“No,” mumbled Steve reading the letter. “I refuse to believe this.”
There was no way this was true.
Even in the midst of all the bizarre happenings Steve had endured today, his instincts told him something was
wrong about all this. There was no way in hell Steve was going to blindly cast the magic spell attached to
this letter! He knew, deep down in the core of his being, that his memory were real. He wasn't some ephemeral
hallucination of Janet's – some magical daydream she had enjoyed. He was Steven Donaldson. He was a real,
flesh and blood human being... with real memories and a wealth of real, life experiences. There was no way
anyone could have faked all this.
And hell, even if they did somehow fake it and he was just a fictional creation, Steve refused to give
'Stephanie' or whoever was responsible the satisfaction of him just surrendering his existence. He was Steve
now. And he was firmly convinced that he'd continue to have a 'real' existence as long as he refused to
believe otherwise.
“I exist, therefore I exist,” mumbled Steve, awkwardly paraphrasing Descartes.
There was much more to this whole story than what 'Stephanie's' letter had revealed. And Steve was determined
to use every last second of his 'existence' in ferreting out the truth.
“I'm getting to the bottom of this,” growled Steve, in as low a register as he could muster with Stephanie's
voice.
What next?