by John Gordon
to the Brack. They have an observation post on the other side of the continent and the usual free zone 1500 miles from here."
"It is medical research Martin." Elise stood next to him and poked a finger in his chest. "You said it was medical research. You didn't tell us it was sort of medical research. I'm not working for some damn military thing."
He nodded. "Of course not, but the formula we developed is the one that allows total relaxation of the human body, that makes dream-jumping easy to do. It is the formula that the Brack use for their police and security forces."
"I knew about the relaxation, the letting go of tension to enhance healing. Allen and Brigit suspected the dream-jumping, but we thought it was too extreme a side effect. Why didn't you tell us about the dream-jumping?" Her face had a beautiful fury about it.
"My dear, the Brack have agents, probably among us. They use the formula to sow terror and fear amongst their own people. They control them completely, like sheep herded where the master wills. It's all done in the name of the good of their race, the destiny of their people. We are lucky that this world is so far out on the edge of their space and that Resnik is able to work with them as a trade delegate of his empire."
"Do you think I am a spy?" Her voice rose an octave.
He was shaking his head, no, when the sirens pierced the forest haven and the scene before me took on an oddness I can barely appreciate to this day, the scene of a nearly naked nymph arguing with Professor Martin Asgard about a formula with alarm sirens filling an atrium tower with its high technology computers and technicians and its secluded forest glen. The circumstances were so unbelievable yet I was surprised that I found these events to be unusual. My experience with powerful dreams was their complete believability to the dreamer. Everything should seem normal, however strange.
We ran out of the woods, Martin shouting instructions to people at terminals along the walls.
He handed me a piece of paper. "Put this in your pocket and think of the computer in the laboratory... Right now Ed, that's your way out. We're under attack."
Under attack? Attack by whom?
Martin yelled again, "Ed. The computer terminal. Think of the terminal. You aren't adjusted to being here. Do it!"
Martin's words conjured up the image of the computer in my mind. Suddenly, I was back at the terminal in the lab where the dream began.
The tower filled a third of the computer screen. The atrium top was visible and the iris where he and Martin entered began closing.
Thirty or so men were flying in the air around the tower; they fired black globes that exploded against the walls but appeared to be doing little damage. They wore forest green body suits and a small pack on their backs. A cable ran from the pack to the rear of the tubes they fired at the tower.
As I watched, hypnotized by the surreal event, a lone attacker veered in the sky. He flew straight toward me as if he knew that I was here, sitting impossibly above the scene. His face was rough, with deep, vertical creases between the eyebrows and eyes that were hard and glittering. He aimed his weapon directly at me and I could see the end of the barrel distort as a globe began pulsing out of it.
I pressed a button on the terminal and the image disappeared.
It Was All A Mistake
Window frame shadows divided the bright ceiling of my bedroom into long rectangles. The covers stuck to my body as I disentangled myself from the sheets. My head ached until the last strangeness of the dream slipped from memory.
By the time I pulled my red Toyota sports car into the Farnham Medical Complex lot the air was warm. Stepping on the hot concrete, I stretched my short, overweight frame. This could be the scorching day that the weatherman promised earlier in the week. I shook my head a few times trying to drive away the sluggishness. Without sleep I felt like the garbage I forgot to take out this morning.
Sunshine filled the office from the Southeast windows and the eight terminals glowed in the light bath. So did Elise Termins legs, vaguely visible though her skirt as she stood in front of the windows. I glanced away. When I looked back she was looking at me with a strange smile on her face.
"Hi Ed," she nodded and turned to her work. I settled gratefully at my terminal. There was a woman that made me nervous, probably because she knew I was attracted to her; and she also knew I lacked the courage to do anything about it.
There was a cryptic message from Martin on electronic mail. "Trouble. See me."
I killed the message, but by morning break my curiosity was intense. I braved the humid heat and rushed over to Martin's, taking the Bio-Chemistry steps two at a time and reached Martin's Lab panting and sweating.
"There's a problem with the formula I gave you Ed."
I shrugged. "It took me a while to get to sleep after I memorized it." I tapped my head, "but I have it here now."
"I'm sorry friend, to have put you through a rough night. It wasn't an easy task, and all for nothing." He shook his head. "The formula I gave you has serious flaws in it. I suggest you purge it from your memory, or whatever it is you do. But just forget it, OK?"
"Of course Martin." It didn't seem a big thing to me. Sure I had spent some time playing with it mentally, lost a little sleep, but so what. It helped me get my attention off Carol. "Just remember. If you win the Nobel Prize for Chemistry, put my name in a footnote somewhere."
We both laughed and then Martin smiled, but it wasn't the easy, big smile that always drew smiles from his friends. "I don't mean to beat this to death, but Ed, I am serious about forgetting the whole thing. Throw away the copy I made for you and don't put your attention on it again. If you need another formula to remember I have one here, not so complex." The sheet he handed me had hieroglyph on it, but far fewer. I gave it back to him.
"No thanks, once was enough."
Accidental Return
Late that night I settled in my recliner and wondered what had happened with Martin's formula and I puzzled over how I could forget something I had spent a good amount of time remembering. There are specific techniques for levels of memory; but I had committed Martin's strange glyphs to the very deepest of these. The trick with long term memory is occasional reinforcement. If I didn't reinforce the image by calling it to mind again and going over the patterns and shapes carefully, that should pretty much wipe it out. The preoccupation with the mind and its operation was something natural to me. I couldn't remember a time when I didn't wonder how it functioned.
With a half eaten chicken sandwich beside me, I logged onto the University mainframe and checked my cabinet, or storage space. There was the formula, stored under the name ASGARD-F. To erase it all I would have to do was a delete command.
"Why do it tonight Eddy boy, why tonight?" I said to myself. A while back I worried about talking to myself out loud after Carol left; but figured there had to be some allowances for the pain. I didn't do it often and never in public. Damn. I was reluctant to erase the formula. After so much beautiful effort picturing it and then laying awake half the night trying to sleep, it just went against my nature to just erase it with one little press of a key. I logged off and turned to a novel I was reading. It was easy to imagine the heroine was Elise Termins.
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was in the research castle again and I was in trouble.
"What are you doing here?" Martin was shifting from one foot to the other, his hands tight in the pockets of his smock. "You put your attention on the formula, didn't you?" He slid a bony hand through his thinning hair. "Remember, I told you yesterday not to do this, I told you to get out of it. Now it may be too late. They'll be attacking again and now you're part of it. Imagining my laboratory may not work; you'll just have to take the risks that the rest of us do."
The scientists of yesterday were transformed. Two of them, armed with long sticks ending in a bulb, sat at terminals, their eyes glued to the screens in front of them, screens that re
vealed an empty morning sky of eerie beauty.
Martin placed a hand on my shoulder. "Ed, I'm really sorry that I got you into this. I hope we can laugh about it some day. The Bracks have resources in this world; and we have only what we have built over a few months. They mean to destroy us, utterly."
"What can I do?"
"We have all been trained. The best I can do is put you in Elise's hands. She'll be with us in a minute."
A soft chime echoed from the wall. The largest terminal clicked on and a tall, sandy haired man with chocolate brown skin looked out at them. His cheekbones were high and his eyes a sharp gray covered by pencil thin brows. Soft hair, like fur, covered the top of his head. "Karel left word that you are having trouble Martin." The man glanced at me then back at Martin.
"Resnik, Karel was being too cautious. It was more than trouble. The Bracks attacked, a small party of air-scouts. We repulsed it easily."
A flash of concern crossed Resnik's face and he quickly masked it. "The Bracks have no reason to be on that side of Landine unless they were sent to attack you. They are stretching their scant resources by fighting there."
He paused and pursed his lips. "My agreement with the Governor should be honored, even if the local First Signet and the military commander disagree."
"Resnik, you promised there would be no trouble with the Bracks.
