Page 51 of The Love Simulation

I close my eyes and channel positive thoughts their way.

“Swear to God, your humming is not helping,” Angie says. “I promise I’ll move faster if you just stop.”

“Sorry,” I say. I didn’t realize I was humming again.

I turn back to the cameras and freeze. I can’t see Jordan or Angie. It looks like a blizzard. Where did we even get all this dust? It seems excessive.

“Guys, just let me know when you’re heading back. I can’t see you at all,” I say.

“We’re done!” Jordan says in triumph.

“Great going, guys,” I say, only breathing half a breath of relief. “Come on back to the Hab. Hurry.”

On the heels of my words, a large gust of wind shakes the Hab, and I look up, afraid the dome might cave in.

“I can’t see anything!” Angie screams.

Jordan lets out a very uncharacteristic curse that has me raising my eyebrows.

“Guys, please don’t panic,” I plead. I have to think. What can we do? “Can you see each other?”

“I can’t see anything,” Angie grits out. “As soon as I wipe my visor with my hand, it’s covered in more of this red dust.”

“You need to find each other. Then get back to the Hab. I know you can’t see, but y’all are only, what, fifty feet away? If you can find each other, you can make it back here.”

“Angie,” Jordan says, “stay where you are, and I’ll find you.”

I wipe the sweat off my upper lip while I continue to stare at the monitors. If Angie and Jordan don’t find each other and make it back to the Hab, they’ll run out of oxygen and be eliminated. “Come on, guys, you can do it,” I say under my breath.

The silent encouragement doesn’t work. Jordan can’t find Angie. Angie is screaming because she can’t see and is upset that Jordan can’t find her. I wish the dust could let up for just a moment. Long enough for them to see and get the lay of the land to know where they need to go. But seconds tick by, then minutes, and the dust continues to cascade down.

A warning flashes from one of the monitors, and mystomach sinks. Jordan and Angie have been out there too long. Their oxygen is critical.

“Okay, new game plan,” I say. “You are likely to run out of oxygen before you can find each other. Just try to make your way back to the Hab. Crawl on the ground and put your hands out as feelers if you have to.”

If only I could go out there and help.

Angie and Jordan are still lost out there. I wonder if they’re even in the vicinity, or has not being able to see led them toward the hills and craters? If they fall and get hurt, it will be my fault for telling them to try and find their way back by any means.

The monitor with everyone’s health and statistics begins flashing red for Angie’s and Jordan’s names.

“I have a confession,” Angie says quietly and quite solemnly. “I wasn’t planning on going on vacation to Cancún simply for some fun. I was going to chase after Carlos. We met during ballroom dancing. He was a good man.” Angie sniffs. “He has family there, and I was going to go win him back. I can admit why it didn’t work out. I was the problem. I knew there weren’t going to be any football players here, but I came anyway so I could forget him. But I can’t.”

My mouth is wide open by the time Angie is done talking. But I’m proud of her.

“I have a confession too,” Jordan announces. “I didn’t come here just for the adventure. My family members don’t believe in me. My asshole older brother says I always freeze up when it counts and I’m a living embarrassment. I was going to use this opportunity to show him how wrong he is.” He breathes heavily into his mic. “But he was right.”

“No,” I grit out. It breaks my heart to hear him so defeated. He’s a great teacher, he was integral in getting us here, and he reminds me so much of how I feel incomparison to my siblings. “Jordan, your brother was wrong. You’re not an embarrassment. You’re amazing. And who cares that you didn’t come here for the adventure? None of us did.” I sniff as tears begin streaking down my face. “And Angie…yeah, you might be the problem, but the first step is admitting it. If things don’t work out with Carlos, you’ll find someone even better. Someone who can handle you in all your glory. You two are amazing. Now find your way back to the Hab so I can tell you in person and throw you a pizza party!”

Jordan chuckles, but it’s sad. “No, Bri, you’re the amazing one. You’re the only one here for good motivations. The kids. We don’t deserve you here, and we don’t deserve you at the school.”

“Stop talking like this is over. It’s not over yet,” I say through clenched teeth.

“We’re out of oxygen,” Angie says, and I look to the monitor to confirm it’s true. Now a countdown displays how long they have left to breathe before they expire.

“Remember me, and all the laughs we had together,” Jordan says.

It’s ridiculous and melodramatic and unnecessary, given that I’ll see them again when the new school year begins, but I can’t help but feel like I’m really losing them.

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