“We won,” I told him. He put up his fist for a knuckle punch. It took a moment for me to oblige, because Hunter and I never shared gestures like that. Then he pushed the guacamole bowl in my direction. The Hunter I knew would have either finished or hidden the guacamole before I entered the room. But to be fair, I might have done the same to him. I dipped a chip in. Mom’s guac tasted exactly the same, low sodium, and full of mystery spices.

On a hunch, I did some digging in my mental sand, and found that beneath the flopping fish was a memory of the Konniption concert. Not only had I gone, but I had gotten a ticket for Hunter. We sang along to “Come As You Were” on the way home. Suddenly I knew, without even having to check, that my WarMonger 3 file had never been erased.

Hunter glanced at me and his eyebrows furrowed a bit. “You’re looking kinda pale. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said unconvincingly. “I just took a hard hit today, is all.”

“Let’s check your vision,” he said. “How many fingers am I holding up?” And he flipped me the bird.

“Two,” I told him. “Thanks for the peace sign.”

He laughed, I grinned. It felt brotherly. That was a feeling Hunter and I had never shared before.

“Seriously, if you feel that rattled, tell Mom,” Hunter said. “She’ll overreact, but hey, better safe than sorry, right?” Then he sauntered off to do whatever an alternate reality brother does.

The wave finally rolled in after I had gone upstairs and locked myself in my room. Once I was there, I screamed into my pillow until I nearly lost my voice. Then, after I exhausted every freaked-out brain cell, I rolled over, looked up at the ceiling, and forced my throbbing brain to do some serious thinking.

Granted, I was only accessing the first layer of memories in this place, but as best as I could tell, I was no happier in this existence. But then I seemed no less happy either. I mean, before today I never felt entirely content. Who ever does, really, except for Buddhist monks who have surrendered all earthly possessions and levitate their penniless asses for fun? Yet even levitating monks long for something—even if it’s just the longing for a state of nonexistence. As for me, I suppose I still had the same basic wants, the same frustrations. It was all just in a flashier frame.

So, all else being equal, was this—whatever it was—such a bad thing?