I wanted more than anything to walk into a room filled with smiling faces and the combined shout of, ‘Surprise!’ Would have kissed everyone on the lips, even Caspian, and thanked them for the experience. The great gift of feeling alive.

But the room was dark and empty. An armchair sat in front of a glass wall. It was like the surveillance room back at the warehouse. I was on the viewing side of a two-way mirror that I couldn’t see through. There was a door on the opposite wall that was locked. Only thing to do was sit, so I sat.

After just a few seconds the frosted glass began to clear like a car windshield in winter, offering a view into a room much like the one I was in. Rox was sitting in a chair directly across from mine. He was upright and attentive, hands in his lap, eyes alert. Typically, he’d be slouched down with his arms crossed trying to cram himself into the cushions or find a shell in which to hide his head. He looked like he’d aged a year. Been sent to boot camp or confidence school or given a brain transplant. What had they done to my son?

“Rox!” I leapt to my feet, placed my hands on the glass window. “Can you hear me?”

Rox calmly nodded his head.

“He cannot see you, however.” A soothing male voice came from a speaker I hadn’t seen in the corner. “There is a mirror on his side.”

Doctor O and his goddamn mirrors.

I knocked softly on the window, this barrier between my son and me. “Hey, buddy,” I said. “Daddy’s here. I was just with Mommy. It’s so good to see you, buddy. Are you okay?”

He nodded his head again. “I’m okay,” he said. “A little tired. I was sleeping before.”

This was the first time I’d seen him talk without squirming like he had to fight with the words to force them out. There was no stutter, no stammering. No squashed face of dire concentration.

“You were sleeping, buddy?” I said. “Yeah, it’s pretty late, huh?”

“I don’t know what time it is, actually,” he said. “Nighttime is all. It’s always nighttime here. I’m always sleeping. Even when I’m awake. Like everything’s a dream.”

“This is his first experience with the linear narrative of lucid reality,” the voice said through the speaker. “He is still adapting to his abilities to absorb, process, and comprehend the information his mind takes in.”

It was like having someone read over my shoulder. I just wanted that voice to go away. “You look great, buddy. I can’t believe how well you’re talking. I’m going to be with you soon and we’re going to go home, okay?”