The Dream Protocol: Descent (Book I)

by Adara Quick

  Deirdre blushed and looked away. Oops. This is not a conversation I want to have with my mother! I’m not going to marry someone just because we share the same Selection.

  Before Deirdre could respond, their approach activated the standard vid screen at the hallway intersection. The Maker’s symbol appeared on the screen; it glowed a golden yellow and looked like you could reach into the screen and grab it. The medallion of five interlocking circles symbolized the five senses that the Makers wove into their dreams. The best crafted dreams offered the dreamer an immersive world to explore of tastes, textures, sounds, smells, and images.

  A voice came on and in rapid-fire speech, it said, “Become a Dream Match girl or boy! Win Dream Match and work with the Makers Topside! Any 13-year-old is eligible to try out. Submit your application with Dream Match Administration on Level 2. Maybe you can be a star of the dream world!” Deirdre looked away, disgusted. She hated Dream Match, and she hated Matchers who were trying to win it.

  Deirdre and her mother continued walking and the screen switched itself off again, ready for the next passerby. Breck came along after them and the recording started playing again. She hovered at the screen, mesmerized by any talk of Dream Match. There was a look of fever on her face, and her eyes were as wide as the Maker’s symbol projected on the screen before her. Absentmindedly, she placed the tips of her fingers against her lips and nibbled on one fingernail.

  Deirdre asked, “Ma, do you have to work with any of the winners from Dream Match? They’re totally annoying, right?” She spoke loudly so Breck would hear. Dream Match was produced in a large holo room configured as a theater, complete with stadium seating and a central stage. Everyone in the city attended to choose the winners; it was the social event of the year. The 15-year-olds, called Matchers, performed on the stage, displaying their stylized “brand” to claim the love of the city and their votes.

  Siobhan said, “Of course we work with them. Our dreams featuring the winners are always the top priority at the Academy. Becoming a teenager again in dream...well, those downloads always produce the most sales. Everyone wants to be young. And that is what the Minister wants. So, we put most of our resources on those, building them out in all five senses. When we sequence them, we capture how they walk, talk, everything about the city’s new darlings.”

  “You mean the Minister’s darlings. He always acts like the winners are his pets or something.”

  “Shush, Dee. How many times do I have to tell you? No talk against the Minister in the hallways. You really must be more careful. Some things are better left unsaid,” Siobhan whispered.

  Deirdre grew quiet and pulled into herself. I don’t want to be quiet. I want to scream and shout until everyone wakes up and sees the city for what it is: a cage. I don’t understand. Why can’t she see it? And if they select me for Maker, I’ll be building the cages for them. We need to get out of here. Me, Flynn, and Antrim before that happens.

  Noticing the silence, Siobhan said, “And yes, the Matchers are never easy to work with. But that is understandable, given...well, no matter. Forget I mentioned it.” She walked on ahead, leaving her daughter trailing behind.

  The conversation with her mother was clearly over. What if we don’t find a way out of this concrete hole? What happens in Selection, Mother? And what are you not telling me about the Matchers? Deirdre kept walking, lost in thought and wondering how she would be tested in a few months’ time.

  On every citizen’s 16th birthday, the test of Selection was given to determine how they would serve the city. The procedure was a highly guarded secret, ensured by the fact that no one coming out of Selection could remember anything about it. The examination took place in the dream world, and no one knew who or what did the Selecting. Out of the testing, an elite few were chosen to become Dream Makers and sent to study the making of dreams at Dream Maker Academy on the surface of the island. The Academy’s dreams were interactive worlds that could be explored according to the limits of that dream. The art of the Makers was in imagining a world and the rules that governed it.

  Others going through Selection were condemned to be converted into Dream Drones, joining the Minister’s army. These enforcers of the Ministry walked the hallways, monitored the populace, and administered Dream Justice whenever necessary. In Selection, anything could happen. Wherever you were placed, that was where you were stuck for your entire life. The dream world was the only escape.

  Within the Academy of Dream Makers, a secret group existed, their identities hidden from everyone except each other and the Minister. Called ‘Mare Makers, they produced the nightmares used by the Ministry to control the city. This data was accessed and transmitted through the Drones, like what happened to Maeve O’Brian. In a matter of minutes, a dissident could be forced to live through any kind of terror. The ‘Mares were the most effective weapon of tyranny ever created by humankind.

  The surgical placement of the arachnoids at 16 ensured that any adult could be punished at any time. The Ministry had reinvented the technology of the implants many times. What began as a simple microchip placed under the skin was now a multi-stage device that actually grew into the host brain. With each upgrade, a new catalog of dreams and ‘Mares had to be created that would be compatible. In between tech releases, the Ministry continually drove the Academy to create more engrossing dreams and ‘Mares that would cement their control.

  The threat of a nightmare sentencing kept most of the population submissive and fearful. They counted the hours to the end of the lifeless workday when they could go home and live their few contented moments in the dream world. Like this, they eked along a life of quiet desperation until their 35th birthday, the age of descent.

  And then, it ended.

  2

  VOICE 1: “HOW IS THE SPRINT GOING FOR YOU?”

  VOICE 2: “BAD. THE COMPRESSION ALGORITHM WON’T WORK. IF I CAN’T INCREASE THE FILE TRANSFER SPEED, THE DREAMS WILL NEVER FEEL REAL.”

  VOICE 1: “WE HAVE THE SAME PROBLEM. I HEARD IDREAM IS BRINGING IN SOME HOTSHOT PROGRAMMER. ROENIN SOMEONE OR OTHER.”

  VOICE 2: “WELL, LET’S HOPE HE’S AS GOOD AS THEY SAY.”

  VOICE 1: “IF HE ISN’T, WE’LL ALL BE OUT OF A JOB PRETTY QUICK.”

  - Phone transcript, IDream cloud archive

  March 1, 2043

  Dylan fell quickly into step behind the Minister as they left the Ritual Room. He was a large man, a good six inches taller than the Minister, and had risen quickly to second-in-command within Dream Justice. But despite his actual size, he never thought of himself as being bigger than the Minister. The leader in the red jacket turned to him, and Dylan hunched his shoulders submissively, his ocean-blue eyes finding the floor.

  The Minister said to him, “Did you see that one try to escape? She thought she was going to make it out of there at the end. As if anyone wants to see that old bag of bones running around.” He chuckled to himself, amused.

  Dylan replied, “People are sheep, sir. The herd needs a strong shepherd and the ritual to thin it.”

  Appeased, the Minister straightened his jacket. He said, “The Ministry provides. So, tell me Dylan, how goes the development on the next upgrade to the weavers?”

  Dylan was a man who got things done. He replied, “We’re right on schedule, Minister. The Medical Director provides regular briefings at the Dream Justice staff meetings. The next version of weavers will be ready for production soon. We will be in time to implement the new batch for the next round of youth Selections. We will be prepared to inform the populace at the announcing of Selection eligibles.”

  Nodding, the Minister replied, “Good. Good. And your projections on the project?”

  Dylan believed in the basic mission of the Ministry: run the city, keep order, dispose of the ruined, and sell dreams. “With the new devices, people will be even more dependent on the rewards of the Dream Protocol. And even less able to sleep without it. Your grip on the next cycle of workers will be even tighter.”

 
“Excellent.” The Minister looked behind him to ensure that only his Drones were within hearing. Then he said, “Dylan, there is some information that I want to share with you that needs to stay between us.”

  “Always, Minister.”

  The two men stepped quickly through the hallway, the hard heels of their boots echoing in the narrow space. “My sources tell me that some of the people are getting...restless,” the Minister said. “We can’t have that, Dylan. I have been developing a special project, and I want you to manage it from here. We need to learn more about this restless faction. Follow me Topside and I’ll tell you about it in my office.”

  “Of course, sir. Whatever you request.”

  “Also, I want you to look into the work that Maeve O’Brian was doing as a Maker. A Maker never runs. They are the public face for my laws and model good behavior for the rest of the city. Obviously, she had political leanings of which we were not aware. I want you to investigate and close that loop.”

  The two men walked on together followed by their Dream Drone escorts. Dylan idly wondered what the special project was. Whatever it was, he knew that the supremacy of the Ministry would be certain.

  The Callaghan family stepped off the lift onto Level 28. As they made their way home through the dimly lit corridors, Deirdre’s eyes followed the pattern of the paint cracks on the flooring. One more week. They walked slowly, mostly to give Siobhan the time she needed to grieve.

  Deirdre checked to make sure her father was still well ahead and asked, “Ma, why did Maeve run? Would you ever try to?”

  Siobhan replied, “Of course not. I’m uncertain why she did it. She’s seen enough rituals to know that the outcome of the descent is always the same, whether you struggle or walk gracefully to your fate. But I suppose that when you are standing before the cylinder, strange feelings can come up.”

  Siobhan took a deep breath and continued. “I can’t help but think on her life now that she is gone, daughter. We were best friends at the Academy, and then we worked together on projects as Makers. Whenever I needed another Maker to add the sense of touch to my dreams, Maeve was always at my side. No one could sequence the feeling of texture or movement like Maeve.” She paused, then added, “What a beautiful song you sang for her today, Dee. I know it was a comfort.”

  Deirdre asked, “Thanks, Ma. What do you want me to wish for you next week?”

  Siobhan said, “Let’s not speak of that now. I still have lots of time left with my lovely girls.” Breck took her mother’s hand and they continued on through the maze of passageways that made up the level.

  Deirdre fell silent and dropped back from her mother and sister. Closer now to home, the Callaghan family approached one of the square air shafts that punctured the city. The hallways were laid out on each level in a grid pattern and three of the sections had been set aside to ventilate the city. The shafts pierced the structure from top to bottom and large spinning fans were placed every 10 levels to move the air. One last set of blades had been placed at the three openings to the surface to prevent anyone from getting out that way. The lower shafts were open to the walkways on each of their four sides, except for a thin wire railing that kept people from falling. Whenever you were near them, you could hear the slow thump, thump, thump of the fan blades.

  Deirdre paused at the precipice and listened to the sound of the blades. Then she glanced up the hall, making sure that her family was walking on. Locking her feet under the metal railing, she leaned out into the airway with arms outstretched. Suspended in the air, she imagined that she was flying, free from the rules and commands of the Ministry. Feeling the warm moist air on her face, forced up from the depths of the city, she wondered what her future would hold. My life is almost half over and I know I don’t want to be a Maker. How are Flynn and I ever going to escape this place? We can’t leave without Antrim.

  Hanging over the edge into the air shaft always made Deirdre think of days long past, a happier time for her family. Feeling the press of the wind on her face, she remembered when her father would wrap his arms under her shoulders. Lifting her this way when she was little, he would swing her around and around, faster and faster. The wind would rush past her face just like it rushed past her now, fleeing the depths of the city. She had circled her father in the untroubled abandon of childhood. She remembered his laughter and her own carefree smile, but now that was all gone. The father she had now was so different. Nowhere is safe. There is no one to turn to, except my friends.

  Her thoughts were taking a dark turn. Deirdre stared down into the black, wondering how they could get free when access to the surface was so well blockaded. Then between the fan blades, she thought she saw a red light wink on. Far down at the very bottom of the outlet something shiny glinted in the dark. Startled, she blinked and then it was gone. Weird.

  “Da, Dee is leaning over the railing again,” Breck whined with a smile.

  Looking back, Sean called out, “Deirdre, that’s enough. Come on.”

  Thanks, Breck. Deirdre sucked in one more whiff of the rushing air and caught up with her parents. But at the intersection that led to their unit, the hallway was unexpectedly blocked by a wall. In Skellig City, the walls sometimes moved in the night, without anyone knowing why or how.

  Frustrated with the delay, Sean rolled up the sleeves on his orange robe. “Again? I don’t know why the Ministry can’t announce city restacking before the walls are moved. As a Maker, I need to be informed of these changes.” Sean went to the information panel, entered his access code, and brought up a three-dimensional display of the new crowd flow schematic for that level.

  Deirdre stated matter-of-factly, “Maybe that’s the point, Da. The Ministry wants to make you feel insignificant.”

  Sean looked around anxiously, then turned back to his daughter and said, “You need to stop this attitude. If a Dream Drone were here, you’d be sentenced for a statement like that and there wouldn’t be anything I could do to prevent it. Is that what you want?”

  “No, Da,” replied Deirdre with a frown on her face.

  “Alright then,” he said with a stern nod. “Let’s get moving. This way.”

  They veered left, right, and left again until they reached the corridor for their living space. A few feet out, Sean’s access profile was read through his arachnoid and the door to the unit unlocked for them. Even though their 10 x 20 foot quarters were cramped for four people, they were bigger than what most of the city lived in. Since both parents were Dream Makers, the Callaghans had an extra room; Deirdre and Breck shared it as a separate bedroom. The main room served as a living room and eating area while the parents had a bedroom behind the kitchen.

  Everything in the unit was made of grey metal or dull plastic except for one family heirloom sitting on the side table: a wood box. There was almost nothing wooden left in Skellig City. It had all either rotted away or broken to splinters over the centuries. But the box that belonged to the Callaghans was made of teak, one of the strongest woods ever to be harvested and worked. On the lid was carved the Callaghan family pattern, the same pattern that was being knit into Siobhan’s Ritual Offering jumper by one of the Spinners.

  Deirdre pressed her hand lightly on the box as she entered the room and ran her fingers across the wood grain. Then her fingertips found the ridges of her family pattern. She knew it by heart, so she closed her eyes and traced along it. There were so few natural things left in the city, and the box was precious to her because of it. Blue sky. You’re up there somewhere. And the sun that made this wood grow. Siobhan came up behind Deirdre and placed both Callaghan Maker amulets inside the box.

  Deirdre watched her mother close the lid and then her wristband went off. It was a ticker message from Flynn. Instant messages could be transmitted through the cloud to anyone’s wristband anywhere in the city. Except for Dream Maker Academy, of course, which had a private data sphere. Scrolling blue letters appeared on the matte black surface that read, “I’m sorry about what happened down there. Holo
me later.”

  Deirdre said, “Ma, I’m going to dream early tonight. I’m pretty wiped.”

  Siobhan replied, “That’s fine, lass. Oh, Dee? Would you mind previewing one of my new sequences tonight? It’s called Red Oak. I’m setting up your profile for access to this file in the test environment. You’ve connected to this part of the archive from your earbud before. Tell me what you think about the dream, all right?”

  Deirdre said, “Sure, Ma. Will you ticker message me the version number? And what’s a red oak?”

  Siobhan smiled and said, “You’ll see. It’s something I’ve been working on, after some research in the archive. This one is special, Dee. There is much to explore in this world, you won’t see all of it in one night. Experience what you can and plan to return again. Tell me about it in the morning.” She then bent back down and opened her dream Sequencer to move the file for Red Oak into the test environment for Deirdre to preview.

  Deirdre made her way into her room, a small space with bunk beds and a homework desk for each sister. She had chosen the bed at the top, which she liked because it made her feel like she had a private space that no one else came into. Climbing into bed, she let her weight settle into the mattress and pillow. It was a relief to have a moment alone without Breck, to think over what had happened with Maeve. Who is Roenin? Then she heard her parents in the living room talking in hushed tones. They’re on about me again.

  Sean said, “I don’t know, Siobhan. When did our eldest become so difficult? We’ll have to keep an extra close eye on Deirdre. Is there any mess that she wouldn’t step into?”

  Siobhan said, “Yes, wouldn’t they love to punish a Maker’s daughter and announce that at your Dream Justice status meeting?”

  Sean said, “You don’t get to my standing at the Academy without making a few enemies. They’d jump at the chance to humiliate me through Deirdre. Besides, tensions are high now. The number of Drone-punished violations over the last few months is up a third over what they were last year. People are afraid, and Dream Justice is being dealt out at an alarming rate. I hear that the ‘Mare Makers are working late into the night on new content we need for the next upgrade to the weavers.”