Eternal

by Grant, Alasdair

  “Master Yao will hear about this!”

  “Hear about what?” Flint says, feigning confusion. “That we were on our way to the Martial Pavilion and cut through the grass because it was faster that way?”

  The two boys—older and younger—lock gazes and posture threateningly. It’s the other Sixth-Year student who brings the stand-off to an end.

  “Let it go, Bauer. He isn’t worth it. What do we care whether he and his little Third-Year buddies walk on the path or off it?”

  “Fine! Do what you want!” Bauer snaps. “But watch your back, Flint, because I’ll be watching you.”

  Flint fakes a yawn and makes brief eye contact with me before he and his group of friends continue on their way.

  “More students coming,” Steel tells us. “Bow.”

  I touch my forehead to the path, but I no longer care how humiliating this is supposed to be. I could do this all day. I could do this all week.

  TWENTY-THREE

  二十三

  JENNA

  I wake with a start.

  “You really are tired,” Mom says. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss Sleepyhead. You were out like a burned bulb before the car left the driveway. No more nightmares?”

  I shake my head. Lies are easier when you don’t have to voice them. Although I’m not sure if this last dream actually qualified as a nightmare.

  “Well, we’re here now,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt, “and maybe the doctor can prescribe something to help you.”

  I rub my eyes, look out the window, and see we’re already parked at the medical plaza.

  I’m feeling mixed sensations—a little anticipation, a little dread. We walk through a quiet lobby with floor tiles so white they look like they’ve been bleached, and a claustrophobically small elevator whisks us up to Doctor Braithwaite’s office. In his waiting room, I find a corner seat while Mom goes to the reception desk. My chair is half-obscured by an artificial tree’s plastic fronds. I’m grateful for the leafy screen. I don’t know why, but I feel like a hunted animal.

  Whoever chooses the magazines for this waiting room doesn’t put a lot of thought into it. I thumb through a pile on an end table and mostly find old issues of medical magazines. All of them are in pristine condition. I wonder why. Isn’t everybody interested in pink eye and surgery for fat pad atrophy?

  Abandoning the magazines, I go for my cell phone instead.

  “Texting Lily again? Maybe that’s what’s making you so tired all the time.”

  Mom has a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. Someone has wrapped green floral tape around the pen’s shaft and glued fabric petals to its end. An unsuccessful attempt to disguise it as a flower.

  “Not texting. Searching the internet.”

  Mom shakes her head and takes a seat perpendicular to mine. While she fills out my paperwork, I search for information about narcolepsy. Several symptoms seem to fit.

  Excessive sleepiness. Daytime sleep attacks at inappropriate moments. Symptoms usually strike people in their mid-teens to early thirties. Most interesting, however, is the part I find about REM sleep. Rapid eye movement sleep is the phase when vivid dreams are most likely to occur. Normal people don’t hit this stage until an hour or more after they’ve fallen asleep. Narcoleptics reach it in approximately five minutes.

  That last symptom worries me. I’m pretty sure my “Jade” dreams start even faster than that. Almost instantaneously. Sometimes I think they hit me before I’m fully asleep.

  I think about the latest dream—Jade and Lily forced to kneel on hard earth, bowing as Yao’s class parades by them. I was in Jade’s head, experiencing her messed up world, for at least ten of my minutes. It takes that long to drive from our house to the medical plaza.

  But sometimes it’s hard to tell how long I’m actually asleep while visiting “Jade Land.” While I sleep, there’s a disconnect between dream time and real time. It might be morning for Jade while it’s late afternoon for me, and hours in her world compress themselves into minutes in mine.

  I rub my hand across my eyes, feeling the headache coming back.

  “Jenna Clark?”

  “That’s us,” Mom says.

  A smiling nurse waits at a door next to the reception desk.

  “Please follow me,” she says, motioning us through.

  This nurse isn’t the severe, scowling type like the school nurse. She seems accustomed to wearing a smile, and her hair is done in a cute shoulder-length style that says she cares what she looks like when she leaves for work in the morning.

  We go through the whole doctor office routine. Weight, pulse, temperature, blood pressure. Somewhere halfway through, I realize my eyelids are drooping, and I grit my teeth and will myself to stay awake.

  Not now, I think.

  “You’ve lost nearly eight pounds since your last visit,” the nurse says. She says it like the weight loss isn’t a good thing.

  She asks a few health related questions, types some things on a laptop computer, and finally says, “All right. I think that will do it. Dr. Braithwaite should be with you in a few minutes.”

  To start with I was fine about coming here, but now I’m having second thoughts. Mom must see it on my face because she pats my knee.

  “You can stay home from school tomorrow if you want. A day off to get a little extra rest.”

  I shake my head.

  “I’ll have too many make-up assignments. I’ll be fine at school.”

  “We’ll let Dr. Braithwaite decide. He’s the medical expert.”

  Mom picks up a magazine, and I count the cotton balls in a big glass jar. We wait seven or eight minutes before Dr. Braithwaite knocks on the door.

  “Come in,” Mom says.

  “Hello,” Dr. Braithwaite cheerfully greets us. He adjusts his silver-rimmed glasses, and smiles at me.

  “So, Jenna… I hear you haven’t been sleeping well, and now you’re making up for it by napping at school.”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  He puts on a pair of latex gloves, picks up an otoscope and snaps a plastic protector over its cone-shaped end.

  “Mind if I take a look in your ears and check your throat?”

  I shrug.

  He makes a lot of humming noises, writes stuff on my medical chart, finishes by shining a bright light in my eyes and pressing his fingers along my jaw to feel for swollen glands.

  “Everything checks out so far. You haven’t been kissing any boys, have you?”

  “What?”

  He laughs. “Just a little doctor humor. Fatigue—especially accompanied by a sore throat—can be a symptom of mononucleosis. I don’t see any other obvious symptoms, but I think it would still be a good idea to order some lab work and check for blood-borne pathogens.”

  Great. Needles. This is why people hate going to the doctor.

  “What can you tell me about the situation, Mrs. Blake?” he says turning his chair toward Mom. “Have you noticed any symptoms of illness or any strange behavior? Anything other than Jenna’s increased fatigue and the alleged seizure at school?”

  “No,” Mom says. “Not really. Except she’s been complaining about strange dreams and had a terrible nightmare last night.”

  “Tell me about it,” Dr. Braithwaite says, returning his attention to me. “Do you remember any specific details? Do these dreams seem to have repeating themes or patterns?”

  Suddenly I feel guarded like Jenna did when she was being interrogated by Master Ning.

  “I…I don’t know. School stuff, I guess. Sometimes my best friend, Lily, is in the dreams. I can’t really remember much beyond that.”

  He nods and types my response into the laptop the nurse used. While he does it, I wonder why I lied about how much I remember. What does it matter if others know about Jade and her alternate reality? It’s just dreams. They can’t commit me to a psychiatric ward because I have dreams, can they?

  “Have you had a lot of stress at school?
” he asks. “Any big tests or assignments that have been worrying you?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Anxiety can play a huge role in sleep deprivation. Someone your age should be getting at least eight hours of sleep each night. If you don’t, it affects you physically and mentally.”

  He rubs his chin a moment.

  “I’m going to prescribe a sleep aid for the next few nights,” he continues. “If the sleep meds don’t help, we have two other avenues we can pursue. One is the sleep disorders center, the other is to send you to radiology for an MRI. Just to rule out any brain injuries.”

  This just keeps getting better and better.

  “Let me print off a prescription for those sleeping pills, and then I’ll be right back to answer any questions you might have.”

  He leaves and Mom pats my knee again.

  “He must not think your episode at school was a seizure.”

  “I told you it wasn’t. I told the school nurse the same thing, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Nobody listens.”

  “Maybe the sleeping pills will help. Those circles under your eyes have been getting darker every day. I should have brought you here sooner. I shouldn’t have waited until things got so bad.”

  “There’s been a lot going on lately,” I say. “You had no way of knowing.”

  Mom shakes her head. “A mother should know these things. It’s my job to protect you. But maybe with the medicine you can finally get some sleep.”

  Sleep. Dreamless sleep. Is such a thing possible? I crave it and yet feel guilty for desiring it. It’s almost like I’m contemplating Jade’s murder.

  But no. I’m just cutting the connection to her world. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, if I don’t do it soon, the next thing I know they’ll be putting me in a straightjacket. It’s no crime to want my life back.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  二十四

  JADE

  “What are you doing? Get up!”

  “I don’t think she’s breathing. Do…do you think she’s dead?”

  Someone shakes me by the shoulder. Frantically.

  “Maybe you should run and tell Master Yao. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Get out of the way!” Lily’s voice barks.

  Where am I? How many spectators saw me pass out this time?

  “Jade!” Lily says. “Jade? Can you hear me?”

  I blink my eyes open. The sky is streaked with brilliant reds and oranges, and I’m lying on my back, head lolling to one side, every muscle in my body aching.

  “Jade!” Lily says again, and now there’s a hint of panic in her voice. “Talk to me. Say something if you hear me speaking.”

  She cradles my head against her bent knees.

  “Black,” I whisper.

  “What?”

  “Blackness… Sleeping medicine…”

  Lily blinks, confused. Then she glares up at the two Sixth-Year boys.

  “What are you waiting for? Get help!”

  They hesitate a moment then turn and run toward Master Yao’s pagoda.

  “Are you all right? Can you sit?”

  I nod, and Lily helps me off my back. She moves to a seated position beside me and grimaces as her knees crack.

  “Was it the kneeling?” she asks.

  “I…I don’t know,” I say.

  That could be part of it. But I still recall the absolute blackness, and it makes me shudder to remember. Before that was the amber container with its chalky white tablets. Jenna swallowed one of them.

  She swallowed it to make me go away.

  I choke on an unexpected sob. Did she know what the tablet would do? Was it an accident, or did she secretly intend to erase me from existence?

  Lily mistakes my sob for something else and wraps her arms around me. We’re interrupted by approaching footsteps and Master Yao appears.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Student Jade blacked out,” Lily answers. “All the kneeling and bowing in the heat… It became too much for her.”

  There’s a hint of reproach in her voice. Perhaps Master Yao hears it because his response is slow and toneless.

  “Take her to the infirmary. Mistress Tianshi can assess her health and report back to me.”

  Lily takes my arm and helps me onto my feet. My muscles immediately protest and pain knifes through my knees. The rest of the academy, except for our two guards, is now at evening meal. I thank all the gods and my ancestors that we have no gawking audience.

  I wonder if Lily feels as queasy and lightheaded as I do. I’m stumbling from hunger and fatigue, but more than food or rest, I need someone to talk to. I look over my shoulder and see that Master Yao and our erstwhile guards are headed in the opposite direction. It should be safe to confide in Lily.

  “I’ve been having dreams,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Dreams. Whenever I black out, I start dreaming. But these aren’t like the dreams we had as little children when dreaming wasn’t forbidden.”

  Lily releases my arm and steps away from me. “What do you mean?” she demands.

  “When I’m asleep, I visit another world. No… Not another world. Not exactly. It’s more like another reality. When I’m there, I’m living the life of an alternate version of me.”

  Lily glances nervously around, making sure no one has overheard what I just said. When she’s sure we’re alone, she takes my arm again and we walk a few more paces in silence.

  “So you’re telling me you’ve created another life,” she says. “You’ve created another world—in your imagination—and it allows you to temporarily escape this existence.”

  “No. I’m not imagining anything. It’s real. As real as this world. I share a mind link with my alternate self. It has something to do with the Fifth Amplitude.”

  She stiffens when she hears those last two words, and it takes several moments for her to compose herself. She shakes her head before she speaks again.

  “Dreams are forbidden,” she says. I feel her hand trembling. “Punishable by death. You know that, Jade. There are people—not just the Emperor—who would harm you for that secret.”

  “What do you mean? Who besides the Emperor would care?”

  She looks away. “People. People like the Dikang and Master Yao.”

  “There are also people who would harm the two of us for taking higher level amplitude training. But that hasn’t stopped you.”

  “This is different. It’s danger on a whole new level. The dream hunters—”

  “Won’t find me as long as I’m wearing this.”

  I produce the jade pendant from beneath my robes, and Lily gives it a dubious look.

  “Does Mistress Song know about your dreams?”

  “Yes. And so does Master Ning.”

  “And they’re doing nothing to stop it?”

  “I…I think they want me to dream.”

  Lily releases my arm again. We’re near the Martial Pagoda, and evening’s light reflects off its copper roof like golden fire.

  “This is too dangerous,” Lily whispers. “Amplitude training and dreams? Why? Why are they letting you do it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  That much is true and, fortunately, Lily accepts my lack of knowledge. But her brow is still furrowed.

  “When you dream,” she says, more curious now than concerned, “what is it like? Do you remember every detail after you wake up?”

  “As much as I remember from any other day to day experience I have. Jenna remembers, too. I think it frightens her more than it frightens me.”

  “Jenna… Your alternate self?”

  “Yes.”

  Lily steps closer.

  “If there’s another you…does that mean there’s also another version of me?”

  I feel Jenna’s consciousness move to squelch my response. She needn’t worry. I wouldn’t wish this terror on Jenna’s Lily or mine.

  “I suppose there could be,” I hedge. “But the dreams are da
ngerous. You said so yourself. If the dream hunters were brought to the academy… If both of us were dreaming…”

  Lily sees what I’m saying. She frowns but nods her understanding.

  “We’re here,” she whispers. “The infirmary. You’ll have to tell me more about your dreams later.”

  “Of course.”

  In nervous silence, we enter the one-room building. Mistress Tianshi stands at a tall marble-topped table, crushing fragrant herbs with a granite mortar and pestle. We wait near the door, shuffling our feet nervously, wondering whether to announce ourselves or wait for her to notice us until she senses us on her own and turns with raised eyebrows.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Master Yao sent us,” Lily answers. “Student Jade fainted, and he wants you to evaluate her health and report back to him.”

  The healer scowls. “Does he then?”

  She notices our discomfort and forces a smile.

  “Come sit on this stool, Student Jade.”

  I do as instructed, and she lifts my chin and stares into my eyes.

  “Twice in one week,” she says. “This is concerning. Perhaps this is more than stress.”

  She feels along my jaw, the same way Jenna’s doctor pressed with his fingers along hers, and watches me thoughtfully.

  “Before you fainted,” Mistress Tianshi says, “what were you doing?”

  “Kneeling.”

  “Kneeling in Master Yao’s class?”

  “No. Kneeling by the lion statue.”

  She releases my chin, her face darkening.

  “How long?”

  “All day,” Lily answers for me.

  “As a punishment?”

  We nod.

  She mutters something under her breath and her frown deepens.

  “Let me have a look at your knees.”

  She stoops, lifts my robe’s hem, gently probes flesh and joints with her long bony fingers. Despite how careful she is, I grit my teeth and wince.

  “Obvious swelling in the joints,” she says, “and some bruising.” She turns to Lily. “I imagine your knees look the same?”