Page 37 of The Love Simulation

This time, my category is sports. I suck in a deep breath, spin in a circle, then fling my right arm out.

“Volleyball!” Jordan shouts.

“Darts,” says Angie.

“Frisbee throwing?” Simone tries.

I point at her, then put my thumb and index finger close together so she knows she’s on the right track. She leans forward with her face set, but all of hers and the others’ follow-up answers miss the mark.

“Discus throwing,” Roman finally says.

I point at him. “That’s it.”

“Dang, again? Y’all must be cheating,” Angie complains.

Not cheating. Somehow Roman just seems to get me. He catches my eye as we switch positions again, challenging me to guess his word again.

I do. It feels good, like we’re on the same team against everyone else to get the most guesses correct, though I’m not keeping score—unless counting how many times Roman lets loose that beautiful smile of his counts (it was eight times).

“Let’s play a different game,” Simone says after Angie and Jordan give up. “I brought Jenga.”

She goes off to the room while we wait. Suddenly, there’s a big crash followed by a screaming Simone rushing out. “Spider! Spider!”

Angie gasps and puts a hand to her chest. “They’ve got spiders on Mars? What the hell kind of planet did you bring me to, Jordan?”

“Simone, it’s okay,” I try to soothe as she runs around,swatting at her clothes and hair. “Let me check that there’s nothing on you. If there is a spider, I’m sure it’s harmless.”

“It’s in my hair. It’s on my back. Get it off!”

I try to help her, but Simone must have been some sort of track star, because she runs around the Hab like she’s in the last stretch of a four-hundred-meter sprint. Before I can get to her, Simone opens the door. She blazes through the tunnel, opens the hatch, and sets out into the red sand.

Instantly, red lights flash. Loud warning buzzes sound through the comms speakers. A computer voice screams from the system. With all the chaos of Simone’s screaming and all of us yelling at her to come back in, the only thing I’m able to make out from the PA is a detection of loss of oxygen in the Hab and a teammate going out without a helmet. I don’t pay it any mind. I’m in the tunnel, five steps away from going out of the Hab to bring Simone back in, when I feel a firm grip on my wrist. I look back to find Roman holding on to me.

“You can’t go out there,” he says, shaking his head.

I try to pull away from him anyway, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“Simone, come back!” I shout.

Warning, oxygen levels critical. Will become critically low to sustain life in thirty seconds.

I hear the computer loud and clear this time.

“Simone, please come back inside,” Jordan says. “We have to close the doors or we’ll all lose.”

Simone can’t hear anything we say. She’s too busy fighting for her life out there. With another warning from the computer, Jordan sighs and shuts the hatch. Roman pullsme back through the tunnel and inside the Hab so Jordan can close that door too.

We watch on until finally there is a signal that one of our teammates has perished due to exposure to Martian atmosphere with no protective clothing and no breathable oxygen. Simone’s life vitals flash red while everyone else’s remain green.

With one last tug, I pull my wrist from Roman’s grip and hug myself.

While the chaos of the flashing lights and Simone’s departure made my heart go into overdrive, when it comes down to it, the simulation is just that—a simulation. No teachers are harmed in the making of such sweat-inducing performances. A few minutes after Simone’s vitals go out, she finally calms down enough to realize there are no spiders on her. We watch through the screen as she looks around her, looking sad and a bit lost, until the workers come from who knows where and escort her out of sight.

“Welp…that was anticlimactic,” Angie says.

“And then there were four,” Jordan tacks on.

I sigh. “I’m going to go to bed. See y’all in the morning.”

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