This Is Not Really Happening

We were all back in the cafeteria where Doctors Floyd, Rajj, Berkenstein, and Orloff explained what they believed were the problems with their initial attempts to coax this door into existence. Heather was sitting in a chair between a table of Passengers on one side and a table of researchers on the other. Madeline and I were sitting at a third circular table. Across from me sat Barbara who stared at me with her steely gray eyes. According to Heather since her return a year ago, Barbara’s mental condition improved. She wasn’t the screaming banshee she was when she first reappeared. Most of the time, I was told, she was lucid, though there were periods where she would go catatonic like when asked about where she had been the past thirty years.

“We ran a chemical analysis of the house. There were no unusual readings.”

Orloff explained.

I raised my hand, a force of habit whenever I was in a school or former school turned safehouse. “So, was the door’s sudden appearance just some glitch before glitches became a thing?”

Dr. Orloff shook her head. “We don’t think it’s a glitch, at least not any kind we’ve observed since the big one five years ago. We suspect that the door is some kind of portal that could only decohere into existence with a particular set of conditions. We recreated them the best we could according to Heather’s memories of that night, furniture, temperature, music…”

“Music?”

Orloff nodded. “Our colleague Dr. Parsons studied resonant frequencies and the effects on consciousness. Allen believed music tethers us to our consciousness in the past.”

“That sounds fascinating. I’d like to discuss that with him sometime.” Dr. Orloff and the others’ expressions darkened.

Madeline leaned over. “He was one of the victims of the attack.”

Everyone was silent a moment until Doctor Floyd spoke. “But we missed the biggest part of recreating the conditions from that evening. And that was the people, the consciousnesses involved. We had Barbara and Heather, but we didn’t have you, Doctor.”

“Me? I didn’t go out to create some magic portal, neither did Heather. We were just stupid kids on ’shrooms.”

“You were a pivotal part of it. After running enough tests, we realized it came down to consciousness. After all, if the door decoheres into existence, it means it has been observed existing. It turns out that Barbara and Heather alone couldn’t collapse it into existence. We also need you.”

I nodded. “I see. So, in order to open a portal to God-knows-where, you need the holy trinity; The mother, the daughter, and the holy spirit in the flattering orange dress.”

Heather tapped my knee. “I know it sounds like flimflam mumbo jumbo, Rhiannon, but we really need your help. I was going to reach out to you, but after Doctor Malik’s murder we shut everything down.”

“But since I’m in the neighborhood you want me to help you and Barbara break on through to the other side. Is that right?”

“Not just Barbara and I, the Passengers, too.”

“Well, of course. The more the merrier, right?” I turned to Madeline and I saw a pained expression and I pried.“You too?”

Madeline pursed her lips and looked over to Heather, then back to me and nodded.

I shook my head and snorted. “Um, no, Hon.” I stood up and slung my purse. “Heather, it really was a pleasure running into you again. Madeline, Honey, grab your things. I’ve come to take you home.”

“Mom,” Madeline attempt to beseech and out of nowhere I screamed,

“No!”

I was done with this. I looked at Madeline and tried to put the anguish into words. “Hon, I already lost you. Twice! I died inside the moment I heard about the attack, don’t you understand? I will not go through this again.”

The room fell silent. Madeline stood up. I expected her to lash out. Instead she gave me a hug.

“Mom, I never felt right. My whole life was me pretending it’s all okay, but I knew this was all wrong. The callous horror of it all.”

“Honey, you’re not going to fix anything by running away,” I pleaded.

“There’s nothing to fix, Mom. But there is a way out, something beyond this wretched place, somewhere outside!”

“Like two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,” Barbara said out of nowhere. Madeline took my hands.

“You have the power, Mom. You can force me to stay in this simeality. You can do that. Are you really going to do that to me?”

I gazed into my daughter’s dark brown eyes. I desperately wanted to say that I knew better and that one day she would thank me. But I tried a version of that before and I lost her for two years. I would lose her one way or another.

I sighed. “I guess I’m the can opener now.” Madeline broke into a smile so lovely, it hurt. I wanted to die again.

When we agreed on the logistics of who was driving who, the meeting ended. I got up from the table when Barbara approached me.

“I just wanted to say, thank you, Rhiannon.”

Barbara enunciated each word deliberately like English was a foreign language. I tried not to stare into her gray eyes but I couldn’t believe she was her and that she hadn’t aged. I nodded stiffly. “Sure, no problem, Barbara.”

“It really means everything…” she began, but I walked off.