"Well, it's no use talking about waking him," said Tweedledum, "when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."   Lewis Carroll, Alice Through the Looking Glass

"Last night I lost the world, and gained theuniverse."    C. JoyBell C.

"You won't make yourself a bit realer by crying," I muttered to myself, repeating words that Tweedledee had said to Alice while she was travelling through Wonderland. The world had taken many opportunities to tell me the opposite. I'd been programmed to believe that when faced with tragedy, tears were the only convincing evidence of humanity as if being another species was an option. Now I knew it might be.

Whether or not I shed tears, I was real. My muscles burned, proving I was real. Casper brushed his hand against my arm, and I scurried away. I was as real as my fear. I was not a part of someone else's nightmare. Some nebulous entity awakening from a long slumber would not make me disappear.

"I'm sorry for startling you," Casper whispered. I glanced over my shoulder to see him crouched in the center of the room.

"This is getting to be a pattern," I said, pulling my knees up to my chest and rocking. "How long was I blacked-out this time?"

"I don't know. That man, Denovo, announced over a speaker that there's a shock system in this room. It felt a little redundant, considering he'd already used it to electrocute me. Apparently, we've been breathing an aerosolized substance he claims can be activated by that thing on the ceiling to cause us pain." He pointed at a black disk attached to the ceiling.

Surface tension holding a pool of tears in place under my eyes shattered, sending a cascade of tears flowing down my cheeks. "Great," I hiccupped, "I finally react appropriately to an emotional situation, and none of the people who've accused me of being a robot are here to bear witness. Denovo used my brother as an experiment to prove they could kill humans without repercussions."

Casper stared wide-eyed at me for a moment, blinked, and shuffled closer. I held out a hand to stop him. "Rory, please," he whispered.

"My family...what's left of my family—" I stopped short. If I let myself think about what they must be going through, I might not be able to climb back out of that hole.

"I'm confused. I know you're upset, but please, tell me what's going on. Why are you angry with me?"

Denovo's words echoed in my mind. Was it possible that Casper was Denovo's trained dog? The membrane that separated Incepterrene from Earth actively prevented humans from retaining the knowledge of what was on the other side, yet Casper had remembered things when I hadn't. Did that mean Casper's ignorance was an act? Was it possible that he's been a tool to manipulate me all this time? I felt something snap inside my brain. "Drop the act!" I screamed at Casper. "You're just like that guy at school who pretended to like me on a dare. I think you might be worse. Stay away from me!"

Casper's eyebrows climbed in surprise. "You believe what that guy said? He kidnapped us! How can you still believe anything he has to say?"

"He's right. After all the years that you barely noticed my existence, there's no way you decided that I'm the one you want."

"That's what you think happened?" Casper said with a laugh. "Rory, I've liked you for years. I remember the first time I saw you—"

"Save that stuff for the movies. It was years ago. You could feed me any lie, and I wouldn't know the difference."

"You were covered in bruises. It was the first day of seventh grade, and my first day in a school away from my home village. I remember feeling guilty for being glad at least one person had more problems than me."

"Nice. Glad I brightened your day," I said.

"I'm not as brave as you are, Rory."

"Brave? Are you kidding me? I spent most of the seventh grade hiding from my bully until she picked a new victim. Do you want to know what heroic action I took when I saw that happen? Nothing. I did absolutely nothing about it."

"You made a mistake, but that doesn't change the bravery I've seen from you over the years. You have so many things to be afraid of, but you've never stopped moving forward. Remember when we were in the same karate class at the community center?"

"I looked like Kermit the Frog out for a run," I said.

"But you kept at it until you learned."

"It didn't help me knock Denovo on his rear."

"You got in a few good hits before he zapped you. He felt them. Trust me."

For a split second, the corners of my mouth curled into a smile. "Fat lot of good it did," I said with a scowl.

"Stop being so hard on yourself. Every time you start to think you're worth something, you kick yourself for the thought. People aren't only in your life because they have no choice. I'm not your family. I have a choice."

"Leave then," I snapped. Casper glanced around at the padded walls. I snorted. "Exactly. Neither of us has a choice."

Casper had moved closer to me in millimetres. He splayed his fingers as if he wanted to show me he had nothing concealed.

"Stay there," I said, pushing out my foot to create a comfortable pocket of space between us.

"I've wanted to be your friend since that first day of middle school. Assuming anything he's implying is true, Denovo could only have nudged me past my gutless fear of making a move. You're very intimidating."

"Intimidating?" I said. Casper's face showed no signs that he was making fun of me, but I'd been wrong before. "I'm not ready—" I didn't know how to finish the thought.

"Okay, let's rewind. You still haven't told me what's going on. How about we start with that?"

"I guess so. Even if you are still playing me, explaining what I know won't make a difference."

"I'm not playing you. At least, I'm not playing you like that." I tilted my head to the side and scrunched my forehead, trying to figure out what he meant.

Casper listened as I explained what had happened to me since arriving on campus for Experience College Week. He asked questions for clarification, staring at his feet as I tried to recount my muddled memories of Gem.

"Denovo says he's found the key to ending the connection between us. I would say that's great, if the rest of what he says is true, except for how he said he found the key. Denovo said he found the answer by killing—" My body went numb at the thought of what Denovo had claimed to have done to Daniel. It was like I was trapped in a nightmare as I rocked in place, staring vacantly at the wall.

"Please, Rory, talk to me." I slid away from Casper as he scooted closer. He softened his voice as I resumed rocking. "If you won't be here with me, Rory, I'm all alone."

His warm eyes softened my calcifying heart. "It's all because I'm a special snowflake." My words sounded uglier when spoken out loud than they did in my memories.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Casper said.

"Denovo is focused on me because he thinks there's a reason I'm different. He thinks there's something inside of me that he can exploit. The truth is, I'm not special. My mom used to make fun of the snowflake metaphor many parents use for their children. She'd used to say that one Saskatchewan winter was enough to teach you that snowflakes all look the same when they are piled in a drift."

"I don't get it," Casper said.

"Humanity is a snowdrift. The only reason Denovo thinks I'm unique is that I'm the only snowflake he spotted while it was still floating to the ground."

"The world doesn't function on metaphors, Rory."

"We want to feel like we're unique individuals, which doesn't fit well with how much society likes uniformity. Conformity. That's not me. Denovo noticed me for the same reasons kids in school pick on me. I stand out."

Casper reached out to touch me. I pushed away his hand. "Rory... What can I do to convince you I'm honest?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Manipulation isn't always obvious. You could have been seeing and doing things without your knowledge, forgetting as soon as you'd done them. Even if that isn't the case—" I stopped short, unable to think of the right words to explain what I was feeling.

"Tell me. I want to help," Casper said.

"You know more about me than I know about you," I said, trying to explain something that barely made sense. "I feel like you have an unfair advantage over me."

Casper slid in front of me. I could feel his eyes on my face, but I didn't glance up. "Would it help if I shared something personal?" He said. This question was dangerous. I didn't have protection for this kind of intimacy. I didn't even know if I wanted it.

I felt my face transform into the stony tableau that it often assumed when I felt overwhelmed. I cringed, thinking about how my lack of expression could be used to reinforce myths about autistic people not having empathy. People who knew me best recognized the truth, that feeling overwhelmed made me disconnect. Focusing on the most straightforward rendering of facts helped me avoid processing emotions that were too complicated to handle. I was terrified of Casper telling me something intensely personal only to see a wall of ice where my face should be.

The problem was that I ached for Casper. More than any caress, I longed to experience him. I wanted a connection beyond the flesh. I didn't think I could let him touch me any other way until he'd touched me this way.

"Okay," I croaked.

Casper slid against the wall, but he left space between us. "I owe you a confession that will make me feel as vulnerable as I made you," he said, pausing for what seemed like a long time. His voice was barely audible as he started to speak again. "My name isn't Casper. It's a nickname. One that my mom hates."

The secret didn't seem like a good enough disclosure to settle his debt. It crossed my mind that if Casper thought it was, I might have given him too much credit.

"I was born a month early, at the clinic in my dad's village. The nearest hospital was a plane ride away. There wasn't time to send Mom out. My grandma came to see me a few hours later. She called me Casper—meaning it as a joke about how my pale skin. The name stuck. I became the kid who was as white as Casper the ghost. I tried to have a sense of humour about it once I was old enough to understand. The problem was, I already felt like an outsider because of my mom."

"Why would your mom make you feel like an outsider?" I said.

"My parents couldn't bridge the gap between their cultures. The harder things got, the further apart they drifted. Mom would have left the village earlier, but she was worried we'd lose our language and culture. Mom was depressed. Dad bailed. They left me to deal with things that were too hard for them as if I didn't need their help."

I hadn't prepared myself for this kind of penetration; for his words to push themselves this deep into my heart. Casper slumped forward, putting his head on his knees, and visibly shook. Seeing him like that reminded me of my responsibility to cover him after he'd laid himself bare. I needed to say something, but I'd never been good at this.

"Why would you keep the nickname when it's attached to such ugly memories?" I finally asked.

"Maybe that's what draws me to you," Casper said, shifting to look at me. "You face uncomfortable things, take ownership of your fear, and don't let yourself forget."

"So, you took the nickname to remind yourself of things you wanted to avoid becoming?"

"And to remind me of where I came from," Casper said.

"When do you get to reclaim your real name? Can't you imagine a time when you'll have become the person you set out to be, and you'll want to be yourself again?"

"When that time comes, I'll keep the nickname to remind myself of what I lost," Casper said.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"My mom was right about the culture and language," he said with a sigh. "It's a loss that I don't know how to fix."

Casper's confusing body language when we'd been at the Friendship Center suddenly made perfect sense. He wanted to reconnect to that part of himself, but he was afraid it was too late. Not knowing what to say next, I resorted to logic. Although I knew it sometimes rubbed people the wrong way, I took the risk. "You said your grandma gave you the nickname because you were white. Don't let that bother you. Skin pigmentation is one of the last things to develop. You were born early, so you were light-coloured."

"Leave it to you to point out the science," he said.

"Are you teasing me?" I asked, terrified I'd made the wrong call.

"I was thinking about how smart you are. Are we on even ground now?" I shuddered as he ran the tips of his fingers down my arm. He dropped his hand down to my rib-cage, moving it across my ribs to rest it above my heart. I'd never been more aware of my skin being a single organ. The warmth of his hand radiated over the entire surface of my body.

"I hope you believe me when I tell you that you are a special snowflake. Nobody brainwashed me into feeling this way. Can I kiss you?" He whispered. I nodded. He slid his hand around my back, pulled me close, and leaned in to kiss me. His lips softly brushed mine. I could have pulled away if I'd wanted to, but it wasn't what I wanted. He ended up being the one who pulled away to ask, "You're sure it's alright for me to touch you? I haven't upset you?"

This time I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. We both were breathless as I slid my arms away from his neck. "Your eyes," he said, running a finger along my brow.

"What about them?"

"They're violet," he whispered.

It appeared he'd discovered the colour of my desire. Neither of us knew what to do, so we sat quietly for several minutes. Casper was the one who finally broke the silence. "You've heard of wakes?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I've never been to one," I said, rubbing my finger along the edge of his thumb.

"Traditions for wakes are different, depending on the culture and community. In my dad's village, we stay awake with the body before burial. We tell stories, sing songs, and share meals. Everyone places a portion of their food on a plate for the deceased as an offering, to fill their stomachs for their journey. We burn their belongings to help them move on. I suppose it also helps those left behind. After the burial, we don't speak their name for some time."

"That sounds comforting," I said.

"I want to hold a wake for Daniel, even though his body isn't here. We could stay awake to tell him stories to keep him company. Would that be alright with you?"

I wasn't sure exactly what Daniel believed about death and what lay beyond, so I could only consider my own feelings. Seeing as sleep was beyond the realm of possibility, it seemed like a better use of my time than spiralling through all the terrible options of what Denovo might have planned. The stories about Daniel that I chose to tell were about our childhood together. Casper surprised me with stories of his own about my brother. It was another reminder of how blind I could be to the people around me. It was nice to hear someone else appreciate Daniel for all the things I treasured in him.

"Thank you. I needed somewhere else to focus my mind," I told Casper after what seemed like hours when I was finally too tired to continue.

"You use the bed," Casper said, puckering his lips in an odd fish-face expression and using them to point at the bed platform. "I want to keep watch."

That made two boys in my life who wanted to watch me sleep.

~ ~ ~

A frantic shout brought me out of deep sleep. I quickly found my eyes were the only part of my body I could move. I shifted them as far as I could to the side until spotted Casper sprawled on his back. It felt as if there were shards of glass driven into my throat when I tried to call out to him. He was trying to move, and I could see the pain on his face. I wanted to tell him there was only pain when you tried to move, but I couldn't help wondering if he'd already figured that out, and was more willing to endure pain for my sake than I was willing to suffer for his. All I could do was wordlessly endure the torment on his face and feel shame that he couldn't see it reflected in mine.

"Show some sense, boy. You can see that Rory isn't in pain. She stopped fighting for you the moment it caused her discomfort. You know, I've been trying to convince Rory that your affection for her is the result of brainwashing. It's abundantly clear to me now that Rory is the one who has questionable affections," Denovo said.

My heart sank beneath the echo of Denovo's obnoxious laughter. I had to admit he was probably right. I only had to glance at Casper's face to know I'd put my comfort before doing everything I could to help him. My desire to keep Casper from suffering seemed to end at the exact moment when it might cause me any discomfort or danger.

"I'm going to take Rory away now. Try not to kill yourself fighting to stop me. We both know Rory wouldn't do the same for you," Denovo said. Sweat dripped off the end of Casper's nose. Tears streamed down his face. I felt sick, knowing Denovo must be right about the reason I didn't look the same way.

Denovo's warm breath suddenly hissed against my ear. "Go ahead. Say goodbye to Casper. You're never going to see him again. Oh, that's right. You can't. Disappointing. I was hoping to hear you squeal like a pig. That won't happen if you can't talk."

It felt as if he was peeling away a coating from the top of my skin as he ran a small object clutched in his hand along my neck. It didn't matter. All that mattered was keeping Casper from being put through another moment of pain on my account. I tried one more time to speak. My voice came out in a hoarse croak. "Please, stop hurting Casper," I begged.

"Casper is what's known as leverage, although I wonder how much power I wield over you simply by threatening him. You don't seem as fond of Casper as he is of you. Still, a fellow has to try," Denovo said.

"What do you want from me? I don't get why you think I'll be useful to you. I don't understand why you hate me so much."

"Maybe if I give you a window into my world, you'll start to understand why I hate you so much. Maybe if I let you see the images the Penitents use as a regular part of their propaganda, you'll get the picture."

Denovo pressed something on the device nestled in his hand and lights flashed across the ceiling. Music began to play, and an image appeared. I immediately recognized the house with white vinyl siding that had three glass butterflies attached in ascension to the wall. I remembered it by the laundry lines strung between metal poles planted around the cement pad where the house used to be, the two rows of pine separating the yard from a canola field across the road and the mud hole along the edge of the firebreak.

My stomach lurched as I realized that Denovo was about to show me the day Gemini had explained why his sister was going to die. The fuzzy parts came painfully into focus as I watched. "Where did you get this?" I shouted over the sounds of my childhood meltdown playing out.

"Gemini didn't tell you about the chip in his head? I bet he didn't tell you that there's a file at the Ministry of Second Self, which is full of memories just like this. From your point of view, I'd imagine the worst part about all that would be knowing that that

Gemini could have turned off the chip any time, which would have given you privacy. Unlike most people on your planet, there was a chance that your peace of mind might eventually benefit from knowing he'd made a choice not to upload your most personal moments to the Ministry database. If I were you, I'd want to know why Gemini repeatedly chose to invade your privacy and expose you to the scrutiny and judgment of strangers." He laughed. The sound reminded me of ice clinking against the side of a glass. "But that's just me," he added.

The thought of all the things Gem might have uploaded was enough to bring on a wave of nausea. Knowing Denovo might enjoy watching me choke to death, perhaps for only the pleasure of hearing my death rattle, I pushed down the acid in my throat. Denovo's voice as he continued ground across my nerves like an iceberg cleaving hills from the face of the prairies. "That was the worst day of my life, and the Penitent's use it as propaganda. They use the death of my sister to brainwash Incepterrians."

Strangely enough, I didn't have to fake sympathy for Denovo. I could easily imagine how it would make me feel to have someone use my brother's death to convince people of something I opposed. "I know you don't want to hear this," I calmly said to him, "but I'm sorry Jana passed away. Having the memory of it replayed must be like having glass ground into an open wound."

"Now there's a thought," Denovo hissed, popping into my line of sight. There was nowhere for me to go; nothing I could do to stop him if he decided to give rubbing glass into open wounds on my body a try. I had to choke back a sigh of relief when he carried on speaking, hoping frightening words were the worst I had to fear from him.

"You don't get to say my sister's name," Denovo growled. "I've had to swallow Penitent poison all my life. It's time they have a taste of mine. When it comes to humans, nothing Incepterrians do will ever make a difference."

I frantically searched my mind for a way his lust for revenge could be appeased without provoking him to hurt Casper. Every option that came to mind ended with suffering. Finally, I said, "Denovo, hear me out. What if you use me to make new propaganda films? I swear that I will help you burn everything Gemini had built with the Penitents to the ground if you agree not to hurt Casper."

Denovo silently watched me for a long moment, a muscle twitching above his eyebrow a. He cleared his throat and said, "I hate to entertain the thought, but we might be more alike than Gemini let on. I bet that's why he spent so much of your childhood trying to train you to be a good girl. The fact of the matter is that your proposal is more or less what I had in mind. I have some fun videos planned. Some of them even involve Casper. By now, he must understand the consequences of not playing along. That doesn't mean I'm planning on forgetting about using him to get that one special treat for myself that I intended to hear today."

Denovo pressed a button on the device he held, and Casper's face contorted as if it was made of play-dough. "Stop!" I screamed.

"I'll stop, Rory, right after you squeal like a pig."

"Wee wee wee," I squealed as loudly as I could. "Please, stop hurting Casper!"

Suddenly a memory of Gemini's voice flooded my mind. "Your emotions are a universe inside of you. When you are angry, that's the universe expanding. It has to push everything out of the way so it can take up more room. Focus your mind. Make the cosmos shrink."

What if I could focus everything I was feeling like a laser beam on the universe inside of me? What if it was possible to make it inflate? Maybe I could use that inflating universe to push everything out of my body, including pain.

I silently commanded myself: Move your hand. Punch this bastard in the throat. Do it now, so Casper knows you are willing to fight for him as hard as he's tried to fight for you.

With an explosive burst of movement, I jabbed my arm forward, delivering a solid punch to Denovo's throat. A blazing inferno of pain raced through my body as if my heart was twisting. Seeing the look on Casper's face made up for the pain, but it was the shocked look on Denovo's face that made me smile as I slipped into darkness.