After gaining a preliminary understanding of his situation, Byrne immediately sensed something was off. According to Ariadne, the potent sedative had caused him to temporarily forget he was dreaming. Had it not been for the reminder from his alter in the mysterious space, he might still believe that dream-world was reality.
Byrne gave a cold laugh and shot back, "That sounds all well and good, but what if I had never woken up?"
Ariadne walked over to the suitcase and clicked off the machine. "Don't worry," she said. "Even though this is an older model, I've modified it. Even if you hadn't found a way to trigger a self-extraction, the machine is set to force-wake you once three hours have passed in the real world."
An older model?
Byrne blinked. He remembered the lore of Inception: the PASIV (Portable Automated Somnacin IntraVenous) device was originally developed by the military to simulate battlefield environments for soldier training. Because of the time dilation between dreams and reality, it allowed soldiers to master military skills and improve training efficiency in a much shorter period. Eventually, the equipment trickled down to the civilian underground, becoming a tool for architects and extractors seeking profit.
Having loved the movie, Byrne had watched it several times. To his knowledge, the film never mentioned multiple "models" of the machine.
Pointing at the suitcase, Byrne asked skeptically, "You're sure there are other models of this thing?"
Ariadne breathed a private sigh of relief seeing Byrne engage with her. At least he was lowering his guard. "Of course. The one I have is one of the earliest versions. Nowadays, there are improved versions on the market that support multi-level dreaming. There are even newer models no bigger than a palm—unlike this 'relic' I have to drag around in a heavy suitcase."
"Then why don't you get a new one?"
Ariadne sighed. "I'd love to. But the new units are incredibly expensive, and the dream-mapping requirements are much more complex. With my current skills, I can't handle them yet. I'm stuck creating maps with fewer fantasy elements, like the world of Limitless."
Seeing her dejection, Byrne offered some comfort. "Don't say that. I think you're quite talented. You created a very realistic dream world, and the experience with NZT-48 was remarkably faithful."
Ariadne's face reddened at the praise. "Hehe, that's my masterpiece. All my clients say the experience is top-notch."
As time passed, the effects of the heavy sedative fully wore off. In that moment, Byrne felt a tightening in his head as his suppressed memories came flooding back. Because of extreme work stress lately, he had sought out a psychiatrist. During a consultation, the doctor had introduced him to Ariadne. That was how he ended up at her home and entered the dream-state.
Once the threads of dream and reality were untangled, Byrne looked at her. "In the dream, I ran into Eddie and Vernon's meeting the very first time I went to the bar. I thought I was just lucky, but I assume you designed it that way?"
Ariadne shook her head. "Not exactly 'designed.' That was part of the original movie plot. Once you found the clues I left and realized it was the world of Limitless, your mind naturally manifested the corresponding scenes in the appropriate locations."
"I see," Byrne continued. "And the refreshing of the apartment building? The change of the address book?"
"That's the 'kick' I mentioned. As long as you follow the procedure, you wake up. You could have ignored it and continued the experience until your time ran out, but you chose the exit."
Byrne chuckled. "So that's how it works. If I'd known, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave."
Ariadne knelt down and patted the suitcase. "While the heavy sedative can only be used once a week, you can try it again with a mild sedative. The immersion won't be as deep, but it's cheaper."
Byrne checked his watch and shook his head. "Forget it, it's getting late. Maybe another day."
After a few more minutes of small talk, he took his leave. When he returned home, he found the layout and decor of his apartment were identical to his dream-house. Heh, exactly the same.
He tossed his coat aside and walked into his study. He pulled open a desk drawer and took out a silver-gray metal spinning top—a small toy he used for stress relief.
Even though he knew he was in the world of Inception, a part of him still wondered if he had truly woken up. Was this just another layer? He wanted to use the method from the movie to be sure.
He pinched the top and gave it a sharp, powerful spin on the desk. Then, holding his breath, he stared at it. According to the rules of the world, a top would eventually fall in reality. If it spun forever, he was still dreaming.
One second, two seconds, three seconds...
The rotation slowed. The "vroom" of the metal against the wood grew louder. Finally, losing its momentum, the top wobbled and toppled over.
Good. It stopped.
Byrne let out a long breath, his heart finally settling. But then, a trace of regret surfaced. What a shame. If only I could have brought the NZT-48 into reality.
As the thought crossed his mind, he suddenly felt something appear in his hand.
Huh?
He looked down. There, in the palm of his right hand, sat a single, transparent pill.
Warhammer World, Korol.
Unnoticed, the week of study had slipped away. Byrne had spent nearly every waking moment buried in books, yet he had only managed to finish the two thinnest volumes out of nine.
Five Years of Tax Collection, Three Years of Simulation lay open on the desk. The dense text looked like thousands of crawling ants, making his head swim. He pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped into his chair, staring at the ceiling with a look of utter despair.
The exam was tomorrow. Given his current progress, beating the competition was impossible. For the past few days, he had tried every single day to manifest the NZT-48. He had failed three days in a row and eventually gave up.
Sigh, what a headache.
Byrne stared at the ceiling for a long time. Having run out of options, a final thought occurred to him.
What if... I try just one more time?