The Dream Protocol: Descent (Book I)

by Adara Quick

  Deirdre forced her eyes to the floor to avoid eye contact with the Drones. She slyly watched their boots approach from under lowered eyelashes. Why does it feel like something else is staring out from behind all that red? Nice and easy, Flynn. Just keep walking. Deirdre felt out for some hint of humanity, but there was nothing. Flynn kept his pace, walking steadily about ten feet in front of the soldiers.

  Both were female Drones in their twenties with blank stares plastered on their faces. Fortunately, their eyes were their natural colors: blue for one woman and green for the other. This meant that they were not in Dream Justice mode...yet. There was no good kind of Drone, but the kind you could work around was in semi-Dream. Red in the eyes meant that you had been noticed, and being noticed was always bad. The Ministry saw through their eyes, felt with their hands, and executed Dream Justice through them as it saw fit.

  Flynn reached Deirdre and Antrim and came to a stop against the wall with them. Everyone kept silent. The Drones marched past, faces forward, and crossed through the four-way intersection. Three pairs of eyes followed them down the hallway. Still, no one said anything.

  But then something went wrong. The Drones turned back toward them, red light flashing up the passageway from their eyes. Their scanning routines had flagged something. Deirdre shot an arm out, pressing Antrim and Flynn back against the wall. Not Flynn. Please, not Flynn.

  Just then, a man ran into the intersection from the other hallway and stopped, frozen in the corridor. His clothes were ripped, and he was out of breath. For a second, no one in the hallway moved. Then, everyone exploded. The Drones broke into a run, shouting for the man to stop. He started running too, up the way Flynn had come. Deirdre could hear his panicked breath.

  The three friends watched one Drone load a ‘Mare onto her wristband device. Antrim grabbed onto Deirdre’s arm and squeezed it tightly. The Drone fired and the data transmission snaked up the hall toward the runner. But he was ready for it, and dove onto the floor as soon as he heard the snap of the ‘Mare firing. It missed him, but the Drones kept coming.

  The man scrambled to his feet and ran a few more steps to a locked door on the hallway. Despite his panic, it looked like he knew where he was going. The man banged his fists on the door. They were still in the residence levels so Deirdre knew it must be someone’s home. He shouted, “Come on, man. You have to let me in!”

  The Drones were almost on him. Then the door opened and another man stepped out and shoved the runner away from his door. His long blond hair was tied in a ponytail and it whipped around his neck. He said, “Lad, I don’t know you. Get on your way.” The runner fell back, stumbling into the approaching Drones. His arms flailed and he looked sick when the closest Drone grabbed onto him. The blond man just stood in his doorway and stared.

  The other Drone prepared another ‘Mare burst. The runner struggled and kicked, but the woman in the red uniform held him tight. In a flat voice she said, “You are arrested for attempting to access the cloud as a Maker. Impersonating a Dream Maker is a serious offense. Is there anything you wish to say about this other man, Cashel Quinn, to reduce your sentence?”

  Deirdre took a step forward, but Flynn pushed her back again. He whispered, “No, Dee. You will only make it worse for him.”

  The runner stopped struggling; he knew he was caught. “No. I was just looking for a door. Any door.”

  The other woman leaned toward him and said, “Any door, you say? Cashel Quinn, step aside. Your living unit will be searched.” Cashel stepped away from the entrance and the Drone strode forward. Glancing back at the runner, she said, “The Ministry will make its own assessment.” Then she disappeared through the doorway, leaving everyone in the hallway.

  No one spoke. None of them dared to even glance at one another. From inside Cashel’s space came the sounds of furniture being overturned, cupboards being emptied, and toiletries being strewn about. The minutes dripped by. Then the Drone came back out and addressed Cashel. “No contraband was found within your living quarters, Cashel Quinn. However, your name is now on the Ministry’s watch list. Twenty dream credits will be deducted from your profile on the suspicion of aiding this impersonator. I advise you not to have another infraction. Good day.”

  Cashel continued to stare at the floor and replied, “The Ministry provides.”

  The Drone turned back to the runner and said, “Your sentence is two months lived experience of ‘Mare. Your body will be stored in Dream Justice while you live out your dreamlock. Your normal work duties will then commence with a reduced rate of pay. Under surveillance, of course.” The man cringed and whimpered, but the Drone didn’t notice. She raised her device and fired again.

  This time, the pulse hit its mark and the man slumped over, unconscious. His eyes darted back and forth under closed lids and he went immediately into REM. The Drones dragged the man’s body away, and Cashel remained in the doorway a moment longer. He looked at the three friends up the hall with eyes that said, “Get out of here, kids.” Then he went back into his unit and shut the door.

  When the Drones were gone, Flynn looked at the two girls and whispered, “Underground for sure.”

  Antrim grabbed Deirdre’s hand. She looked into her friend’s eyes and struggled to find words. One thing terrified Antrim through and through: being selected for Dream Drone duty when she turned 16. She said, “Dee, what do you think it would be like to be converted into a Dream Drone? How do they even do it?”

  Deirdre said, “I only know a few things from overhearing Ma and Da. Once Selection is made, they are hidden somewhere in the city. They go through some kind of conditioning, so the Ministry can control them better. The arachnoid they get is different, somehow. But Antrim, neither of us is going to fail in Selection, and neither of us is going to find out.”

  Antrim dropped Deirdre’s hand and stared after the Drones, even though they had turned the corner and were gone. “But how can you be sure? You remember what happened to Liam last year. He was a smart, funny, good-natured guy. What made them select him? I see him in the hallways now and then, dressed in his red uniform and black boots. But he’s just gone. It’s horrible.”

  Anger welled up inside of Deirdre and she grabbed her friend by the shoulders. “Antrim, c’mere. I’m not going to let them take you. No matter what happens at our Selection. We’re going to be right in the recovery room, waiting for you. Flynn and I... well. Just trust me, ok?”

  “Ok, Dee. Ok.” Antrim smiled slightly, but it barely turned up her cheeks.

  Together the three gathered their things and made their way on to school. When they passed by Cashel’s doorway on their way to the lift, Deirdre fell back from the other two and took a long look at the man’s door. I wonder if he really is underground?

  Flynn turned back to Deirdre and called, “Coming, slayer?”

  “Sure. Sure I am.”

  The three friends stepped off the lift, each a little rattled by the events with the runner. The school section took up the entire 12th level. The Ministry wanted its populace well-trained to serve its interests, and so every square foot had been devoted to preparing the young for their lines of service. The entrance was guarded by two more Dream Drones and a set of identity scanners. Deirdre hated the coldness of the machines, and the daily task of passing through them. Why does school need security? To make sure no one steals their mandatory free lessons? Deirdre, Flynn, and Antrim stepped through one by one as the scanners connected to their cloud access earbuds and confirmed their identity profiles.

  A metallic voice rang out, “Deirdre Callaghan, identify confirmed. Flynn Brennan, identity confirmed. Antrim O’Connor, identity confirmed.”

  Then they were through and carried along by the current of young people all scurrying to their classes. Like all of the hallways in Skellig City, the walkways in the school were lined with holo screens advertising the latest and greatest dreams for sale. The screens activated automatically, triggered wirelessly by the age profile for whoever passed by. The Mi
nistry promoted their dreams everywhere and all the time.

  As the three walked through the hall, one of the holo screens switched on. A voice boomed and flickering pictures formed. “Now offering Casino Legacy for the special price of 1800 credits,” the voice said. An image of a luminous casino floor filled the screen, with gamblers waving at the rushing teens. “While away those nighttime hours as a wealthy heiress or champion of business! Gamble in high-stakes games and get the girl! Or guy! This download features last years’ Dream Match winners, Sinead and Aiden. Don’t forget, Dream 745937.”

  Deirdre, Flynn, and Antrim ignored the ad and just kept walking. Other kids paused in the hallway, sending ticker messages to their parents with the catalog code for the dream and a message to buy it.

  Further down the hallway they were hit with another advertisement, triggered by some of the younger children rushing by. “Kids, make your parents buy this one for you! Dream 702737, Lazy Frog, lets you become the ruler of the lily pad pond as you laze the day away. Other frogs have to bring you treats and do tricks for you. All the other kids are dreaming this one for 500 credits!”

  “Get them while they’re young,” Deirdre mumbled.

  A pair of boys next to the holo screen put their noses up to the hologram. One reached in to stick his finger in the pond and said, “Look, it’s Lazy Frog! I wish Ma would get that one for me.”

  The second child replied, “I’ve got it. It’s cool. But I like Race Car Runner better. It’s Dream 3729...” Their voices faded into the distance as Deirdre, Flynn, and Antrim entered the locker area.

  Antrim put her midday Nutripak into her locker and slammed it shut. She turned to Deirdre and asked, “What class do you have first?”

  Deirdre said, “It’s the middle of the week, so Flynn and I have Kinesthetic Communication. But we’ll see you for Visual Technology Interface for third period. Try not to worry today, k?”

  “K, but just ‘cause you’re the one asking,” smiled Antrim sweetly. Then she turned and made her way through swarming students to get to class.

  Flynn and Deirdre headed off in the opposite direction. But before they reached first period, Flynn pulled Deirdre aside and said, “Can we hold off on going to class for a sec? I want to talk about Blue Sky. Outside the holo room.”

  Deirdre replied, “Sure.” She moved closer to him so they could speak in a whisper without being heard by the other students.

  Flynn looked in her hazel eyes and whispered, “Dee. What if we do get out of here? What do you want for yourself? On the surface.”

  She said, “It’s operation Blue Sky, isn’t it? I want to find it. See it with my own eyes and not through some data packets transmitted through the Ministry. And Maeve told me about grass. I want to see that too and feel it between my toes. It’s green. Did you know?”

  Flynn smiled. He felt good about being so near to her. Feeling her breath against him was exhilarating. “You do have cute toes,” he said.

  Deirdre blushed a little and said, “What about you, Flynn? What do you want when we get out there?”

  Flynn reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. For a moment, he looked tenderly into her eyes. Then he looked down and took a deep breath. In halting words he said. “What do I want? What I want is…”

  But then a group of Matchers passed by on their way to class and one of the boys deliberately bumped into Flynn, their shoulders hitting hard against each other. In an instant Flynn’s eyes shifted from sky blue to the dark, hard blue of a thunderstorm. The Matchers moved on and laughed.

  Deirdre pulled back a little; Flynn could be unpredictable when his eyes turned like that. And she wanted sky blue Flynn back. So she reached out to him with a soothing voice and said, “Come on. Let’s get to class. They don’t matter, remember?”

  It didn’t always work, but this time it did. The clouds drew back and Flynn smiled again. “You’re right. Come on then.” The two of them headed to class.

  Deirdre moaned inwardly as she and Flynn entered the brightly lit classroom. First period is always dead. Probably duller than Lazy Beach. She saw Mr. MacAleese at the front of the room sitting at his desk and elbowed Flynn. “Maybe you will get selected for the Education Division.”

  Flynn whispered back, “And what would I teach? How to be snarky?” They shot each other knowing smiles as they walked past the instructor.

  The front row of the class was filled with Matchers, Deirdre’s least favorite classmates. Dressed in their colorful outfits and puffed-up hair, they were hard to miss. The Ministry went to great lengths to groom its future stars of the dream world, providing them with wardrobe, make-up art, and any surgical manipulation that would bring them to physical perfection. They embodied beauty for its own end, a closed loop that never went anywhere in Deirdre’s opinion. But everyone else saw them differently. Matchers began building a platform early with their elaborate costumes, selling their brand to any who would look or listen. A Dream Match winner’s job was to seduce the entire city, and they wooed everyone obsessively. They wanted stardom and the luxury that went with it, no matter the personal costs.

  Walking to her seat, Deirdre passed through the group of Matcher girls. All five were clothed in all the manufactured beauty that the Ministry could muster. They were like wax dolls with their perfect features and glittering outfits. As Deirdre brushed by, the girls on either side of the walkway bent to whispering. The one on the left was named Fianna, and her outfit made Deirdre wonder if there had been an explosion in the dye room. Blue, purple, yellow, and orange covered her from head to toe. She even had feathers sewn into the collar of her tunic, making her look like some exotic stuffed bird. The other girl was named Shauna. Covered in metallic shades of gold, silver, and bronze, it was hard to separate her sparkling face from her glittered clothing.

  Fianna whispered. “Grey just doesn’t do anything for anybody. I’m so glad we don’t have to wear it.”

  Shauna whispered back, “I know. Wouldn’t that be the worst part about losing the competition? Having to wear those awful outfits?” Deirdre set her eyes forward and kept walking. The biggest insult you could pay to one of the Matchers was to ignore them.

  But when Flynn walked by, Shauna spoke loud enough to be heard. “And there’s Flynn. Patchwork cloaks are the hottest accessory this year.” She then glanced at Fianna to see her reaction. Snickering some more, Shauna pulled a nail file from a sequined bag that hung at her side and began filing away.

  This wasn’t the first time that the Matchers had teased Flynn about his cloak. He had stitched the hood on himself and so it did look a little rough around the edges. Like Deirdre, Flynn kept his eyes up and away from them, so he didn’t notice when Shauna stuck her foot out to trip him.

  Deirdre whirled around to find Flynn sprawled on the floor. By this point, most of the class was laughing, especially the other Matchers. Shauna and Fianna gave each other high fives as Deirdre helped Flynn up. “Stop it,” Deirdre shouted. Don’t you care about anything but yourselves? Come on, Flynn. Don’t pay any mind to them. They’re as thick as manure but only half as useful.” She gave him a hand and helped him up.

  “Sure, Dee. You’re right,” Flynn said. He was boiling inside, but he wanted to get out of the center of attention as soon as possible. So he pulled the cloak close around his head and started walking. They made it to their seats at the back of the class just as Mr. MacAleese called everyone to order.

  The teacher’s main feature was his huge red nose which he always rubbed with the back of his hand. “Now class, settle down,” he said. “And I’m especially talking to you Matchers. Today we are beginning unit six of Kinesthetic Communication. I want everyone to tap into the cloud using your earbud access ports. By now you should have mastered the basic steps of using slight body movements to interface with the cloud. Remember, mouth the letters SCHOOL without speaking. You’ll see the folder icon appear on the top of your desk. Then find Activity B in the Kinesthetic Communication folder. You m
ay also use your stylus as you please.”

  The quickest one in the class, Deirdre quickly had her letters submitted to the cloud. She found the Kinesthetic Communication folder and opened unit six with a tap on the holographic icon. Flynn had his activity up too, and winked at her when she turned his way. At least he looks like he is feeling a little better.

  When Activity B finished loading, a glowing blue orb appeared in the air hovering before Deirdre’s eyes. Its surface rippled like water, yet somehow it seemed like a solid that was lit from the inside. It was a hologram, projected through the cloud for her. More blue orbs of light blinked into the room as the other students loaded their exercises. Deirdre stared into her ball, admiring its surface and inner light. Hers was mostly blue but still caught tiny colorful reflections from the Matcher’s costumes at the front of the class.

  “Everyone ready?” Mr. MacAleese continued. “Now look at your glo ball. It’s probably rotating on its own. The goal of this exercise is to gain greater control over the subtle hand and arm movements you will use to interface with the cloud. These foundational skills will be used in any work placement after Selection. As you already know, your 16th year Selection is coming up for all of you. I want everyone to position your hand in the air about waist high. You will notice that your ball follows your hand.”

  Deirdre did as instructed and wondered what would be chosen for her. Selection. The dream that will determine the rest of their lives. And no one is going to even ask what we want to do. She could be selected for any of the main service lines of the city. Dream Administration was one - the arm of the Ministry that managed the cloud and all dream transactions. There was also Dream Justice - the arm that implemented the Minister’s rule of law. The most feared group in the city, they kept profiles on everyone. Then there were the sub-divisions that provided for food, shelter, clothing, and medical care. If she demonstrated a certain kind of aptitude, she knew that she could be enrolled at Dream Maker Academy, like her parents and Maeve.