Jane spent the rest of the day with Morris, as Michael had elected to play video games with one of the other detainees, whom she had not been introduced to: Colin. She met him outside the cafeteria when she, Michael and Morris descended the stairs. Jane found that he had a pleasant, quiet demeanour.
“Hi,” he said to her, smiling and shaking her hand as he stood close to Morris.
“You’re Colin, aren’t you? It’s nice to meet you. Where are you from?” she asked.
“New York.”
“How did you end up in here?”
“Bad dreams,” he said, and his smile faded.
Jane looked around at her new friends for clarification. “Is that all?” she asked, confused.
“I mean to say, I had night terrors, and…the ethereal effects that manifested in my dreams spread out into the environment around me. I was having a psychokinetic effect on my bedroom, the house, anything within thirty feet. I would wake up and things would be broken. One night it was really bad, and the night after that, I woke up and they were standing over my bed. I don’t remember much after that.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“Your dreams are getting better though, right?” Michael asked, placing a hand on Colin’s back.
“Yes,” Colin replied in a nervous tone, glancing at the ground.
They parted ways and Jane finally had the chance to visit the indoor garden at the front of the facility. She took off her white shoes as she stepped onto the transplanted grass. It was cool and prickly beneath her feet; she thought the sensation was wonderful.
She looked up at the oak tree, through its branches to the massive skylight as the slanted arcs beamed down from overhead. She closed her eyes and breathed in the intense aromas. It struck her as she looked around at the sights surrounding her: the garden was bursting with life. There were masses of exotic white flowers, orange blooms that looked like supernovas, and a tree of red roses so pristine that Jane thought for a moment they were artificial. They were completely real; the most real flowers she had ever seen.
She asked Morris about the garden’s purpose. He told her that he had been informed about its recreation and rejuvenative properties. He said it had been placed here as a therapeutic device.
As Jane looked around, the same doubt stirred in her. Something about that explanation struck her as unlikely. The plants themselves spoke of this truth; they were too real—too alive—and the oak tree had a super-real quality to it as well. She and Morris stayed there for a time, sitting on a wooden bench at the back of the bright, green garden. They sat mostly in a silence interposed with relaxed conversation.
Jane’s legs dangled beneath her as she listened to Morris tell her some scant details about his life. Mostly, she found herself staring upward towards the light, her eyes closed and the sun beaming through her eyelids. They left the arboretum after an hour, and she was left wondering what its real function could be in this place where she now found herself.
She went to sleep that night in her sterile white room, feeling afraid, missing her mother and pining for the sound of Max’s voice. However, another part of her had come alive. She felt a fullness in every cell of her body, a fullness that had been absent for far too long. She found that Morris frequently entered her thoughts, and she liked to think about him. In a more faint manner, more distant, she thought of Max.
Wherever you are, I hope you’re well was the last thought she had before she drifted off to sleep.