Seeing Through the Dream

Part 1: https://steemit.com/writing/@bardbarian/living-the-dream
Part 2: https://steemit.com/writing/@bardbarian/of-diners-and-dives

Part 3

Sara arrived at the world port. The only one on this world, the only way to travel to another. Here there was a confederate envoy. He had the power to end the nightmare. She still had her confederacy pass, so she got to skip the line. Even still, the envoy was a busy man. She would have to wait. So she waited.

There was a long line of people leading to the outgoing window. Each one trying to look uninterested in the slim chance that they would be granted a pass. Most of them were parents with young children. The parents were already dead, but maybe their daughter, their son, might have a better life on another world. Sara knew better: she had been sent away, but she had to come back. These kids would all have to come back. Now that Sara had come back, she wanted to leave for good. It was a strange thing to have escaped a totalitarian regime only to come back. To make the sacrifice of her parents meaningless by trying to rescue her father.

A day went by. She slept in the public restroom. It was clean.

The same people were in the same line. It occurred to Sara that the wanna-be escapees were as much a fixture of the state as the factories that kept the day as dim as night with their produce. The line of people going nowhere complemented the shops full of people building nothing. Nothing was built, that was the thing. The buildings of the ever-gray city were all the same on the outside, the streets and alleys were all the same, come to think of it, she had seen that same diner at least four times. That is why nothing looked like her childhood memories. Everything had been shifted to monochrome.

Another day. They locked the bathroom, so she had to hide in an alley from the watch’s patrols.

Same people, same line. None of the people talked to anyone. They saw each other everyday. Never spoke. The children stood just like the adults. Sara realized the worst of it all: the young ones were trained from youth to be prisoners. This. This was intolerable. This was it. Leaving? Leaving was not an option anymore.

When she finally got to see the envoy she was ready to lead an army to the capitol building. The envoy, perhaps predictably, certainly was not.

The envoy Cartlon was a short fat man with thick glasses. His office was furnished well. He was dressed well. He did not seem particularly busy.

“Sara, is it? It says here you are a dual resident of Urdun and Third World. You returned recently. How are you enjoying your lovely birth home?”

“I have come to make a formal request for a confederate warrant.”

“Well, so abrupt for a girl so beautiful!” Carlton chuckled. His face wrinkled. He looked very much like a cartoon pig. “And who pray tell, has gotten the worst of your pretty little temper?”

“Creed.”

Sara felt a distinct satisfaction as the little man started in his chair. He took a second longer than most people would have to stand, hustled over to the door, and closed it. The effort had made his face cherry red.

“My dear, why would you say such a thing?” he wheezed through his words as he nervously cleaned his glassed “A joke. A joke! Yes, yes. Pretty and clever.”

“Envoy, under P4 of the confederation’s declaration of citizen’s rights, I am officially requesting you call the CAF to take Creed into custody.”

Carlton returned his glasses to his face. Worry gave way to caginess so quickly it belied his concern. “CAF? Oh, the so-called confederate action force, yes. They are not in the business of armed operations.”

“I served with the CAF on Prime.”

Carlton chuckled again. “Fair enough. To your point. There is no reason to entertain such a request-save your legalese for a moment-this is a peaceful world with an efficient industry. And Creed is a lovely man.” He peered over his glasses at her. “Gave me these glasses, even.”

Sara realized the envoy’s eyes were bloodshot, the pupils almost shut as if staring at a bright light. When he tipped his head upright again, the glasses made his eyes a perfectly handsome brown color. “Have you always worn glasses, envoy?”

“Tis’ the damnedest thing: never, till I came here first. Medical said it had something to do with the atmosphere.”

“As if there was something in the air.”

“Quite! I see better than ever though, with these glasses from friend Creed.”

Sara was done. She turned to walk away. She would need to go to Urdun, to the Confederacy’s capital itself.

“Oh, miss Sara, I would recommend you return to your quarters, wherever you happen to be staying. There are no off-world trips planned for a month or so.” The envoy’s voice was at once non-chalant and threatening, in a weakly suggestive way.

That answered that. The net had been cast, Sara was no longer unknown to the powers that be. Nothing for it than to hide, and then strike. To win or die. No more coalition-building. Sara left. No choice than to join with Lione after all.

---

“Come on, Danny, work with me buddy.”

“My name is Daniel, Lyin’.”

“Cute. Hit him again.”

A shock ran through Daniel’s body. “Ti-ti-ti-tickles.”

“Alright, look, I-and this is hard for me-need you. I need you to help me beat Creed.”

“What makes you think I can do that.”

“Really? Daniel Dreamwalker? Like, the supposed magic alchemist that Creed wants dead for a million credits? The price on my head is a quarter that!”

“I don’t have any answers.”

“Yeah, yeah, you mentioned. Help me find the answers Danny.”

“Lione?”

“Yes?”

“What is WITH the red bandanas?”

“Hit him again.”

“Look Lione, you know what? Let’s make a deal. You change the bandanas to yellow, and I tell you my favorite flavor of ice cream. Hint: it’s got something to do with moose, and their footprints.”

There was no answer. Daniel’s tormentors were frozen. Lione stood halfway through one of his gestures, and one of the red bandana goons sat at the computurial unit that controlled the special shocky chair (Daniel’s headcannon entry) that he was strapped to.

“Oh! He’s changing something again. Good timing.” The Dreamwalker broke free from the nylon straps with a thought. He gathered his effects, and humored himself with a monologue. “Lione, look, there are a few things you need to understand.” Lione’s eyes strained as Daniel moved about the room. “Ah, yes! You can hear me. You can almost break through the dream. Not like your men, not like the people out there. You can almost see the truth. But you are in your own way. This stupid red fantasy, your worship of passion, your childish anarchism. That is what you need to let go of. You choose to ignore the milenia it took to get here. Maybe you never learned it. Or worse, you take for granted that when you speak, these men will understand your words. Look at you! You are dressed like an aristocrat from before Creed’s time. You don’t know what ‘nothing’ is. I do. And nothing, Lione, the ashes you want? You can’t live there, not for long, and you can’t build with burnt wood.”

On a table was his book. Lione had been trying to get him to teach him the writing. “No answers,” he mumbled as he picked it up. At his touch the book sprung open and floated before his face. The pages shifted, split and spread and the true pages pulled themselves out. A new page came forward.

“There you are!” Daniel reached out and touched the page and vanished from the room.

Finale coming soon. Thank you for reading, criticism welcome. Words mine. Images from pixabay by way of imgur.

-Matthew