The screen rose to level 9, and the simulation sucked the air out of Jioni’s lungs; she darted to see that the blue skies had turned a muted puke green; the grass turned yellow; the trees were black and had lost all their leaves. The screen read level 10. Jioni’s breath labored; she held on to her chest and stood straight but couldn’t quite regain herself. The simulated–wind sliced into her pores. Her throat tightened, and she instinctively held her neck and chest. Jioni wanted to breathe air, but all she received was simulated, sharp, heavy dust.
Tracey stood there with her tears, unfazed by the simulation, as if she’d been here plenty of times.
