Dreamer

by Dave Gordon

  “Why don't we use the lift?” Van asked.

  “Do you see a lift?” Siln shot back. This place brought back very bad memories. This was one of the few hotels of its kind that was tolerated. It was far enough out of downtown to not be an irritant yet close enough to cater to those topsiders who were inclined to use it.

  To say that room twenty five was a disappointment was an understatement. Everything from the cracked mirror to the broken bed spoke of abuse and misuse. Oddly enough, the shower was clean.

  “Well, what do you think!?” Siln said in a cheerful tone.

  “What do I think?” Van asked in disbelief. “What do I think? This is disgusting. Who would ever stay here? You would be better off sleeping in the gutter.”

  “Yeah, but people only stay here an hour at a time,” Siln said coyly.

  “Ohhh. I get it. An hour at a time. On that bed?”

  “Yep, on that bed. That one is a little worse than usual but I bet if you strip it and flip the mattress over, it would be much better.”

  “Oh my God. How long did you have to live like that?” He was horrified, shocked. He had no idea what her life could have been like.

  “Oh, less than a year probably. I wasn't keeping a calendar. I figured I get picked up and executed anyway.”

  Van was starting to tear up when the door creaked open and the woman peeked in.

  “Come in,” Siln said to her.

  The woman carried a bag. She walked to the bed and dumped the clothes out. They were a sorry looking bunch of ragged clothes. Siln put on one of the shirts. It was baggy and didn't fit her well. She picked a pair of pants and held them up to Van's waist. They were too short and were going to be a little tight. “Did you get a money belt?” Siln asked.

  The woman sifted through the pile and pulled out a belt with a bulge in the middle. Siln took it and then handed it to Van. “Try those on,” she said. He did and Siln inspected him. Siln decided the clothes would do. She turned to the woman and said, “How much?”

  Siln knew the woman was calculating risks and how much she could get. Too much and they would shoo her out of the room laughing. Too little and the next few days would be misery. Her situation was even worse than Siln realized. The woman emboldened herself and said, “Two bars.”

  Siln could see the poor woman shaking. That was an outlandish amount. She must be in real trouble, Siln thought. She turned to Van and said, “Give her ten bars.”

  Van was momentarily stunned. The economics of the time were a continuing mystery. He turned around so to not wave fists full of money and then turned back to give the woman ten bars.

  The woman stood holding the bars. She began to tremble, unable to speak or move. She began crying. “What are you doing? This is cruel. This is enough money to buy my way back home. Please don't call the Forces. You can have it all back. Really.” She was crumbling before their eyes.

  Siln had not intended to make the poor woman fall apart. She only wanted to impress upon her that they had the resources to reward her greatly. She took the woman by the shoulders. “We're not going to call the Forces. We need your help.” She turned to Van and said, “Give her two more bars.” The woman accepted them but was still clearly frightened.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Acts of kindness were nonexistent in her world.

  “What is your name?” Siln asked.

  The woman didn't like to use her name but this was a special circumstance. She could get killed by not answering. “Taren.”

  “We are not going to hurt you, Taren. We need you. The money is to get you back in. We need to get to New Bedlam, do you know where that is?”

  “New Bedlam? Why?” The woman was suddenly suspicious.

  “I can't tell you all the reasons why. You wouldn't want to know, for one thing.” That was code for don't ask questions that might kill you. My associate and I are going to do something top side that might cause us to need shelter. I'm not talking about anything bad. It's just that I used to be a diver. I got my credentials restored, a full set. The person I'm going to see could get them pulled in a snap. I'm going to have to dive if that happens.”

  “Restored! How did that happen!?” That never happened. Taren was very intrigued.

  “It's a long story but it has to do with this guy,” she said, jerking a thumb at Van. “That's why we have to stay together, my credentials are linked to him.”

  “So, does he own you?” Taren asked.

  “No. Like I said, it's hard to explain. His name is Van, I'm Siln.”

  Taren regarded them openly for a few seconds. Then she stuck out her hand. She said, “It's nice to meet you. When do we start?”

  * * * *

  There were arrangements to be made. Van arranged to have the apartment rent paid by an automatic account deduction. He called his account manager to explain they might have an extended period of inactivity, but not to worry. The next morning they wrapped their disguises in crisp paper that looked like a laundry bundle. Siln left without looking back. Van guessed she didn't want this to be a goodbye. They walked away from their nice apartment carrying clothes that made Van worry. They didn't walk to the portal of the Dives. They went to an abandoned warehouse and changed clothes. They wrapped their street clothes in the crisp paper and hid them very well. They began the circuitous route to the portal. Taren was waiting for them when they got there. “Thanks for being on time,” she said. They walked to the back of the building and lifted up a sheet of tin. Taren went first followed by Van. Siln looked back and scanned the room. She slipped inside when she was satisfied no one was watching.

  The rush of foul odors blinded her with memories. She had to hold on to Van's arm to keep her footing. She began to cry. Taren turned back and said, “Look, I know this is hard, but you have to pull it together. Don't forget what it's like down here.”

  Siln remembered. You have to stuff it back down. You have to keep it locked up. It will try to push through, but you can't let it.

  Van remembered the rules very clearly. He would obey them religiously. It was the most threatening place he had ever been. He would absolutely stick to Siln and would never, ever speak.

  They descended a long time. Van lost track of how deep they might be. Every fifty to a hundred feet they would pass the entrance to another level. Some were heavily fortified. Some were not guarded. The people they met were cautious, verging on violence, or clearly insane. It became cold. The cold was made worse by the persistent dampness. They reached a level that had a crude sign reading “New Bedlam".

  “Do they know you here?” Siln asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Taren replied with a tone that suggested they knew her very well.

  A voice challenged them as they stepped off the stairway. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  Taren leaned over and whispered to Siln saying, “I think you should answer them.”

  Know her, huh, thought Siln. Maybe a little too well. “I'm whoever you want me to be and I want the same thing as you. A hot meal and a cold beer.”

  “Tanner?” called the voice in disbelief.

  “No, Siln.”

  “Siln! What the hell are you doing here? We thought you were dead. Where's Tanner?” A graying man walked forward holding a rifle pointed at the floor.

  “Tanner is dead. She died about eleven years ago from cancer,” Siln replied.

  When the man got closer he stopped and raised the rifle. “What's she doing here?” he asked, menace in his voice.

  “I needed a guide. I've been away a long time. I couldn't just march in here like nothing happened. She has treated us fairly.”

  “Yeah? Well, she has a lot of people she is going to have to treat fairly if she wants to stay.” The man kept the rifle trained on them. “Who's that?” he asked jerking the rifle barrel toward Van.

  “That's Van. I'm traveling with him. He's crazy but harmless. He doesn't know the first thing about what's going on and sometimes even less than that.”

  “You two can
pass,” he said indicating Van and Siln. “She is staying behind to explain herself.”

  “Is Abbair's compound still secure?” Siln asked.

  “Better,” the man said.

  Siln turned and walked away without comment. Better than secure? It was pretty good before. Siln realized things were different after they had walked just a short distance. Buildings that had been abandoned were now filled with people. The sidewalks were lit by street lamps. Lighting had been very scarce when she had left. People came and went with a casual air. Neither she nor Van were regarded with suspicion, or even noticed for that matter. There were people in uniforms standing on street corners. Siln decided to take a chance. “Excuse me,” she said. “What are all you people in uniform supposed to be?”

  “Supposed to be?” the stout woman said from under the brim of her hat. “We are the enforcement detail.”

  “You mean like the Forces?”

  “No. Not like the Forces.” The woman clearly resented the reference. “Our job is to help people in trouble and maintain order. We don't beat people up and we don't try to scare people. You must be new here,” the woman said.

  “Not new, but I haven't been back for ten years.”

  “Oh! Well, that was before. You better go see Abbair.” The woman return to her stoic stance with her hands folded behind her back.

  Siln was dazed by the transformation. The glow of a large compound began to fill the ceiling before they had even gone a mile. “Now, remember. Shut up!” she said to the disoriented Van.

  They approached the gates slowly as Siln waited for the challenge. None came. They walked through the wide-open gates and were waived on by two bored gatekeepers. What the heck, thought Siln, I could live here. This isn't bad. They came to a large abode which bespoke of authority. They mounted the steps and entered a small room. A guard challenged them.

  “Speak your business,” the guard said in a rather un-intimidating way.

  “I would like to speak to Abbair about possible lodging,” Siln said.

  “Good luck with that,” the man said in a way that suggested they might not find it.

  That was hardly a challenge, Siln thought. They walked through a sumptuous entry hall. Siln ignored Van. He was stumbling forward with his mouth agape trying to take it all in. She hoped he didn't go missing mentally.

  She was shocked by what she saw in the main hall. It was a scene out of a Renascence painting. People were dressed in finery, lace, and silk. Abbair sat at the end of a long table dressed as a monarch in rich robes.

  “Come in, strangers,” he bellowed. “Be welcomed at our table and speak your piece.”

  Siln was too shocked for words. The table was set with actual food. People were laughing and smiling.

  Van whispered, “You were right, this is hell.”

  “Shut up before I tell them you raped me,” Siln whispered, “Abbair, I am Siln, daughter of Tanner.”

  Abbair leaped onto the table and then on to the floor in front of her. He grasped her by the shoulders with surprise written on his face. “My God. It is you. Where have you been? Where is your mother?”

  Siln relayed the whole story, including her baby and self-imposed exile. She had got up to the part where she and Van met when the man from the front gate came running in.

  “Abbair. Abbair,” he cried.

  Abbair snapped around to face him. “What is it?” he cried in surprise.

  “Taren is out front. She says these people gave her twelve bars to get them clothes to come down here.”

  “Twelve bars?” he said. “Okay Siln, how did you get twelve bars? What's going on?” He pulled her down to the bench and took her by the hands. A group of people started to gather around her.

  It was becoming apparent that nothing short of the whole truth was going to do. That was when she noticed Van wasn't in sight. She leapt to her feet shouting “Van, Van.” He pushed his way through the wall of people and stood in front of her. “Do you remember the rules?” she said as if talking to a child. He nodded sheepishly. “Then sit down here,” she said and patted the bench beside her.

  “It is a long, strange story,” she began. She told it all. All the reasons she was in the Dives, how she planned to see her baby, all of it. By the end, everyone was transfixed.

  “That is a tale, indeed. Got your credentials restored, wow. I don't know if that has ever happened,” Abbair said, his eyes wide.

  “No one was more surprise than me,” Siln said. “But what about your compound? What is going on? The whole level looks almost like a topsider town.”

  The crowd gasped. “We prefer to think it better. We do not punish people who break our rules harshly. Sometimes it is necessary to expel someone. Like Taren, for instance. I don't know if we will let her back or not.” Abbair rubbed his beard in thought.

  Siln said, “For what it's worth, she treated us fairly. She could have laid a trap for us, she knew we had money. She escorted us down as per our agreement without robbing us.”

  “Yes, there is that to consider. We shall see.” He dismissed the sentry and returned his attention to Siln. “What happened was a miracle.” The people were nodding in agreement. “We have become rich, rich beyond hope. Several years ago two scrapers on the run showed up with a food processor and a large box. They built a catalytic converter from the contents of the box. It produces electricity and the waste is pure, clean water. We started taking advantage of it immediately. We found ways to improve and expand the operation. The improvements were great. We now have heat in some places.”

  Siln had noticed it was comfortably warm but thought it was because of the crowd.

  “But that wasn't the miracle,” he said leaning in. The crowd was nodding their heads. “The miracle was the food processing unit. It produced alcohol!” The crowd let out a cheer as Abbair held his glass aloft.

  Wow, these people must really like to drink, thought Van.

  “We started selling it all over the Dives. We even sell it topside. We can make it cheaper than they can. Not just that, it's a disinfectant, a preservative, a fuel. It has been the greatest blessing we have ever known. God bless the person that invented it.” The crowd let out a deafening roar in agreement.

  Van leaned over to the stunned Siln saying, “Oh, really?”

  “Shut up!” she yelled and jabbed him in the ribs hard.

  The crowd fell immediately quiet. Abbair said, “Siln, what makes you treat this man so? It is not our custom or law to allow such treatment.”

  “Abbair, I have some very, very interesting information for you. So interesting, in fact, that it may be of some value. This may be the biggest news since the scrapers showed up with the food processor.”

  “Does this explain why you mistreat your companion?”

  “It does. This man is not of our time. He was lost in space for hundreds of years. He spent most of that time in a suspended animation unit that had malfunctioned. Consequently he will now and again fall into an unconscious state and experience a dream that he cannot distinguish from reality. They are not dreams as you and I know them but are completely real to him. They are essentially holovision stories he had programmed into the system. You see, he had a lot of time to tinker with things. In addition to the holovision work, he also modified the food processing unit. Abbair, this is the man who invented food processor alcohol.”

  Absolute silence fell over the crowd. “You know this to be true?” Abbair said in amazement.

  “Yes,” said Siln. “I've seen it for myself. He modified the unit on the ship we came to Alpha One in. I haven't drunk rocket fuel for months. There are no limits to what he can make with the right equipment. He can make medicine.”

  Van's eyes went wide at that. He leaned over and said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Morphine is a medicine, now shut up,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  Siln continued, “But, he is not of our time, and he has a severe medical problem. I instructed him to not speak be
cause there is really no telling what he will say. It might endanger both of us. These instructions sometime require a little reinforcement.”

  Van left out a stifled guffaw at that. Siln gave him a look that made him glad they were in a crowd.

  “Then I guess we can excuse the rough treatment, but please refrain from any further reinforcements,” Abbair said in a sincere tone. “I now wish to speak directly to you companion. Sir, what is your name.”

  “About time,” Van said. “She hasn't let me say a word for four hours.” Siln folded her arms and turned away in disgust. “I, sir, am Pioneer Van Ellen. I left Alpha One when it was still called Earth.” There was another audible gasp from the crowd. Van looked around surprised by the reaction. Siln lifted her hands as if to say see what I mean. “I am the person who perfected food unit alcohol. The authorities who were trying to rehabilitate me sold the technology to pay for my care. Subsequently, I am...”

  Siln spun and kicked hard.

  “Ow! See what I have to live with?” Van said, playing on the sympathy of the crowd.

  Siln turned to Abbair and said, “I really think our further conversations should be held in private.”

  Abbair could guess what Van was about to say and completely agreed that a swift kick was needed in order to prevent it. “Yes, let us retire to my chamber.” Abbair rose and beckoned them to follow. Several people also rose but Abbair said, “This will be a private meeting, thank you.” The followers all sat down. He led Van and Siln to a room with thick stone walls and heavy doors. They sat down at a polished wood table set with delicate inlay. Abbair said, “Mr. Ellen, what you were about to say was very dangerous. Siln acted properly in order to prevent you from saying it. This may be a safe compound, but in the Dives, there are some things that are never safe. With the tales Taren is spreading, you both probably need protection now. Why don't you tell me what you want?”

  Siln laid out her simple plan explaining that is was necessary to take Van. If they came back she would not have credentials but Van probably still would. She said she wanted a place to be reserved for them in case. She would let him know if it would be needed later.