Free Oasis (The Last Humans Book 1) by Dima Zales, Anna Zaires

play a video game,” she says. Then, under her breath, she adds, “From the Last Days.”
    The Last Days is what everyone calls the period of time leading up to the Goo Armageddon, though in some of the texts I’ve read, it’s referred to as the Singularity—a time when technology was invented so fast that human minds couldn’t keep up with its rate of development. Everyone knows that any technology from that time should be treated with caution, if not outright fear.
    “What about the technology all around us?” Phoe asks.
    “Now you’re getting into completely private thoughts,” I complain. “I thought the technology around us was safer than the abominable things they invented in the Last Days. Weren’t we shielded by the barrier of the Dome and separated from everyone else by then?”
    For a few seconds, all I hear are the Guard’s footsteps and the distant voices of Youths.
    “I think that’s part of the information I forgot,” Phoe says.
    “Well, it’s a video game,” I subvocalize, thinking of what she wants me to do. “How bad can it be?”
    “It’s a more advanced version of the technology behind the virtual reality they use in your classes—not bad at all, in other words,” Phoe says. “I’ll try setting some things up. I’ll talk to you soon.”
    “Hold up,” I whisper, but she doesn’t respond.
    For better or worse, we’re almost at our destination.
    I gaze up at the building.
    Even the ivy looks as if it’s covering it with great reluctance.
    As we get closer, I feel the tightness in my chest that I always get when I’m faced with the Witch Prison. The Quietude Building was nicknamed that because of its unique pentagonal prism shape. It has something to do with ancient witches and how they liked to get naked and draw pentagrams all over the place. I think all of us—those of us who were sent here as little ones, at least—feel uneasy about the place. Due to my record number of ‘why’ questions and other mischief, I’ve spent more time in Quietude than most.
    We enter the building. With every step down the corridors, I remember why I hate this place so much. Unlike the bright silver of other buildings in Oasis, these walls are a dull gray, and there’s an ozone (or is it chlorine?) odor permeating everything.
    “This is your room,” the Guard says once we’ve reached the end of the bland corridor.
    Knowing from experience how useless pleading with him will be, I walk in without protest.
    The room is even duller than the corridor. It’s almost as if all the color was sucked out of it. The air lacks any smell, even that unpleasant odor from the corridors.
    The layout of the room is the same as it was during my previous visits, with the same uncomfortable chair that’s not like the ones we assemble, and the same small bed to the side, near a toilet. In the center is a little table with a pitcher of water and a special bar of Food that, if it’s anything like the ones I’ve had before, is completely tasteless. I’m shocked to see only a single bar. These Food bars are how troublemakers like me gauge the duration of our Quietude sessions. They put out at least a bar for every day of the stay. Since there’s only a single bar, I won’t be here for as long as I feared.
    I walk around the room and, for the umpteenth time, touch everything. These objects are stationary, the way furniture was for the ancients; gestures or thought commands have no effect on them. Gestures and commands don’t work in these rooms at all—a fact that I verify as soon as the Guard closes the door behind me.
    I can’t change the layout, nor can I bring up a Screen.
    The lack of a Screen or any kind of entertainment, combined with the blandness of everything here, is what makes Quietude so insidious.
    It’s torture by boredom.
    Sitting down in the chair, I drum my fingers on the table.
    “Phoe?” I subvocalize.
    She doesn’t respond.
    “Phoe,” I whisper.
    Nothing.
    “Phoe, I have bad