Contact him.
Picani sat down, tapping his pen against the table. He looked over the plan in front of him for the third time, watching the scribbled notes by Remy.
Things like 'tried this' and 'they won't remember' scattered across the page were always disheartening to see. But he pushed those feelings away, unrated focusing on his final plan.
He had to contact Thomas, somehow. Thomas had been coded into the game, too, somewhere along the way. It was a backup measure for if the sides figured it out but couldn't get back as four seperate entities, they'd get back as one: Thomas.
It added side effects, like what happens if the sides come out? Is Thomas still in there? But the sides were Thomas, so Thomas went where they did. Simple.
If he could reach Thomas and activate his code, he could wake up the sides to the memories of this being a simulation. Then he could check them for addiction, send them out, and it'd be fixed. Boom, done.
Remy flopped into the chair across from him, sipping Starbucks. "So," he says. "What's your million dollar plan?" He asked.
"To get them out," Picani started. "I need to contact Thomas."
"Won't work." Remy said. "I tried. I went into the code, Thomas' shut himself off."
"That's impossible," Picani refuted. "We can access him from outside, but why not in here?"
"Sleep." Remy said. "He's tired."
"I don't think it's that," Picani hummed. "I think he's just opposed to contacting us."
"The others don't exactly know who he is," Remy sighed. "They can't contact him."
Picani massaged his temple. "But he can contact them, right?"
"Of course," Remy said. "It was coded in that they'd have access to Thomas, how else would they exist in here?"
"We just need to get that part of Thomas to reach out to them," Picani said. "Somehow."
"How do we know he hasn't already?" Remy leaned forward. "Thomas is doing his side, I'll bet you."
"Then let's find out." Picani said.
Remy nodded, typing something quickly. "Okay." He says. "Anything else?"
Picani stared at him, thinking. He was checking his phone again, scrolling through instagram most likely, as he sipped a Starbucks. Remy had been so foreign to him, for so long.
Remy went out to see the world. Picani stayed back and watched it all go by.
"Why didn't you get them out?" Picani asks. "Why didn't you do this sooner?"
Remy was caught of guard. He put his phone down, sighing, and leaned forward again. "It's so beautiful here."
Picani knew it. "But the world outside is better."
"But the world outside is also the place I'll be rid from." Remy sighed. "I'm scared, dude."
"We all are," Picani said. "But we need Thomas back."
"I know," Remy said. "I just... back in my universe things weren't like this. It's so exciting to have something new."
Picani sighed. "You're going to go back either way", he says. "You can't stop that."
Remy fell back onto the seat. "Yeah." He says. "I guess."
He'd been transferred from a universe where they existed to a universe where they didn't, simulations did, and it was so confusing. He shivered.
"We are getting Thomas back." Picani said.
"I know." Remy says. "We made a promise.
T̷̢̻̠̤͙̠̗̘͚̥̪̗̞̯̯̔͛̋̉̿̿͘h̶̯̭̄͑̓͒͛̑̂̉̀͌̓̽̿ͅǫ̴̨̜̬̻͓̤͔̱̭̑́̀̓͜͝͝m̷̩̽̏͒̈́͗͑͋̚͝a̵̢̢̢̻͎̗̺̘̮͍̤̅̌ś̷̨̨̹̐̇͛͜ͅ
̵̨̢̫̩̬̺̰͕͕̰̃̒̓͜ͅ
̸͇̜̼̮͔̀̀̀͂̐͑̃̅̌͝Ṭ̸̪̲̪̾͌̀̏̕h̴͍̗̝͈̟̟̱͖̟͇͛̍̆̈́̃́̿̇͐̌̎͆͋̄̕e̵͚͆̔͛̅͌͌͑͘y̴̜̎̈́́͊̊͋͌̕͠͠'̶̤͚̱̜͙̪̓͆̀̅͌̊̓͊͌̉̈́̚r̶͖̍́͊̓̓̓̚e̶̤̯̓̃̍͋̎̀́̍͊̈́͜ ̸̮͇̯̻̺͍̪͚̦̋̎̾̽̐͂̀ͅţ̶̼̣͉̟̗͈͓̀̈́̋̈́͑̀̈́͝à̶͍̪͈͙̬͕̰̥͕̳͖̹̽͒̓̋̈́̑̀̓̓̾̀͛̇̕ͅl̵̢̮̲͙̦̦͑͂̄̇͒̚͜͝ͅk̸̢͉̻̭̹͔̼̻̟̙̱͙̆͛͛͗̑̎͒́̃̓̚i̷̭̫͓͆̽̽̄̍̚͘n̴̛̤̽̑́̈́̅̄̾̒̊̂g̷̮̬̓̉͋̈́̔͛̀̓͗̕ ̶̲̼͙̬̣̦̻̻̍͌̀͗̾̿́͐́̆́͝͝ͅą̷̥̺͓̺͇̳̀̀͊͐͆̆̂͂̄͊͆͛̚͘b̸̞̭̜͉̖͕͍̲̞̳̋͋́̅́̀o̷͓̳̥̗̳͈͈̪̞̼̹̊͒͛̒̎͂̓̍͛̽̍̚̚͘u̸̡̫͕̓̆̓̓͗̾̄̔t̴̢̹͙̦̻̠͜͝ͅ ̴͕͈̜̰̬͔̞̤̳͔͎̟̻̙̆̓̄̉͊̃̎͌̀͒̕̚y̶̻̫͇̥͋́̔̓́͋̒͝o̸̭̯̭̥̼̠̥̼̩̗̲̮̜͋̐̌̅̂̊̐̀̉̌̕͘͜͜͝͝u̷̧͍̲̠͗̇̾̽́̏̈͑̏͘͠͝
̶̫̹̰̭̻̫͉̏͑̃͆̑̎̊
̴̨̭͓͉͔̯̖̩͇̮̔͋̒̒̽̐̈́̈́̕Y̴̨̧̙̍͛̆ó̴̯̖̻͈̆u̷̹̲͓̩̣̜̹͓̜̳͍͊̀̎͋̔̓̌̈͜͜ ̸̢̨̱̟̱̟̠̦̙̱̪͚̹͙͆̓͌̿͗́̾͊̕s̴̛̬͉̍̈́̑̑̌̓̿͘͝h̸̨̨̺̠̖̰͇̦͙̹͒̾̃͆̽͊̀͒̐́̑͘͠ͅơ̵̢̯̳͇̰͉̝̲͖̐̓͊͌̓̎̃͂̃̕͘͜͠͝ư̴̫͙̈̍͒̑̎̊̆̒͒͝ļ̸̛̱̗̻̰̥͍̙͉̥̹̆͋́͂̓̓͆̊̔̕͜͝d̶̢̢̺̜̺͉͈̙͙͎̮͚̖̬̈́͑͐̇ͅ ̴̹̱̹̖͇̰̖̩̍́͌͊͐̅̿͘c̸͉̍̇͆͂̔͗͋̆̒͜o̷̙͚̺͚̯̭̟͎̔̈́̀̏͐̇͜͜͝͠ṋ̷̢̬̦̱̠̱͚̼͇̮̅̐̍͂̅̾̚͘t̸̨̟̲͕͐̂̀̌̿̒͝a̶̗̼͉̼͓͔̼͌͂̎͘c̷̢̛̪̜̙̻̫͍̥͕̺̜̦̐͂̄̒͂͒͆͆͐̍̏̄͂̇t̴̨̧̙͕͉͍̠̳͖͒̈̈̋͌̕͘̕ ̶̛͙͖̈L̷̠̭͊̉͊̎́̄̋̒̅̀͘͠ơ̶̧̪̗̤̩̤͂̍̔͝͝ĝ̵̣͓̻̰͎͉͎̌̄̃͋̓̚͜ͅa̵͔̱̯͐̒̾̌͂͌̌̀̿̒̕͠n̶̡̨͔̥̮̼̲͈͚̼̠͍͈͓͑̿͗̄̍̌̈́̒̐͐̕̚͠͠
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