by Lucy Adler
Her mouth was full of salad now, so she waited to finish chewing.
"Yeah, it's fine."
"This is a safe place, Daria. Don't worry about anything, ok?"
_______________________
“We’re going to take things a little slower than normal this evening, just to give you a chance to get comfortable.”
Tearing me out of my home, tossing me into the back of a van, hiding me away down some long metal hallway... yeah, we wouldn’t want me to be uncomfortable, would we?
“Whatever.”
After dinner, Dr. Reston had led her through the facility until they came to a room with two rows of cushy armchairs in front of a large screen. It reminded Daria of the old movie theatres that people used to talk about. They had been phased out before she was born.
“We have a video for you to watch. Why don’t you take a seat. Anywhere you want is fine.”
Daria sat in the middle of the second row. She flopped down into the chair and suddenly noticed how the back tilted a little. She pressed on it with her head and neck.
Oh my gosh, it reclines! So vintage.
“I’ll just be outside,” Dr. Reston said. “We’ll have a chat when you’re finished.”
“Sure.”
She heard the door click shut as the doctor left the room. Then the lights dimmed and the screen lit up. A voice started speaking as images of the Former World flashed across the screen.
“It took humanity thousands of years to develop anything close to civilisation. Thousands of years just to build these,” the woman’s voice said as an image of a house appeared, made of mud bricks and straw. Then that image slid to the left side of the screen as the woman continued, “And another five thousand years just to go from this, to this.” As she finished the sentence, an old-fashioned light bulb appeared beside the mud brick house.
“Those who still live in the Dark will tell you that humanity made great advances in the short period of time from this,” the light bulb now slid to the left, replacing the house, “to this,” and an antique tablet appeared on the right side of the screen. Daria noticed how clunky it looked, with its black screen and solid back, stamped with that half-eaten piece of fruit. Nothing like her paper-thin one that was a perfectly transparent pane of glass when you turned it off.
“But we wouldn’t call 131 years a short period of time. Would you?” The number appeared on the screen between the light bulb and the old-fashioned tablet, with a question mark beneath it.
Daria found herself agreeing with the video. She thought of her abysmal twenty-three-second performance in Math class and shook her head.
“We haven’t even mentioned wars, disease, famines,” the voice continued as more pictures, some of them quite shocking, flew across the screen. “For all its efforts to advance itself, Humanity was fighting a losing battle. And it was in the midst of this battle that Felix Caxton met Adrian Meyers.”
A terrible scene of dead bodies and damaged buildings lingered on the screen. Daria had seen it before. Every year, the day before C-M Day, the entire school would gather for a ninety-second clip to commemorate the tragedy that brought together Caxton and Meyers.
“It was 2031, just outside Amsterdam. Three men, all of them unemployed and dissatisfied with their lives, entered an office building with bags full of explosives. Ninety seconds later, the building was almost entirely demolished, leaving over a thousand people dead or severely injured. Caxton and Meyers were working across the street at the time, and the blast had ripped through most of their building. Even though it was still standing, both men had been badly hurt by the flying debris that shattered windows and pierced walls.”
Daria thought of her face-plant on the track earlier that week and how much it had hurt. She couldn’t imagine broken glass and pieces of metal hitting her skin. She winced in sympathy as she continued watching.
“Over the following months, as the two men recuperated from their injuries, they started to think through the events that had occurred. If those three men who had committed this hateful act had been at work that day - had felt a sense of accomplishment in their daily lives - perhaps they wouldn’t have resorted to destruction and mayhem. Perhaps they wouldn’t have torn down the achievements of others if they had been occupied with building something of their own.”
Makes sense, I guess.
“It was in that moment that they developed the theory that has become one of our principle Guidelines: Free time is where the seeds of disorder are sown. And it was by expanding this principle that the two men established the Fundamental Guideline itself: Work will make us all safe, happy, and free.”
When she had first sat down and discovered that her chair reclined, Daria was afraid she might fall asleep during the video. But she was actually finding herself oddly fascinated by it. The ideas were washing over her and slipping through the cracks in her mind.
“At first, they only envisioned making sure that everyone had jobs - a huge challenge at the time! But one evening, an even bigger vision came to them. As they continued talking late into the night, they realised how much time was taken up with sleep. And not only with sleep but also with the entire process of going to sleep and waking from sleep. Try to imagine the Former Days...”
The woman continued by describing how long it took some people just to fall asleep. How they had to take warm showers before bed, or listen to music. Some of them even took pills to make them sleepy! Daria laughed out loud.
Why would anyone ever...
“The best studies at the time even said that, for some people, it took two hours after waking before their minds and bodies were at peak performance levels!”
What the heck...??
“Which was one of the reasons why coffee was such a valuable commodity. It could jumpstart the system and help you cut that two hours in half. Of course, that still didn’t help much in the bigger picture. Humanity was still wasting eight hours on sleep itself every night. If you were one of the most efficient people in society, perhaps you could get yourself ready for bed and fall sound asleep in an hour. Then, with the help of coffee and other substances, you might reach peak levels an hour after waking. To be your most productive self would then require ten wasted hours out of every single day of your life!”
Daria’s eyes widened and she shook her head in disbelief.
“Caxton and Meyers suddenly understood that not only free time but all forms of rest were the real enemies of society, with sleep being the number one problem that needed to be solved. They had to stop it from stealing our productivity, our potential, our freedom.”
A series of numbers and mathematical symbols started scrolling across the screen.
“Take that 131 years we talked about earlier. Let’s say a person has 14 good hours each day, with 365 days in each year. That’s 5,110 productive hours a year. Over 131 years, that’s 669,410 hours. But if we could reclaim those lost hours of rest and have 24 hours a day, 365 days a year... now we have 8,760 hours a year, for a total of 1,147,560 productive hours in the same 131 years. Imagine the possibilities! Imagine how much more we could achieve as a society?”
Daria nodded.
“Now, obviously no one can live 131 years... yet. But the two men believed that if they started by eradicating sleep, other mind-blowing advances would be just around the corner. So they began experimenting, testing ideas and treatments...”
The voice continued with several examples of failed attempts, mentioning how some people even died from these early drugs and procedures. But it made clear how the cost was well worth the benefit. What are a few lives in exchange for the greatest advancement in human history?
“Just then, when they thought all hope of finding a cure for sleep was lost, they stumbled upon the solution.”
The screen went blank and the room was suddenly pitch black. Daria blinked a few times. Then an image of a grey pill slowly appeared, filling the room with light again.
“Sendrax. The answer to humanity’s greatest challenge!”
Daria stared at the little pill that was the bane of her existence. It was everything she couldn’t be and everything she wished she were. Everything she was supposed to be and everything she hadn’t been for two years now.
What’s wrong with me?
_______________________
The woman narrating the video concluded with a few more minutes about the Final Renaissance that had arisen with the dawn of Sendrax. How societies everywhere had embraced a new vision for the future - a vision of productivity and high achievements. A global civilisation of peace and contentment as each man, woman, and child found complete fulfilment in their daily lives by accomplishing far more than any generation before them.
Finally, as the video faded out with a rousing call to action, the door at the back of the room clicked open and the lights flicked on.
“So, that was interesting, eh?” Dr. Reston said.
Daria rubbed her eyes as they adjusted to the light.
“Yeah, it was pretty good.”
“Good, good!” he smiled, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. So, how about we go get something warm to drink and have a chat about it? What do you think?”
“Sure.”
They went back out to the common area with the fluffy couches and trays of snacks. Daria glanced at the food as she passed by and the doctor told her to help herself. She was still too stuffed from dinner, though, so she declined the offer.
He grabbed a pitcher that was sitting on a table against one of the walls and filled a silver cup with some brown liquid. He handed it to her and she breathed in the steam that was wafting up in front of her face.
Wow.
“Is this... chocolate?”
Dr. Reston laughed. “Yes, it is!”
“I thought chocolate was, you know, unnecessary?”
“Just try to enjoy it, Daria. Don’t worry about anything else right now.”
She took her first-ever sip of a hot chocolate - a rich, creamy, smooth hot chocolate.
Holy crap. That’s ridiculous. It’s... it’s like Jake, in a cup!
She laughed to herself.
“So, about the video,” Dr. Reston started, clearing his throat and shifting in his chair. “What did you think?”
“I liked it.”
“What did you like about it?”
“I guess it was kinda cool to see the whole picture, you know. Like, put everything in perspective, I guess.”
“Perspective. Excellent choice of words.”
Daria sipped her cup of Jake again and smiled.
I wonder what he’s doing right now? Does he know where I am? Wait - my tablet! I can message him later! How did I forget about that?!
“Daria, I want you to understand something very clearly.” Dr. Reston leaned in closer to her as they sat across from each other on two separate couches. “We’re going to help you. We’re going to make you better. Don’t be afraid. And don’t doubt us. I’m sure you’ve felt like there’s something wrong with you. Why have you been struggling with something so wonderful, right? If this is the answer, why isn’t it working for you? But that’s why you’re here. It can work for you. It will work for you, I promise. You’ll see.”
He leaned back and smiled, taking a sip from his cup. Daria took another sip of hers. She started feeling a little more comfortable. A little more relaxed. She noticed how the couch beneath her was even cushier than it looked.
“Thanks, doctor.”
He let Daria find her own way back to her room that night. As she passed the gymnasiums, she stopped for a minute and watched a few of the guys playing that game with the ball again.
What is that anyway?
She noticed Smiling Guy in the group.
Jake Number Two. How weird was that?
He seemed to be one of the better players. She had no idea what the rules were but even if you don’t know the sport, sometimes you can just sort of tell who’s playing well. There’s something different about the way they move. She also couldn’t help but notice how much stronger he looked than the rest of the guys.
Then a new thought occurred to her.
The faster this all works... the sooner I’m better... the sooner I’ll be normal again. And the sooner I’ll be back with the real Jake.
She touched the glass, as though she were reaching out to him. Then she turned and headed for her room.
_______________________
Messages! How did I forget again?!
She had changed into her pajamas and laid down in the bed. It was harder than she was used to but she wasn’t thinking about that now.
She reached down and grabbed her home tablet from her duffel bag.
“Hello, Daria. Are you looking for something in particular tonight?” the voice inside the screen asked.
“Messages, please.”
A notification flashed across the tablet. It was a narrow red banner that stretched from one side to the other. In the middle, in white text, it said:
No external connections permitted while at the CMI. Thank you for understanding.
No, no, no…
Daria dropped the tablet onto her bag and let her head fall back on her pillow. She had to fall asleep in the next seven minutes to get her full 45 that night. But her mind was racing now.
How’s he going to find out?
She imagined Brix contacting her parents after she didn’t show up at school or respond to any messages.
I guess she’ll tell him? But she doesn’t know about us. Or at least, what was almost us.
She sighed out loud. Then she had the same thought again from earlier.
The faster I get through this, the faster I get out of here.
This place, though. And this Reston guy. He seems nice enough, but...
She tossed and turned on her bed until she settled on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
Screw it.
Let’s beat this thing, Dashy.
4
Month: 3 | Day: 7 | Year: 60
DAY ONE
With a little over twenty-three waking hours available each day, a normal ‘school day’ lasted much longer than it did in the past - usually twelve hours. Daria normally got to school around 5 a.m. and finished at 5 p.m. Then there was track. Every student was required to engage in two hours of some kind of physical activity, whether a competitive sport or something more recreational. So it usually happened that from the time she left for the bus in the morning, to the time she got home, school took up about fifteen hours a day. Not including homework, of course.
Most of that time was dedicated to the Meaningful Subjects - any branch of either Math or Science. There were also classes dedicated to particular skillsets, like various aspects of construction, agriculture, or making clothing. Not that becoming a builder, farmer, or garment maker was the goal of these classes - that could happen after graduation if the student excelled at school - but with so much time and mental energy, the Doctors had deemed it worthwhile that students have a basic grasp on as many practical subjects as possible.
The Humanities, on the other hand, were kept to a minimum. Things like History and Literature, with their lack of immediate practical application, were seen as encouraging idleness - people sitting around talking and arguing about obscure and irrelevant topics when they could be out doing something useful with their lives. Something useful for Progress and its citizens.
So when Daria met up with Dr. Reston the following morning for her first full day at the facility, she got quite a shock.
“History is two hours? You’re joking, right?”
“And you have it three times a day.”
“Shut the... oh, sorry... I mean, why??”
“What was it you said yesterday,” Dr. Reston replied, “the video gave you... perspective?”
“I guess.”
“For special students like you, Daria, giving them the big picture seems to help. You think outside the box. You’re what we might call a ‘visionary’. You’re not content with just doin
g a task because you’re told. And so I think with more perspective, you’ll find you’re more productive.”
“Uh, ok.”
Blah blah blah. Translation: just do it and don’t complain.
“Here’s your first class,” he said, pushing open the door for her. “Miss Croft, this is Ms. Grayson. She’s our newest recruit, and I think you’ll find her one of the brightest yet!”
This is definitely going to suck.
“Ms. Grayson,” the teacher repeated, shaking hands with her.
“Miss Croft will tell you where to go and what you’re doing after this. You’ll find your way around just fine, don’t worry. And I’ll meet you later at dinner to talk about your day, ok?”
“Ok.”
The doctor shut the door behind him and Daria was left alone with the teacher in a room that was generously-sized for just two people. There was a large conference table with about eight chairs spaced evenly around it. Miss Croft’s jacket was draped over the one at the farthest end and her tablet was propped up on a stand in front her seat.
“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing toward her things. “Why don’t you sit next to me.”
They both sat down and Miss Croft got straight to business.
“You watched the video yesterday, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I’m assuming most of it was familiar to you already, right? You’ll have seen portions at school for C-M Day.”
“Yup.”
“Good. Well, I want to start by exploring more of the Final Renaissance. Have you studied it much?”
“Just the important dates, and that it was the end of the Former Days.”
“Excellent. And what were the dates?”
“2037, the year following the invention of Sendrax, to 2041, the year Progress was founded. Years 1 to 5 of the New Calendar.”
“Perfect. I’m glad you have a good foundation for us to work with. Oh, and just out of curiosity, do you remember the name of the old city over which Progress was built?”