Pieces Part Fifteen
Mar. 26th, 2006 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
measured_wordsFifteen weeks sounds like a nice round milestone, even if only twelve of those were successive. I also passed 20000 words this section, making my average about 1400 words per installment, still a little short of my goal of at 1500 word average, but not too shabby. This installment is a little long, making up for some of the shorter quips here and there. Eventually I'll get things up the way i want them. I do sometimes wonder just where this story is heading. Anyway, this went well. I'm once again posting before midnight on a Sunday, although I admit I was up until nearly four last night. Comments, questions, etc. always welcome.
Other Pieces
<dream>: Input Destination
It means nothing to me. I sit and stare blankly at the screen. The room is bare and white, no exits. I can't change anything. There is just my dreaming self and this computer with its maddening query. This is a product of my own mind, therefore I must know the answer, but I can't think of it. I know a way out – I could wake myself up again, and stare at the ceiling in my small dark room and have nothing to do and nowhere to go. At least my body can rest if my frustration remains here.
No people I know, no places. No time. No other dream. No escape, and no help. Why ask if there are no other choices? If this is a test, what is the point? Maybe I am expecting too much from a dream. I pace the room again, wondering if anything has chanced. Nothing has – this room may as well be the entire universe – there is nothing here save me and the machine.
And maybe that is the answer. I've tried everyone else I could think of. I sit back down at the keyboard and input my own name.
<dream>: Destination Accepted
<dream>: Processing Data
<dream>: Data Corrupt. Proceed? Y/N
The room seems a little cooler, but what other choice is there, really? I press Y.
The screen flickers once. It reminds me of the flickering at the end of my video conference with Victor Brown, but I can sense that it is different. I can hear the disruption in the waking world – my phone is ringing. I open my eyes. The clock in front of me reads 06:23. Who would call at this hour? And why was I still asleep?
I make my way out to the phone quickly, and pick up on what I think is the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Daniel?" It's Anna. "I need to see you. I'm coming over."
"Now?" What's going on? "Here?"
"Did I wake you up?"
"No." The lie is out before I even think of it. It seems harmless enough though.
"I did, didn't I… I thought you would be awake."
"I usually am."
"Is it okay?"
"Of course it's fine. You're always welcome here." I can see my reflection in the dark window. My hair is messed up, and if I have time I could use a shave. I should definitely put on something other than my sleep pants.
"I'll stop and grab you a coffee somewhere." She sounds apologetic, but there is something else on her mind. She'll be here soon enough, though.
"Thanks, I'll see you when you get here."
"I'll see you soon, Daniel."
We both hang up, and I head back to the bathroom. Did I not set my alarm? What was I doing last night? What day is it? I am trying to remember if there is anything I was supposed to do this morning, but all I can recall are fragments of a dream that makes no sense. I run through my morning ablutions quickly, and throw on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve green t-shirt. Moments later, I hear a knock at my door.
Anna is standing in the hallway, holding a coffee tray and a brown bag from the coffee shop two blocks away. She doesn't look as though she's slept much, if at all. Her eyes are bloodshot and circled with puffy dark rings, her hair is thrown back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a grey school sweatshirt over old jeans. She seems relieved to see me. She looks lovely, as ever.
I stand aside to let her come in, taking the coffees from her as she steps over the threshold. As soon as her hands are free, she wraps them around me and leans against my chest.
"Morning," she mutters meekly. I wrap my free arm around her, and she nestles closer to me, her eyes closed. She still looks tired.
"Are you okay?" She doesn't answer immediately, so I just stand there, holding her. She's warm, and fits against me comfortable. I catch a whiff of her hair, her scent and the herbal shampoo she uses. "Anna?" It is a small thrill that she's turned to me in her upset. We haven't been dating that long. I want to make her feel better.
She looks up at me, her eyes red and wet. "It's Adam…"
"Your brother?" She nods. "What… Come sit down." She nods again, and lets go. I close the door, and join her on the couch, setting down the breakfast she brought on the coffee table. As soon as I sit, she leans into me again, curling her knees up under her.
"I was out late yesterday with the girls," She means Lisa and Emily, two other girls from her genetics class. It must be Friday, so last night I must have had training. I decided to sleep in because the session went long and we're not running today. I don't remember this – it just seems reasonable. I put it out of mind, and nod. Right now, Anna is more important. "When I got home, there was a letter. I just don't understand it, the things he's saying, or asking about. But he said he's running away. He's already gone, he told me everything, what he planned, and I don't know what to do. What do I tell my parents?"
"He's run away? And they don't know?" I don’t remember how old Adam is. Fifteen or sixteen, maybe? They are fairly close, though.
"I don't know, Daniel." Her voice sounds very small. "But why wouldn't they have said? The letter said he was going to tell them he was going camping, and then just… he was supposed to meet these people. They sound like some sort of cult."
"What do you mean?"
"Here." She fishes the letter out of the sleeve of her shirt. It is folded, but fairly thick. I look at her questioningly, but she just nods blearily. "He talks about joining some group of… Warriors for the Earth, or, I don't know. But like there are actually *enemies*, evil things to go out and fight. It's crazy. These people are crazy. I want my brother back."
I read through the letter, and it is all there. All of it, in coded language that would have meant nothing to me, or her, at the time. I see myself telling her that things will be okay, that she should call her parents, and see what they know, and maybe call the police. Later she will tell me that she has talked to Adam, and that things are straightened out, and that everything will be okay. It will be too late, and I will have already mentioned this to the wrong people. They will also tell me that everything is fine, and I will accept that, and then, I will be made to forget.
I am awake now, for real, in my basement room at 1786A 78-Avenue South East. It is 05h58, two minutes before my alarm. I have a headache and I feel cold. I turn off the clock. Was this a real memory, or just a dream? I feel nauseous, and it hurts to think. I close my eyes again, and seek relief and escape in more restful sleep.
The phone rings. It is 06h37. My head still aches, and rather than sleeping, dream fragments have been running through my head for the past thirty-nine minutes. I pull myself out of bed and head out to the living room telephone. I sit on the couch and answer, with a strange sense of déja-vu, on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Daniel?"
"Good morning, Anna." This is too surreal. The headache makes my voice seem harsh and hers sharp, and it is hard to concentrate enough to push it away.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I though you'd be awake already..." I must still sound groggy.
"I was awake." It's true, more or less. I force myself to greater alertness, forcing the pain even further back. The technique does not work as well as it usually does, but I can think more clearly, and I sound more together. The nausea I felt earlier has passed, at least. "I just have a bit of a headache. I'm fine."
"Alright." She doesn't sound convinced, but she is willing to accept my assessment. "I'm leaving shortly to come in to Portland to run some errands, and Grant said he would look after Danny. I was thinking that since I'm going to be close… I want to see you."
"Of course."
"Oh, good." She seems relieved. Did she think I might say no? How could I? "I promise I won't flake out on you this time, either. How about the gardens, then, around one?"
The Japanese gardens, another of her favourite places in Portland. I never felt quite so at peace there. I wonder what it is like now? "That sounds fine."
"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well we could try for another time."
Is that concern or hesitation? "I'll be okay, Anna. It will be good to see you."
"It will be good to see you too. I'll talk to you then."
'Alright, bye." We hang up. I wander over to the coffee maker and start a pot. I am still trying to figure out my dream. I still can't remember the event itself, and thinking about it brings the headache to the fore again. I'll figure it out later. I have other things to deal with now. I sit back down while I wait for the coffee to brew, and hope the caffeine will help clear my mind.
Other Pieces
<dream>: Input Destination
It means nothing to me. I sit and stare blankly at the screen. The room is bare and white, no exits. I can't change anything. There is just my dreaming self and this computer with its maddening query. This is a product of my own mind, therefore I must know the answer, but I can't think of it. I know a way out – I could wake myself up again, and stare at the ceiling in my small dark room and have nothing to do and nowhere to go. At least my body can rest if my frustration remains here.
No people I know, no places. No time. No other dream. No escape, and no help. Why ask if there are no other choices? If this is a test, what is the point? Maybe I am expecting too much from a dream. I pace the room again, wondering if anything has chanced. Nothing has – this room may as well be the entire universe – there is nothing here save me and the machine.
And maybe that is the answer. I've tried everyone else I could think of. I sit back down at the keyboard and input my own name.
<dream>: Destination Accepted
<dream>: Processing Data
<dream>: Data Corrupt. Proceed? Y/N
The room seems a little cooler, but what other choice is there, really? I press Y.
The screen flickers once. It reminds me of the flickering at the end of my video conference with Victor Brown, but I can sense that it is different. I can hear the disruption in the waking world – my phone is ringing. I open my eyes. The clock in front of me reads 06:23. Who would call at this hour? And why was I still asleep?
I make my way out to the phone quickly, and pick up on what I think is the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Daniel?" It's Anna. "I need to see you. I'm coming over."
"Now?" What's going on? "Here?"
"Did I wake you up?"
"No." The lie is out before I even think of it. It seems harmless enough though.
"I did, didn't I… I thought you would be awake."
"I usually am."
"Is it okay?"
"Of course it's fine. You're always welcome here." I can see my reflection in the dark window. My hair is messed up, and if I have time I could use a shave. I should definitely put on something other than my sleep pants.
"I'll stop and grab you a coffee somewhere." She sounds apologetic, but there is something else on her mind. She'll be here soon enough, though.
"Thanks, I'll see you when you get here."
"I'll see you soon, Daniel."
We both hang up, and I head back to the bathroom. Did I not set my alarm? What was I doing last night? What day is it? I am trying to remember if there is anything I was supposed to do this morning, but all I can recall are fragments of a dream that makes no sense. I run through my morning ablutions quickly, and throw on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve green t-shirt. Moments later, I hear a knock at my door.
Anna is standing in the hallway, holding a coffee tray and a brown bag from the coffee shop two blocks away. She doesn't look as though she's slept much, if at all. Her eyes are bloodshot and circled with puffy dark rings, her hair is thrown back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a grey school sweatshirt over old jeans. She seems relieved to see me. She looks lovely, as ever.
I stand aside to let her come in, taking the coffees from her as she steps over the threshold. As soon as her hands are free, she wraps them around me and leans against my chest.
"Morning," she mutters meekly. I wrap my free arm around her, and she nestles closer to me, her eyes closed. She still looks tired.
"Are you okay?" She doesn't answer immediately, so I just stand there, holding her. She's warm, and fits against me comfortable. I catch a whiff of her hair, her scent and the herbal shampoo she uses. "Anna?" It is a small thrill that she's turned to me in her upset. We haven't been dating that long. I want to make her feel better.
She looks up at me, her eyes red and wet. "It's Adam…"
"Your brother?" She nods. "What… Come sit down." She nods again, and lets go. I close the door, and join her on the couch, setting down the breakfast she brought on the coffee table. As soon as I sit, she leans into me again, curling her knees up under her.
"I was out late yesterday with the girls," She means Lisa and Emily, two other girls from her genetics class. It must be Friday, so last night I must have had training. I decided to sleep in because the session went long and we're not running today. I don't remember this – it just seems reasonable. I put it out of mind, and nod. Right now, Anna is more important. "When I got home, there was a letter. I just don't understand it, the things he's saying, or asking about. But he said he's running away. He's already gone, he told me everything, what he planned, and I don't know what to do. What do I tell my parents?"
"He's run away? And they don't know?" I don’t remember how old Adam is. Fifteen or sixteen, maybe? They are fairly close, though.
"I don't know, Daniel." Her voice sounds very small. "But why wouldn't they have said? The letter said he was going to tell them he was going camping, and then just… he was supposed to meet these people. They sound like some sort of cult."
"What do you mean?"
"Here." She fishes the letter out of the sleeve of her shirt. It is folded, but fairly thick. I look at her questioningly, but she just nods blearily. "He talks about joining some group of… Warriors for the Earth, or, I don't know. But like there are actually *enemies*, evil things to go out and fight. It's crazy. These people are crazy. I want my brother back."
I read through the letter, and it is all there. All of it, in coded language that would have meant nothing to me, or her, at the time. I see myself telling her that things will be okay, that she should call her parents, and see what they know, and maybe call the police. Later she will tell me that she has talked to Adam, and that things are straightened out, and that everything will be okay. It will be too late, and I will have already mentioned this to the wrong people. They will also tell me that everything is fine, and I will accept that, and then, I will be made to forget.
I am awake now, for real, in my basement room at 1786A 78-Avenue South East. It is 05h58, two minutes before my alarm. I have a headache and I feel cold. I turn off the clock. Was this a real memory, or just a dream? I feel nauseous, and it hurts to think. I close my eyes again, and seek relief and escape in more restful sleep.
The phone rings. It is 06h37. My head still aches, and rather than sleeping, dream fragments have been running through my head for the past thirty-nine minutes. I pull myself out of bed and head out to the living room telephone. I sit on the couch and answer, with a strange sense of déja-vu, on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Daniel?"
"Good morning, Anna." This is too surreal. The headache makes my voice seem harsh and hers sharp, and it is hard to concentrate enough to push it away.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I though you'd be awake already..." I must still sound groggy.
"I was awake." It's true, more or less. I force myself to greater alertness, forcing the pain even further back. The technique does not work as well as it usually does, but I can think more clearly, and I sound more together. The nausea I felt earlier has passed, at least. "I just have a bit of a headache. I'm fine."
"Alright." She doesn't sound convinced, but she is willing to accept my assessment. "I'm leaving shortly to come in to Portland to run some errands, and Grant said he would look after Danny. I was thinking that since I'm going to be close… I want to see you."
"Of course."
"Oh, good." She seems relieved. Did she think I might say no? How could I? "I promise I won't flake out on you this time, either. How about the gardens, then, around one?"
The Japanese gardens, another of her favourite places in Portland. I never felt quite so at peace there. I wonder what it is like now? "That sounds fine."
"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well we could try for another time."
Is that concern or hesitation? "I'll be okay, Anna. It will be good to see you."
"It will be good to see you too. I'll talk to you then."
'Alright, bye." We hang up. I wander over to the coffee maker and start a pot. I am still trying to figure out my dream. I still can't remember the event itself, and thinking about it brings the headache to the fore again. I'll figure it out later. I have other things to deal with now. I sit back down while I wait for the coffee to brew, and hope the caffeine will help clear my mind.
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no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 11:01 pm (UTC)*fixes*
no subject
Date: 2006-03-28 04:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-28 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-10 03:57 pm (UTC)"Of course its fine." - it's
"her hair is thrown back in a pony tails" - one or several?
"It crazy. These people are crazy" - it's
"I see myself telling her that tings will be okay" - things
I like this section very much. The parallels with the dream and reality are interesting :)
no subject
Date: 2006-05-10 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-18 03:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-18 03:28 pm (UTC)