocking out both shadows and sunlight.

I watched the rays try their hardest to cast light around him. "This city..." I did a slow spin once again. "Is this how you remember cities?"

Roger pulled at his white tee before swiping at his jeans. Dirt had already stuck to the tip of his shoe and he wiped at that, too. "Nearly all cities looked like this," he said, looking up at me. "I'd only ever been to Chicago once before the war started. It looked sort of like this. Trees everywhere. Bushes, grass. Lots of green."

"Cleaner?" I went over towards glass to pluck a single blade right out of the dirt.

Roger laughed. "Oh, no... I wouldn't say cleaner. Your future has the past beat on cleanliness."

"Really?" Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I watched the green spin between my fingers. "I just figured it'd be cleaner because my future is so..."

"Grey?" Roger pressed his hands into his front pockets and cocked a brow. "Like the inside of that building?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Well..." Roger crossed the street to stand beside me and wiggled his fingers. "How about I show you around? Give you a taste of the past?"

How could I say no? This city was exactly like the photos my mother had showed me growing up. I could spot the neighborhoods my grandmother grew up in; old streets my great-uncles used to run and play catch in. This was the city my mother wished she could live in, while I was content in my world made of steel and even stone.

Yet, as Roger linked our fingers and tugged my hand, I couldn't help but disagree with myself. The past, the colors, the world that no longer existed, was absolutely beautiful. Was my mother right to think that simple was perfect all along?

I just... I had to agree.

♦

Roger and I spent the entire day wandering the city, and yet, as nice as it was, I couldn't help but feel like it'd been planned. Hadn't Matthews said, right before I went under, that I may slip into later hours? You know, in case Mr. Error had more to show me? Was the city it? A blast from the past?

I had to admit it was nice. An escape from the terrors of our actual reality. Everyone would love a place to run to when times get hard, why couldn't we?

We'd made our way back to the Domes by nightfall. He seemed fine, eager to make another round around the block, but I'd never walked so much before. My legs were tired, my eyes heavy. In just a few hours, all I wanted was sleep.

But there were still things to show me.

"Clara." Roger had taken me into parts of the Dome I'd never been into—or, wondered if they even existed in reality—and showed me walls layered with guns and ammo. He pulled a small handgun from a lower shelf, gave it a fresh clip, and turned it over. "While we're in here, this will be yours," he said.

He handed it to me, and I let it sit in my hand, afraid to squeeze it—really, I was afraid I'd accidentally fire it.

"This one—" He poked it twice and I winced. "—is a 9mm handgun, entirely basic and easy to use. Err, well... it will be after I teach you to shoot it."

I looked away from the gun and frowned at him. "Do we really need to shoot?"

"Yes." He simply blinked at me. "They have weapons, Clara."

"Yeah, but..." I looked down at the gun again, taking in a slow breath, "...they don't know any better."

He laughed, but it was dark, and his eyes didn't crinkle at the sides. Instead, he looked away from me and let his laugh die out as he looked back at the many guns available to us.

"Wait." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I'm sorry. I mean, we've learned that guns are useless. Obviously, the last time I held one I shot at the ceiling instead of Polk and—"

"Stop."

He snatched the gun from me but not because of what I'd said. I hadn't noticed that in my poor attempt at an apology, I'd started to twirl the gun in my hands, tapping my fingers nervously around its trigger. If he hadn't taken it away, I might have shot him—or me. What would've happened then?

"Roger, I..." My voice trailed off as he tapped the gun against his palm, lip slightly raised in annoyance. I'd seen him make that face before, but never at me.

Was it what I'd said?

"Humans haven't learned a damn thing. You can't erase the learned behaviors we've had for over thousands of years; you can't micromanage a planet's entire existence by giving and never taking back. You also can't bury secrets and expect them to never come back onto the surface."

He tapped the gun against his temple, and I shifted backward against a gun rack.

It was what I'd said...

"Humans are intelligent beasts, and just like any other species, we won't stop until blood is spilled to prove our point. Right now, you have hundreds and thousands of soldiers who believe they're owed a right to live. They will fight to the death for it. So, guns—" He handed the handgun back to me. "—are necessary against an enemy who wields them."

I gripped the weapon in my hand and stared down at the trigger that shone in the dim lighting of the room. "I understand," I said, looking up at him apologetically, "I'm sorry."

Roger sighed, sliding his fingers through his hair. "Peace crumbles, Clara. Unfortunately, there aren't enough of you in the world to maintain it."

"Me?"

When he lifted his eyes, for a moment, I saw that blue glow in them. The color fizzed in the iris before fading away, just as he gave me his sweetest smile. "People who want peace; real peace. We're all a little bad inside, some more than others. But you, sometimes I think all you wish to see are rainbows."

Roger walked past me, opening the door and flooding the room with the light from the hall. The way he stood, leaned against the doorframe, he looked dangerous. The shadows hit his face rather than light; with his hair over his forehead, I saw nothing, but darkness in his eyes. As he turned, balancing his weight from one shoulder to the other, I watched the ghost of his former self bleed out onto the surface; a man looking for someone to fight, to kill.

I'm sure the other members were more eager to learn, eager to fight; all with a little bad in them.

"You're not bad," I said, stepping out into the light with him. "There's no bad in you at all."

He looked at me for a moment before he pulled me close. I pressed my face into his shirt. Wrapped my arms around his waist. I took in his scent; summer breeze, falling leaves. The smell calmed me, and the kiss he planted on top of my hair relaxed me more.

And yet, I couldn't help but feel him tense in my hold. "Rainbows, Clara," he whispered, his breath hot.

"Not rainbows. Truth."

With just a finger, Roger lifted my chin, so I'd see his most handsome smirk. Something else flickered in his eyes this time, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "You ready to learn to shoot or what?"