Instead of replying, I look at the Edge again, the place where the serene greenery under the Dome meets the repulsive ocean of the desolate Goo—the ever-replicating parasitic technology that converts matter into itself. The Goo is what’s left of the world outside the Dome barrier, and if the barrier were to ever come down, the Goo would destroy us in short order. Naturally, this view evokes all sorts of unpleasant feelings, and the fact that I’m voluntarily gazing at it must be yet another sign of my shaky mental state.

“The thing is decidedly gross,” Phoe reflects, trying to cheer me up, as usual. “It looks like someone tried to make Jell-O out of vomit and human excrement.” Then, with a mental snicker, she adds, “Sorry, I should’ve said ‘vomit and shit.’”

“I have no idea what Jell-O is,” I subvocalize. “But whatever it is, you’re probably spot on regarding the ingredients.”

“Jell-O was something the ancients ate in the pre-Food days,” Phoe explains. “I’ll find something for you to watch or read about it, or if you’re lucky, they might serve it at the upcoming Birth Day fair.”

“I hope they do. It’s hard to learn about food from books or movies,” I complain. “I tried.”

“In this case, you might,” Phoe counters. “Jell-O was more about texture than taste. It had the consistency of jellyfish.”

“People actually ate those slimy things back then?” I think in disgust. I can’t recall seeing that in any of the movies. Waving toward the Goo, I say, “No wonder the world turned to this.”

“They didn’t eat it in most parts of the world,” Phoe says, her voice taking on a pedantic tone. “And Jell-O was actually made out of partially decomposed proteins extracted from cow and pig hides, hooves, bones, and connective tissue.”

“Now you’re just trying to gross me out,” I think.

“That’s rich, coming from you, Mr. Shit.” She chuckles. “Anyway, you have to leave this place.”

“I do?”

“You have Lectures in half an hour, but more importantly, Mason is looking for you,” she says, and her voice gives me the impression she’s already gotten up from the grass.

I get up and start walking through the tall shrubbery that hides the Goo from the view of the rest of Oasis Youths.

“By the way”—Phoe’s voice comes from the distance; she’s simulating walking ahead of me—“once you verify that Mason is looking for you, do try to explain how an imaginary friend like me could possibly know something like that… something you yourself didn’t know.”

If you’d like to learn more, please visit Dima Zales’s website at www.dimazales.com.

About the Author

Anna Zaires is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 international bestselling author of sci-fi romance and contemporary dark erotic romance. She fell in love with books at the age of five, when her grandmother taught her to read. Since then, she has always lived partially in a fantasy world where the only limits were those of her imagination. Currently residing in Florida, Anna is happily married to Dima Zales (a science fiction and fantasy author) and closely collaborates with him on all their works.