Midnight Sphere 18 Mxm Ch 6

This had gone bad enough. As it stood, the MidnightSphere digitizing his friends would haunt Mark for the rest of his life. He couldn't live with himself if he couldn't get them back out.

Guy wasn't answering any of his texts. He parked outside his garage. The door was locked, so he picked up a large rock. The glass shattered when it hit the window, and he climbed through the empty space.

Blood ran down his arm from a stray shard onto the white curtains as he twisted and caught in them, and tripped over a low glass table.

More glass shattered when he toppled over and landed on his face.

He wished he were in a simulation.

Mark could be sure that Guy wasn't here anymore without even looking, as he'd made enough noise to wake the dead. He warned Guy not to become stuck.

Since when did he ever listen?

"Oh, God!" he groaned.

He picked himself up and crossed this stupidly big sitting room, entering the hall that opened onto a huge bathroom. It was eerie, like those pictures he saw online of empty, indoor swimming pools.

It was no place for one person.

Through the warped, thick glass, greenery swayed in a blurred smudge outside. Mark opened the sliding door to the massive greenhouse.

He frowned.

Random potted plants sat in various states of distress. If a botanist entered this room, they would cry and run back out. Guy didn't sink time on anything that didn't yield something tangible in return.

Guy didn't even like animals, said they were all annoying screeching things.

The resulting neglect made it look as though no one had lived here in a very long time.

He shut the door, continuing onward.

At the moment, Mark was glad he hadn't left behind pets, unlike probably many others in the trial.

He shivered, forcing himself to think about anything else.

Like how Guy could possibly be happy like this, all alone. It seemed the whole point of purchasing a place like this, if not to raise a massive family, was to throw parties constantly.

He tsked.

It was his choice! One that he made by putting a sum of their funds toward the project into his own pocket.

Guy, the self-made man, sole proprietor.

Mark had pulled Ashley to the side about this several years ago, confiding his shock that Guy would sink so much of their funds into such extravagance.

The other man only laughed and made the point that Guy's new home was a dollhouse to his family.

He reminded Mark of how they met, how his mom bought an entire strip of condos at Orange Beach to rent them out, reserving a high-rise for Ashley and Clara to send invites to their university on spring break, all expenses paid.

Mark and Guy attended that year on a mission. He'd followed Ashley with a gathering who'd gone out drinking at a local bar. Guy made an ass of himself by laying out on the pool table, because evidently no one was letting him play.

Mark left him to the players, poking and proding him with their cues in a mixture of jeers and laughter.

Ashley ordered a drink for Mark and himself when he sat in the empty booth next to him. After two martinis, Mark broached their idea.

Ashley listened without much interruption. He made it clear then that he didn't believe in the MidnightSphere. He wished Guy well in other projects, but that his concept was pure science fiction.

However, he still agreed to invest.

Or, in truth, he gave Mark a million dollars for some other reason that he couldn't fathom, since investment came with expectation. He remembered his head spinning from more than the two drinks, steeped in a surreal confusion.

He speculated that Ashley's generosity was for being there when Clara was blackout drunk and needed someone to hold her hair, but Mark would never really know.

Mark nodded along in a stupor while Ashley talked about being content in a cardboard box, but also how everyone should have luxury, as it was a human right by virtue of being alive.

That we could far sooner have that world than construct an elaborate escape.

He knew being a fly on the wall during any of these conversations would have made the steam come out of his then-boyfriend's ears, so Mark never stated his criticism outright, only to be a careful steward of their investments further.

His heart raced as he opened door after door after door. Guy never settled down into one room, just hopping from one room to the next when he got bored, which was often.

Mark panted, circling back and checking each room's bathroom.

He groaned.

"How many fucking toilets do you need!?"

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose.

He let out an odd laugh.

Mark wandered out of the last room onto the hall. Only three more wings to explore, he thought. By the time he found the orb, sitting empty on the nightstand, he spiralled.

There was no strange glow.

Mark raced down the stairs, throwing open the door to the garage. Guy wasn't here because he'd gone somewhere. He pulled out his phone and called him, and called him, and called him.

"Are you fucking kidding me man?" he said under his breath.

He stomped, slamming the door.

Mark raced up the stairs to the same room to log onto Guy's laptop. He breathed out a sigh; no password required.

He looked through his search history for clues to where he went. Right there on his homescreen was a scientific article about dopplegangers.

Mark shook his head. He couldn't afford to get distracted. Fortunately, he didn't have to look long. Directions from Brentwood, Tennessee, to New Haven, Connecticut.

An exact address, to someone's house.

Mark snapped a picture of the address with his phone.

He pulled up the list of trial members right next to the strange document on his homescreen, and there, trial member number nine's address, matching the destination.

Mark closed the laptop, nearly toppling over the chair as he raced down the long, winding stairs, through the foyer, and back down the outside steps to his car.

He was going to drive fifteen hours, to what? Mark sank down in his seat, still spiralling. Why wasn't Guy answering his calls? He pulled out of the gated community.

He raced dangerously fast down the narrow road, giving him tunnel vision. Mark was glad to be the hell out of here. He hoped that Ashley had gone with him, but no.

He knew Ashley was already gone to the digital plane with no way out. Ashley would never miss his calls. Ashley would never run out on him.

Mark sucked in a breath. By the time he saw the welcome sign to Virginia, the sun hung low in the sky. He furrowed his brow as the road began to spin.

Mark pulled into a gas station and stopped, deciding what to do. He hadn't slept the night before, and he had about eight hours more to drive, roughly.

He could either sleep in his car or go inside and get an energy drink.

Mark opened the door and got out, stretching his legs as he walked across the lot. The bell dinged onto a disturbingly familiar face.

It had to be the sleep deprivation. It couldn't be who he thought he was seeing. Clara, in an employee uniform, gave him a customer service smile.

"What can I get you, sir?"