“This is strange,” she says. “I can’t feel anything.”

“You get used to it,” I tell her.

“What do we do now?” Dr. Ortega asks.

“Molly,” I say, turning to my sister. “Is there any way of talking to everyone in the hotel at one time?”

“You could make an announcement on the PA system,” she says, getting up and leading me to the reception desk.

The receptionist starts his usual spiel, welcoming us to the Purgatory Hotel, but Molly ignores him as she reaches over the desk and grabs an old-fashioned desktop microphone with a big red button on its mounted base.

“Press the button and speak to every room in the hotel,” she says.

I take the microphone from her, but before I press the button, I hesitate, unsure of what I’m going to say. Finally, I press it.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” I start, hearing my voice echoing throughout the virtual hotel. The few avatars standing nearby turn to face me, others drifting in from the bar. “By now you have all realized that you’re starting to feel different, starting to feel more in control of your thoughts and emotions. Dr. Price has been drugging all of you for a long time; he has convinced all of you that hiding here, in this virtual world, is the only way to defeat Happy; he has stopped you from fighting, stopped you from making your own choices. But soon, you will be able to decide for yourself if you want to stay here in hiding, or if you want to stand and fight. There’s a lot you don’t know about our enemies. So much we have to tell you.” I hesitate, looking out over the sea of pixelated faces gathered in the reception area. “But for now, all you need to know is that the drugs are wearing off. And soon, you’re going to have to choose.”

I put the microphone down, and then look toward the elevator, knowing what I have to do next.

“I’ll be back soon,” I say to Molly.

I walk to the old elevator and ride it up to Day’s floor.

As I walk along the corridor to her room, I think about the agony I felt when my mom died, when Blue died, when my dad died, and it hurts me to know that I now have to be the one who opens the door to that kind of pain for her.

I knock, and wait.

The door opens and Day looks at me with real recognition in her virtual eyes for the first time.

“Luka?” she says. “Is it true? What you said?”

“Yes,” I say, “it’s true, all of it. But there’s something else I have to tell you, something worse.”

“What do you mean?”