“We are approaching landing. You may want to wake her up, John.” SERaMACs told. Unprompted.

  The machine seems to be getting far more comfortable with that as time goes on. John had his eyes nicely closed, almost as if he was asleep.

  Yet his hand itches. And so does his leg, far more than before.

  It's hard to itch your hand with one that no longer exists, especially if the itchy hand is the one the old one was replaced with.

  And so there was no sleeping. Just rested limbs, and the vanity of it.

  He opens his eyes, and seeing out the cockpit; a landmass quickly approaches from below.

  It's approach slows down as they hasten their descent, and thus he decides it is time and goes to wake up Amy.

  “How long until we touch the ground?” John asks as he gets up.

  “Just over a minute.” SERaMACs replies. He grabs the latch and slides the door to the side, revealing Amy slumped over on the floor.

  He crochet down next to her and shakes her gently.

  “Wake up Amy.” He asks softly. As she groans into consciousness, he lets her go. She rubs her eyes and looks to the side. “Oh. You woke me up.” She comments with a sleepy swoon. John stands back up and steps forward, crossing his arms; well fueled by the fumes left in his metaphorical tank.

  “We're about to land. Hopefully there's a nicer place to sleep.” He says.

  The whir of the blades slow down as they approach the ground. Finally, Amy gets up and holds his right hand, standing next to him.

  Hers is surprisingly warm, as is his.

  A big thud from below tells them they've hit the ground. John has a quick glance out one of the windows, seeing the black, sulfuric dunes.

  The two approach the exit door as the blades grow quieter and the ocean grows louder. It's a sound unlike anything he's heard before. And as the exit door lowers, the sight is unlike anything either.

  A concrete walkway extended from the landing pad towards a monolithic, brutal facility. The two accepted that they'd be wet again as they went outside into the sideways rainfall. The ocean was colorless when it wasn't a murky green or red. What it didn't eat of the sand of the beach would be bolstered back by the sea’s regurgitation.

  Black grass and ferns acted like a thin veil around the facility’s walls.

  John had a micro-anseuism trying to open the door, but eventually gets his new hand to work— grabbing the latch and pushing it down.

  The door seemed to be sucked inwards as he forced it open, almost as if it had been waiting to be opened for millennia.

  He lets Amy go and kicks the door shut with a slam. The outside was the only light in this room. Now, it was reduced to blindness. That was until the lights flashed on suddenly, illuminating the tall hall for both to see clear.

  Then, SERaMACs came in over the facility intercom, killing the quiet.

  “Welcome to the Stuart Memory Center. This is the only non-subterranean SERaMACs Data Storage Chain in the world. No one else is here, so you may enjoy your stay as you wish.”

  “You told me the Archliege will be here.” John said towards the machine, facing up to the ceiling.

  The ambiance sounded foreign here, with waves crashing and the winds not of land, but of ocean. Filtered through the concrete of the walls; it did have familiar qualities to it.

  SERaMACs answered after a couple seconds.

  “Apologies John, it appears it hasn't yet arrived. I will inform you of when it does. Please navigate to the end of the hallway, there will be an elevator waiting for you past the door.”

  John's voice was of reckoning. “It? It?! What the f—”

  “John. Please. Not right now. Not anymore. Let's just go. Please.” Amy interrupted. The two locked eye contact, and upon doing so, John couldn't make himself refuse. And so they walk towards the other side of the hallway, their only warmth coming from holding each other’s hands.

  Amy opens the door this time, saving John from having to use his new hand. As it does, they see a hallowed, gray hall which expands outwards like a chamber. The place was more warehouse than room; many state-of-the-art server cells stretching far off into the distance.

  The ceiling was much higher. What little of the room that was lit was lit by thin lighting bulbs. No neon. No ads. No nothing. It was nice, even if it teetered on the edge of being dead.

  Most obvious of all was the elevator shaft placed brutally and incoherently not far from them. It shot from the ground like a knife, and stabbed into the ceiling like a spear. It did not belong there. It looked… new.

  John and Amy step inside, the doors closing automatically behind them. They can't tell if it's taking them up or down. At this point, they don't care either.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Their judgment is reserved for when the door opens. After a short while, it does, and what it revealed on the other side couldn't have felt less real.

  The door opened, revealing a warmly-lit counter-top and kitchen. Maple wooden floors with matte red furnishing accents on the cabinets and cupboards.

  The two walked slowly into this new place like a hallowed sacrum. The counter-top and center island was a polished andesite; the wax finish mirror-clean as Amy touches it.

  John inspects the cupboards above the classic-looking sink, knocking on them to confirm it is made of wood.

  He looks inside, white ceramic tupperware stacked neatly.

  Amy goes further into the kitchen, their new living room revealed as the lights turn on. A nice, soft, cushy sofa— beige in color— sat just in front of the left wall. Inside were closed curtains which she took a peek out of.

  She saw the beach from her dream. And the island is not-so-far. And the blue water waves crashing against the shore. A tree that looked like it was mixed with a fern, blowing in the gale winds. She covered her mouth at the beautiful sight. It has been so long she's seen such a thing with open eyes.

  John joins her in the living room, inspecting the soft beige carpet as he does. The place smells fresh. Natural. Lived in. Loved.

  Just as he goes to look out the window, SERaMACs intrude over their digiphones. It seems this place doesn't even have its own intercom.

  “Welcome to your new home. I will leave you for as long as you need to become acquainted. I hope this will suffice.”

  No one replies to SERaMACs, for they both look out the window.

  It is so real. There was genuine depth outside. John wanted to reach out and touch it… but the windows won't open.

  He places his hand on the window.

  And so does Amy, directly on top of his.

  Amy wasn't the only one getting emotional.

  But John couldn’t cry. Not anymore.

  “Is this a trap?” Amy asks him through shallow breaths.

  “I… I don't know.” Replies John, desperately wishing that what he sees is true. Amy removes her hands and takes a step back. John needed to look for a little longer before he could join her.

  Another wave washes up on the sand dunes.

  It’s okay now. He can look elsewhere.

  As he turns around, he can see Amy standing in the middle of the room, looking at a glass coffee table. He joins her there, standing behind with his hands on her shoulders.

  They inspect the place. There's another chair.

  A TV on the wall that meets with the kitchen.

  There's another hall opposite them they haven't seen yet.

  It doesn't feel like they're allowed to touch anything. If they do, it might not be real.

  They move into the new hallway, looking inside the various rooms adjacent. The first on the left is some sort of quaint computer office. The next on the left is some sort of sanitation station. One of the rooms on the right was a storage area, and the room at the end of the hall? That was the grand bedroom. A double bed. It must've been the biggest bed they'd ever seen.

  The walls had textured paper on them to make it look nicer.

  There was another window to their right which looked out into the river that flowed into the ocean.

  They could see the huge mountain spire to the left outside.

  It didn't feel real. It just didn't feel real.

  And yet, John worked up the courage to finally sit on the bed. And as he does… he felt it was soft. Plush. Like a piece of himself he'd never had. Amy follows suit and sits on the edge next to them.

  They hold hands again. It helps them feel grounded.

  They looked at each other but didn't quite know what to say. And so they just sat there, enjoying each other's company for a little while.

  “John…” Amy finally said, rubbing his hand as she spoke. “I don't… I don't mean to jinx it for us but… but I…”

  “It isn't real.” John interrupts. He looks at her, her expression taken aback. “What?” She asks.

  He answers. “This isn't real Amy. This house might be real. You and I might be real. But the outside? That's not what the outside looks like. Not anymore.”

  “Oh, well— I know.” Amy is sure to clarify, looking away. “But… but it doesn't have to be, right? Surely you know that by now John.”

  John also looked away. His face is solid but true.

  “After all of this? Yeah. It doesn't matter. I'm just…” He struggles to find the words. “Look. Even if it never feels real… I'm just happy I have you. I know you're real at least. Even if the outside isn't. And besides, I could never have imagined us living in a place that is so just… nice.”

  “Maybe that's why it doesn't feel real?” Amy suggests, before John comments on her finally sinking in.

  “And, oh— and uh… yeah… I'm happy to have you too.”

  She pauses for a moment. “Like. Uhmm. Very happy.”

  The sensation in the air is starting to become more familiar. What would've otherwise been an awkward comment is welcomed by John with a once-extinct smile on his face.

  He didn't have to reply. He gives her a hug. Amy welcomes it, and hugs him back.

  They could feel each other's breathing as they remained there for a while. The place was growing warmer, yet not quite as warm as each other.

  It was healing. Perhaps therapeutic. Whatever it was, it was much, much needed. And very overdue.

  John finally lets her go as the two make eye contact.

  “Well… I supposed we'd be better… get to know this new place a little better?” John suggested coyly.

  “Mmmm. Okie dokie.” Amy replies with some of her lost innocence and a smile. As she said it, she had both closed her eyes and nodded. Now that was a sight for his sore eyes. And so, John stood. And so did Amy. And, they became more acquainted with this new place they now find themselves in.