Sleeper (The Waking Sleep Book 1)

by Lucy Adler

  Daria stood up quickly, knocking the chair over as she did. She stormed out and up the stairs to her bedroom. She slammed the door shut behind her, fell onto her bed, and started crying. She cried for a solid ten minutes before there was a knock, and she heard her mom’s muffled voice from behind the door.

  “Daria? Daria?”

  “What?”

  “Hurry up, please.”

  She wiped the tears from her face and angrily jerked open one of the dresser drawers. She grabbed her three spare uniforms and threw them on her bed. Then she grabbed her pajamas and a few other pieces of clothing and tossed them on top.

  As she reached for her home tablet, the screen lit up.

  It was a message.

  From Jake.

  Jake! Save me!

  She tapped on the notification. It was a voice message.

  “Hey, Dash. Um, I really, um... I mean, I had a lot of fun studying together today. Maybe we could, you know, like, do it again or something? Uh, ok. See you tomorrow.”

  We’ve studied together plenty of times. Why would that be awkward? Unless...

  She dropped the tablet and let out a groan as she looked up at the ceiling.

  I have to get out of this!

  She went over to her window and looked down.

  Breaking my legs probably won’t help.

  Maybe I can slip out the front door?

  She threw her clothes into her duffel bag, grabbed the tablet, and tried to sneak out of her bedroom.

  She tip-toed down the stairs. She could hear the men talking with her parents in the dining room. She stepped softly and carefully towards the front door, leaning down and grabbing her shoes without stopping to put them on.

  She turned the handle slowly and steadily until the door clicked open.

  Did they hear that?

  She waited for a second but no one came. Then she stepped outside and pulled the door behind her, closing it as far as she could without actually latching it again.

  She breathed out a sigh of relief.

  “What are you doing, loser?” her brother asked.

  “Shut up,” she whispered.

  “Where are you going?” he asked loudly.

  “Just shut up. Don’t make me ask you again!”

  “And why are you whispering, moron?”

  Just then, the door swung open. Daria closed her eyes and let her head fall back a little as she gave up any hope of escape.

  “Right this way, Ms. Grayson,” the leader of the little group said. He placed his hand on her back and gestured toward a boxy looking vehicle parked out on the road. It didn’t have any windows, except around the front cabin.

  “Mom? Dad?” she called out, looking at them in desperation as she walked down the driveway.

  “It’s going to be ok, honey!” her mom smiled. Her dad had already turned around and gone back inside.

  As the door to the vehicle slammed shut, all she could think about was Jake.

  She closed her eyes and tried to picture his.

  3

  Month: 3 | Day: 6 | Year: 60

  THE CAXTON-MEYERS INSTITUTE

  The trip to the Caxton-Meyers Institute gave time for her panic to turn into complete and utter exhaustion. It actually hadn’t taken long for her to reach that point - after only about twenty minutes, she didn’t even have the energy to picture Jake anymore. Her mind just went... blank.

  There was no obvious connection between the rear of the vehicle, which was just a big space with two benches along opposite walls, and the front section where the three men had squeezed in side-by-side. She had called out several times at the very beginning, even banged on the walls with her fists and kicked with her feet. Nothing. No answer.

  But then the most rebellious idea of all had occurred to her.

  Why don’t I just go to sleep?

  She laid down on one of the benches, using one of her spare uniforms as a pillow.

  It would be too perfect if they had to wake me up when we arrive.

  She smiled as she lay there, eyes closed, trying to let the exhaustion carrying her off to sleep.

  But her thoughts revived and drifted to Jake again. How it was really only, what, an hour and a half since she had been sitting with him in the Library, hearing the wonderful news of his break-up with Justine? And then the voice message.

  Why? Why now?

  Her face looked pained as her eyes remained closed. She shifted onto her side and folded her arms, trying to get comfortable and shake off the desperation she was feeling.

  He was right at my fingertips...

  Despite the rollercoaster of hope and joy, confusion and fear, miraculously, about forty-five minutes into the trip, Daria fell sound asleep.

  _______________________

  Darkness. Thick, heavy darkness. She could almost feel it. Almost taste it in her mouth.

  And it was moving.

  But it wasn’t a thing that was moving in the darkness, it was the darkness itself. Swirling, turning, folding into itself and then unfurling again. All of it happening slowly but deliberately.

  How am I seeing this?

  Then a light appeared.

  A tiny dot of light. Of purple light.

  It was faint but present.

  And somehow, the movement of the darkness never obscured it. Despite the swirling and the churning, the never-ending, unpredictable motion of it all, never once did Daria lose sight of the light.

  _______________________

  “Ms. Grayson!”

  Daria came to with a jolt.

  Holy crap, I actually fell asleep!

  “This is worse than we thought,” one of the men said to another.

  She stuffed her makeshift pillow back into her duffel bag and stepped out of the vehicle. One of the men slammed the door shut behind her and then motioned toward the gigantic building in front of them. Daria paused for a moment to take it all in.

  It was actually three buildings, each of them a giant cube made entirely of glass and steel. They were connected by enclosed bridges, long corridors of more glass and steel, through which Daria could see people walking briskly between the imposing structures.

  But even more than the buildings, or her new situation, or her ‘captors’, Daria was preoccupied with... with whatever that just was.

  Did I... dream?

  _______________________

  The three men led her through the front doors of the middle building and into a massive atrium, where dozens of people were coming and going. Its ceiling extended about five storeys, so that Daria could see people walking along the balconies on the intervening floors. Some of them were calling over the railings to others down below.

  Their little group approached a huge half-circle of desks in the centre of the atrium.

  “We’ve got one for the facility. Can we go through?”

  “Yup. All clear.”

  The woman behind the desk didn’t even look up as she answered. They walked past her and over to a bank of about twelve elevators. Daria assumed they were headed up, so she hesitated for a second and started watching the blinking display pad next to the seventh one. They weren’t just for going up and down. These lifts also moved horizontally, depending on which floor you were on, so that they made a circuit around the cube-shaped building, like twelve little busses making their rounds through a city. And just like her school bus, they glided smoothly and silently along their magnetic tracks.

  “Keep moving, please.”

  They continued on until they reached a locked door at the back of the atrium. It was an unassuming door. You might have mistaken it for a janitor’s closet. No one was coming or going through it and it didn’t have any flashy display pads beside it.

  The leader of their entourage waved his hand in front of the old-fashioned knob. It turned on its own, the door swung open, and the four of them passed through. When they were on the other side, the door shut and locked by itself.

  Whereas the atrium was filled with natural
light and the hum of people going about their normal business, the hallway they had entered now was a different world entirely.

  The floor, walls, and ceiling were all metal. It was like walking through a giant ventilation duct, only the metal didn’t creak and pop. It was solid and polished to a shine, almost to the point of being slippery. Daria rubbed the soles of her shoes on it a few times to try to get them to squeak. It echoed and one of the men gave her a look. So she did it again.

  There were doors along the corridor but the men led her all the way to the end, to a pair of heavier-looking doors with a sensor on the wall beside them. The same man waved his hand over it and the doors opened with a pop.

  _______________________

  “Ms. Daria Grayson, I presume?”

  Daria didn’t respond.

  “Well, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you! Truly! My name is Dr. Reston.”

  An older man, perhaps fifty, fifty-five, extended his hand towards her. She left him hanging for a few seconds, then decided she might as well shake.

  “We are honoured to have you at our facility!”

  “Really? Honoured?”

  “Really,” the man said, his eyes looking more sincere than Daria would have expected.

  She twisted her mouth skeptically and nodded as she looked past the man, at the room they had entered.

  It was a surprisingly comfortable space. There were thick, fluffy sofas, three massive screens on different walls, platters of snacks spread across several high tables where other ‘inmates’ that were about her age were gathered, eating and talking. They actually looked like they were enjoying themselves.

  Don’t buy it, Dashy. Stay strong.

  "Would you like to have a look around?

  "Do I have a choice?"

  The man just smiled and began the tour.

  "Well, this is our common area. Your common area, actually. This is where you’ll get to meet and discuss your studies with other students at the facility."

  "What’s with all of this extra food?” Daria asked as they passed a few of the platters. “Isn’t snacking usually considered non-essential, according to the Guidelines?” She was remembering two or three rules about Consumption from the poster in her bedroom.

  "This is a special place, for special people," the doctor replied, giving her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, as though the two of them were sharing some juicy secret.

  I’m not your friend.

  "And over here are our physical training facilities."

  Daria looked to her left as they exited the common area and turned down another long hall. There were three large - no, massive - gymnasiums, one right after the other. It took them several minutes to walk past all of them since they stopped along the way to watch the activities through the glass walls. The first had a few dozen kids playing some game with a ball that Daria didn't recognise. The second had a pool, filled with another few dozen kids. The third had an obstacle course in the middle, surrounded by a running track.

  Ugh. No thank you.

  "And through these doors are our testing rooms and workshops. No more stuffy classrooms for you, not for a while at least," he said with another smile.

  As they passed one of the rooms, he pointed through the window at a boy, maybe twelve years old, sitting across the table from a woman in a long white jacket.

  "All study time here is one-on-one, to ensure that you get only the best instruction and achieve the highest performance ratings. It's all about you now, Daria. Getting you better."

  As he said this, he stopped and placed his hand on her shoulder. He seemed to be waiting for her to express her eternal gratitude for his wonderful generosity.

  That's right, Daria... you can't go home, you can't see your friends, you can't be with the guy of your dreams... but hey, we've got personal tutors for you!

  Oh, wow! How can I ever repay you?

  She nodded but didn't say anything.

  There were more rooms on the tour and more promises of making her ‘better’, but Daria was finding it hard to focus. She started hearing Jake's voice again, the one from the message. His adorably-awkward stuttering. She had never seen or heard that side of him before, and she had certainly never imagined that she would have that kind of effect on him.

  Then there was her brother's loud interrogation on the front lawn, and the thought that if only he had kept his stupid mouth shut...

  What an absolute --

  "And this is your room!"

  Daria suddenly snapped back into the moment as the doctor pushed open a white door, revealing a cube-shaped room with white walls. There was a desk, a dresser, and a bed complete with grey sheets, blankets, and pillows. There was also the obligatory Guidelines poster hanging proudly on one of the walls. And several bottles of pills on the desk, of course.

  Home sweet home. Bleh.

  Perhaps the only nice feature was a private ensuite bathroom. At least she wouldn’t have to share with her brother.

  The doctor had given her a few minutes to settle into her room and then meet him back in the common area. It was time for dinner and he wanted to be there for her first meal at the Institute.

  "So, Ms. Grayson, I hope your room is comfortable?"

  "Aren't they all? Designed to Progress Standards!" she said with mock enthusiasm.

  The doctor ignored her sarcasm and continued smiling as he escorted her to the cafeteria.

  That stupid grin. He's the mental patient, not me.

  Then the smells wafting through the doorway hit Daria's nose like a tidal wave before she even made it inside the room.

  Whoa...

  She had literally never smelled anything like it before. She didn't even know how to articulate it to herself. Sweet fragrances and savoury aromas blended together in mouthwateringly unusual ways. It seemed to awaken her mind and body. It was as if she were craving the source of the smells, even though she had no idea what she was craving.

  I didn’t realise how hungry I was...

  They made their way past the tables where the other 'inmates' were gathered in groups, eating and laughing together. Daria noticed again how genuinely they seemed to be enjoying themselves. One of the guys glanced up from his conversation for a second and looked at her, his stare lasting a little longer than was necessary. Then he smiled at her.

  Daria returned his smile with an awkward one of her own. She never got looks, let alone smiles. Only snorts. But the food was weighing so heavily on her mind right now, it was all she could think about.

  Finally, they arrived at the counter and each grabbed a tray.

  There were so many options, she hardly knew where to begin. Sandwiches, their fillings of meats, cheeses, and salads spilling over the edges of the bread in a delicious display of extravagance. Three kinds of pasta - actual, golden pasta, not white stuff! - with seas of deep red sauces beside them - red sauces, not grey! Then there were pieces of real meat, cooked to perfection, a few of them still sizzling. And just past the meat, she could see a huge, colourful spread of fruits and vegetables - apples, oranges, bananas, pears, grapefruits, tomatoes, broccoli, lettuce, onions, carrots, beets, mushrooms... She lost track after that.

  The colours!

  She wanted to tell herself to be strong. She wanted to warn herself that it was too good to be true. But only one thought came to mind.

  What is this place?

  Of course, it wasn’t that the citizens of Progress didn’t normally eat well. In fact, they ate extremely well, with every generation growing more healthy than the next, according to the Doctors. And this was largely attributed to the development of engineered foods, such as the school lunch that Daria so fondly referred to as ‘slop’. Nearly every food that was available, in the city at least, was some kind of blend of natural products, like meat or fruit or vegetables, with specially designed ‘nutritional enhancements’, turning almost everything you ate into a superfood of one kind or another. The natural or ‘basic forms’ of food, as they were called,
were considered inefficient and wasteful without these enhancements.

  The only downside was that the Doctors - that organisation of the greatest minds leading Progress into the future - hadn’t quite figured out yet how to make the engineered food taste, smell, or look quite as good as the ‘basic’ version. But since most citizens of the city rarely ate ‘basic’ food products, no one usually thought twice about it.

  Daria and Dr. Reston eventually found two empty seats. When she had gotten settled, Daria looked up and realised they were sitting at the same table as the Smiling Guy from a few minutes ago.

  "You must be hungry," he said, nodding at the two plates of food in front of her, both of them piled high.

  "Oh, yeah... this is the first time I've eaten today, so, you know..." Her hands and neck felt warm.

  Who even is this guy? Who cares. Just eat your food. Your wonderful, colourful, not-grey-and-white food!

  She went about her meal, starting with a cherry tomato. She casually speared it with her fork, which proceeded to slip off the side and send the tomato flying from her plate. It bounced across the table until Smiling Guy stopped it with his hand.

  "I think this is yours."

  "Keep it," she said with a wink, trying to be cool.

  Ok, no more tomatoes at meal time. Check.

  He popped it into his mouth and proceeded to eat it with that same smile still plastered across his face.

  "I'm Jake, by the way. What's your name?"

  What???

  "Uh, it's Daria." She tried to ignore the absurd coincidence of his name and focus on her food. She wound the angel hair pasta around the end of her fork and balanced a piece of meatball - actual meatball! - on top. She took a bite, her eyes closed in pure enjoyment.

  "Well, I've got some stuff to do now, but if you need any help with anything around here, I know this place pretty well. Feel free to ask!"

  As Jake Number Two got up and left the table, the doctor spoke for the first time since they had entered the cafeteria.

  "So, what do you think?"