by Miles Harman
Slashing the man at the table, I picked up the rifle. Swinging it around, I hit the large man over his head. Stunned, he staggered backwards. I hurled a metal can of rifle ammo at the third attacker. The ammo can made contact on the center of his face with a crunch, dropping him to the ground.
I narrowly dodged the final attacker’s first knife slash. The second went through the front of my cold weather suit, grazing my stomach. The pain set in, spiking my adrenaline. Dodging a third slash, I caught his arm and spun him around. Taking my knife from the table, I thrust it into his chest. He collapsed in pain, my knife imbedded in his body. Turning around, I saw the large man in the back climb to his feet. While jumping on his back, I locked my arms around his neck in a choke hold. He repeatedly slammed me between his massive body and the wall behind us. After several attempts at this, his body went limp collapsing to the ground.
All of the men motionless, I concentrated on leaving with my father. He regained consciousness while I cut the ropes from his arms. Badly injured, I helped him up and outside. I took the rifle from the table as we left.
Slowed by our injuries, after three hours we made it to the safety of the compound, where my mother was anxiously waiting. Still in tears, she smiled when she saw us alive. We explained what happened while she carefully dressed our wounds.
Days later we were both walking around and feeling much better. We spent shifts guarding the entrance with our new rifle, fearing some of the men lived and would return for revenge. We also talked about the predicament facing us. With nothing in the town below the greenhouse was our only process for making new food. Even adding the greenhouse crops to our dwindling reserves, we would all starve to death in less than two months.
After my father’s rescue, the memory suppression started wearing off. Thoughts of my world, my family, Allison and her family, and all the men that had been killed overwhelmed me. I needed the chamber.
On the fifth night mother helped me reenter. I was a novelist, and lived a long and peaceful life in the English countryside. After awakening, I was unaware of reality and my problems seemed to be gone again. Weeks of steady dreaming passed. My only record of living was in the dream journals I kept. Deluded, I completely took my mother and father for granted.
A month after my father’s rescue, we opened the last can of preserved food. I wondered why beets were saved for our final processed meal. Savoring the can, we knew we were living meagerly from only the greenhouse. Tough decisions needed to be made.
From the food the greenhouse provided, one of us could live indefinitely, two could subside on the brink of starvation, and feeding three of us would result in all of our deaths. I decided to leave and find another place to grow food. My father said he would consider it while I slept, but I’d already made up my mind.
Preparing for my departure, I wanted one last life in the chamber. I lived on the Big Island of Hawaii by my parents on a version of Earth that was teeming with life, untouchable by human actions. Living a long life close to my family, I married my childhood friend Allison and became a scientist in my father’s field of study. This was the life I should have had all along.
I woke to an empty compound. Only when my memory returned did I realize my parents left during my dream so I could survive. The messages and answers contained on the console were recorded by them that night and have greeted me back to this world ever since. Truly alone in this world, I exist in a state of perpetual forgetfulness of their sacrifice.”
The reality journal becomes filled with random thoughts about the meaning of my life on this empty and frozen world, so I close it. Needing some time, I walk to the greenhouse and contemplate my dual existence inside and outside the chamber. How many dream lifetimes have I lived? Is anyone else still alive on this frozen planet? Where did my parents go when they left the compound? Will I ever break the endless cycle of entering the chamber in which I’m trapped? What is the point of living a life of forgetfulness? With these thoughts racing, I return to the chamber.
Chapter 7
The Chamber
“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”
-Nursery rhyme
Sitting at the small desk next to the chamber, I turn on the console that welcomed me back, and ask, “What determines the experiences I have during my dream lives?”
The console answers, “Your desire for particular experiences is what shapes your realities although you can pre-program certain circumstances into the dream. Experiences are derived from the dream adapting to your mind’s waking desires. The dream shapes in whatever way continues to hold your attention, even if that overrides the pre-programmed parameters you set. This makes your dream experience realistic, captivating, and masks that you are the author. The masking of your role as creator is only possible because of suppression of your middle and long term memory prior to entry.”
“Why don’t I realize I’m dreaming?”
“Many times you’re initially aware it is a dream. While your dream unfolds, repeated methods of viewing reality soon automate your experiences and interactions with your world inside. Instead of your mind shaping the dream, the dream eventually shapes your mind. In some circumstances, such as times of great suffering, your mind begins to escape from automatic thought patterns. When your entire way of thinking shifts, your dream adapts and recaptures your attention. Many times it will do this by creating overwhelming positive and negative emotional events to recapture your focus. If the dream can’t continue to keep your attention, or your true desire inside is to awaken, you regain consciousness instantly.”
I continue to question, “What happens to all my lives inside, the families I held close, and my accomplishments? Were my efforts for nothing?”
“They were all ideas, fed by the computer.”
“How many lifetimes have I created?”
“2,347.”
Imagine living the perspectives of that many people! “What year is this and how old am I?
The console replies, “It’s 2051 and you’re twenty-nine.”
So many different lifetimes, and I have nothing to show for them! Will I continue to live thousands of meaningless lives until this body dies? There has to be more to this. Yearning to break free from this cycle, my sole desire shifts to pursuing a meaning in my life outside the chamber, in this world.
Needing to change my circumstances, I ask, “If there are people still alive in this world, where are the most likely places on these islands that could still sustain human life?
“There are five potential places including this one that existed before outside communication was severed in 2037. Each location had a lasting electrical generation system with the potential of still working. Food supplies at these sites are unknown. The closest location is a group of observatories on Mauna Kea peak to the north on this island. The observatories were upgraded to automated wind turbine electricity in the 2020’s. The next closest is on the island of Maui. There is a satellite tracking station with its own wind turbine on top of the southern mountain peak, Haleakala. Both locations are at high altitudes where temperatures are frigid, but Haleakala would be slightly warmer due to its lower altitude.
“The next location is on Pearl Harbor Naval Base on the island of Oahu. Upgraded naval attack submarines based in port there powered by nuclear fuel, which could last for twenty years with a proficient reactor operator. Since the war severed communications, it is unknown if any of them were nearby when the ocean froze.
“The final location is a wind turbine farm on the island of Kauai, nearly 400 miles away. The turbine farm lies near the edge of the frozen ocean. These turbines could produce electrical power indefinitely, similar to this facility.”
A map of the five locations displays on the console:
Looking at the locations, I pause. Didn’t I read something about wind turbines on Kauai? My heart skips a beat. My childhood friend Allison! Her family fled to thei
r farm there just before the nuclear war. What if she’s still alive? What if there are others alive at these locations? Have I searched for other humans before? I formulate a plan.
Dreading the thought of living solely to enter the chamber any longer, I decide to travel to these sites and hopefully find others. I’ll search for something in this world having lasting meaning. Optimistic over the possibility of living for a greater purpose, I fantasize over authentic human interaction. For the first time since my dream, I feel a fresh breath of life fill me.
Chapter 8
A Journey Of The Mind
“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”
-Albert Einstein
Collecting all available maps, I sit in the library, planning my journey across the Hawaiian Islands. The challenges of food, gear, and transportation will be handled later. Plotting my track across the icy terrain, my round trip journey to Kauai and back will cross at least 800 miles.
Do all of these sites really still support potential life or can I skip some and shorten the distance? How can I be sure? If only I could gain a better idea of what they looked like before traveling to them. The chamber! I can go anywhere I want safely and easily inside. I’ll first experience them all in their original state, in a dream before my actual journey. It’s ingenious.
I plan a new route for my dream which will take me across a liquid ocean by boat. Two of the sites are inland, so I need a method of traveling up terrain. When finished, a route efficiently hitting all four of the potential habitable places is detailed on a map:
I see how my trial journey could easily distract me into forgetting my goals. After running back to the sleep laboratory, I ask the console, “Can I enter a dream with my memories intact?”
“You can override the memory suppression sequence and still create any world you wish. However, the life you have in that world will have no realism because you will know you are the creator. “
“Perfect. But instead of being born a baby, I want to be my current self starting the morning of April 9th, 2037. I need a yacht off the coast of Hilo with a small boat able to transport a motorbike to the shore. The yacht needs to have enough food and supplies to last four weeks and be capable of traveling at least 800 miles with the fuel on board.”
A little over two weeks should be enough time to see if any of these sites are promising. After awaking from this mental journey, I can prepare for my real journey armed with greater knowledge. Picking up the reality journal, I bring it to the kitchen and eat another dried fruit meal before my dream. I make a new entry on the back page:
“After awakening from a violent death in my last lifetime to this reality, I realized this never-ending cycle of dreaming needs to end. Without remembering my entire past, I do remember enough to know my dreams won’t bring me any lasting meaning or happiness. I’ll enter a dream while fully conscious to explore the Hawaiian Islands in preparation for my actual journey across them after awakening.”
After closing the journal, I shower, change, and return to the sleep laboratory. It’s time to live a fully conscious dream. After ensuring the correct parameters are set, I watch the console load old satellite imagery and recreate the world a few weeks before the nuclear winter. Convinced my dream will be accurate, I lie down, closing the lid on top of me. Lights and sounds of the chamber come to life, filling the small interior.
The console announces, “Memory suppression sequence bypassed.”
My view inside the chamber slips into quiet darkness.
*****
I awake on the forward deck of a large yacht, floating in the ocean. Off to my right is the city of Hilo on the Big Island, which means I’m exactly where I asked to be. Roofs of buildings protruding from the risen surf mark a flooded ocean, validating the time to be just before the nuclear war. Two large mountain peaks tower above the city in the backdrop of the tropical landscape. There is no snow on the peaks in this warm reality.
A sense of déjà vu flashes through my mind and then a flashback- I’m a young boy on a sailboat with my parents and Allison’s family. Enjoying the day, we are coming back from a fishing trip far offshore, away from the overfished coast. Everyone laughs at my father who is vigorously trying to untangle ropes on the forward sail. Smiling, I look at Allison.
Seeing Allison’s childhood face in the flashback, I realize it wasn’t by accident the woman in my dream who perished by my side in the fire was named Allison. She was the adult version of my childhood friend I created. Just how often do I dream of her? Happy to regain more of my memory, it also makes me miss my family, Allison, and real human interaction.
Refocusing, I bring my mind back to Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa towering in the distance. A full day’s trip to the observatory on Mauna Kea waits. Below the main deck, I collect the necessary supplies- warm clothing for the cold air at altitude, a pistol, food, water, and a map.
Loading the supplies into my backpack, I return topside and board the small boat containing a motorbike. Although I know nobody will steal anything because this reality is my creation, I lock the cabin out of habit. Soon, I speed across the choppy waves in the small boat to the submerged city in the distance.
Slowly motoring through the canals separating submerged buildings, I drive towards the mountain in the distance. People float on makeshift rafts, searching for useful items amongst flooded buildings. Approaching shore, structures become less submerged as the terrain rises. Onshore, I secure my boat to a tree.
Driving the motorbike with my backpack, I ascend through lush green jungle. Many families live in tents and cook on small campfires along the roadside- refugees from the city. The higher I climb the fewer people I see.
What if I drive to the other side of the island to my family’s compound? Many wrongs could be righted, like stopping the men from attacking the compound, keeping my father from venturing to the town, and maybe convincing my parents not to leave me. I shake my head, knowing this is a dream that doesn’t affect my real life.
Halfway up Mauna Kea the road steepens. The motorbike struggles from the incline, and high altitude air cools on my skin. An abandoned visitor’s center makes a perfect stopping point to change into warmer clothing. After the visitor’s center, the pavement ends and the narrow dirt road becomes a series of sharp switchbacks.
These switchbacks seem familiar. Another flashback- Allison’s father is taking us to a wind turbine he’s researching. Riding in the back seat of his government truck, every sharp corner Allison or I lean into the turn, attempting to push the other across the bench seat, laughing the entire way. Smiling at the fond memory, my mind returns to the present.
Several observatories emerge around a final bend back dropped against an amazing view of the vast ocean and neighboring island of Maui. Stopping the motorbike, I take in the spectacular sight. A wind turbine swiftly spins nearby, providing electricity. The observatories all stand alone without space to grow crops. Frigid, remote, and devoid of large structures, life here in my waking world is not possible. Haleakala towers on the horizon across the channel. It is time to move on to check the second location.
Passing through the lush green jungle and tent cities, I arrive in the outskirts of Hilo. With the motorbike secured inside the small boat, I motor towards the yacht anchored offshore. Breaking through choppy surf, I arrive alongside the yacht. After meticulously loading and securing my equipment, I’m ready to leave for Maui. The sun has set behind the mountain. I’ll stay anchored to sleep off the coast of Hilo for the night, feeling satisfied at eliminating the need for my actual journey up Mauna Kea.
Lying topside, I contemplate my current perspective as an aware dreamer. Twinkling stars emerge in the dark sky. A nearly full moon becomes visible near the eastern horizon. Taking in the beautiful sights, I know everything here is illusionary. I am actually lying inside the chamber in the compound on a frozen world. Manipulation of consciousness is amazing and convincing. Each of the sights, smells, sounds, and events I exper
ience are just electrical signals in my brain. I occupy a universe of thoughts.
Although my purpose for experiencing events in this dream is not to entertain or distract me, I see a certain value is lost in knowing I’m creating everything here. Playing out a story with no hint of struggle, fate, surprise, or higher power at work, the personal perspective has less meaning.
Something’s missing, but something is also gained. My sense of bodily confinement is gone and replaced with freedom. Everything here is alive as an amazing projection of my thought.
Chapter 9
Illuminated Dreams
“The human doesn’t see things as they are, but as he is.”
-Racter
A seagull squawks and clumsily lands on the front of the yacht, pulling me from peaceful sleep. Groggy, I look at my watch. Just past eight. Standing and stretching, my sleep topside was refreshing. After breakfast, I clean up and prepare to sail to Maui. Ready for what lies ahead, I pull anchor and follow the coast north for several hours. The lush beauty of the Big Island disappears as I cross the choppy channel separating the islands.
I’m glad I didn’t quickly see the four places in my dream and then awaken. By actually traveling between the locations, an understanding is gained of the immense distances that will need to be covered across the ice. The yacht makes steady progress towards the southwest corner of Maui throughout the morning. Rounding the western side of Maui, the devastation the flooding inflicted on the coastal buildings becomes apparent.
By mid afternoon the yacht is anchored off the submerged resort city of Kihei on western Maui. The once luxurious hotels are now concrete shells being pummeled by waves. More substantial buildings stand in the distance, still above the risen surf. Imagining the beauty of this place, I see exactly how much damage the melting of the polar icecaps did to manmade structures around the world.
The tracking station on Haleakala can be visited tomorrow. Hungry for a steak dinner, I motor into shore towards the larger buildings remaining intact above the surf. Securely to a pole, I walk inland to a restaurant still open. Fully realizing this meal will be a creation from my dream desires and not a reflection of what’s actually available at this time, I decide there’s nothing wrong with a little artificial comfort along the way.
