The Annihilation of Foreverland

his head. “With our minds.”
    “The reality you create with your mind, Director… that’s the definition of delusion.”
    The Director shook the handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead, wiped his mouth. He went back to the ledge and put his hands on hips, losing himself in the view.
    The cloudless blue sky.
    Deep blue water.
    Violent collisions on the boulders.
    “They want you out, Danny Boy.” The Director didn’t turn around but said it loud enough for him to hear it. “You, Reed and Zin… you know what that means, don’t you?”
    Danny didn’t want to answer. A lump swelled in his throat. Despite the anger burning his spine, fear had the trump card when it came to survival.
    “The program is a delicate thing, Danny Boy. It has balance. When a candidate is rebellious, it tips the scales. These men have a lot invested in you boys. A lot of time, a lot of money. They don’t want to see the program come down, a lot of people will get hurt. And sometimes it makes sense to sacrifice a few to save many.”
    Danny was sure that he had thrown people from the cliff. There was no doubt. It was neat and clean to crush them on the rocks and let the fish destroy the evidence. Not that anyone would find a body even if it was staked to the side of the cliff. This was the Director’s island. He was judge and jury.
    The Director strode away from the ledge in a meandering sort of way, head down with his fingers buried in his beard, scratching the hidden chin. He knelt at the edge of the trees and broke off a branch, twirled it.
    “But I see something in you and Reed.” He looked up. “Something this program needs, Danny Boy.”
    He walked over, looked down.
    “I need you to show us what it can become.”
    The stem spun between his fingers like a helicopter stick with green blades. He plucked one of the leaves and crushed it in his palm, cupped it over his nose and inhaled with his eyes closed, savoring the fragrance.
    “Take this.” He put the leaves in Danny’s hand and closed it. “Steep it in hot water for five minutes and give it to Reed. It’ll relieve his suffering. He’ll find peace.”
    “How do I know it won’t kill him?”
    The Director bit the tip off one of the leaves and chewed. “If I wanted him dead, I wouldn’t send you to do it.”
    Danny put the leaves in his pocket.
    The Director went back to the tabletop stone where he had his epiphany and leaped up. He stretched back with his hands on his hips, once again gazing at the view.
    “This is your last chance to get Reed inside the needle, Danny Boy. The Investors are powerful men. I can only do so much.”
    He sat down and crossed his legs into a pretzel. His back was straight, his hands in his lap, he closed his eyes. Breathing, in and out.
    Danny left him there so he could become one with the view. He had some tea to make.

51
    Danny sat at the picnic table. A plastic cup was in front of him. The water had turned light green with shredded foliage floating on top. He fished them out – one by one – with a stick, steam wafting out. Occasionally, he’d look at the door at the end of the dormitory where an empty golf cart was parked parallel with the building.
    The tea smelled like diluted turpentine. He put the cup to his lips, not too hot to drink. The aroma made his eyes water. He didn’t sip. He wanted to save all of it.
    The dormitory door opened. Mr. Smith limped to his cart and slid on the seat. Danny waited a few minutes before going inside, taking the cup with him.

    The door was locked.
    He should’ve known it. Mr. Smith knew he was coming back. Danny tried the door knob again, turning it with both hands, then put his shoulder into it. There was nothing in the hall, nothing like a fire extinguisher or a baseball bat to bash the knob off.
    He went back to his room, looking for something heavy. The only thing was the sink. He could get that off the wall and drive a hole through the door big enough to crawl through. But that was only going to make things worse. Reed would be locked away in vault. Danny would never see him again. Maybe a rock on the doorknob could get it open without too much notice. There would be something at the beach.
    He left his room—
    Zin was on his knees, poking wires into the lock. It clicked. The door swung open.
    “I told you I remembered everything,” he said.
    The room smelled like dirty socks rolled in bacon. The lights were out. There was a lump on the bed.
    At least it