CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“How was your first sleep in the pod?”
Oliver blinked with confusion. He looked up into the face of Ichiro, the boy who just moments earlier—or at least that’s how it felt to Oliver—had shoved him into the sleep pod in which he was currently lying. Behind Ichiro, the sky was no longer sparkling stars in a blanket of black but soft warm daylight, like an early spring morning.
In a flurry of surprise, Oliver sat up. He rubbed his eyes. He felt disorientated and quickly pulled the sticky tabs from his skin. “It’s morning? But it feels like no time has passed at all.”
Ichiro chuckled. “There’s no morning or night here. It’s all synthetic, all manipulated. But if it makes you feel less weird, then sure, it’s morning. As for whether any time has passed or not…”
Oliver held
