Welcome to the New Age

"This is not a hill," Turner gasped, pushing up against a tree to catch his breath. "This is another mountain."

"Aw, and I thought I was out of shape," Abby called from several paces ahead. "C'mon, slowpoke, if I can do this on my tiny little legs, as you so eloquently described them as earlier, you can do this on your big, strong legs."

"Yeah, well I must've given you magic stamina or something," Turner muttered.

"I was gonna say that I'd race you to the top, but I think this might literally kill you," Abby walked down a few steps to stand right beside him. "Do you wanna take a breather for a second?"

"Yes, thank you," Turner immediately responded, slumping down onto the ground.

Turner sat with his back against the tree, breathing heavily while Abby stood over him with her hands on her hips, trying very hard not to laugh.

“You look like you just ran a marathon,” she said.

“I did run a marathon,” Turner replied weakly. “It's called walking up this stupid hill.”

Abby snorted and dropped down beside him, stretching her legs out in front of her. “You’re so dramatic. It’s not even that steep.”

“It is steep. I’m pretty sure the people who built this ziplining place just picked the highest point they could find and said, ‘Yeah, let’s make people suffer before the fun part.’”

"Well, that's the whole point of ziplining, is that it's at the top of the hill and the zipline takes. you down."

"You're talking real happily about this for someone who has a fear of heights," Turner rolled his eyes.

"Maybe I'm just trying to psych myself up for it," Abby shrugged. "And you're not helping by being a Debbie Downer."

"Alright, alright, you have a point," Turner stood up. "Let's get going."

"My hero," Abby sarcastically said as she also got up to keep walking.

As Turner brushed the dirt off of his pants, he saw Emma coming up the hill behind them, looking at her shoes.

“Emma?” he said, half-confused, half-relieved. “What are you doing here?”

Emma froze mid-step. Her head snapped up so quickly it almost looked painful, green eyes widening as they landed on him. For a split second, too many emotions crossed her face; relief, disbelief, fear, like someone had flipped every switch in her brain simultaneously.

“Turner?” she said softly.

Then she took a few quick steps toward him, stopped abruptly like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to get any closer, and just stared at his face for a while.

Abby blinked. “Uh… hi, Emma.”

Emma’s gaze flicked to Abby, and something in her expression tightened for just a second before she **** a small smile. “Hi,” she said quietly. “You’re… still here too.”

Turner frowned slightly. “What do you mean ‘still here’? Where else would we be?”

Emma didn’t answer right away. “You look different,” she said slowly.

"I literally look the same as I did this morning," Turner chuckled. "Aside from maybe a bit tired from Abby's idea of a date."

Emma stared at him like she was trying to solve a problem that had no answer. “No,” she said quietly. “You don’t look the same. You just… look like you again.”

Turner blinked. “I’m pretty sure I’ve always looked like me.”

Abby tilted her head, studying Emma more carefully now. Something about her felt off in a way Abby couldn’t quite explain. Emma had always been a little scattered, a little dreamy, but right now she looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Her hands kept fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, and her eyes kept darting between Turner and the ground like she expected one of them to disappear if she looked away too long.

"What in the world is going on today?" Abby wondered. "First Sara, and now Emma's acting weird? Did everyone's mind collectively get wiped, except for me?"

“Emma, are you okay?” Turner asked, stepping a little closer.

Emma laughed softly, but the sound didn’t match the expression on her face. “You…you’re not supposed to look at me like that anymore.”

“Like what?” Turner asked.

“Like you care,” she said.

The words hit him harder than he expected. “I do care,” he replied automatically. “You know that.”

Turner said it so naturally that it took him a second to realize how strange Emma’s reaction was. Her eyes widened, and she actually took a step back.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t. Not anymore. You… you stopped doing that weeks ago.”

Turner blinked. “Stopped doing what?”

“Looking at me like I matter,” Emma whispered.

"Emma," Turner stepped forward, but backed up once he saw her bristle. "Did our talk last week in the elevator mean nothing to you?"

Emma flinched slightly when he mentioned the elevator. For a second, her expression went completely blank, like her brain had tried to grab onto the memory and found nothing there. Then the emotions came rushing back all at once, finally settling on something that looked almost like hurt.

“…What elevator?” she asked quietly.

Turner froze. "The...one to the top of the hotel? Remember, there was this huge storm while we were out flying kites, and then the elevator stopped working?"

“We never flew kites,” she said, looking back down at her shoes.

"It was five days ago!" Turner exclaimed.

Emma’s green eyes flicked up at him again, wild and searching. “No… no, that wasn’t me,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step closer, then stopping abruptly. “You’re… you’re just… playing at being him, right? This is all some ploy...”

Turner’s frown deepened. “Playing at being who? Emma… I’m me. What are you talking about?”

Abby shifted slightly, standing beside him, her hand brushing lightly against his arm. She caught Turner’s eye and gave him a small, worried glance, sensing the danger of Emma’s volatility.

Emma’s lips trembled as she looked at Abby. “And… you… you’re not supposed to be nice either. You’re supposed to push him… hard. You’re supposed to… chase him like you always do.”

"Well, I definitely have been doing my fair share of that," Abby smirked, looking up at Turner.

Turner frowned, looking at the young girl that he cared deeply about coming unraveled in front of him, trying to wrack his brain for a solution.

"Emma, have you seen Sara recently?" he tried.

"Yeah, I saw her yesterday," she responded, confused.

"What was she like?"

"Her normal self, throwing herself into any romantic situation she can get into, exceptionally needy, the whole nine yards. What's it to you?"

"That matches what we saw going on with Sara earlier, doesn't it?" Turner said to Abby who simply nodded. "Emma...how many rounds have there been in the game?"

"I don't really remember...I think this is the fifth round, I think?"

Turner felt something in his stomach drop.

“That’s… not right,” he said slowly. “We’re barely at three.”

Emma’s expression didn’t change at first. Then the confusion started creeping in again, like she was trying to hold two different answers in her head at the same time and neither one would stay still.

“No,” she insisted. “It’s five. It has to be five. After round three was when everything started getting… worse. That’s when you stopped talking to me as much. That’s when Becca stopped trusting anyone. That’s when...”

She cut herself off, staring at Abby again.

Abby crossed her arms, incredibly unsettled and defensively. “You keep talking like I’m some kind of villain in your story,” she said carefully. “What exactly do you think I’ve been doing?”

For a moment, it looked like Emma wasn’t going to answer at all. She kept darting her eyes between Abby and Turner like she was watching two different versions of the same scene overlap.

“You don’t stop,” Emma said finally. “You never stop.”

Abby frowned. “Stop what?”

“Trying to be what he wants,” Emma replied, her voice trembling. “You’re always watching him. Always changing. Always pushing. Like if you just match him perfectly, he won’t ever look away.”

Turner felt something cold settle in his chest.

Abby, for once, didn’t have a comeback ready. “I mean… yeah, I like to keep things interesting, but that’s not—”

“No,” Emma cut in, shaking her head. “Not like that. It’s not fun for you. It’s… it’s ****. Like if you stop for even a second, you’ll disappear.”

Abby’s stiffened. “That’s… not me,” she said, but there was a note of uncertainty there now.

Emma didn’t respond to her. She was staring at Turner again.

“You’re different,” she said, almost accusingly. “You’re supposed to be… colder.”

Turner exhaled slowly. “Emma, I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I’m not—”

“You don’t fix things anymore,” she interrupted, talking over him. “You don’t try to help people. You just…let it happen. You let us fight, you let us break, you let...”

Her voice broke as she slowly started sobbing.

“And you don’t look at me like that,” she finished, quieter now.

Turner stepped forward again. “Like what?”

Emma swallowed, before repeating her earlier accusation. “Like I matter.”

Behind him, Abby shifted her weight between her feet, uncomfortable about the...seemingly alternate history that Emma's brain had been caught up in.

“Emma,” Turner said gently, “something’s wrong. Not with you, but with what you’re remembering. None of that lines up with what’s actually been happening here.”

“No,” Emma insisted, voice cracking. “I know I'm not crazy. You just…you don’t remember it. Or you’re not allowed to. Or...” She stopped, pressing her hands to her temples. “Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.”

Abby glanced at Turner, then back at Emma, her usual confidence dimmed. "Okay," she suggested. "Then let's test it."

Emma blinked. “Test it?”

“You think we’re wrong,” Abby continued, gesturing between herself and Turner. “You think we’re…different or whatever. Let’s go find the others.”

Turner caught on quickly. “Kathryn, Phoebe, Lana…anyone,” he added. “If what you’re saying is true, they should all line up with what you remember, right?”

Emma hesitated.

That hesitation was everything.

“…They should,” she said, but there was doubt creeping in now.

“Good,” Abby nodded. “Then we go down there, we talk to them, and we figure out what’s real and what’s not. No guessing, no arguing in circles.”

Turner offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll do it together. No pressure. Just… checking.”

Emma looked between the two of them again. Turner, standing there, open, concerned, trying to help. Abby, confident, but not pushing, not forcing. Neither of them matched what she knew they were supposed to be.

“…Okay,” she said finally, though her voice was barely above a whisper.

Abby clapped her hands together lightly. “Great! Group field trip. Down the **** mountain we go.”

Turner groaned. “We just got up here.”

As Abby led the trio back down the hill, Turner's mind drifted off to Sara. She had been almost as unrecognizable as Emma was, and had said a lot of the same things as Emma did, like how she never thought she'd see Turner like this ever again. It was almost like she was a more...

"Hey, you okay?" Abby asked, glancing back at him as she carefully made her way down a steep section of the trail.

Turner blinked, realizing he’d trailed off. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” Abby quipped, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

"Yeah," Turner grimaced. "Dangerous."

When they finally reached the boardwalk, the three of them trekked along the wooden planks. Turner was still trying to make sense of all of the disparities he was noticing, Abby was worried about Turner's overthinking, and Emma was disturbed that her memory wasn't working as well anymore.

“Does it feel… quieter to you?” Turner asked, glancing around.

"Maybe?" Abby's voice rose. "I mean...it's not like it's a particularly bustling metropolis down here, given the island's population of fifteen, but...it's not a ghost town."

As they rounded one of the corners, Turner suddenly locked eyes with Phoebe. Finally, a sense of normalcy, someone whose personality wasn't skewed by the show at all yet. She'd set them straight.

Phoebe, unfortunately, didn't calm any of his nerves. She looked surprised, which quickly turned into focused and alert. Sara, who she had been following like a shadow, was also nowhere to be seen.

“…You’re out,” Phoebe said.

Turner blinked. “Yeah, we—”

“No,” Phoebe cut in, her voice sharper than he’d ever heard it. “You’re out out.”

Turner frowned. “Okay, I’m officially getting tired of everyone talking like we just crawled out of a grave or something.”

Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "What kind of angle are you playing at?"

"What am I playing at?" Turner raised his hand to his chest. "I'm not playing at anything! I'm just going on a date, like I do every day!"

Abby scoffed beside him. “Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Is there, like, carbon monoxide on this island or something? Because everyone’s acting like they’re in a completely different season.”

Phoebe ignored her again, stepping closer to Turner instead. Not hesitant. Not timid.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

Turner blinked. “Ziplining. Well, trying to zipline.”

Phoebe’s jaw tightened. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not...”

“You disappeared,” she cut in, her voice rising just slightly. “You don’t just disappear. Not anymore.”

Emma nodded her head meekly beside them, gaining validation in what Phoebe was saying.

Turner glanced back at her, then returned his focus to Phoebe. “Phoebe, I didn’t disappear. I’ve been with Abby all day.”

Phoebe’s eyes flicked to Abby again. “Of course you have,” she muttered.

Abby straightened. “Okay, I’ve had just about enough of people acting like I'm some sort of leper here.”

“Stay out of this,” Phoebe snapped instantly, sharp, nothing like the Phoebe that Turner knew.

Abby actually recoiled half a step. “...Excuse me?”

Turner's stomach dropped again. This wasn't just a couple people feeling off...this was a whole, island-wide sense of hysteria.

"Phoebe, how long have you been here?" he tested.

"Probably three weeks or something," she rolled her eyes. "Not surprised you don't remember."

"That's...no, you got here yesterday," Turner backed up a step.

Emma shifted beside him. “I told you,” she whispered.

Abby stepped forward, planting herself firmly between Turner and Phoebe. “Alright, enough. Clearly something’s screwy here, but standing around accusing each other isn’t helping. Let’s find someone else.”

Phoebe’s gaze snapped to her again. “You’re not going anywhere alone with him.”

Abby blinked. “Excuse me?”

Phoebe pushed Abby away, placing herself directly at Turner’s side. “I told you, I’m not letting you drag him around any more than you already have. You’ve done enough damage.”

Abby let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Damage? I took him ziplining, not to war.”

Phoebe’s expression didn’t budge. “You don’t stop. You never stop.”

Emma flinched slightly at the familiar phrasing.

“Okay,” Turner said slowly, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Phoebe, listen to me. Something is clearly wrong. Emma thinks we’re in some kind of…alternate version of the island. You’re acting like I’ve been gone for weeks. Sara was...a mess when we saw her earlier. None of this lines up. Let's find someone else. Surely this is all a big misunderstanding.”

Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. “You want to go find the others? Fine. But you’re not going to like the answer you get.”

"What about Kathryn? She'd be able to lead through this mess better than anyone," Abby suggested as Phoebe led the group around the island.

"Kathryn?" Phoebe snorted. "Yeah, let's go find Kathryn."

They didn't have to go far to find her, she was sitting at one of the bar stools. Her posture was off, her typical sharp and composed presence was dulled. She was tapping her fingers against the wood of the bar absentmindedly, and barely registered the large group walking up to her.

"Oh hey Turner!" Kathryn said, with more levity than he'd ever heard her talk before. "What're you up to?"

"Ooh, no...I don't like this version of her," Abby said quietly, while Emma joined her in the back.

Phoebe didn't slink back, she walked right up to the girl at the bar, like she was marching up to reprimand someone. "Yeah, he's here. You see that?"

"Kinda hard not to," Kathryn tilted her head.

"Alright, I guess it's your turn then Kathryn...what the hell is wrong with you?" Turner said, wondering what had become of his coworker.

For a second, Kathryn didn't respond, she just blinked at him like he had suddenly started speaking Swahili to her. Turner swore he could hear the dial-up internet running in the silence that stretched for an eternity. And then, she laughed. Not her typical, quiet exhale, but something airy and free of worry.

"Wow, coming in guns-blazing, aren't you?" she laid her chin on her knuckles.

"Kathryn..." he said carefully, stepping closer. "What's...the last thing you remember happening?"

She squinted at him, tapping her finger against her cheek. “Hmm… last thing… last thing…” Her gaze drifted upward like she was trying to grab the thought out of thin air. “I was… talking to someone. About… something important.” She paused. “I think.”

“That’s not helpful,” Abby muttered.

“No, no, wait,” Kathryn perked up slightly, like she’d just remembered something exciting. “It was about the game! Yeah. I was explaining something. Strategy, probably. I’m good at that.”

Phoebe let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You were good at that.”

Kathryn’s eyes flicked to her, narrowing just slightly. “Okay, rude. I’m still good at things.”

“Name one,” Phoebe shot back immediately.

Kathryn opened her mouth. Closed it. Then shrugged.

“…Talking?” she offered.

Turner ran a hand through his hair, pacing once in front of the bar. “No, no, no. This isn’t just people acting weird. This is… pieces missing. Emma’s missing memories. Sara’s acting like she’s starving for something. Phoebe thinks I’ve been gone for weeks. And now Kathryn—”

“—is perfectly fine, thank you,” Kathryn interrupted, smiling brightly.

He stopped pacing and looked at her, almost as if he was disgusted at what happened.

“Kathryn,” he said slowly, “what do you think of the other contestants?”

“Hmm?” she tilted her head. “They’re… people I guess?”

Turner scoffed. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” Kathryn laughed. “That Paige is manipulative? That Becca’s territorial? That Abby..." she gestured vaguely, “...does…Abby things?”

Abby folded her arms. “Wow. Love the specificity.”

Kathryn grinned. “See? I’m observant.”

“No,” Turner said quietly. “You’re not. That’s the problem.”

Kathryn blinked again, slower this time. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“I’m not trying to be,” Turner replied, his voice tightening. “You’re supposed to be the most observant person here. You read people constantly. You analyze everything. You don’t just say ‘they’re people.’ You’d have ten layers of insight behind that answer.”

Kathryn stared at him. For a moment, just a moment, something flickered behind her eyes.

“…That sounds like a lot of work,” she said finally.

And just like that, it was gone.

Emma grabbed Turner’s arm. “She’s worse. This is what happens. If you push too hard, if you try to fight it—this is what happens.”

Phoebe’s jaw clenched. “She got eliminated.”

The word landed like a brick.

Turner turned to her, fire in his eyes. “What?”

Phoebe didn’t look away from Kathryn. “She tried to organize people. Push back against the host. Thought she could outthink the system.” Her voice was cold. “She was wrong.”

Kathryn blinked again, looking between them like they were discussing someone else entirely. “Wait… are we talking about me? Because that sounds kind of intense.”

“It was,” Phoebe said flatly.

For a second, Turner just jumped his eyes between Phoebe, Emma, and Kathryn, realization starting to hit him like a ton of bricks. Sara's obsession, Emma's instability, Phoebe's aggression, Kathryn's mental degradation.

And...him.

"You said I changed too," Turner said quietly, turning his gaze to Emma.

“You stop caring,” Emma immediately said.

The words hit harder than anything else so far. Abby’s hand found his again, gripping tighter this time.

“Yeah,” she said firmly, cutting through the tension. “Well, clearly that hasn’t happened here.”

Turner straightened, something resolute settling into his expression.

“No,” he said.

Everyone looked at him again.

“No, I’m not accepting that,” he continued. “Whatever this is—alternate timeline, different version, some kind of split—I’m not letting it end like that.”

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. “You think you have a choice?”

“I think I always have a choice,” Turner shot back.

Emma flinched slightly at the firmness in his voice. Abby, on the other hand, smirked, looking up at him. Kathryn just watched them, amused but detached, like someone watching a show she didn’t fully understand.

"What happened?" Turner said, sitting on a bar stool himself and turning to Phoebe. "What was the catalyst for when I stopped trying? What caused all of this...this series of catastrophes?"