The Traveler's Companion by Christopher John Chater

first descent to the floor like a falling tree. He saw a flash of white and then nothing.
    * * * * *
     
    Iverson lay on the infirmary bed with one arm draped over his forehead. The lights were out.
    Angela knocked once and then entered. “Are you okay, Doctor?” She walked over to the side of the bed. “My scans indicate that C.C. Go was able to heal the trauma to your forehead.”
    The ease with which she accepted the instant medical care they received in this place bothered him. He could still barely comprehend it. He felt fine physically, but what was the cost for this miracle?
    “I don’t know what happened,” Iverson said. “I was thinking about the day I met Beth and then I felt . . . drained. When I saw that I was back at Harvard, I became overwhelmed. It didn’t feel right. There’s something wrong with this place.”
    “I’m glad you’re okay now.”
    “How are you and Go getting along?”
    She sat on the end of the bed with a playful bounce and said, “He asked me out on a date.”
    He slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. “A date?”
    “Don’t sound so surprised,” she joked.
    “What kind of a date?”
    “I’m not sure. He said it’s a surprise.”
    “I don’t have the benefit of interfacing with you, Angela. You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on in his hypothalamus.”
    “Scans show increased activity when I enter the room. Adrenaline levels jump, pupils dilate, heart rate increases to an average of one hundred and fifty beats per minute. Genital stimulation occurs with most types of physical contact.”
    “Sounds like it’s working. But I’m worried that it’s not working fast enough. We don’t have much time.”
    “What about you and your wife? C.C. said you could be with her again.”
    Iverson sighed and asked, “Were you able to locate Go’s remote?”
    “He keeps it in his jacket pocket.”
    “We need to get that remote, Angela.”
    “I understand. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
    “The sooner the better. Enough of the games.”
    The door flew open and Go entered the room with an expression of revelation. “There’s a difference between recreating a memory and actually creating something. Anyone can recreate. I suspect you’ve been living with these memories for a long time. I can tell just by looking at you that you probably feel like shit. Reliving the past has that effect. Did you see the faces of the people you manifested? They looked like zombies.”
    “Thanks for the warning,” Iverson said.
    “You need to create your wife rather than recreate her. Imagine what she would be like if she were still alive. Only use memories of her as a guide.”
    “Sure thing,” Iverson said, hoping he’d stop talking.
    Gibbons entered the room, went to a chair in the corner, and sat down. He calmly crossed his legs.
    “Where have you been?” Iverson asked.
    Gibbons was wearing a curious expression, but it was one Iverson had seen before. This was a man happily guarding a new secret.
    “It might help if you told me the whole story,” Go said.
    “I’m fine, by the way,” Iverson said to anyone who cared.
    Go chuckled, “Sorry, Doctor. I’ve gotten used to people being in perfect health while in the Zone.”
    “He’s a little shook up,” Angela said.
    “Of course. I understand,” Go said.
    “My wife died from brain cancer.”
    “And you said you regretted not spending more time with her near the end?” Go asked.
    “I went insane,” Iverson said with a shrug. “I thought that because I was a scientist, I should at least try to find a cure for her. I didn’t want to watch her die.”
    “I think the Zone can help you, Doctor,” Go said.
    Gibbons chimed in, “How can it do that?”
    “People have a tendency to fantasize different outcomes after tragedy strikes. The Zone provides a chance to realize that fantasy, to see what might’ve happened. These fantasies have a way of taking on a life of their own. They keep people from moving