Claudia Gabel - Elusion

The soaring ceilings are glittering with shining lights and the glass walls are projecting glowing, larger-than-life testimonials regarding Elusion: a paraplegic who became an expert skier in a mountain Escape, a single mom of six who takes a relaxing “vacation” to a beach Escape every day on her way home from work, and a doctor who claims that using Elusion regularly can significantly relieve tension.

I stop at another unmarked door and wait for it to slide open.

I step inside the auditorium, my back now up against the wall. The two-thousand-seat auditorium is packed, including the enclosed observation deck at the top of the cavernous room. Even though the paneling is slightly tinted, hiding the faces of the people inside, I spot the silhouette of Patrick’s mother, Cathryn. She has a distinctive figure that is hard to miss—poufy bobbed hair, wide-set shoulders, and a tall frame. Patrick’s mom always makes him a bit nervous, so it’s a good thing she isn’t sitting in the first row.

The lights dim and Patrick takes the stage, appearing more confident and proud than I have ever seen him. He is also being projected on a gargantuan screen, so it’s easy to see that his Italian suit is a little big on him. His mom is probably pursing her lips in disapproval, but I kind of like that he hasn’t fully bought into the whole young-businessman thing. Patrick’s also wearing a tie that my father gave him the day he began working at Orexis full-time. I can’t help but smile at his sentimentality. Like me, he holds on to the things that matter the most.

The crowd bursts into feverish applause. The two brunettes standing beside me start snapping pictures of him and gasping as if he were some Hollywood heartthrob. Patrick grins and his chin dimples. I can tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he doesn’t mind the attention one bit. I can also tell that he won’t be flubbing any of his lines tonight.

Suddenly, something inside me begins to hurt.

No matter how much I want to believe it, the demanding schedule Patrick has been keeping lately is clearly not just a busy phase. Then again, Patrick has been pretty much fully booked as long as I’ve known him. His standardized test scores were off the charts, starting from kindergarten, so even though he’s just two years older than me, he graduated from high school when he was fifteen—as valedictorian. When he wasn’t studying, he was doing some kind of extracurricular activity during his free time. I often wonder how he managed to make room for me, but he always did.

I take a deep breath once all the clapping dies down, moving away from the back wall of the auditorium and hoping that Patrick will somehow be able to see that I’m here to cheer him on. To hell with how I look. Patrick’s my best friend. He’s not going to care about what I’m wearing or that I’m having the worst hair day in the history of my life.

“First off, thank you all for coming today, and on such short notice.” Patrick glances down at the teleprompter, hesitating for a moment before looking up and flashing the audience a gleaming smile.

“As you all know, for the last six months Elusion has been available on a trial basis in only three cities: Los Angeles, Miami, and Detroit.”

At the mention of Detroit, the room bursts into a small round of applause.

I hold my fingers to my lips, whistling like my father taught me to on a summer road trip to Montreal. I see a sliver of a clearing in the center aisle and make my way toward it. Patrick stops in the middle of his speech as if he heard my little birdcall. As he canvasses the dark auditorium with his blue eyes, I begin to push through the crowd a bit harder.

“Shane, can you bring up the house lights, please?” Patrick asks.

And just like that, the auditorium is bathed in brightness. When I look toward the stage, Patrick is staring right at me, the corners of his lips curving up.

“There,” he says. “Now I can see you all much better.”

I grin back at him and mouth the words “good luck.”

Patrick nods and picks up where he left off in his speech. “For the past hour, Orexis has been flooded with calls, spawned by the rumors that Elusion is about to be released nationwide. Well, I don’t know where your sources are getting their information, but they are one hundred percent . . . correct! Elusion finally received the coveted safety seal from the Center for Interface Technologies, and by the end of next week, both Equips and apps will be available for purchase in ten more cities. By the end of the month, people all across the country will have access to the most exciting technological advancement of the century!”

The auditorium once again erupts in thunderous applause.

A woman holding a large box of sparkly acrylic wristbands walks in front of me. She presses one into my hand and then points to the left.

“Miss, you’re going to need to sit down for the demonstration. There’s an empty seat in row L.”

“Wait, what kind of demonstration?” I whisper. “Are we all going to Elusion together?”

I’m not ready to go back there. Not even close.

The woman shakes her head. “No, of course not. It’s just an immersive video accompanied by some music and acupressure hypnosis. Will you take a seat, please?”

I blow out a nervous breath as I walk up the aisle and spot the empty seat on the left. It’s practically in the middle of the row, which means I have to crawl over dozens of people to get to it.

“The Elusion app that will be released is a newer, updated version of the program that has been on the test market,” Patrick continues. “Our team has worked very hard to give you the most dynamic, original Escapes we could think of, and we’d like to give you a taste of the Elusion Universe today.”

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I hunch down and try to get to my seat discreetly, apologizing for brushing against people’s legs and temporarily blocking their view.

“Please put on your wristband,” Patrick instructs us. “There is no need for earbuds or a visor. Sound will be provided through the speakers. Just bear with us for a minute while we set everything up.”

A murmur floats through the crowd as the house lights slowly dim again.

I flop down in the seat, my bag firmly in my lap. I gather my hair and put it in a messy bun as Patrick’s larger-than-life presence appears on the screen. The moment I slip on my wristband, earsplitting guitar chords come barreling through the speakers. As the music crescendos, a milky haze forms on the screen. When it fades into a sheet of pitch black, a million dots of white appear and glow with fierce intensity. I duck for cover when a streak of flames bursts from not only the screen but the walls around me. Balls of fire ricochet across the room, exploding in midair.

My heart is in my throat. It’s as if the auditorium itself is careening through the galaxy, narrowly avoiding collisions with gigantic asteroids, orbiting planets, and crescent moons at every turn.

I wince as a round ball of fire heads straight toward me, veering off to the right at the last second. This isn’t real, I remind myself. But it sure as hell feels real. There is no pretty fairy dust here, and this is not the serene Elusion that my father introduced me to—this is something more terrifying and exciting and bewildering and enticing. Then I feel a shred of something I’ve felt many times before but have forgotten these past few months. A tiny surge of electricity rises in my chest, and within seconds it spreads all the way through my arms and down to my fingertips.