I'm seated in the chair beside the computer platform. The headset is over my forehead, and a visor screen hangs in front of my eyes. For now the screen shows nothing, and its transparency allows me to see Nate biting his lip in muffled excitement. He mouths the words good luck to me, but I'm too nervous to do anything but smile in return. Wires snake down my back, connecting the headset to the computer, and Mom is nestled beside me, gripping my hands as if she's afraid I might fly away.

"Alright, Isla, how are you feeling?" Mitchell asks after attaching the last electrode.

"A little like a science experiment, but okay."

"It's better than actually being knocked out," Phoebe insists.

"Yes, Phoebe, it is," I say. She's been repeating this throughout my nervous preparation for the program, and I fear she won't ever stop unless I admit she's right. But she is: This is a better solution. I just wish she would have asked me and Declan if this was okay before announcing it to the group as our only option.

Dr. Patel speaks over the walkie-talkie, "Dr. Kunkle, is everything set up on your end?"

The walkie crackles before Declan's voice breaks through. "Yes... well, I think so."

Phoebe rolls her eyes. "Mitchell, go check to make sure he didn't mess anything up."

"Dr. Kunkle, we are sending Mitchell over to check, don't begin the experiment until he approves," Dr. Patel says.

There is silence on Declan's end, and I can only imagine how he must be beating himself up right now.

After a few minutes, Mitchell speaks over the walkie-talkie: "Ready here."

"Ready Isla?" Phoebe asks.

Mom's grip tightens.

"Yes," I lie.

Phoebe presses a button on the keyboard, and in an instant, the visor darkens with the image of what Misty sees. I am no longer in the Captain's dining room, but in the experiment cage.

I am Misty and she is me.

The cage bedding feels soft beneath my clawed hands and feet, and my colorless vision is blurred; but the world around me is as sharp as a pin through my nose. I can smell every change to the environment, every movement in the air, and every flower in the lab; but a familiar scent overpowers all the rest: Declan. He is a pine-scented blurry mix of grays.

"Administering the compound to test subject 1."

I turn my head and see his massive hand reaching towards me in a blur of light, the compound in a syringe between his long fingers. Even though I, Isla, know this won't hurt me, Misty, we still panic and scurry to a corner of the cage.

If I can sense her, can she sense me? I try to think about comforting things—books and Daniel's smile and Mom's embrace—and I can feel our heart rate slowing.

Good girl, Misty.

The syringe enters my hind side, and even though it's not my body, I still feel the pressure and the piercing needle jabbing me. I shriek.

"Calm down, Isla, it's all okay," a familiar voice says—Gabriela—and even though her words sound like lullabies, they still startle me with their invasiveness.

Declan removes the needle from my back side, and I feel his fingers rub the area of injection. I wait for a moment, frozen in the corner of the cage in anticipation.

Nothing. It doesn't work, I think.

"Give it a minute," I hear Gabriela say.

She can hear me!

I hear muffled laughter from an unseen place, and Mom's voice breaks through. "Just focus on the trial, my love," she says. "I'm right beside you."

"Alright, Dr. Kunkle, go ahead with the experiment," Mitchell says above me. I turn my head up to see him, but all I can see is a blur of points and angles jutting out from behind the glare of laboratory lights.

"Misty, get a drink of water," Declan says.

My legs begin to move. I want them to stop, I try to resist it, but I can't. Misty has taken over, and I notice that our vision is slowly darkening around the edges our sight.

Before I realize what we're doing, we're licking the mounted water bottle, cool liquid filling our mouth and dripping over our fur.

"Misty, stand up."

How does Misty understand? Or am I controlling her? I must be, because we are standing, trying to balance on our hind legs even though we can barely see. Our vision is now completely black except for a small circle of light in the center of everything.

Then our vision goes black, and it's like I've been lifted from Misty's body and I am now suspended over the cage, watching Misty being controlled by a puppet master, watching the strings guide her through the cage in clumsy movements.

"Isla?"

Isla isn't here right now, I think, focusing solely on Misty.

"Get her out of there," Mom says.

Phoebe's voice chimes in. "Isla? We're going to disconnect you now."

And just as quickly as I became Misty, I'm thrust back into my human body, panting in fear. I open my eyes and lift the visor from my face to find blurred colors again, but as I blink, my vision becomes clear. I am back in the Captain's dining room.

"Are you here now?" Gabriela asks in her comforting voice.

"Huh?"

Mom's face is painted with concern. "You said 'Isla isn't here right now.'"

"You heard that? You could hear my thoughts?"

"They weren't your thoughts, you were saying everything out loud," Phoebe explains.

I rub my forehead, which still itches from the headset, and scan the room. The others watch me with concerned eyes, as Dr. Patel appears at my side to take my vital signs. Mom looks the most concerned, but I squeeze her hand to assure her I'm fine.

"Did the program hurt you?" Mitchell asks, his voice shaking.

"No, no it was fine. How long was I Misty?"

"About 20 minutes," Alexander says, disappointed. For a second I think his disappointment is towards me, but then he glances at Phoebe and Winston before looking at the ground.

"That's impossible," I say. "It only felt like a few minutes."

"Time flies when you're knocked out," Winston says.

"How did it feel, Isla?" Dr. Patel asks,

"Like I was Misty, and we were being controlled. I tried to stop myself from doing what we were told to do, but I couldn't. And the more time passed, the less I could see."

"Did you feel violent?" Dr. Patel asks as he wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

"No, I felt submissive, but not by choice."

"Let this be the first of many immersions we use to help us learn how to best attack our enemies outside the bunker," Phoebe announces.

"Tomorrow, we will all meet in the mechanics sector after breakfast for some military training using Mitchell's virtual reality program," Winston says, looking around the table and making eye contact with each and every one of us. "We will all be programmed into the virtual interface so we can interact within the program. We only get one chance to hit them with the element of surprise. It has to be perfect. Any questions?"

Everyone shakes their heads, and we are all dismissed. I walk out of the room in a daze, still bottled in my own world. I know I'm back in reality, but part of me still feels connected to Misty, and it's only after Mom puts her arm around me that I truly feel grounded in my own skin.

But something feels wrong. I'm worried about Misty.

"I need to go," I mumble.

"What, honey?"

"I need to check on Declan and Misty. Something is wrong."

Mom helps me to the lab, she's still worried about me, and as soon as we enter the room, I see Declan sitting hunched on the ground beside the experiment cage.

"Declan?" Mom asks.

He turns to face us. His eyes are red and puffy, and his cheeks glisten in the light. The experiment cage is empty, and Declan's hands cup around something plump.

"What happened?" I ask, but I know the answer already, and I've already begun to cry.

"She was fine with the knock out compound, but when they ejected you, she started shaking and then collapsed. It must have been too much for her to handle."

A sudden pang of guilt overcomes me, and I fall from Mom's grasp to sit beside Declan. I'm too weak to do anything else, except cry. Just minutes earlier, I was Misty. We shared the same body, the same thoughts. I felt her emotions and she felt mine. And now that she's dead, I feel like I can sense her soul slipping away, and my chest fills with the coldness that follows a stopped heart.

"Don't worry," Declan says, sniffing. "I held her as she passed. She didn't feel any pain, I don't think. I still need to perform an autopsy though, and conduct a few more experiments. So we're absolutely sure it wasn't due to our compound."

Mom joins us on the floor, and wraps her arms around the both of us. She must understand that I'm not just crying because Misty died, but because in a sense, a piece of me died. I feel like we're still connected, a piece of her is still inside my head, and she's telling me to not mourn her, to comfort Declan; but I can't right now. Mom can, though, and she does. I'm so lucky to have her.

After a few minutes, the other biologists leave their areas to go to dinner, so I wipe the tears from my eyes. "Take me back to my room, please."

Mom lifts me from the floor, and Declan places Misty back in the cage. "I have to clean up here," he says, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "See you for breakfast?" he asks.

I nod, realizing I'm not hungry either. Mom guides me to bed and throws the blanket over me. I plunge into sleep without any dinner.

It's the first time all week I haven't had a nightmare. I'm too exhausted for any thoughts, not even subconscious ones.