Page 142 of Tapeworld Induction

She agreed. They found a couple of empty gurneys, though both had numbered name tags.

“These people must have died…” Isaak said.

“That’s… That fucking cunt.” But there was no time to think about the fact that they were lying down on the beds of the deceased. “Wait. Can you hear that?”

The whimpering muffled moans of the people around them rose to the surface, breaking the silence in the room.

“We have to take this bitch down!” she hissed, slamming her fist onto one of the beds. “Ow!”

Isaak grabbed her hand, rubbing the side she’d hit. “Does it still hurt?”

“It’s okay… I’m sorry. I should have known better. I’m so stupid.” She looked at his hand, the one he broke punching the wall, then up at him. “Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to call you… Goddess.”

“Don’t worry about it, girl. I don’t want you to repeat my mistakes.”

He rubbed her hand up and down, his strong fingers loosening the tension, helping with the pain. The sleptigrades around them lay still, sad somnambulants of the Tapeworld. It wasn’t fair that she was here, with this boy that she loved, while these people were taken from their loved ones to have their minds trapped.

Her heart swelled, and her breathing threatened to get too fast. She lay back on one of the empty beds. He stroked the back of her neck and bent down for a kiss.

Cupping the back of his head with her hands, she hung her arms on his shoulders and went for a deep, passionate kiss.

There wasn’t much to say. It was time to tape in, to risk everything to stop Astrid and save Talia. She did it gladly, and he did too.

Isaak lay down on his own hospital bed, and tore off a chunk of the black tape.

Dylan grabbed the roll hidden in the side of her Dr. Martens. She ripped a square of black tape, and held it over the right side of her head, where it was easiest to rip off if they needed to get out.

They held hands.

Isaak smiled at her. “Ready?”

50

Blue-Dark

Isaak

The colours of the Tapeworld were an assault on their eyes, an onslaught of a shimmering transition from grubby, rainy reality to the wonderment of this other place.

As they walked down the tape-tube, Dylan practiced her kickboxing moves. A punch, a kick, another punch, two kicks, then a run leading into a somersault, turning the rebound on the floor into a roundhouse kick, followed by a pirouette, hands flat on the tube’s holographic floor. Dylan’s fists were adorned with white knuckle-dusters, shiny and gleaming in the blue-purple lighting.

“Those are new.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a look of surprise. “This must be Elodie’s gift for me.” She punched the air.

Isaak looked on, chest tight with pride and the privilege of being here, next to her.

They came out of the tube. Sweat gathered on his forehead.

“It looks uncanny,” Dylan said.

Isaak nodded.

The tape-space was an exaggerated version of its real-life counterpart. Not a perfect replica – far from it. The walls were nearly translucent, and the wood panelling above the windows looked milky and slightly blurred. It also wasn’t raining here, though the view from the windows looked dark and gloomy.

Suddenly there was a shockwave. A black hole opened and, for a quantum of time, everything was black and white.

“Look out!” Dylan screamed.