Oasis (The Last Humans Book 1) Read Free

talk,’” I think at Phoe.
    “I know what that means,” Phoe says so loudly that I picture my ears popping. “I was the one who dug up that article about Pig Latin from the ancient archives for you,” she adds with less outrage and at a lower decibel level.
    “Let’s walk as we talk,” I reply to Mason in Pig Latin. “We’re late for Lectures.”
    “Whateveray,” Mason replies and gets up from the grass. As he stands, I see that his shoulders are noticeably hunched, as though his head is too heavy for his body.
    “It’s ‘ateverwhay,’” I correct him as we begin walking toward the tetrahedron Kindergarten Building.
    “Whatever,” Mason says without code, shuffling beside me.
    I’m about to say something sarcastic, but Mason startles me by saying in code, “I’m too upset to get this stuff right.”
    I look at him in confusion, but he continues, “No, not just upset.” His voice is losing vitality by the second. Stopping, Mason gives me a morose look. “I’m depressed, Theo.”
    I halt in shock. “You’re what?” I say, forgetting Pig Latin.
    “Yes. Yes, the taboo word.” He flexes his fingers, then lets them droop. “I’m fucking depressed.”
    I look at his face for signs that he’s joking, even though this isn’t a joke-conducive topic, but I see none. His expression is gloomy, consistent with his revelation.
    “Mason…” I swallow. “I don’t know what to say.”
    I’m glad he said his revelation in code. Even so, I look around to make sure we’re still walking alone.
    There are two problems with what he just said. The first one is minor: he said the word ‘fucking’ out loud. That can lead to a day’s worth of Quietude for him and some trouble for me if I don’t squeal on him for using profanity (which I never would, of course). Infinitely worse, though, is that he said he was ‘depressed’—not to mention, he meant it. That word represents an idea so unthinkable I don’t know what the punishment for it would be. It’s one of those needless taboos like, ‘Don’t eat your friends.’ The rule probably exists, but since no one’s ever eaten someone else in the history of Oasis, you don’t know what the Adults would do if you did .
    “Whatever the consequences are, they would be bad,” Phoe thinks. “Both for cannibalism and for not being happy.”
    “Then we’re both screwed,” I subvocalize at her, “since I’m not happy.”
    “You’re not depressed,” she says. “Now quick, he’s still waiting for you to reply with something more supportive than your, ‘I dunno what to say.’ So please, be a dear and say something along the lines of, ‘What can I do to help?’” Then, worriedly, she adds, “His neural scan is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
    “Atwhay ancay Iway oday otay elphay?” I ask as Phoe suggested.
    Mason raises his hands to cover his face, but I glimpse moisture in his eyes. He holds his face as if it might melt if he’d let go, and I just stare at him dumbly, the way I did during a scene of the one and only horror flick I allowed Phoe to show me.
    My imagination failing me, I make the small wrist gesture required to bring up a private Screen into the air in front of me. Phoe takes that as a cue to put Mason’s neural scan on it.
    I examine the image for a second and think at Phoe, “I’ve never seen anything like it either. He’s extremely distraught.”
    “I think the reason you’ve never seen this is because you’ve never met anyone who was genuinely depressed until now,” Phoe thinks back.
    “So he really is depressed?” I subvocalize, barely stopping myself from speaking out loud. “What do I do, Phoe?”
    “Ancient texts suggest you might want to put a hand on his shoulder. Do that and don’t say anything,” Phoe says. “That should comfort him, I think.”
    I do as she suggests. His shoulder is strangely twitchy under my hand at first, but then, slowly, he lets go of his face. His expression is not completely