Cygnia does look like that—but I doubt it. That craggy old Corla can’t come from a place so beautiful. Carla here isn’t some glowing princess. She comes across very… I don’t know. Normal.
And this place is not an Akeelian city either. We have hundreds, maybe even thousands, of stations. But only one planet. It’s not a very nice one, either. Akeelian City doesn’t look anything like this place.
It has to be Earth.
That’s what the spin node was for, right?
But wait. Last time I was here, she heard me telling Tycho—Toby—whoever—about my brothers. And she was mad. People were at the door.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hmm?” she asks sleepily.
“Did… did anyone come to the door the other night?”
“What?”
Surely, if people were coming to… I don’t know, take us to prison, or kill us because I was talking about things I shouldn’t be, she would not have to think twice about that.
“Who came to the door?” she asks.
“No one. Nothing. Just part of my dream, I think.”
“I really think you need to talk to someone, Christopher. Let me call up Heather.”
“Heather?”
“Heather Yates? You remember her, right? Her husband, Jim, put on that fundraiser for your reelection campaign last time?”
“Jim.”
“She finished her masters about two years ago. She’s got her own counseling office now. Mostly, she deals with couples, but…” I feel Carla shrug. “I’m sure she’d talk to you about the dreams. And she won’t let it leak out that you’re having… issues.”
Can it be this simple? Can my wife be setting up the meeting with Jimmy I need?
“What do you say?” Her voice is very sleepy now. Like she’s just about to drift off.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Yeah, set that up. I’d love to talk to… Jim again.”
I lie there waiting for Carla to fall into a deep sleep. I want to get up and go back down to Christopher’s office so I can do some more searching for Jimmy Yates.
But it’s been a long spin—day. Whatever. I’m not sure how to count the time I’ve been inside the spin node. And before I know it my eyes are heavy and my body is relaxed.
And then…
I wake up to the familiar sound of traffic outside and hazy light filtering in through the sheer curtains. Then the sound of cupboards banging down in the kitchen.
Carla sighs. Turns over.
I think the most surprising thing about waking up in her bed is that I’m still here. Why am I still here? Falling asleep and waking up seems like the perfect opportunity for whoever or whatever is controlling my trips through the node to put me somewhere else.
But I’m not going to complain. I’m about done with this shit. I want to go back to Harem. My Harem. My life, my time, my world.
But then I remember Carla’s offer last night. Jimmy.
What if I get stuck here? What if I have to be this Christopher version of me? I have to stay and talk to Jimmy, at least. What if he’s my Jimmy? And he’s stuck here too?
Maybe we can make a plan together?
“Oh, my God,” Carla mutters. “She’s up again. I can hear her down there. Can you hear her? Why? Why does this child insist on waking up at the butt crack of dawn?”
I huff out a laugh. Butt crack of dawn. I can honestly say I’ve never heard that one before.
“It’s not funny, Christopher. You’re not here with her all day. She’s a handful. Always.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I throw the covers off and swing my legs out of the bed, taking a moment to lean over, head in hands, and rub my face.
She reaches for me, scooting over towards me so she can wrap her arms around my middle. And there’s a moment of panic when I assume she’ll reach for my cock and want a morning fuck.
I’m not touching Corla—any version of her—until I get back to my own time and place. Not after that shit show nightmare. Except I know better. It wasn’t a nightmare. I don’t know what it was, exactly. But I don’t care. None of these lives I’m being shown are mine.
Corla doesn’t reach for my cock. She presses her cheek against the small of my back and murmurs, “I love you.”
I stop rubbing my face and go still, thinking about her declaration for a moment. Three words I’ve dreamed about hearing for twenty-one years. It’s her voice, it’s her, for all intents and purposes—but it’s the wrong her.
“I love you too.” I say it back because