Sleeper (The Waking Sleep Book 1)

by Lucy Adler

  Daria hesitated, thinking about it for a moment.

  “Casper, Wyoming.”

  “Very good.”

  Miss Croft started tapping and swiping on her tablet.

  “Look at your screen, please,” she said without looking up.

  Daria glanced down at her tablet and there was a picture of a man. He was probably forty... maybe fifty? Daria always found it hard to guess anyone’s age, even other teenagers. She started remembering the time she mistook a substitute teacher for a kid in the class before hers... and then proceeded to ask him if he thought the sub would be smart enough to notice she was missing if she skipped the class.

  “Do you know who this is?” Miss Croft asked.

  “Jenkins, right? I can’t remember his first name. Wait - Fred?”

  “It’s Jensen, actually. Elliot Jensen.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Do you remember why he’s important?”

  Come on, Dash... focus... beat this thing... get out of here...

  She closed her eyes and tried her best to recall something, anything.

  “He... resisted the change... right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Boom!

  “Do you remember how?”

  Crap.

  “Uuh... stubbornly?” she half whispered.

  You’re never leaving this place.

  “Ok, I’ll take that,” Miss Croft laughed. “The answer I was looking for, though, was violently. He resisted with senseless acts of destruction and brutality. Burning down laboratories where Sendrax was being produced. Robbing shipments en route to people in need. People just like you, Daria. Robbing them of their basic human rights to progress, productivity, and prosperity. Their right to live a happy, fulfilled life.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember now.”

  “Good. And do you recall what happened to him?”

  “He was captured eventually, and then... killed?”

  “That’s right. After a fair and lawful trial, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Miss Croft swiped her screen a few more times, then another picture appeared on Daria’s.

  “Does this look familiar to you?”

  “No. I don’t think so. Should it?”

  It was some sort of emblem. It looked like a shooting star, with some other, fainter stars around it. The middle one was purple, the others were gold and silver.

  “That’s fine,” Miss Croft said, “you shouldn’t have seen this before. This is the sign of the Jensenites. The small, rag-tag band of sleepers who try to perpetuate the Former Days. They’re opposed to Progress and all that it stands for as a beacon of light, hope, and peace for the world.”

  Daria had heard of sleepers a few times, either at school or on the news. They were people whose minds and bodies didn’t respond to Sendrax. The official explanation was that they were mentally ill, and to such an extent that they couldn’t be reasoned with. They slept more and more hours every night until their bodies eventually shut down, slowly but peacefully. They were unfit for society, so the Benevolent Ones in Progress would care for them in special homes on the outskirts of the city. It was a scary thought. Thankfully, there were only a few of them. Sendrax had been so well designed that almost no one had trouble with it.

  Except me. Wait...

  “Hold on,” Daria said, suddenly connecting the dots, “you don’t think I’m a sleeper, do you??”

  “No! Goodness, no!” Miss Croft said with a laugh. She reached out and touched Daria’s hand. “You’re perfectly normal, my dear. You’re just going through a rough patch right now. We’ll get you healthy and out the other side, don’t worry.”

  Daria gave her a faint smile and tried to let the teacher’s words comfort her.

  Perfectly normal... it’s been a long time since anyone’s put me in the same sentence with those words.

  _______________________

  “Here, you can change into these. Be back here in five minutes.”

  The gymnasium was her next stop that morning. She was scheduled for thirty minutes of stretching and running. The physical education teacher gave her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt - only they were both red! Red clothes! Daria held the otherwise incredibly basic pieces of clothing up in front of her and marvelled at them. She had never worn anything that wasn’t grey or white.

  Colourful clothing had been phased out a few decades ago. When it came to fashion, the overabundance of options - whether clothes, shoes, or accessories - had been considered not only wasteful but dangerous. Colours and styles had the potential to divide people, and one of the most important Guidelines of Progress was the fundamental unity of Humanity.

  But on a more practical level, fashion itself was considered a massive waste of time, energy, and resources. Imagine how many productive hours could be recovered in a year if you never had to think about shopping for clothes, choosing outfits, or keeping up with trends? And so, as a gift to the citizens of Progress, the Doctors established a Universal Wardrobe, comprising your work or school uniform, your everywhere-else outfit, your activewear, and your pajamas. All of it in a dark heather grey. Then, a few years later, they graciously added a grey hat, followed by the white scarf as an ‘accent’ piece. There had been some talk that a belt might be in the works, but no one was certain.

  Daria changed as quickly as she could and then took a few seconds to look at herself in one of the mirrors in the locker room.

  Very nice!

  She was about five-seven and had always stayed in pretty good shape because of all the running she did. But over the last two years, as the exhaustion had slowly claimed her confidence, she had felt more and more dissatisfied with her appearance. She was sure that her brown hair felt thinner and that her blue eyes seemed duller. And despite what Brix said, and her bathroom scale, she tried to convince herself that she had gained a little weight as well.

  But somehow, as she stared at herself in those fiery red clothes, she felt a little better about what she saw in the mirror. Of course, nothing had changed from the previous day. Perhaps it was just a flicker of hope kindling in her mind.

  Then she hurried out to the indoor track to meet her next challenge for the day.

  The PE teacher gave her a list of exercises that took her about fifteen minutes. They were surprisingly simple and Daria imagined he was going easy on her, since it was her first day. After the exercises, he asked her to run as many laps as she could in the time that remained.

  “So, you want me to like, sprint? Or just run at a comfortable pace?”

  “That’s up to you, Daria,” he replied with a smile.

  She jogged slowly to the starting point on the track and took her mark.

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll start the clock. It’s your call.”

  She tried to imagine her track coach being that laid back.

  Get on the mark, Dasher! Better form, Dasher! Are you ready for a nap yet, Dasher?

  She quieted her mind and breathed in the moment.

  Just relax, Dashy.

  Then she started running.

  There were no teammates to keep up with, no buildings to get distracted by, no divots to avoid. And it was bizarrely silent for such a large space, just the gentle pat-pat-pat of her shoes on the track. She glanced over and noticed that her teacher - or coach? - didn’t even seem to be watching her.

  Then something strange started to happen. Something she’d never experienced, not even in the days before she started getting tired.

  She found herself enjoying the run.

  There was no wind to move through her hair, or sun shining down on her face, but she still felt a sense of release. A sense of freedom and abandon. Her legs felt like they were moving effortlessly. Her grey shoes even felt softer somehow.

  Before she knew it, the teacher was calling her name.

  “That’s enough, Daria. Finish this lap and we’re done here.”

  She slowed her pace a bit to help cool down as sh
e came in from the final lap.

  “How did that feel?” he asked her.

  “Great!”

  “Good, I’m glad!”

  “Honestly, I didn’t even keep track of how many laps it was. Did you?”

  “I did. But I want you to guess. How many do you think you did?”

  “Six? Seven, if I’m lucky?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Shut the... sorry! What?! You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and showed her the small display he was using to track her progress. “15.3 minutes. 13 laps. It’s right here.”

  “I don’t even know how that’s possible,” she said in utter amazement.

  “I do. You’re capable of far more than you thought you were, Daria. And this is only the beginning.”

  She smiled and laughed a little as she stood, hands on her hips, looking around the track with a sense of triumph.

  Dang, Dasher. You’re doing it. And it’s only Day 1! You’ll be home in no time.

  _______________________

  That evening at dinner, Dr. Reston had saved her a seat next to him.

  “And how was your first full day, Ms. Grayson?”

  “So good!” she said with genuine satisfaction. Then she caught herself.

  I should really take this a bit slower, shouldn’t I? One good day doesn’t mean I can trust this guy, does it? Or this place?

  “What was your favourite part?”

  “I thought the running was pretty good, I guess.”

  “Good. I thought you’d enjoy that. What about Math?”

  Daria had done three hours of math that afternoon with a Mr. Henry. She wasn’t sure if that was his first or last name.

  “It was alright.”

  “Did you feel like it clicked for you?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so. I wasn’t humiliated by the end, which is always good.”

  Dr. Reston laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment!”

  Daria scratched the back of her head with a frown.

  “Everything ok?” the doctor asked.

  “Yeah, just a little itchy for some reason,” she replied.

  “All day or just now?”

  “A few times today, on and off. It’s nothing.” She was feeling a little embarrassed, as if he might think she didn’t have good hygiene or something. She tried to blow it off and focus on her food.

  She surveyed the colourful arrangement in front of her as she ate her dinner. She paused on the beets. Their rich, deep, purply-red. She slid one of the wedges across the plate until it stood beside a bright orange pepper.

  Yeah... definitely not white stuff and gravy.

  She grabbed them with her fork and shoved both into her mouth at the same time. The meatiness of the beet contrasted with the snap of the fresh pepper. She closed her eyes and soaked in the flavours.

  5

  Month: 3 | Day: 11 | Year: 60

  THE REAL YOU

  Day 5. Keep it up and I’ll be out of here in no time.

  She nearly jumped out of bed that morning. Her 45 had never felt so refreshing. She changed into her grey uniform, then brushed her hair and pulled it up into a loose pony tail, securing it with an elastic band. As her hands ran over the back of her head, she couldn’t help scratching it a few times. In general, she was learning to ignore the mild irritation, assuming it must be her sheets or the shampoo they had given her. Then she stepped over to her desk and popped her morning pill, grabbed her tablet, and headed to her first lesson.

  Daria got to the conference room first, so she waited quietly in her normal seat.

  “Good morning, Ms. Grayson.”

  “Morning, Miss Croft,” she replied as her teacher came through the door a few minutes later. Daria thought she looked a little ‘lighter’ than usual. A little happier, maybe?

  “You can call me Angela, I told you that yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah, right. It’s still just a little hard! I’ve never called a teacher by their fist name before.”

  “I know. Everyone struggles with that when they’re here!”

  Angela took her seat in the same place at the end of the large table. Then she tapped and swiped her tablet and, as usual, an image appeared on Daria’s screen.

  “Do you know who this is?”

  “It’s Julian, isn’t it? Julian... Astor?”

  “That’s right! Well done. And why is he important?”

  “He was the first Mayor of Progress.”

  “Excellent! And what happened to him?”

  “He was... uh... murdered, right? By sleepers.”

  “That’s right,” Miss Croft said. Her face became more serious as the tone of their lesson suddenly turned solemn.

  “Do you recall how?”

  “How?”

  “How he was murdered?”

  “Um...” Daria hesitated. She hated even talking about violence. Maybe it was because she had quite an active imagination and it was hard to erase the images once her mind had sketched them.

  “I think it was... uh, hanging? Right? They, uh... you know... from a building, I think?”

  Daria was hoping Miss Croft would catch on that she knew the facts and finish the answer for her. She didn’t want to have to say it out loud. But Angela just nodded slowly and remained silent.

  “And then they... cut the rope, and he fell. I think it was forty storeys down, and his body hit the street below.” She tried to get the last bit out and over with as quickly as she could.

  “That’s correct, Daria,” Miss Croft continued nodding. “And why?”

  “Why did they do it?”

  “Yes. The sleepers, Daria. Why would they do such a horrific thing?”

  “Um...” She was struggling to answer. The vivid scene of Mayor Astor’s death was playing on a loop in her mind now. She couldn’t see past it. Her teacher seemed to pick up on the trouble she was having and helped her out this time.

  “Because they’re selfish. It’s that simple.”

  “Right, right. I remember.”

  “They’re not interested in the good of society. In the good of humanity. All they care about is the Dark. They want to drag civilisation backwards, not push it forward.”

  Daria was nodding in agreement. She had heard similar things before, if only briefly. She was finally starting to shake off the images from a few minutes ago and clear her mind.

  Miss Croft tapped her screen again.

  “There’s nothing in the Dark, Daria. Nothing but weariness and pain.”

  Daria looked down and there was a picture of a group of children, probably between ten and twelve years old, maybe twenty of them. Some were lying on dirty beds, their eyes closed.

  Are they sleeping?

  Others were huddled in two small groups, keeping warm around a fire. Their clothes were old-fashioned, covered in words and logos, but torn and soiled.

  “What is this?” Daria asked.

  “Some of the Progress Guards found these children several miles outside of the city to the north. The children of a Dark community. We can only assume that their parents had abandoned them to die when their settlement ran low on food. They’re savages, Daria. They lack even the most basic knowledge and wisdom. Or, I should say, they deny it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They know what’s right. They know what’s true. But they prefer their...”

  Daria expected her to finish the sentence but Miss Croft went oddly silent. Then she cleared her throat and smiled.

  “Ok, I think that’s enough for today.” She checked her watched. “You need to get to the gymnasium. Excellent work this morning, Daria!”

  “Oh, ok. Thanks. I’ll see you this afternoon, I guess?”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  _______________________

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “Great!”

  “Then let’s get to it!”

  Her time on the track had been increased since her first day.
She was now up to thirty-five minutes just for running. After a few stretches to warm up, she took her mark.

  “You know how it works. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Let’s crush this, Dashy.

  She started out at a faster pace than she had on the first day. She couldn’t explain the change that had been taking place in her, or how it was happening so quickly, but she was feeling more confident than she could remember feeling in a long time.

  She lost herself in the moment. The pat-pat-pat of her shoes was like a metronome, and her mind and body found their rhythm in perfect time. She felt energy in her legs and ideas in her head. It was like a veil was being pulled back and she was discovering herself again.

  “Aaaand, that’s good for today. Let’s bring it in on this lap.”

  She jogged to the finish line and the coach was there to meet her.

  “Great job today, Daria. You smashed it. Again!”

  “Really?”

  “Look.” He showed her the small screen.

  “22! Wow, it didn’t even feel close to that many. I guess I kind of blanked out again. I can’t believe I’m saying it but I’m just enjoying the running so much, I’m not even thinking about counting!”

  “It’s in you, Daria. You’re a runner.”

  “Thanks.” She had a wide smile on her face as she paced back and forth, giving her body a chance to come down before she went to the locker room.

  Then she heard a different voice call to her.

  “That was pretty awesome!”

  She turned around and saw Smiling Guy walking over to the track.

  Where’d he come from?

  “Oh, hi,” she said, “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Well, I certainly saw you.”

  Oh, did you now?

  “I guess I was kind of in my own world,” she laughed.

  “Were you a runner before you came here?”

  “I wouldn’t say I was a ‘runner’, but I ran. I was kind of the straggler on the team.”

  As she said it, Daria marvelled at herself. Not because she was running so much faster now - even though that was pretty amazing - but because she didn’t feel awkward talking about how she used to be. She just felt calm. Secure.