Sleeping World

by K M Frost

  I glance around the room. I still don’t see Stewart anywhere, but Leah’s not too far away, and we could use the help, as much as she hates me right now.

  I tell Abby I’ll be right back, and then I hurry to where Leah’s still perusing the sleeping faces.

  I call out to her as soon as I’m close enough. “Hey, we could use some help looking through these books.”

  Leah acts like she doesn’t hear me. She moves on to the next bed, studying the face. I’m about to open my mouth to repeat myself when she speaks.

  “I’m busy.”

  “You’re busy?”

  She shoots me a dark look. “Yes. Busy. It means I’m doing something important and don’t have time to read old books full of make-believe words.”

  My annoyance builds. “What could be more important than finding out what happened here?”

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  I’m trying to form a good strong reply when Leah turns and walks away. “Your girlfriend’s lonely, Jonas.”

  I look over my shoulder reflexively, but Abby is wrapped up in what she’s reading and I don’t think she heard Leah’s comment. But my face is still warm when I get back to Abby.

  She raises her head when I get close. “Do you want to help?”

  I nod and reach for one of the books on her stack, but she teasingly slaps my hand.

  “These are mine, Dreamy Boy. You’ll have to get your own.”

  I feel a smile on my own face, and I hurry to the storage room and bring back a stack of old books.

  Abby shifts on her bed to make room for me, and I hoist myself up.

  I open my first book, but I feel like half the time I’m reading another language. The book is filled with strange words: fiberglass, power cables, electronic. I don’t know what these words mean—though the prickle in the back of my mind spikes whenever I read one of the words. While I struggle to piece together what the author meant, I try to imagine living in a world where guns, ambulances, and electronics are everyday things, but I can’t quite manage it.

  And as I read about the violence and troubles of this strange world, and see the people around us in perpetual sleep, I have to ask myself: Do I even want to remember this world? Do I really want to be a part of it?

  I honestly don’t have an answer.

  Chapter 13

  I’ve been reading for hours—I don’t know how long—and my head is spinning with the strange words of this strange world.

  I set aside my book and rub my tired eyes.

  Abby chuckles beside me, and I look over to see her watching me with a grin.

  “It takes some getting used to. But after a while you start to almost understand what it’s talking about. Like this entry for example.” She slides closer so we can both see the book she’s holding. “It’s all about plans for a new kind of ambulance, one that can travel faster and carry more passengers. At first I had no clue what an ambulance was, so this passage didn’t make any sense. But then I learned more about ambulances, and now I’ve figured out it’s some kind of transport. It’s like a big wagon that can move without being pulled.”

  I laugh, but when I see her expression I realize she’s not joking. “You mean, like a magic wagon?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t really get it, but I know it’s used to transport people, so now when I read about it moving faster and carrying more passengers, that makes sense, at least.”

  I shake my head. “It still seems like a bizarre make-believe story to me.

  Abby laughs. “Yeah, it kind of does. Who knows, maybe it is just make-believe. But it’s kind of exciting to understand some of it.”

  She’s sitting closer than I thought and when she lifts her head, our faces are only inches apart. Her smile fades a little, though her eyes are bright. My body goes completely still, and for a couple heartbeats I’m just looking into her warm brown eyes.

  “Hey, guys!” Stewart’s sudden shout snaps me back to reality.

  I turn away from Abby’s upturned face and focus on Stewart, who’s running toward us, a thick book held by both hands above his head.

  Abby shifts away from me, and I resist the urge to look at her. My face is already heating up, and I don’t need to see her smile—or worse, her own blush. I try to focus on what Stewart’s saying.

  “Look what I found.” He lifts the book onto my lap and grins proudly. “It’s called a dic-tion-ar-y.”

  I frown at it, but I pull it open and squint down at the small print. From what I can see, the book is full of words (in alphabetical order) and their meanings.

  It takes me a second to understand why Stewart is so excited, but then I catch my breath and turn the pages quickly, searching the letters on the page until I find what I’m looking for.

  Amʹbū∙lănce (noun)

  a moveable hospital.

  a vehicle especially adapted to carry the sick or wounded: used on the battlefield, by hospitals, etc.

  Stewart can hardly keep still. “Did you read about the ambulance?”

  I grin. “I sure did, buddy.”

  He bounces on his heels, overcome with excitement. “Now we’ll be able to understand what they’re talking about in all these books!”

  Abby’s ecstatic, too. She grabs the book from me and flips through pages feverishly.

  I lean over so I can see the words she’s looking up.

  Enʹġine (noun)

  a machine for converting thermal energy into mechanical energy or power to produce force and motion.

  any mechanical contrivance.

  “Look at this.” Abby eagerly points out the word and its meaning. “I read the ambulances have engines—that’s one of the things they were trying to improve so it could move faster. Whatever an engine is, it makes the ambulance move without being pulled by something. It somehow produces force and moves the ambulance.”

  Her excitement is contagious, and I grin. “So the engine is magic.”

  Abby laughs. “I guess.” She returns to flipping pages, looking for words she’s read but didn’t understand.

  I smile at Stewart, and then grab my own book and begin making a mental list of the words I didn’t understand. I compose my list while Abby searches for words.

  When she finally passes the dictionary to me, she looks a little dazed. “These entries are entirely different now.” She absentmindedly sets her book on her lap, and stares into the distance.

  I leave her to her thoughts and start looking for the words on my list. A few of the words have confusing descriptions, but there aren’t any words I can’t find in the dictionary, and after reading some other entries to clarify the meaning, I’m back on track and soaking up information as fast as I can.

  It’s incredible to finally have answers. We’ve been in the dark for so long, trying to understand what happened to this world, but our ignorance made it nearly impossible.

  But now we have the dictionary, and we’ll finally be able to figure out what happened to these people. And maybe—if we’re very lucky—we’ll be able to fix things and revive the sleeping people.

  While I’m searching for a word at Stewart’s request—pandemic—my eyes catch on another word and I feel a prickle at the back of my neck.

  Program.

  I remember the flashing message from the computer: Merging programs, and I find myself holding my breath while I read the entry.

  Prō′gram (noun)

  an outline of work to be done; a pre-arranged plan of procedure

  a logical sequence of operations to be performed by a digital computer in solving a problem or in processing data; the coded instructions and data for such a sequence.

  I read the explanation of the word multiple times and then couple it with my understanding of the word merging: to combine, blend, or unite. So, there had been a plan the computer was overseeing, but when Rick tampered with the computer, the plan blended with another plan.

  I frown.

  What were the two plans, and why had they been separa
te?

  I realize the flashing message of merging programs had looked eerily like a warning . . .

  Rick yells, pulling me out of my musings.

  I hand the dictionary to Abby, who’s engrossed in her reading, and I slip down from the tall bed.

  Stewart and I run to the computer room. Leah’s already inside and refuses to acknowledge me, though she waves to Stew.

  I try to ignore the twinge in my gut and focus on what Rick’s saying.

  “I’ve been trying to sift through all the information in this computer, but it’s been kind of hard.” He leans back against the desk and crosses his arms. “From what I’ve been able to figure out, this computer was in charge of regulating something, and it has to do with the people out there.” He jerks his chin toward the open door. “I don’t know what it’s regulating, or what it does, but I’m pretty sure it’s regulating more than one thing.” His dark brows are pulled together, pensive and brooding. “Looking back in the computer’s logs, I can see there were two separate things called programs—”

  I hear myself interrupt him. “A program is a plan or sequence of operations for a computer to perform.”

  Rick blinks, his eyes clearing. “What?”

  I’m embarrassed for interrupting him, but Stewart’s grinning at me like I’m the coolest person alive, so I stand straighter and answer Rick calmly.

  “Stewart found a book called a dictionary. It’s got a bunch of words and explanations for them—words like program and ambulance. Abby’s using it right now to make sense of the entries in those books. I read that a program is a plan or sequence for a computer.”

  Stew squints up at me. “So, like a job?”

  “Exactly. Somebody gave the computer a job to do, and it has to do with those people out there.”

  Rick’s quiet for a minute, taking in what I said, then he shakes himself. “Anyway, as I was saying, there were two different programs the computer was regulating, but then one just disappeared.”

  Leah frowns. “Disappeared? Why?”

  “I don’t know. One day there’re two programs, and the next day there’s only one.”

  Merging programs . . .

  I must have whispered the words out loud, because everyone looks at me. I shift my weight, uncomfortable with all the attention I’m getting.

  “When was the last time there were two programs?” I ask.

  Rick turns to the computer. After tapping away on the keyboard for a few seconds, he pauses.

  “Uh, yesterday was when it disappeared.” He goes still, and I can almost feel his dread.

  I lick my lips anxiously. “That’s when the computer said ‘merging programs’. And that’s what it did. There were two programs, but you must have overridden the old orders and the computer merged them into one.”

  Leah folds her arms with a huff. “But what does that mean?”

  I glance over, but she’s looking at Rick, not me.

  Rick frowns, thinking quickly. Finally he looks at the middle box on the desk, where his messages to the computer are still displayed. “I don’t know.”

  I wait for him to say more, but when he doesn’t, I swallow and open my mouth again. “I don’t know what it means. But I don’t think it was a good thing.”

  No one has anything else to say, and we fall into silence, lost in our own thoughts.

  “Jonas! Everyone! Come quick!”

  Abby’s shout breaks the silence, and after a quick glance at each other, we hurry to where she’s sitting with books all around her.

  As soon as I reach her, she thrusts a book into my hands. “Read this.”

  She looks worried, but rather than asking what’s wrong, I read the penned entry in the book.

  out of control. Efforts to subdue have failed.

  “What does it say?” Rick peers over my shoulder at the book.

  I clear my throat and read the entry aloud:

  The casualty count is climbing daily. Mass panic has broken out everywhere. We’re running out of time. The President fell today, and rebellions have begun to form. We have no choice. Work on the system began today. The computer should be ready in a week.

  There’s a break, and then another entry in the same handwriting.

  We’ve met resistance on many sides, but have managed to finish preparations on the Clinic. Many of the Counsel have fallen, but the survivors are adamant. We must complete the program, for the sake of us all. The computer is nearly ready, and we’ve begun transporting patients to the Clinic, but we don’t have enough ambulances to stay ahead of death. The beds are filling quickly, and we may have to use the floor.

  Another break, another entry.

  The computer is ready, and we’ve begun integrating the critical patients. Many of the uninfected are attempting to get in first, and there have been fatalities as a result, though our soldiers are few. The prison warden made it to the Clinic alive, and has demanded that his prisoners be integrated as well. The Counsel fears sabotage if we do not comply.

  One more break before the last entry.

  The second program is ready, and the prisoners are being integrated, though the delay cost many lives. The programmer has created a failsafe, in the event of an emergency. We pray the day will never be desperate enough for the failsafe to be needed.

  I look up at Abby and see her solemn face. “What programs are they talking about?” I flip to the next page, but it’s blank.

  Abby’s expression is grim. “The computer programs. Rick told me about the message on the computer. Merging programs . . . It’s the failsafe he mentioned.” She nods to the book in my hands.

  I look down at the blank page and wonder why the author never wrote any more.

  Rick’s voice pulls me back to the present. “But, if the second program was for the prisoners, what was the first one for?”

  Abby takes the book from me and closes it. Then she looks at us all. “I read about a program a couple days ago, but I didn’t really understand what it was. One of the accounts called it a simulation—which is a resemblance or imitation—and said the programmed simulation was supposed to serve as a home for the world.”

  Rick crosses his arms. “A simulation. But, what does that mean?”

  Abby sets the book aside. “As far as I can tell, the simulation they were talking about . . . it was kind of like a play.”

  I frown. “A play? Like, with actors and scenes?”

  “Yes. From what I read, the people who created the simulation wanted to make a world to imitate real life, and then put everyone inside.”

  “But, why would they want to do that?” Leah waves a hand at the books all around Abby. “It sounded like the world was kind of a wreck. Why would they waste their time with plays, or want to recreate their world if things were so bad?”

  Abby shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. But it sounds like they were able to complete the simulation and they integrated everyone to keep them safe. Then, according to that entry Jonas just read, the criminals of the world needed an escape, too, so the same people created a second simulation and put the prisoners in that one. They were very careful to keep the two separate, but . . .”

  I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut and I distantly hear a gasp—then I realize it was me.

  “Jonas?” Abby’s eyebrows furrow in concern and alarm.

  A hand touches my shoulder, but I don’t know who it is. I can’t focus on that now.

  I’ve put two pieces of this terrible puzzle together, and the connection is not a good one.

  My mind is racing, making me dizzy, but I manage to find my voice. “The criminals, the ones in the other program . . . Those men in Capernia appeared out of nowhere—overnight. Yesterday night. The same night the programs merged.”

  I finally look at the other Reality Dreamers. They’re all watching me with anxious faces—even Leah.

  “We’ve got a problem,” I say, the biggest understatement of my life.

  Chapter 14

  I was confused w
hen I woke sprawled on the kitchen floor. But then I remembered the attacks yesterday, and how we’d huddled in the kitchen after barricading the doors and windows.

  Ellie was still asleep, and Mom and Dad had moved to the other side of the room where they were whispering quietly back and forth. Mom was wrapped in Dad’s arms, and she looked like she’d been crying.

  I listened for the terrible sounds from last night, but all I heard was Ellie’s quiet breathing and Mom and Dad whispering. No screams, no crashes, no laughs.

  I listened to the silence, waiting for a horrible sound to break the stillness. But after several minutes passed and nothing happened, the tension in my muscles eased.

  My mind turned to the Reality Dreams and the terrifying discoveries we’d made last night. I could still hardly believe this world had been flooded with criminals, and all because Rick had been fiddling with the computer.

  When I’d told them about the connection I’d made and the trouble we were in, Rick had collapsed on the floor, devastated. We tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault—he couldn’t have known what would happen—but he didn’t seem to hear us.

  I hated that Rick blamed himself for the violence the criminals brought with them (apparently Capernia wasn’t the only place being plagued with criminals—it sounded like the whole world was cowering in terror), but I had no idea how to comfort him, so I said nothing.

  Actually, none of us had said much. Stewart asked a couple times what was going to happen now the criminals had been released, but no one had an answer for him, and eventually he’d stopped asking.

  I pushed the thoughts away and rolled onto my side.

  Ellie’s eyes were open, and she was watching me silently, her blanket pulled up to her chin. She looked close to tears. “What’s going to happen, Jonas?”