They had come up silently, unannounced, without any sign of movement, like they hadn't needed to walk at all. I hadn't heard footsteps or breathing, nor any voices. No doubt, Shizuka should have noticed before I did, but she hadn't. We are not in line for the ferris wheel either, and have been standing several meters away from the entrance. Reasonably speaking, there should be no need for anyone to be directly behind us.

Being aware is an intriguing experience that first begins as a small breeze at the base of my neck - a minute whisper and a gentle, even pressure, like if a child is to push against my back with all of his might. It may be compared to a bacteria sample, or a virus in its beginning stages. Small and harmless, easily controllable. A tickling sensation, almost pleasurable, until it swells up and amplifies, suddenly and viciously, into its whole, true menacing form, so that it sends involuntary spasms up my spine and flicks on switches as it plows through, to release chemical stimuli, leaving them resounding in my system. Sensory plethora bridges the internal to the external, the abstract and the physical. And just like that, the world around caves in.

My head is on fire. My muscles clench and sweat in anticipation, ready to launch my body forward, ready to bolt. My legs, my arms, my core muscles, already twisting and compressing for fight or flight. My hair stands on end as if there were hands reaching out for me. Complete hijacking that I have no command over. Get out, get out, get out, say my nerves. Stop, drop, roll. A sixth sense, maybe.

Instinct tells me that we have made a mistake. We have not been watching our surroundings. We have not been diligent. That something is wrong or is going wrong. Like toxic fumes, unseen, but undoubtedly there.

I expect to turn to see black suits. It's the only logical conclusion. Perhaps even a good sizeable amount of them, six feet tall, so all I could see would be their chests and black neckties. But before I can turn, it's as if I have received a package from the man behind me in reply.

I visualize everything happening within my mind. So powerful and quick are the images that they overwhelm me in a semblance of physical force and sear into my eyeballs, a surge of his raw intention - though likely only psychic manipulation. I can suddenly see it laid bare before me. Data implanted and installed into my mind - if I had a computer for a brain. They seize us by the shoulders and elbows - spindly skeletal hands but with iron grips - steer us towards black unmarked cars, glossy tinted windows, likely bullet-proof should anyone give chase, though no one bothers to look. We don't resist. They blindfold and gag us inside, tie up our hands, roughly, while one in the front drives. I am acutely concerned for Shizuka and the way they treat her, that something within me wrenches tight. But I don't make a sound. We had been waiting for this inevitable consequence. We end up in an underground facility in the mountains, kilometres away from the city core, locked behind five foot thick metal doors. No one will know we're there. Not that anyone really knew us in the first place. Our blindfolds will remain as our only visual landscape as they fit us with headphones. We cannot speak. They don't touch us. No, it won't be the lack of food, or water, the lack of light and sight, the lack of physical mobility that breaks us down either, but it would be the headphones, in which, we will hear voices, day in and day out, for six months -

"Mi Hyun?" I come face to face with familiar flat features.

The first thing I notice is her clothing. She is wearing a black blazer suit, black tie, white dress shirt, black pants ironed smartly, black dress shoes polished to perfection. Dressed to impress. She is holding a large paper shopping bag. UNIQLO is printed on it. Red square and white letters. It's empty. Then, I see her hair tied up into a bun, business-like, professional and proper. She stands rigid, back straight and shoulders back, chest out. Though her breasts are undeveloped like a boy, the puffy taut trim of her blazer gives them some form.

Shizuka tugs on my arm and we stumble back one step.

Behind us, Cosmo Clock 21 spins on. We're missing the ride.

"Hello," the Korean girl speaks. "Strange place to meet."

Shizuka smiles in reply, "it isn't all that surprising to make the best of winter vacation."

Mi Hyun has a blank expression on her face. Eyes are glazed, as if in a trance. "I see," she says. Monotone voice. No cheerful, bright, outgoing Ahn Mi Hyun. She blends into the growing darkness, until all that could be seen is her face, floating, as a ghastly projection. The lights behind us play shadows over our faces and over the ground. We become silhouettes.

"Where are you headed, dressed like that?"

"To support the Cause."

"The Cause?"

"There's a demonstration concert all about it down the block. Don't you know about it? Do you wish to come?"

Shizuka shakes her head almost too quickly. She doesn't wish for any more delays. "We're going to take this ride first."

Mi Hyun doesn't smile. She simply bows, like for a financial transaction at a bank. "You're missing out," she says flatly.

"Have fun, Mi."

She nods. "You're missing out," she says again.

For a moment, even though we've exchanged some form of farewell, Mi Hyun doesn't move. She is immobile, frozen in time, gaze piercing into my own.

We leave Ahn Mi Hyun behind, at a standstill. Like she's still processing something within her. Perhaps coming up with calculations or a conclusion that doesn't seem to quite add up. Maybe she has a hard time understanding why we aren't going with her. Surely everyone would want to wear a black suit and tie.

Shizuka tells me she heard nothing from Mi Hyun's mind.

"Not even subconsciously?"

Nothing, she tells me. "Like the passengers aboard the train too. Nothing."

I turn as to glance behind us but I no longer see Mi Hyun there. We couldn't have covered that much distance so soon. She must have moved on from where we had left her.

"That's peculiar," I say.

"She's entirely Image. I had the feeling when we first met her."

"Yet, she approached us and spoke to us. I thought they wouldn't do anything out of their normal repetition. This surely cannot be something routine. Can it?"

She shakes her head and says she doesn't know. "I have no answers if I can't see into their minds, and if I don't receive anything from the Collective."

"Is it possible that the System is blocking off your access?"

We reach the entrance for the ferris wheel. There's a small, thin, balding man not wearing a hat - even in the wintry conditions - standing at the gate. He's rather talkative for his stature. His lips are chapped.

"Welcome," he says. "Would you like to ride in the special clear gondola?"

Shizuka looks at me as if to ask. Up to you, she says.

"How long is the wait?"

"You two are lucky, there aren't any customers waiting for it. Oddly, tonight there haven't been many who took the clear one. Maybe it's the weather, or something else. Just remember that the floor is clear so it's best if you are not scared of heights. Nobody with heart conditions or prone to stroke. Once you're up there, you've gotta wait til it comes back down. Anyway, it's available right now if you'd like."

"It sounds fine by me."

"Would you also like to pay for an automated photograph at the top of the ferris wheel? It's automatic, all you have to do is sit on one side and smile at the camera."

Shizuka puts on a polite smile and tells him that there would be no need. We wouldn't want a permanent record of us in their systems.

"Okay, just wait two more minutes, and the special gondola will be here. You'll be able to see the ground beneath your feet. But you'll enjoy it I'm sure. It'll be perfect for a date." He emphasizes the word "date" before he waves us off down to the separate line, up a spiral of ramps and railings.

There are only a few other customers. All of them are couples on dates. We don't feel out of place. One pair, older, likely married and two others, straight out of high school - I recognize school bags and uniforms beneath coats - but finally, a couple in black parkas, not too unlike us. 17:17. We find the line and huddle together to stay warm. I hold her hands. Our red parkas bleed and blend. It's much too cold tonight.

Although our special gondola should be a romantic notion, whatever romantic mood we had earlier has dissipated; whether as lovers or children hand in hand, there is nothing left. The magic and science-fiction wonder that had been present in the air, wiped away clean, fresh, like a blackboard. Dashed by the appearance of Ahn Mi Hyun.

Ordinarily, if it had been a regular classmate, it might have been probable for a bright but simple exchange of mutual jest and tease, then conclude with well wishes bid until classes commence once again. Had this been entirely Systematic? Scripted? Some sort of a diversion tactic to prevent us from achieving - whatever we're meant to achieve atop Cosmo Clock 21?

"I don't know if it's possible to be cut off from the Collective. After all, even Free Energy flow is a connection to the Collective." She pauses and blows out a cloud of mist as if she's smoking. It smells like mint and cheesecake. "What's peculiar though, is your earlier experience. Just before we spun around, you had seen something, yes?"

"Yes."

"I saw some of it through your experience, but I didn't see it myself."

"I felt the intention of an Image metaphysically transmitted to me, and saw it happen visually. It was blurry and not entirely clear, but I got the general idea. The suits, the facility, the headphones, the voices. It seemed more like a dream, but it felt real at the same time."

She nods. "You're directly connected to the Collective in a supposedly one-direction pathway: your thoughts feed into the Collective. But this would be the reversal of the process, which I've never thought would be possible. Do such irregularities exist?" She leans closer as if to hide in my jacket. "Maybe our interaction has a greater effect - a larger ripple - than we thought."

"Sort of like an anomalous chemical reaction."

Her lips curve a little. Somewhat uncertain, insecure, hesitant. For the first time, she seems lost. I had expected her to carry all the answers. But now there is an unfamiliar sense of panic like a sinking sandbag in the center of my chest.

"Yet, there is no turning back." My voice sounds graver than I had intended.

"There is never any turning back, Maeda-san."

We see the clear gondola. It's five cars above us, winding down leisurely - completely oblivious to our predicament. From this vantage point, its belly is visible. There's no one aboard. Yet because of the glow from the spokes above, it takes on various hues, ever fluctuating and transient. Perhaps it had never been clear: sometimes pink, sometimes lemon, sometimes azure, sometimes lime. It becomes remade over and over again, like a chameleon.

"There's something here for us, I just know it," she says with determination and conviction, "we need to immerse ourselves again."

"Yes, we're on a date."

"And we're about to ride a very special gondola."

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Hope the journey speaks to you! Feel free to leave comments and vote on chapters to let me know where you're at with the read! :)