Dreamspinner

by Merita King

  Tearan grinned as he watched Mykus. The sense of recognition was uncanny; he felt a tangible bond despite never having met the man before. It was as if he were watching his brother on film. Mykus then recounted the major details of his life and Tearan nodded his way through them. Once the film was over, he read the additional details in the file and was dismayed to read that Mykus had taken his own life a year after joining the Dreamspinner Project. Details of his suicide were scant, all it told Tearan was that his friend took his own life due to emotional stress caused by the death of a friend. Tears coursed down his face as he read and re-read the file and the sense of loss was as genuine as if his own flesh and blood had died. Fuelled by grief, Tearan got up and strode from the room.

  Doctor Hunter ran down the corridor, the screams drawing him along. Tearan Lindo lay on his stomach, pinned to the floor by four security guards. Another guard sat propped against the wall to his left, blood spouting from his nose as a nurse fussed over him. Tearan screamed and struggled.

  “What the hell happened here?” Hunter demanded. “Why is Tearan being restrained?”

  “He went crazy, Sir,” the guard with the bloody nose said. “He ran from the office, screaming and yelling his head off. We approached him and asked him to calm down and tell us what was wrong, but he lost it and attacked us.”

  “He attacked you without provocation, are you sure? It’s very important that you be as accurate as possible. His future depends upon it.”

  The guard blushed and his mouth flapped as he fought his embarrassment. “Well, he was screaming and yelling. We were worried what he might do. We couldn’t let him run around like that, not with all the people living and working here.”

  “So you manhandled him first and asked questions later,” Hunter snapped.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. We were only thinking of everyone’s safety.”

  “Let him up, now,” Hunter demanded. The guards hesitated for a second. A glare from Hunter and they backed off, leaving Tearan on the floor. His screams calmed to sobs now that he was not being forcibly restrained and he looked at Hunter as he sat up and leaned against the wall.

  “Thanks,” he sniffed and wiped his eyes.

  “I’m sorry my security personnel acted like a bunch of Neanderthals. Believe me when I say they will answer for their actions. Come to my office and tell me what’s wrong.” He held out his hand to help Tearan to his feet and with another glare to the security guards, led him down the corridor. After sitting him down and offering him a cup of coffee, which he accepted but obviously did not like, he asked him to explain.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor Hunter. I was reading about Mykus and watching the film. It was uncanny, the feeling of recognition I mean. Everything he said about his life, his memories. It was as if I already knew it, except I know I didn’t know any of it. I even recognised his face and the sound of his voice. It was like he’s my twin or something. When I read he killed himself, it was like someone kicked me in the gut. I’m sorry for hurting that guy, but they grabbed me like I was a dangerous criminal or something. They didn’t ask me what was wrong or if I was all right. They jumped on me and pinned me to the floor.”

  “That feeling of recognition happened because the personality of Mykus was the second most compatible with you. He nearly took over control, but Tearan Lindo won out in the end. You might feel a similar feeling of recognition with the other personalities too, although probably not to such a strong degree. You might want to think about whether you wish to know any more about them.”

  “I want to continue,” Tearan said without hesitation. “I have to. I want to know who they were. Out of respect for them y’know? We shared something, them and me. Something people don’t normally share. I feel I need to acknowledge that, make a gesture to the universe or something. It may sound stupid to you but you’re not going through this, you haven’t experienced this weird bond.”

  “It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Hunter said. “Those feelings of recognition are the way your brain copes with the memory of you having been him for a while. Although his face is distinctly different to yours, despite his voice being unlike yours, your brain sees and hears them as your own. Another thing to remember is that the individual personalities controlled their own voices. The pitch, speech impediments, accents and inflections, all are slightly different when under the control of the individual personas. There are many incongruities of the brain that we’re still trying to understand. Listen, we have a room set out as a non-denominational place of worship. It’s open all the time, day and night for anyone to visit. We have furnished it with everything necessary for all our volunteers and staff to demonstrate their religion in the way they need to. You will find the four bells and scrolls of the Arlenikan faith in there and a member of my staff is fully licenced by the Arlenikan Council of Belief and Culture to administer to you while you pray, should you wish for witness.”

  “Thank you. By the way, I’ve thought of something else that was very odd. Can you explain it to me?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “There were a couple of times during the past few days when weird things happened that almost made me think the ship was haunted or something. I heard noises of someone else nearby, the sound of gunfire and a loud crash in the security room. Then there was all that weird shit down in the medical bay about ghosts and bodies. We all thought, I mean I thought, shit it’s hard to explain.”

  “Don’t worry, say we if it helps.”

  “Thanks. Well, we all thought Dr Arma was going crazy, but I guess I wrote all that stuff, didn’t I?”

  Doctor Hunter nodded. “Yes, you did it while the persona of Dr Arma was struggling under the weight of Tearan Lindo’s dominance.”

  “What about the stuff I heard though, the fleeting shadows out of the corner of my eye. It spooked me, I admit it.”

  “They were brief flashes of memory your brain experienced, during which you almost remembered being one of the other personalities. You see, Tearan, you flitted from one personality to another; it was most interesting to watch. Sometimes you were one of the guys for several days, other times it was just a few hours. As the others began to fail under Tearan’s dominance, those moments of being the others became shorter and shorter.”

  “So when I heard gunfire, footsteps, heard my name called a couple of times, and that crash, that was me remembering doing it while I was being the other guys?”

  “Yes. That’s it exactly.”

  “What was that crash all about? It sounded like the ship had crashed or something.”

  “That was Jole Smoy playing at being a racing driver with one of the hover loaders. He was curious about what lay behind the security room door, so decided to crash through it.”

  Tearan grinned. “So I wasn’t imagining those scratches on the floor.”

  “No, you weren’t. Top marks for observation.”

  Tearan sat on the floor of the small room and breathed in the heady incense. Naked apart from a white cloth around his genitals, his pale skin shone from the spiced oil the administrator had rubbed into him. The administrator, whom Tearan was pleased to discover was Arlenikan, had the job of helping him get ready for prayer, to lead him in prayer, and to be witness to his act of faith. An administrator was not necessary for every prayer session, but is there when the devotee wishes for a deeper connection with his deity or if they wish to make a greater than usual gesture of faith. After ringing the bell for the first of the prayers, he listened intently to Tearan’s words.

  Arlenikans believe in a single all-knowing deity they call Almistra, which means a genderless omniscient creator. Almistra has four faces, a baby, an adult, an old person, and a skull. The number four is sacred to Arlenikans, who believe that life is made up of four phases, birth, adulthood, old age, and death. Four principles rule their daily lives, the pursuit of knowledge, personal growth, compassion, and the keeping of faith. Four major sins, apathy, deceit, cruelty, and greed, must be avoided in order to keep one’
s soul clean and ensure entry into the desired level of afterlife upon death. The lowest level, a cold place without light is inhabited by the souls of the very worst of Arlenikans. No one wishes to go there, and all are afraid to end up there. The second and third layers are where the majority of souls end up, with the fourth and highest level reserved for those who demonstrated extreme and lifelong goodness and compassion. These rare souls usually suffer greatly in life whilst remaining without anger or the wish for vengeance. They spend their lives striving to make life better for everyone else before serving their own needs. Those who find themselves alighting on the golden shore of Ramojistra upon their death know that they never have to live another physical life. They can spend their eternity as spiritual teachers reaching out to those in prayer or via the dreams of those who sleep.

  Tearan rocked back and forth as he chanted the words, each one coming from the depths of his heart. As he listened for the administrator to ring the bells, each one symbolising one of the four stages of life, he prayed for the lives of Mykus Romin, Tovis Kerral, Doctor Soval Arma, and Jole Smoy. He also prayed for his own soul, the one he had given up by becoming Tearan Lindo. By turning his back upon his own true born self, he committed a grave sin that meant there was a very real chance that he would find himself washing up on the dark shore of Omdook upon his death. He acknowledged and accepted this very real threat and hoped that by living a good and honest life for however long he had left, he might atone a little. When his prayers were done and the Administrator finished giving his acknowledgement of witness, he placed the four lifebloods into the flame that burned from the hearth in the centre of the room. The four substances necessary for physical life, water, blood, food, and air are offered at the end of Arlenikan religious devotion. A cup of water is first poured into the glowing embers of a small fire, the resulting smoke symbolising air. A drop of blood from a pricked finger sizzles in the embers and a piece of meat fills the temple with delicious smells. All that is necessary for life comes from Almistra, and is given back by these symbolic offerings.

  Tearan felt at ease as he showered the spiced oil from his body and hair. This was the first time since waking up that he had given any thought to faith. Up until now, he had not even been aware of having any particular belief. The scent of the oil as the Administrator rubbed it into his skin, brought memories of a strong and enduring faith rushing back into his mind. Tearan opened his heart to them and realised as the hot water cascaded down his body, that it gave him a sense of peace he never realised was missing. Once dressed, he went in search of a meal and met Doctor Melissa Frost in a corridor.

  “Hello, Tearan, how are you feeling now?”

  “Better, thank you. I thought I might have a meal if that’s okay.”

  “Of course. I will escort you to the restaurant if I may; I have a couple of things to tell you.”

  “Sure.”

  Red digital numbers flashed as the elevator rose up through the immense structure. Melissa Frost handed Tearan a key, the number seventy-eight carved into the rounded top.

  “Your room is on the seventh floor. We’ve put washing necessities in the bathroom for you and there are two pairs of overalls and a couple of changes of underwear in the closet. You can retrieve things from your pod if you wish; the Q-Wall has been left open for you to go back and forth whenever you want.”

  “Thank you. I’d like to continue using the firing range.”

  “No problem. The other thing I need to ask you is to report to the lab guys when you’re ready to go to bed. You’ll find an intercom in your room. Press button three and it will connect directly with the lab. Someone will come and fit you with the electronic cap.”

  “Okay, sure.” Tearan indicated for Melissa to exit first and then followed her into the restaurant.

  “Ahh, your two companions are here. Let me introduce you.” Tearan followed her over to a table at one side of the large room. Two men sat talking and seemed to be firm friends. One was huge and had the blackest skin Tearan had ever seen. His bright yellow eyes regarded him as Melissa introduced him, and the corners crinkled when he smiled.

  “Hi there, Tearan, welcome to the club. My name is Rajfar Ki Qenway, but everyone finds it easier to call me Qen. This is Eishlo.” He indicated the thin man beside him who smiled shyly.

  “Hello, Tearan, sit and eat with us won’t you? Tell us how you’re coping with all this.”

  “Hi, guys. Thanks. I’ll go get something to eat and join you.”

  “You mean you really stood there naked and threatened to shoot yourself?” Qen asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Tearan nodded and the three men laughed.

  “That’s hysterical,” Eishlo grinned. “I think I’m going to like your style.”

  They spent the next three hours comparing experiences and feelings about what they were going through and all three found considerable comfort in having others who understood. Qen and Eishlo were envious when Tearan took them on a tour of his spaceship pod and showed them the firing range he enjoyed using.

  “This is wonderful, Tearan,” Qen said as he turned a large laser pistol over in his hands. “I did my military service back home and used a sidearm there, but not since.”

  “I’ve never even handled a gun,” Eishlo said. “I’m a librarian not a soldier. I’ve always fancied having a go though. My father frowned upon the use of firearms and I learnt very early to keep quiet about my desire to familiarise myself with them. Between you and me, I think he was a raving pacifist.”

  “I’d be very happy to teach you,” Tearan said as he handed Eishlo a small laser pistol. “It would be fun to have others to compete with.”

  “Yes it would,” Qen agreed.

  “Okay then,” Eishlo said. “When I was a boy, my friends and I used to secretly play Mercs and Convicts. We’d carve bits of wood, use them like guns and take turns being the Mercs. I never told anyone, but I had more fun being the Convict.”

  “My friends and I used to play those games too,” Qen laughed.

  “Y’know, I find this whole multiple personality thing, most disquieting,” Eishlo said.

  “So do I,” Qen agreed.

  “Did you communicate with your umm, others?” Tearan asked.

  Qen was wide eyed at the question. “What? Of course not.”

  “No way,” Eishlo shook his head. “That would be too errm, weird.”

  “I did.” Tearan said quietly and blushed as his new friends stared at him.

  Qen gaped. “You’re joking surely.”

  “I wish I was. There was a digital recording device in the Engineering Briefing Room and we left messages for each other on it.”

  “Wow, that’s real umm, wow,” Eishlo exclaimed in surprise.

  Tearan nodded. “Yeah, it was for me too when I found out they weren’t real people.”

  Qen frowned. “So you heard their voices on this recorder and you never realised it was your own voice?”

  Tearan shook his head. “No. They all sounded different to me. Doctor Hunter told me that I used different voices when I was being them. He said it’s normal and that each new personality affects speech and physical behaviours as well as memories and thoughts. Stuff like voice, accent, speech impediments and pronunciation are an intrinsic part of a personality, so he says.”

  Eishlo scratched his head. “That’s kind of interesting, you have to admit. If I weren’t so personally involved, I would find this stuff fascinating.”

  Qen ran a hand through his hair. “It’s creepy is what it is. And wrong. Whatever their noble reasons for doing this might be, it goes against the natural order of things. That’s what I believe anyway.”

  “On a personal level I agree,” Tearan said. “Hunter told me something interesting though. He said that one day this procedure might help people with psychological illnesses. He also said they hope to use it as a method of treating violent criminals.”

  “That makes good sense,” Eishlo said. “To rehabilitate such people would be of
great benefit.”

  Qen sniffed. “Execution does that very effectively and costs less.”

  Tearan did not want to get into a moral argument, so he steered the conversation away. “I did find it hard to swallow though, when Hunter told me the guys I’d come to think of as friends were really me with other personalities.” He blushed as he felt a swell of emotion within. “It was like my friends died and I couldn’t save them. It was like I killed them myself.”

  “That’s rough, sorry,” Qen said.

  “We’re here if you want to talk about it,” Eishlo added.

  “Thanks.” After a few seconds of awkward silence, he coughed. “So, you want to watch a movie or something?”

  Life became routine. After waking early and enjoying breakfast with his new friends, Tearan was subjected to three hours of tests. Lunch was followed by two hours in the gym Tearan had set up in his security room, then the three showered and took a nap for an hour. Their evenings were spent watching movies, or playing several rounds of Flatchet, a ball game with extremely complicated rules from Qen’s home world. Every evening, Eishlo would grin as he listened to Tearan and Qen arguing some rule or other. He often secretly agreed with Tearan that the rules seemed unnecessarily complicated. One or two of the crew joined them on their nights off and the three friends learned basketball, football, and tennis. All three quickly agreed that they were not made for tennis, but it was a laugh and laughter lifted the monotony of their lives a little.