11

by James Phelan

  ‘Let’s go,’ Sam said, gathering up the rest of their belongings and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, the rubbing of the Dream Stele safely tucked into a side pocket.

  The archivist stood rooted to the spot in shock. When Sam turned to her, she backed away, throwing her hands up in front of her face.

  ‘Please—’ she stammered.

  ‘Where’s the closest fire-escape?’ Sam asked as non-threateningly as he could manage.

  She pointed down the hall.

  ‘Thanks,’ Sam said, taking the Guardian’s dart gun from a holster under his suit jacket and forcing himself to get the other, deadlier gun out of another holster. He pulled the magazine out and threw it across the room, following Xavier out the door.

  ‘So,’ Xavier said as he fell into step beside Sam as they ran. ‘The count of three, huh? Next time, let’s just charge right ahead.’

  ‘Deal. And that was some nice back-up,’ Sam said as they turned at the exit sign and saw the fire door dead ahead. ‘Where’d you get a taser?’

  ‘After Ahmed went missing, and all the crazy things that seemed to be happening, I thought I should pick one up,’ Xavier grimaced.

  ‘Pick one up?’ Sam said. ‘Like, at the shops. Like, “Hey, I’m going to the corner shop to get an ice-cream, you want anything? Drink? Taser? Attack helicopter?”’

  ‘Maybe a tank?’ Xavier laughed. ‘Yeah, well, I guess my family’s money does make some things a little easier to buy.’

  ‘Must be pretty handy having all the money in the world,’ Sam said as he pushed on the bar that opened the fire door. ‘I mean, having a rich dad and all.’

  As they stepped outside into the side street, Sam and Xavier came face-to-chest with a mountain of a man in a suit, standing by a massive black Mercedes. The rear door of the car opened—

  And Xavier’s father stepped out.

  ‘Well, well …’ Dr Dark said, ‘seems like you boys have some explaining to do.’

  ‘It’s not what you think … I swear …’ Xavier began rambling at his father as Sam muscled a skip bin in front of the fire-escape door and locked its wheels.

  ‘Xavier, be quiet a moment,’ Dr Dark said, then looked at Sam. ‘Sam … what’s going on here?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dr Dark, I know it’s a big shock to find us here but we don’t have time for this,’ Sam said quickly. ‘Please believe me when I say we are in danger and we have to go, right now.’

  There was heavy pounding at the door.

  Dr Dark saw the look of fear in Sam’s eyes.

  ‘They’re like the guys who blew up the Dream Stele,’ Sam said. ‘They’re after us, and one of them’s gonna be real angry.’

  Dr Dark nodded, and stepped back into his car as Xavier and Sam threw themselves in behind him. The chauffeur didn’t need to be told to hit the pedal—the huge Mercedes took off in a haze of burnt rubber, engine roaring.

  ‘How many were there?’ Dr Dark asked as the three of them looked out of the back window and saw the German Guardians pouring out into the alleyway.

  ‘Duck!’ Sam yelled.

  SMASH!

  The back window of their car was cobwebbed with cracks as a bullet hit it square in the middle.

  Bullet-proof glass? Why would Dr Dark have that?

  Behind them, Guardians were climbing into a couple of white BMW sedans, obviously parked in the side street for a quick getaway.

  ‘I sure hope your guy knows some fancy driving …’ Sam said.

  ‘Arnold,’ Dr Dark said, his voice even and calm. ‘Please show our pursuers why you’re the best driver in the business.’

  A volley of gunfire from down the alleyway tore into the brick building to their left as Arnold took the Mercedes into a big sweeping turn onto a main road.

  ‘Take us to Hans,’ Dr Dark said, Xavier and Sam scanning behind to check on the Guardians’ progress.

  Arnold wove the powerful car through heavy traffic, taking hazardous high-speed turns that had them all hanging onto their seats, then deftly turned onto a link road that would lead to an autobahn headed out of Berlin.

  ‘Who’s Hans?’ Sam said, as they turned onto the freeway.

  ‘He’s an old acquaintance with a private estate not too far out of town,’ Dr Dark said. ‘We won’t be disturbed there.’

  Sam nodded.

  ‘So,’ Xavier’s father said as the car picked up pace on the freeway. ‘I think it’s time you two told me what’s going on and why someone just tried to kill us.’

  12

  ALEX

  Alex found Phoebe giving a seminar in a large, airy lecture room and slipped into the back to watch.

  ‘Every person has the potential to be an Einstein,’ she was saying. ‘There is nothing that special about being exceptionally gifted. We can claim that everything that we have been told about genetics, talent and intelligence is wrong. How?’

  She brought up some images on a large screen behind her.

  ‘What processes make certain people so good at some activities? An area of research called “expertise studies” is trying to determine the ingredients of greatness.’

  Several pictures of sports stars flitted across the screen.

  ‘A great deal of practice—hours, hours and hours …’ several of the staff laughed. ‘But if you look very carefully at those who end up being the best, you discover that they practise more, and better, than those who achieve less.’

  Phoebe flicked through some more images as examples.

  ‘That is a theme that extends to all achievements. There is a difference in how much practice and the kind of practice undertaken by the absolute legends, say in basketball—’ the room cheered as a clip showed Michael Jordan leaping through the air, ‘—and the mere greats. The supreme achievers work hard at being great. It isn’t bestowed at birth.’

  She brought up a portrait of Mozart.

  ‘Most people look at child geniuses and believe that their gifts had to be the result of lucky genes. Presumably most of you agree?’

  The assembled nodded.

  ‘Every piece of evidence we have about how genes work, how brains work, where musicality actually comes from, is consistent with the idea that there is nothing that mysterious about Mozart. I am not trying to diminish his achievements, of course. But the more you look at his life, or the life of any other genius, the more you realise that this was a process. He reacted to an environment that was almost uniquely perfect for moulding him into a child star.’

  Phoebe brought up an image of a current teen pop star with his jeans hanging below his butt—and a long mathematical equation showing how sometime in the near future he’d be found out to be a talentless disaster. This time the room erupted in laughter.

  ‘The myth of Mozart’s innate talent persists because people jumble together different facts about his life,’ Phoebe said. ‘We know that he was interested in composing early on, and we know he was a remarkable performer. The untrained mind reacts by concluding he was born that way. Every time we are confronted with astonishing talent, we say it must be in the genes, because we cannot think of any other explanation. In fact, in the case of Mozart, it is clear his upbringing was also remarkable in terms of stimulating his abilities—his abilities in the waking and dreaming world.’

  Alex felt a surprising rush of pride as he listened to his mother speak, the audience focused on her every word.

  I never really knew who she was before now.

  ‘The more we read about new genes being discovered to explain human characteristics, the more our belief in the power of genes gets stronger,’ Phoebe continued. ‘Yet the vast majority of geneticists, our good Director among them—’ he nodded from where he sat in the front row, ‘—would not want that to happen without due examination. Isn’t that so?’

  ‘Well,’ the Director said. ‘You say Mozart’s greatness was not purely inborn but due to his drive. He practised at playing and composing better than anyone else, right? But who is to say that his dri
ve was not inherited? The source of his greatness would still lie in his genes in that case.’

  ‘We know there are genes that influence drive,’ Phoebe said. ‘But I do not think that it is a completely natural characteristic. It becomes part of our personality and psychology and all of that is developed. Resilience and motivation can appear at different stages in people’s lives and often appear in response to difficult situations. I see it as a developed trait—but I know we could argue that point all day!’

  ‘So,’ the Director asked her, ‘do you think genetics research is going to provide us with more data that suggests that genius, that our Dreamer Gene, can be acquired as well as inherited?’

  ‘As you know,’ Phoebe said, ‘our studies are only just beginning to figure out how the world around us affects the way genes work.’

  ‘Genes are constantly activated and deactivated by things like nutrition, hormones, nerve impulses and a host of other genes,’ the Director added.

  ‘Right,’ Phoebe said. ‘It’s no surprise that Dreamers most commonly activate in their teens—the genes are there at birth, but it’s the constant interaction between the outside world and our DNA that make that magic happen. Adolescence is the time when these gifts become realised.’

  ‘In other words,’ the Director said, ‘our genes do not place a limit on our potential.’

  ‘Exactly. Our genes influence our lives, but our lives also influence our genes. We need to do a lot more to encourage that human talent, then we will all benefit. These things take resources, of course. But the overall message is clear. Our problem is not that our genes are inadequate, but that we have an inability, so far, to tap into what is already there. Thank you.’

  Applause echoed through the room.

  ‘Well,’ the Director said, standing. ‘Few of us know our true limits and the vast majority of us have not even come close to tapping into what scientists call our “unactualised potential”. Phoebe, you’ve made a compelling case for why we need both the work of the Enterprise and that of the Academy to long continue. It’s nature and nurture, and we’re on the right path. The important thing is not to get lost along the way … especially in these exciting times.’

  Alex could not make out the expression on the Director’s face from where he sat, but the reference to the last 13 race was clear. As people filed out behind him, Alex sat for a moment, thinking about the odd feelings he’d had throughout his childhood, of being just that little bit different from everyone around him.

  Is that something inside me or have the Enterprise and my mother been bringing me up in a certain way to make that happen? Or maybe it’s both?

  As Phoebe came towards him, he wondered when he would finally have an answer to whether he really could dream true dreams, and if, in the end, he really was one of the last 13.

  13

  SAM

  It was by far the fastest that Sam had ever travelled on a road. They flashed by a police car and it didn’t even bother with them. The autobahn’s cool …

  As Sam and Xavier relayed their story to Dr Dark, from the exhibition in New York to their escapades in Egypt and Italy to their arrival in Germany, he nodded and accepted it all without so much as a raised eyebrow.

  Sam reminded himself how he’d been seeing Dr Dark for about three years—as his psychiatrist, sitting in weekly sessions where they’d discuss Sam’s dreams and nightmares which had been so vivid and ever-more troubling over that time. Sam had thought of Dr Dark as always being such a good listener, and it seemed that it was a trait not confined to his office.

  It felt good to talk it all through like that.

  ‘And those men shooting at us back there?’ Dr Dark said. ‘They are the ones who set off the explosives at the museum?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I think so,’ Sam said. ‘At least, they’re also Guardians who have turned on the Academy. Those ones back there were German Guardians. The ones in New York were Egyptian.’

  Dr Dark nodded.

  Is he going to ask any more questions?

  Xavier told his father how he’d tasered the guy back at the museum storage site and Dr Dark smiled.

  ‘Better you tasered him than the other way around,’ Dr Dark said. ‘And Sam, you say these Guardians work for the Academy?’

  ‘Yes. Well, they did,’ Sam said. He watched for a reaction, some kind of confusion perhaps, but Dr Dark just nodded. There was no anger, no surprise, he just took the news in. ‘They—the Guardians—are supposed to protect us.’

  Dr Dark laughed.

  ‘What?’ Sam said. ‘I don’t understand, you don’t seem very surprised by what we’re saying.’

  Dr Dark smiled and chuckled to himself. ‘It’s OK, Sam, I have every confidence in you both,’ he said. ‘I’m just glad to be with you boys now—although you’re both prepared for this, perhaps more than you know.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad …’ Xavier eventually managed. ‘I mean—our lives kind of changed with those gunshots back there, didn’t they?’

  Dr Dark chuckled. ‘True.’

  Sam looked behind and saw no-one in pursuit, none of the white BMW sedans. Maybe they’re still looking for us in Berlin.

  ‘There has long been …’ Dr Dark trailed off, looking at his son, then to Sam. ‘Sam, I take it that you have been to the Academy’s mountain campus?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sam was shocked that Dr Dark knew of it.

  ‘Dad … what’s going on?’ Xavier said.

  ‘It’s hard to know where to begin,’ Dr Dark paused for a moment, then said, ‘Sam, you would have learned about the Council of Dreamers at the Academy?’

  Sam gave up completely on being surprised anymore. Clearly Dr Dark was more than just a psychiatrist for teenagers with bad dreams. Xavier had turned pale with anticipation.

  ‘A little,’ Sam said. ‘I mean I’ve heard about them, the Professor was going to Paris to talk to them about everything that’s going on.’

  ‘The Council of Dreamers has been in existence in some form for centuries,’ Dr Dark said. ‘It has been known by different names, by the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Romans, but it was brought together in the sixteenth century by its then leader—da Vinci. The Council as we know it today, that set up the Academies to guide those with gifts such as the two of you, started as a body of people who safeguarded the wisdom of the world.’

  ‘Huh?’ Xavier said.

  Sam almost took pleasure in knowing more than Xavier about something for once—almost. But this was not the time to gloat.

  ‘They’ve been entrusted with preserving what we know,’ Dr Dark said, ‘secretly making sure that humanity keeps moving forward, even in the so-called Dark Ages, when the Council were forced underground, persecuted and hunted down for what they knew.’

  ‘But how come—I mean …’ Xavier looked at Sam and then back to his father, as though it made sense to them yet he was just hearing it for the first time. ‘Why have I, or the world, not heard about them before?’

  ‘Dreamers are everywhere—teachers at schools and universities, our leaders, our family, our friends. Or just people you see on the bus. Dreamers, including those on the Council, are around us every day. And those who form the Council of Dreamers have been meeting in Paris for over two hundred years, protecting our heritage until the moment came when Dreamers would be revealed to the world.’

  ‘Are you saying that you’re on the Council?’ Xavier asked slowly.

  ‘Yes, son,’ Dr Dark said. ‘And hopefully one day, you will be too.’

  ‘Me?’ Xavier said in surprise. Xavier turned from his dad to Sam. ‘Is this all making sense to you? A secret group who meets to make sure we—what, we safeguard wisdom?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Sam looked at his friend. ‘I’ve heard bits and pieces already, seen some stuff, so I’m pretty convinced. It’s true, Xav.’

  ‘Why are we Dreamers?’ Xavier asked his dad.

  ‘We are the lucky ones, blessed with a gift. We understand that the human mind is capable of so much
more, via our subconscious mind in our dreams, and so much more good is possible for humanity.’

  ‘So why are people trying to kill us?’ Xavier asked.

  Dr Dark let out a long breath.

  ‘Where there is good, there is the other. There are those who want the knowledge we safeguard for their own gain—and their intentions for such power would spell disaster.’

  ‘But why us? Why Sam?’ Xavier persisted.

  ‘Sam is one of the last 13.’

  ‘The what?’ Xavier asked, then looked to Sam.

  ‘He’s a special Dreamer,’ Dr Dark said, ‘one of thirteen who will make a stand against evil.’

  ‘What?’ Xavier laughed nervously as Sam shook his head and shrugged, as though saying, all in a day.

  ‘The mind is a powerful thing,’ Dr Dark said. ‘Sam was created with the aid of modern scientific genius,’ Dr Dark chuckled to himself over that, ‘to help us find the very thing that formed the Council in the first place.’

  ‘And that is …’

  ‘The greatest treasure of ancient knowledge and power ever accumulated.’

  The car slowed as the driver took an exit ramp, and they were soon weaving their way along gravelled lanes and then through heavily forested grounds, the whole time Xavier and his father trading back and forth the details of the Dreamer world that Sam was becoming ever-more familiar with.

  ‘Ah,’ Dr Dark said, pointing at what looked like a palatial stately home. ‘We’re here.’

  14

  EVA

  After a restless sleep, Eva got up, showered and put on her Academy uniform. She stood next to the window, cradling a cup of tea in her cold hands. Outside, in the gloom of the overcast afternoon full of dark snow-clouds, the little pinprick of light flickered on a neighbouring mountain. Eva stared out into the distance for a long time.

  ‘What is it?’ Gabriella asked, coming up behind her.

  ‘It’s a camp fire,’ Eva said.

  ‘Who could be out there?’ Gabriella asked.

  Eva shook her head. ‘Lora sent out some Guardians to check it out before but they couldn’t find anyone.’