2026-04-02
2018-11-20
I wrote this March-end 2018.
Not my first attempt at writing, but I don't really remember much or have access to any of the stuff I had written before.
It's is set in the same world as the movie Inception, and assumes that you have watched it. Also I know I could add more, a lot more. I have the ideas, I'm just am not motivated to pen them down.
Enjoy!
Docs link to the story in case blogger has issues with formatting.
"Aaaaarrggghh!" "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!" A dimly-lit room comes into focus. Fenix is on the table ... God, he is bleeding to death! Thin metallic wires emanate from each arm, each leg, the chest and the head. I hope he isn't naked. I'm still hazy when the door opens and Tracy walks in. What is she doing here? Her presence snaps my reflexes into overdrive. "Why are you here?", I shout. Fenix is whimpering now ... almost unconscious. Tracy grabs my hands with hers ... "You need to come with me." Her eyes are pale. Where on earth am I? Oh my goodness am I dreaming? I shut my eyes, draw a breath and try to focus. I find myself in another room, much larger but not that bright either. We were going into a shared dream. Fenix was going to build the world, we were going to occupy it. It hits me, yes we are dreaming. I just need to figure out a way to kill myself now. I look out the window. There is absolutely nothing as far as I can see. It's pitch dark. Tracy grabs me harder. "You can't go, we don't know what's out there.", she says. For one moment I panic that she could be right, perhaps this world is real. But it isn't and I'm sure of that. I shut my eyes, push her away and jump out.
I am back at the room I was remembering earlier, the one with the weird Chinese writings on the walls. My pulse is high. I see the others, Fenix, Josh, Andre wake up from their respective dreams. "Oh you gave me such a fright, Fenix!", I say, almost shout actually. "Why would you do that?" Now I'm looking at his unfocussed eyes as they slowly converge on me, as if I'm the only thing that exists in his world. And now I know what happened. "I'm sorry, Mark", he says. "It's okay, Fenix, it's okay. You sure had it worse than I did.". I try to console him as he comes out of his panic attack. "it's getting worse, isn't it? You should tell your doctor.", I say. "Yeah, probably", he says, though I doubt he plans to, any time soon. Josh has already walked out of the room. He's angry I guess, but he doesn't know who to take his anger out on. Andre is just processing everything in the room as always. As silent as always. "Hey Andre, you doing okay there?", I ask. "I'm fine. I watched Josh being tortured though." And she gives just the hint of a smile and I have to seriously wonder if she enjoyed it. Which all the more reminds me that these people are not my friends. Perhaps Fenix is, but the rest are just here because it's convenient. I can't grow attached to them because I can't know what they might do next.
I find myself at my home again. I'm half-drunk. The whole day seemed to pass in a blur. First the incident at the dream den. Then work at Emitec. Then to a bar with my colleagues because it's Friday night and we're closing for a week due to maintenance. I switch on my computer hoping for something worth my attention. Sure there are messages. And sure I reply them. But it's all mundane. I open my last chat with Tracy for the umpteenth time. Tracy: I'm sure you'll love it! Mark: Maybe. But it ain't as fun without you. laughs Tracy: Aww.. don't worry. You'll see me soon enough. Mark: Yeah. Take care. :) Tracy: You too!!!!! <3 <3 <3 Nothing to possibly indicate why she wouldn't be back at home by the end of the week. It's been six months now. And I still think of her every single day, dream of her every single night. Hoping she isn't dead, though that's what the police say I should assume. At times I wonder if her sour-faced parents are in some way involved. I don't trust them one bit. Her dad drinks way too much and is hardly coherent. Her mom seems okay but she has that look. Tracy seems to get along with her mom. But I'm sure they overdo their niceties with each other when I'm around. I should get some sleep. As in the ordinary type of sleep.
A distant ringing catches my attention. Am I dreaming again? I'm in my room, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have imagined it. The ringing is now more prominent – it's coming from under my bed. Why would I put my phone under my bed? "Yo Mark, what's up, man?" "I'm cool, man, what about you?" "Yeah I'm fine too. Listen, you remember Angelo269?" "Yeah obviously, he's the one who patched you through to the Necromen isn't it?" "Well, yes and no. Anyways that's not the point. The point is that Artifex is dead." "What?" "Yeah, man. His brother just posted a picture of him on the network feed. Shot himself in the head." "So who's going to take over?" "I don't know. Right now his brother is using his account. Angelo says I should contest to become a Necroman. I wanted a second opinion." "Well I'm the last person to ask about the politics of a hacker collective." "Data min-", he interrupts "Data mining collective. Whatever. You do what you want to do. I won't be crying if you're the next one dead." "Ouch. We're not the kind of freaks you people are." "Yeah well I don't know about that. Atleast we know each other by name." "But you're passouts from MIT, dude! You could be doing something better than drinks and drugs." Is he motivating me or insulting me? "Well first of all I don't drink that much. You should see some of my co-workers. Second, dream-sharing using Orthenol is not the same as doing drugs and you bloody well know that. Third I do have a well-paying job and I AM doing something with my life." "Like dreaming about your ex-girlfriend to the point of obsession? Sometimes I worry about you, you know." "Thanks but I'm doing okay. I know you don't agree with me, but the kind of research we do in dream-sharing can change pretty much everything. We could be millionaires." "Or in prison." "You know you're the one who introduced me to all this. And now you what, want me to stop?", I retort. "No. But I sometimes wonder if you are actually capable of doing the research or you're just gonna end up addicted to it." "Bye Nick." "Bye. See you soon."
What is the time? Should I sleep now or wake up? It's 12. 12 noon. I've overslept. But that's okay since I don't have any work lined up. Or do I?
I see Andre tinkering with a large metallic clock. Or atleast what I assume is a clock, since I can't see the face. It seems heavy and she seems so frail. She sets it on a stool, not showing any signs of exertion. Right, we were going to figure out if there is a way to measure time in a dream. I'm offered a cloth dipped in antiseptic and a wire. "My turn ... ", says Josh. "Come on, you're atleast going to first tell us what we're getting into, right?" That was Fenix. "Best kept a surprise. And it's all safe, don't worry. I've done the calculations.", Josh replies. What kind of dream requires calculations? Well many do if they're complex enough. But we've strictly agreed with each other that experiments will be conducted in simple environments, simple enough that one can differentiate them from the complexity of reality. I wipe my wrist and slip in the wire probe.
I find myself in a heavy suit. Drifiting. Must be an astronaut's suit, which is what the others are wearing. We're in a spherical glass enclosure with no gravity. Outside there's only darkness and distant stars. I turn around in the direction the others are facing. There's a huge planet. Or atleast it looks huge to us. Looks like Jupiter with its bands of red and orange. Josh must have thought of Jupiter when he imagined it. Weightlessness does feel strange. But in a way it's exactly like what I would have imagined it to be. That makes sense, since everything in a dream is recreated from memory. Imagination is nothing but an extension of our memory. We can imagine new environments, but the basic colours, the visuals, and the sensations we experience in a dream can only be reconstructed from experiences we have already been through, from sensations we have already experienced. We meaning me or one of the others. So apparently Josh imagines weightlessness pretty much the same way I do. But why has he brought us here? Time. It's got something to do with time. That's what we were discussing. The planet is now moving towards us. Really slowly. And we feel gently pulled towards it. Are we moving or is the planet? It's hard to make out. I look at Josh. So do the others. He just smiles and gives a look as to indicate 'enjoy the show!'. We wait. The planet is getting larger, but really slowly. That gentle force I assume would be gravity. Unless Josh has broken the laws of physics for this experiment, it means the enclosure we are in is being pulled by the planet due to gravity. The force is getting stronger now. We all hit the surface of the glass enclosure simultaneously. Suddenly it feels as if the planet is under us. As in the downward direction is towards the planet and the sky is on the other side. It's weird and confusing. I instinctively try to stand. I'm sure Josh has broken physics atleast to some extent to keep us alive in this capsule. Otherwise the pressure variations in the air would have killed us by now. I am able to stand. And I now realise that by standing I have again assumed that the planet is in the downward direction. I fall down again, confused. What is Josh doing? Did he bring us here to overpower our minds with chaos? But he can't do that can he? We're only one level down, the worst case scenario is that we suffer for a few hours and then we wake up. A few hours. A few hours of suffering can really change things. I am panicking, I will myself to calm down.
Chinese writings on the wall. We're back at the dream den then. I've woken up. So have the others. "What was that?", Fenix demands. "You should have told us what we were getting into." I ask Fenix to relax. I'm sure there's a logical explanation. Okay I've got it. "I was trying to see if I could use time dilation to stretch the length of the dream indefinitely. The planet was for slowing down time.", says Josh. Yes my guess was right. And he failed. Which kind of seems obvious to me. Imagining a stretch in time cannot actually induce it, can it? "What if you had succeeded?", Fenix shouts back. These people really need to control their tempers. They're not exactly meant for dream-sharing, these people, but I've got to put up with them. "Then we would have hit the planet and woken up.", says Josh. "No that's not it. We woke up because the g-force we were experiencing was too high for our dream to remain stable. That happened long before we hit the planet." That was me. Calculations, yeah right. Josh hasn't even figured this out yet. Andre is silent as always. I really wonder what goes on in her mind. Nothing ever surprises her. No matter how imaginative. And her dreams are always fun, somehow. Simple but creative. I wonder if I'm attracted to Andre.
Suddenly there's loud rapping on the door. "FBI. Open up!" It's a man's voice. We're under siege. One look at each other and we all know what to do. Josh grabs his keys and unlocks the facing door. We all run into the corridor. But I soon realise it's pointless. If they've come this far in, they've probably blocked all the exits. That doesn't stop me from running however. A burly man in uniform surprises me from the side and deals a blow that knocks me unconscious.
I feel drowsy and exhausted. Have I been drugged? My feet feel numb. Where am I? I'm sitting on a metallic chair. Another man, wearing a military uniform sits on the facing chair. The room is empty but for a table in between us and a pile of papers on it. Oh great. He starts off in an authoritative voice. "My name is Andrew Russ. I'm from the NSA and I'm in charge of your stay here and impending arrest." I say nothing. "You are Mark Simon Rutherfell, son of Jim Rutherfell. You are being charged for possession and repeated consumption of the drug Orthonel for the past six months. Do you confess?" Do I even have a choice? I haven't been offered a lawyer. Where's Tracy? "You may take your time to answer. Note however that substantial evidence has already been found against you, and not confessing will not really do you much good." Okay right, Tracy isn't here. Tracy cannot be here because she's missing. She only exists in my dreams now. Oh that's it, isn't it? Why was I so slow? I curl my palm into a fist. I imagine a tiny pill forming inside it. And I swallow the pill.
I find myself waking up in an identical room. The man is still there. He's just about a foot away now, staring into my face. But he's smiling this time. "That was impressive. Do you know where we are?" Okay it's not an identical room. The walls have the same grey tinge but there are a lot more objects in the room. And a one-way glass on the side. "No." is all I say. "What I told you in the dream was all true. You are under arrest and we do have evidence including matching written testimonies from your friends Josh and Fenix. Telling this to you in a dream was a form of a test." What test? Am I still dreaming? I realise my hands have been handcuffed this time. So I imagine a pill directly in my mouth this time. If they want to talk to me they better do it in reality.
I'm in a different room now. Well it's not a room, more of an endless corridor. It's dark, and we're probably underground. I see seats and units of dreaming-sharing equipment as far as I can see. But there are no people. Except for me and Andrew, who seems to be waking up from a similar seat. He just looks at me, blank and unreadable this time. Seeing no emotions on his face feels peaceful to me. Makes him look intelligent. "Would I surprise you if I said there are a hundred more vaults like this?", he asks. Would anything surprise me now? I say it out loud. "I doubt anything would surprise me at this point." I need to be sure this is reality. I try hard imagining a pill in my mouth. But I can't feel the pill on my tongue. I close my eyes and focus. Something or someone is fighting me. He grabs me by my shoulders. I'm sure he could break my back simply by bending my shoulders together. I ignore him and focus on my pill. He uses his fingers to open my eyelids. I need to focus on the pill. He kicks me with such force I end up staggering to the wall. And I collapse. He might just have broken my leg, for the pain is intense. "We are done playing games", he shouts. "Whether we talk in a dream or in reality is upto you, the fact remains that you are under arrest and you do not leave until we allow you to leave. Are we clear?" I can feel the pill now. I maintain my focus. I can't ever lose track of the fact that my world is not real. That is the most important thing. Who knows how many layers under I am or what tortures I am yet to experience. The pill tastes sweet.
I find myself at what looks like a prison. The cells are locked with no way to look in or out. I'm not inside a cell, I'm outside. The whole place is desolate. Andrew is not here. I would assume I'm in Limbo. But I can't be sure, since I've only ever been in it once. Fenix felt it was unsafe to enter Limbo to run experiments until a future time, and I agreed with him. But here I am now. Three layers. And a Limbo layer. Who knows how many layers are possible? I make my way out of the prison. I'm at a water park. And it's full of nameless people. Tracy is calling out to me now. She looks amazing. I can feel the confusion rising up in me. This feels so random, exactly like a child's dream. I can't imagine that hefty man dreaming of a water park. "Hey, you forgot to change.", she says. I realise I'm the only one wearing a suit. I look at all the rides, all the people. None of their faces are visible. I can assign faces to them. I can alter the dream. Getting out of here seems the only logical thing to do. "Hey. Is something the matter?" Her voice is sweet. But I know that's only because that's how I think of her. It's not really her, it's my projection of her. Seeing her reminds me all the more that I need to get out. How do I get out? How does one get out of Limbo? I search my brains but find no answer. I'm slipping. "Hey, listen to me. It's going to be alright. Just tell me what's wrong." She is shouting now, to penetrate my thoughts. "You're not real.", I say. "I'm real to you. Come with me and let me show you." And she tugs at my shoulder. "No.", I say as she pulls me on. "No", I say a bit louder, adamant not to move from my place. Perhaps Andrew didn't imagine this water park, perhaps I did. I don't know if it is possible to build Limbo subconsciously. I could just imagine a pill and wake up. Why didn't I think of that? I imagine the pill. This time it's awfully bitter. I can feel myself slowly losing consciousness. Tracy is hysteric, holding me as I fall to the ground.
"Bloody well done." The voice makes sure to emphasise each of the three words. I'm in another interrogation room. How many more such rooms am I going to see? "How did you know about multi-layered dreaming?", he asks. So Andrew is still ... Andrew. I try focussing on a pill. But I somehow know I won't be able to conjure one. I'm in reality. He's looking at me, a bit concerned. He seemed like an overly military person at the start, now he gives a different impression altogether. "I've read the original Inception transcripts.", I reply. "Which ones?", he prods on. Which ones? So yes, it's a thing now. Shared dreaming is no longer a luxury for the elite, it's a reality for everyone. "They claim Robert Fischer dissolved his empire because that thought was planted in his mind." "Right. Right." He seems to vaguely remember. He also seems to be concerned with more important things. As if the dissolution of an entire conglomerate is the last thing that he cares about. He looks at a computer screen on his desk. "17 milliseconds. Which means you were in Limbo for 45 minutes. Couldn't find your way back?", he asks. "What do you want from me?", I drone. I'm tired now. He takes on a serious expression. "We're at war. Have been so for the past eight months. Ever since the Jolenko twins discovered Orthenol. The news you read in papers is just the start. We're lucky there haven't been any nuclear attacks yet." I'm not surprised. But hearing all this makes me want to just collapse and die right here. But I can't do that because this is reality and if I kill myself there is no waking up from it. I want to see my Tracy atleast once before I die. "We're recruiting agents in hundreds. And every once in a while we find someone like you, someone whose talents are wasted if we just turn you into another field agent. We will be placing you in research, just like you always wanted. Do you understand what I am saying?" I just stare. "Travelling through layers can be exhausting. It's probably been your first time. I'll send someone to attend to you." And he walks out. I wait. This time I don't even bother to figure out what the room looks like. How does it matter? A young nurse walks in. Even she reminds me of Tracy. "Can't you just leave me alone? You're not real.", I shout. The moment I say it I want to take it back. "Umm, can I help you in any way?", she replies in a polite tone. But it's not a genuine politeness. Nor does it sound entirely put on. Her tone is different. She's not a nurse as I initially judged from her uniform, she's probably a psychiatrist or something. Who knows what new jobs have opened to support dream-sharing? "I'm sorry, you reminded me of someone. I'm fine.", I say. "Fine is relative. I'll show you to your quarters." Fine is relative. I almost want to laugh. She certainly said it right.
We walk out of the room to find ourselves in a tunnel of sorts. Then past a number of identical-looking doors. Each with a digital lock. No windows. "Where are we?", I ask. My voice is soft. "Underground bunker. To be honest even I don't know how to pronounce this place's name yet." She laughs. "We're near Irkutsk, Russia." That far? Apparently she has anticipated my reaction. "It's okay, you have a lot to catch up on. First get some rest." How am I supposed to sleep without knowing anything? Well maybe they've told me a bit. But I need more. "Does anyone know I'm here?" "No, you've been declared missing by the local police." "And I can't contact anyone?" "We don't mean to imprison you. You can get back to your old life once your job here is done." "Is all this necessary? I mean you could have just told me about all this beforehand and made up a story about how I've got a great project in Russia or wherever we are. That way I could still remain in contact with my friends." "We don't trust the motivations of our new recruits." I had a feeling that was the case, but I didn't expect her to say it to my face. "Is this legal? How do I know you're even from the NSA?" "Fair point. As I said you have a lot to catch up. We'll talk tomorrow. You must be exhausted." "No we will talk now." A man places his palm on my shoulder. I didn't even realise he was following us the whole time. That's how tired I am, I now realise. The woman is looking at me, waiting to see how I react. "Okay we'll talk tomorrow. Where do I sleep?", I say. She just laughs. I realise I'm already in a room with a bed. I vaguely remember her unlocking the door. And it hits me again. Am I still dreaming? If so, this layer is more complex than the others. And difficult to build in. I concentrate as I try to conjure a deadly pill in my mouth. Forget everyone, and everything. The only thing that matters in this instant is determining whether this world is real or not. But I think it's real. Maybe I'm struggling to build because I'm already biased by the assumption that this world is real. I need to stop assuming. I need to accept the fact that this world may just be another layer in a dream. I'm finding it difficult to do so. I really need to stop making assumptions. This world is not real. No, this world may be real but I can't be sure. And I focus on the pill. No pill. I open my eyes. She looks concerned. "Are you alright?" "This place is real, isn't it?" "Yes it is. Bringing you here like this is not something I personally approve of. It can be really confusing at the start. You'll be better tomorrow." Her tone comforts me more than the words she says. She is right. I need to sleep.
I open my eyes. Tracy is staring at me. She's confused about something. And also curious. I wait for her to speak until she asks, "Are you real?" I'm taken aback. No, that's an underestimation. I'm shell-shocked. How do I respond to that? "Are you?", I respond. I'm delirious now. I may be dreaming again. Yes perhaps. I need to wake up. And I wake up.
I find myself in a bedroom. 'The' bedroom. There's a desk and chair on one side. A closet on the other. A single light bulb hangs from the middle of the room, illuminating it. I'm covered in sweat. But I'm still wearing my own clothes. I walk to the closet, looking for something to wear. The closet is full of clothes. Surprisingly bright colours for a rather dull place. In fact some of them are in better shape than the clothes I otherwise wear. I change into the best clothes I can find and walk out. A guard calls me from the end of the tunnel. Shows me to the way to the bathroom and asks me to take bath. The bathroom is in great condition. Okay so this place isn't as awful as I imagined it to be. But it is desolate. I don't know how big it is though. Once done, we walk again. Tunnel after tunnel. And then a staircase. And then more tunnels. Not exactly the best way of designing a place. Suddenly we stop at a door. All the doors look the same to me, how did he know which one to stop at? He keys in a password and we walk in. Into a dining hall packed with people. Everyone looks up at me. "Hi, I'm Mark." Some of them nod. Some of them smile. I take an empty chair and look around. Food has been served and everyone is eating. Some have finished and are just chatting. I don't recognise anyone. Except for the woman who directed me yesterday, who's at the other end of the hall. About forty to fifty people. All in casual clothes except for a couple of guards, so I can't make out what any of them do. "Relax. I'm Stanley. And I really exist.", says the person next to me. The people seated next to him laugh together. Clearly they're friends. We eat and talk and learn more about each other. We've all been carted off to this place in pretty much the same fashion. Except that they've been here longer than me. They've been studying books on dream-sharing and teaching each other stuff. No one claims to have figured out all three layers on arrival, and are surprised when I tell them I did. "You'd make an excellent field agent." That was Tina, who I've just made acquaintance with. "What exactly do field agents even do?", I ask. "Convince people in high places that they're insane." That was Jacob. More laughs. Tina continues, "It all depends on what we're assigned to do. Very few of us have actually been on field jobs and no one has ever returned so we really don't have any first-hand accounts. But you'll find a lot of case studies in the library." "So what is it exactly that we are assigned to do?", with some emphasis on the word 'exactly'. "Sometimes it's as simple as convincing someone they're insane. Sometimes convincing them of a particular truth or lie. Sometimes extracting information from them. There are techniques to everything. In time you'll learn." Okay. Maybe this place won't be that bad. I have misjudged it perhaps.
After food we are split into batches of five to six people each. I expect to be assigned a batch, but Rachel (which happens to be the name of the woman I met at the beginning) says I can pick my own batch. I end up choosing the batch Tina and Jacob are in, simply because I don't know most of the others. We're being instructed by a man named Dylan. I realise I need to know at this point whether Tracy is sitting in bunker like me or not. I ask Rachel. She asks me to follow her. "When did Tracy go missing?" "About six months ago." "And your use of Orthenol also began six months ago?" "Yes, I started once she went missing." "Why?" "I don't know why exactly. I guess I was feeling low and needed something stimulating. Why is this relevant?" "I need to determine whether helping you find her is going to help you or not." She ensures that her voice remains calm. "Of course it's going to help me. What kind of a question is that?", I snap. "Do you see her often in your dreams?" "Yes I do. What must I do to convince you I need to know? Must we play this game?" "Okay we can stop. I'll put in a word with my supervisors. What's her full name?" "Tracy Abgnedon." "Alright. Dylan is organising focus battles for your batches in room 43, go ahead and join them." "Where are the room numbers written?" She shows me some tiny print on the handle next to the digital lock. "That's where."
"Welcome Mark. We just began", says Rodger. He's unusually fair with a white beard. The oldest member of our batch. And maybe even this bunker. Tina, Dylan and Morris are connected in a dream. Kylie is sitting, also silent. I ask Kylie, "What is going on exactly?" She asks me to be quiet. Rodger whispers in my ear. "She's just nervous. It's her turn next and she's battling you. She doesn't want to lose to a newbie." "But what exactly are we gonna do?" The three of them wake up. "That was really close. I'm just gonna call that a tie. You guys are showing much improvement, I must say.", says Dylan. Morris and Tina both fake a groan. "Hi Mark. Ready for your first lesson?", Dylan asks me. "Yes, sir." "Okay. Do you know of the principle 'First to build, fastest to build'?" "No, sir. But I could venture a guess." "Okay tell me." "If two people try to play the role of the architect, it is possible that they may both end up succeeding. In that case the person who focusses more is the one who becomes the primary architect." I remember this happening once between me and Fenix. It was confusing and from then onwards we decided it was best if only one person tried to build at one time. "Well you're somewhere there. First of all, there is no such special role as an architect. All people enter the dream with roughly equal capacity to dream. Building is easy and fast at the start. But once a dream has been built to some extent, it becomes more difficult to add more details, even for the person who built the dream. But not impossible. It is also possible for the other people to undo the details of the dream, either directly or indirectly. By indirectly, I mean for example if fire has been created in a dream, you could imagine water to quench the fire. Indirect reversal is always easier than direct reversal. Once adequate detail has been given to a dream it starts becoming saturated and even tiny objects require significant effort to create. It is almost impossible however to fully saturate a dream, and people in the dream who are aware that they are dreaming can always make changes to the dream. Got it?" That makes so much sense. I mean I had a vague idea, but I didn't exactly think of it like this. Hearing him makes the so-called experiments I ran back at home feel childish. "In today's focus battle you will both attempt to create a city. Both of you will imagine yourselves to be outside of this city. I will also be outside this city. You are not to imagine anything apart from this city, and no aspect of the city can exceed the limits of the city. Once done I will inspect the city and whoever has created a greater part of the city will win. Your city must look as much as a real-life city as possible. Are we clear?" "Yes, sir.", we say in unison. This seems fun. He hands us a wire each and antiseptic. "You have exactly one minute to plan, after which we begin." And he looks at his watch. Okay, a city. A city will have buildings and roads. Buildings can be of different heights. I try remembering pictures of buildings I know. Apartments, clock towers, tall skyscrapers with offices inside. Details. Perhaps I should try building the insides of the buildings as well. But then that's keeping track of a lot of things. I don't have a great memory. Roads should have cars. I imagine black Volkswagens on all the streets. Also people. But real people can't be imagined consciously, their behaviour is too weird to appear human. So I forget the people for now. "Five ... four .... " I see Dylan and Kylie have both closed their eyes. Kylie seems intensely focussed. Is that supposed to help?" "Three... two ... one .... Go"
I wake up to find myself standing on sand. Dylan is beside me. So is a woman I vaguely recognise. She is overdressed. It's really hot, she must be sweating. Somewhere in the distance I see buildings. I am dreaming, isn't it? Is that the city I'm supposed to build? Oh wait, yes it is I'm wasting time. And the woman next to me is none other than Kylie, she is just wearing a lot to disguise her face. I try imagining buildings in the city, but I cannot, there is no free space. What about roads? I can't do that either. Maybe I'm not focussing hard enough. I try focussing really hard. Roads. Roads. Build roads. And I see roads. Yes, I did it. I feel relief. And then confusion. The roads don't look like the roads I imagined. Kylie has already built the roads, it took me this long to find out that they exist. What else do I do now? Kylie takes off her hat and the cap from her face. And laughs. I can't see a drop of sweat on her. That's new. Dylan looks at me and says, "It's your first time, it will take a while for you to get a hang of it." "But the city was already there by the time I reached here.", I reply. "Then you weren't focussing hard enough." "He wasn't focussing at all", says Kylie, "I doubt he even knows he is supposed to focus." Dylan continues, "Have you ever woken up in a dream and not realised that it was a dream?" "Yes." "Why does it happen?" "I don't know." "How do you prevent it from happening?" "I don't know that either." "Well the way to prevent that from happening is to focus on reality before you enter. Convince yourself that you are about to enter a new world which isn't real, before you actually enter. Realising you are dreaming is the first step to taking control of the creation part." Okay. Clearly I need a lot of practice. "Let's go back to reality", he says and fades into the sky. A misty hand tickles my legs and then pinches one. I look at Kylie, but she is laughing as she turns into sand and falls to the ground. I imagine a deadly pill in my mouth, swallow it and wake up.
I spend the rest of the day with Tina in that room, trying to improve my focus. There are more activities lined up but I choose not to go. I don't want to be singled out as a weakling or a newbie. Dylan is okay with this, and he takes Morris and Kylie. Tina is pretty encouraging. I realise she's been here a long time and is quite bored. Teaching me is a new form of entertainment for her. By the end of the day I'm exhilarated yet tired. I haven't eaten lunch and neither has Tina. We head to the dining hall. Dinner passes by quickly, and though I eat a lot and the food is fresh from the local market, none of it makes an impression. I'm too exhausted to do anything. I end up lying on my bed, tired as anything but not wanting to go to sleep again. I wonder who collects the food. I'm sure some of the guards have actually been outside this bunker and are in interaction with the locals. I wonder how everyone manages to stay so cheerful in what is essentially a prison. There are some people who look sad, and some who look like they're not bothered, but the majority actually looks quite cheerful. Perhaps they're good at hiding their emotions. I also wonder why Rachel hesitated so much in enquiring about Tracy. Can't she see how much it matters to me? I haven't yet discussed much of my old life with my new-found allies, and I don't plan to any time soon. I don't know how long I'm going to last like this. Or whether I am actually achieving anything here. Yes it can be fun at times. Shared-dreaming is fun. But it's also tiring. Life hasn't been the same without Tracy. I'm sure it's past two in the morning when I actually fall asleep.
I'm seated in an aeroplane. Tracy is sitting beside me. I feel sick already. She has that same look on her face. I know what she's about to ask. "Are you real?" I look at her. Her eyes radiate life, mine are as cold as death. "No, I'm just a voice in your head.", I whisper. Sudden panic in her eyes. Also concern. "No!", she exclaims, "You're real." I don't know what to say. "Prove it.", I say. She starts crying. I can't bear to see her cry. Even though I know it's just dream. I wish I hadn't said what I had said. I wish I could be anywhere but here. I wish I never existed. My fingers intertwine with hers. "It'll be okay.", she says. She is trying to reassure me. "Okay", and I cuddle up with her as the sun vanishes in the clouds.
We get meat for breakfast, which does help liven everyone up. Or so I feel. Everyone's busy discussing the newspapers that have been brought by one of the guards. Since we're not allowed internet or any form of communication, newspapers are our main source of information. The newspapers are mostly in Russian, so Radlek is translating. He is the only guard who knows enough Russian to do so. The guards are unexpectedly sociable with the inhabitants of the bunker. Though I'm sure their loyalty rests with their superiors in case of an attempted rebellion. They also are the only ones with outside access, weapons or any training in using weapons, so rebelling is pointless. After hearing an hour of debate on which countries will or will not sign the Brussels Protocol, or whether the emergency elections in France will be boycotted or not, or how many countries will ally against the US after the Shanghai bombings, I'm tired. It's all politics. And it feels like the people we're discussing belong to another world altogether, as if this bunker is the only thing that's real. I'm not the only one who feels so. "Why are we here?", I ask Morris. "To train ourselves to become good field agents", he replies. "No I mean, why lock us up in this bunker?" "Who knows what happens when world leaders start panicking? Or maybe keeping us locked here is indeed the safest thing to do from their point of view. If we choose not to comply, we are effectively imprisoned and out of their way." "Why Russia?" "These regions are less likely to be targets of a nuclear attack." "Are we really that close to a nuclear holocaust?" "No one knows. But we're not close to a peaceful world either." "Do you miss your life before ... all this?" "No, not at all. But I know that's uncommon." "Okay, and why don't you? Was it that awful?" "No, it was that long ago. I've spent years in dream time, and I can't imagine a life before this bunker." "What if you forget that this is reality, and get lost in a dream? Multi-layered dreaming is not permitted here except under strict supervision." "Admit it, our supervisors from beyond don't even know what they are doing. Have we spent one full day sticking to the schedule that's sent by them?" "I've not been here long, so I wouldn't know. But yeah I get your point." "Okay tell me one thing. You've got your eyes on Tina, haven't you?" "What, no! I just spent one day with her. You people do seem rather kiddish at times." "Are you sure?" He's almost mocking me at this point. "Pretty girls are common as dust." I didn't expect to hear that coming from my mouth. "And I can't appreciate half the jokes that are cracked here." "Yeah well, whatever it takes to stay sane. Some of them don't even care anymore whether we're in reality or not." And he points to the people dancing in the corner. "Dream-sharing changes everyone, doesn't it? And I thought I would like this place." "Oh you don't?" "No, not anymore. The whole thing feels like a fantasy and a nightmare all rolled into one." "Chaos. You'll get used to it." "No I don't think so. What if I enrolled to become a field agent? Will that get me a way out?" "Everyone thinks that at first. But Doctor Rachel is here to ensure no one fakes their loyalty. And she does a pretty good job." "Rachel? So you're saying the only way out of here is to convince I'm madly patriotic to my nation?" I find it awkward to have to address Rachel as doctor. So why bother to? "Well that's the first step. There are further psychological evaluations that are conducted once you get out. Have you by any chance told her anything about your old life?" "Yeah she knows about ... my girl. Went missing six months back." "Oh, that's why you made that comment when I asked you about Tina." He pauses. "She's not here by any chance, is she? I mean in one of the bunkers." "Well Rachel is yet to respond." "Maybe that's intentional. Maybe she thinks you'll become a better field agent without her." "And how exactly is that? On second thoughts leave it, I don't want to talk about it. You're not going to tell the others, are you?" "Well if you don't want me to, I can keep it secret. To be honest, I'm not really bothered. These people are not my friends." "You have some secrets of your own, don't you?" "We all do."
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