The glass spiderwebs under the blow. I watch the cracks fragment and join other fractures, and I think I understand; I think this is my insanity manifesting itself into a delusion, the cracks in the glass are the cracks in my—

Pander swings again and this time the ax pierces the glass. I feel the pull of the water forcing its way out.

One more swing and the tube is destroyed completely.

I gasp in air as the water tumbles around me. Small shards of the destroyed tube have dug into my face and my bare chest and I laugh again, exhausted and oxygen-starved.

“Luka, get your shit together!” the Pander delusion commands. And this just makes me laugh harder.

“You’re not real,” I tell her, looking up into her face, seeing the white symbols tattooed onto her black skin. Her deep blue eyes stare at me.

“Shit, we’re too late,” the hallucination says, turning to the Kina mirage.

“Luka, get up, we have to go, now!” Kina says.

I laugh again. There is no doubt in my mind that I have finally let go of my grip on reality. I have finally let go of hope, and this is where I have fallen to.

“All right, all right,” I say, turning onto my back, feeling more glass slide into my skin. “I’ll play along. Where are we going?”

“We’re getting you out of here, crazy,” the imaginary Kina says as she bends down and grabs my arm.

And when her fingers touch my wrist, I know what’s happening, I know that this isn’t real, it can’t be real. I haven’t lost my mind either, though. This is just another attempt by Happy to extract information.

“I’m not falling for it,” I mutter, pulling my hand away from Kina.

“Luka, this is real. We have to move, now.”

I push myself to my feet and hobble over to my bed, resting on the edge of the frame. “Yeah, sure,” I say. “You’ve gotten better at the whole dialogue thing, Happy, I’ll give you that, but I’m not stupid.”

It’s more than that, though; there are little details in this simulation, like Pander wearing a Block uniform as part of her infiltration into the prison, and the mixed look of panic and excitement in Kina’s eyes. I begin to pick bits of glass out of my hands and I watch the tiny wounds heal themselves. Suddenly, Pander is in front of me and I realize that she’s not wearing glasses—Happy’s got that wrong—then I see her fist plunging toward my face. It connects with my eye socket.

“Fuck!” I cry as the pain shakes through me.

“We don’t have time for your shit, idiot. Now get up.”

“All right, all right,” I say, rubbing my eye. “But I’m still not telling you anything.”