by V. E. Lemp
When I touched the computer screen it opened out in several dimensions rather than remaining a two-dimensional surface. I could only surmise this was some type of holographic technology.
Everyone else appeared to understand their projects and how to accomplish the required tasks, but I was completely confused. I could use the tools to manipulate the projections to create alterations in sounds, colors, and shape, but I felt I was just playing. I’d no idea what my finished project was supposed to be or do. I called over one of the managers walking the floor and expressed my frustration, especially with the fact that my station lacked a manual or any instructions. The manager was unconcerned and just told me to “feel my way.”
This seemed dangerous, as I felt what I was doing was not just confined to this room, but was also affecting the world in some way. As the dream ended, this idea solidified into the thought that all the projects in this room were directly connected to reality.
After I woke I realized I’d drawn sketches in my sleep again. More detailed drawings of odd machines and devices. Something to give to the Morpheus Project team as I’ve no use for these renderings.
THIRTEEN
Karen’s life fell into a comfortable routine. Each evening she was hooked up to the monitors and fell asleep to the hum of the machines. Every morning she immediately sketched out the images from her dreams, adding enough text to explicate the pictures. After breakfast she’d meet with the project team to discuss her drawings. When the dream debriefings concluded, Karen was allowed to do whatever she wished. She spent most of her free time in the studio.
Since one of the other senior researchers always participated in the discussions of her dreams, Karen was forced to tell Alex about the message from Alice in front of Jasper James, who seemed rattled by the tale. Alex listened without expression until the conclusion of Karen’s story, then smiled brightly and said Leena was correct and the woman must be mad. “Don’t worry, Karen,” he said, shooting a curiously sharp look at Jasper James.
Karen resigned herself to a lack of private conversations with Alex, who’d become distant once again, his attention focused solely on the project. Despite his previous, though sporadic, bouts of personal attention, it was clear Alex simply viewed her as his lab rat. Or so she told Thea, in long-distance phone calls charged to the Morpheus Project. Thea, who’d moved home to take over the marketing of her family business, listened patiently and offered the same, unheeded, advice at the end of each call.
“Tell him how you feel.”
Karen always assured Thea she would, eventually.
Thea always sighed and asked when eventually might occur. “When pigs fly?”
The calls usually ended at this point, although one or the other would phone the following day to apologize and start the conversation all over again.
A month into the project, Karen walked into the dream debriefing room and found Alex alone.
“Hello,” he said. “Just us today. Hope that’s all right with you.”
Karen clenched the fabric of her loose t-shirt. “Sure. I suppose Dr. Rebani and Dr. James are busy elsewhere?”
“No, not really.” Alex flashed a heart-stopping smile. “I told them they needn’t sit in on these sessions any longer. I believe you and I will do just fine on our own. I hope that meets with your approval?”
“It’s your project.” Karen ducked her head to hide the color rising in her face.
“No, it’s our project. Or at least, I like to think so. You’re an equal partner in this, Karen.”
“Am I?” Karen met his gaze. Damn the blush and all other evidence of her infatuation.
“Of course,” he said lightly. “What would I do without you? Not much of a dream research study without the dreamer, is it?”
To Karen’s delight, after this meeting, Alex’s behavior changed. He was openly friendly and showed no hesitation about them spending time alone. They often talked long beyond the time reserved for the dream debriefings. One day Karen paused in the middle of a discussion of parallel universes and how they might account for ghosts and gazed quizzically at Alex. He was standing with his back to her, staring out the window.
“Hope I’m not keeping you from anything,” she said.
“No, if I wanted to be elsewhere I’d be there.” Alex turned and leaned against the windowsill. “Something on your mind?”
“Guess I worry you might not be as enthused about these discussions as I am. I know you’re busy with your teaching and the project and your social life …”
He smiled. “I see. My reputation precedes me.”
“Not exactly what I meant.”
“Never mind. I’m well aware of the campus gossip. No worse place for it than the halls of academia.”
“The point is”—Karen took a deep breath—“you don’t have to engage in these long conversations with me just because I’m by myself this summer. Don’t get me wrong, I love our discussions, but if you have other things you’d rather be doing ...”
“As I said”—Alex strolled over to sit in the chair next to Karen—“if I didn’t want to be here, I’d be gone. I enjoy our discussions, more than you can probably imagine. Do you know how refreshing it is to find a woman who actually participates in a conversation?” He glanced at her. “The truth is, most of the time when I’m talking I’ll look over and there it is—that blank expression that means they haven’t heard a word I’ve said—too busy deciding how to impress me or seduce me or whatever it is they wish to do with me. Occasionally it’s a calculated stare. I suspect those are the ones picturing how I’ll look on their arm. Makes me feel like a designer handbag.”
“That sounds unpleasant,” Karen said, her eyes widening. She’d never considered that anyone like Alex might experience relationship problems.
He stretched his arm across the back of her chair. “It is. I know it seems foolish to complain, but so few people can get past my looks. They tick a box off in their head—good-looking, must be vapid or self-centered—and make no effort to get to know me. So I’m not that different from you, Karen. Both of us want real, substantive conversations, not to mention relationships, and can’t seem to find them.”
“But not because I’m gorgeous.” Karen forced a smile.
Alex’s intense gaze raked over her face. “Such things are a matter of taste. Especially if you aren’t obsessed with accepted standards of beauty. Being an artist you should understand that.”
“Oh, I do. But I apply a more flexible standard to everyone but myself.”
“Time to get over that foolish hang-up. You’re perfectly fine the way you are.” Alex’s hand brushed her shoulder. “Tell me honestly, now that we know one another, would you be any less interested in talking with me if I looked like—oh, I don’t know—Mark Hallam?”
“Hallam?” A little laugh escaped. “No, honestly I wouldn’t. Really,” Karen added, surprised to realize this was the truth.
“Good to know. Now come. I’m taking you to lunch. No arguments. We both need to eat.”
After that conversation, they shared lunch every weekday. The weekends were another matter. Alex disappeared for at least one day and was deliberately vague as to where he went.
“Oh, here and there,” he would say, when Karen mustered the courage to ask. “I just take off in my car and drive. No real destination. I like to see how far I can go and where I might end up.”
That was that, then. Karen didn’t press him on this point, as his friendship was too precious to jeopardize by asking too many questions. At any rate, she rationalized, what if he was driving off to a lovers’ rendezvous? Knowing the truth would not improve her life. It was best to remain ignorant about such matters.
One weekend Karen grew restless and took another long walk, avoiding enclosed gardens or other areas out of public view. She’d seen nothing of Alice or any dark-haired strangers since her talk with Leena Rebani, but she always watched for them in crowds. Strolling through the grounds, Karen didn’t see anyone resem
bling Alice, but did spy a familiar face.
“Pilar!” she called. “Didn’t know you were still on campus. How are you?”
Pilar Varda was seated on a bench outside the education building, examining some notes. “I’m just fine,” she said, giving Karen a warm smile as she closed her notebook. “Busy studying, as always.”
“Taking classes this summer?” Karen sat next to her.
“Yes. The sooner I finish my master’s, the sooner I can go back to work. I took off teaching for a few years to complete this degree.”
“I remember. I’m still working with the Morpheus Project. It’s just for the summer, of course. After that, well, maybe by spring term I’ll be in grad school too. I’ll need an MFA to get a college-level teaching job. I don’t think I can make a living, at least not at first, and probably never, through just my artwork.”
“Few people can.” Pilar looked Karen over with the same concentration she’d given her notes. “I did hear you were still working with Dr. Vance and his team. Drew told me. I see him from time to time, in the library. He said you were the only research subject hired for the summer.”
“That’s right.” Karen shifted uncomfortably under Pilar’s continued scrutiny.
“Can I ask why you wanted to do that?”
“For the money, of course.”
Pilar shook her head. “Really, Karen? Only the money? I’ve seen you around, you know. I eat at that diner where you and Dr. Wythe lunch together.”
“Oh? Well, yeah, we do meet for lunch sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Pilar repeated skeptically. “Okay. I just know you two are always so deep in conversation you don’t notice anything else. You certainly never see me.”
Karen felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry, Pilar.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I just found it peculiar, you being so cozy with one of the senior researchers. Thought it’d be going against protocol. So I assumed you were done with the project … until Drew told me otherwise.”
“It’s different now.” Much to her dismay, a defensive tone crept into Karen’s voice. “Anyway, Ian Vance doesn’t seem to mind if Alex … if Dr. Wythe and I are friends. Nor do Rebani or James. So I don’t see why you find it odd.”
“Don’t you?” Pilar shrugged. “Well, it’s none of my business. I’m more surprised you wanted to continue in the project at all. Didn’t you have enough of it before?”
“Why? It’s quite easy, especially for the pay.”
Pilar frowned. “It hasn’t affected you adversely then?”
“No.” Karen pushed down thoughts of dark-haired strangers and her increasing bouts of sleep-drawing. “What do you mean?”
“It’s hurt the rest of us, that’s all I know. You remember how a few weeks into the project Val Rice developed those horrible headaches? I saw her recently, and she can’t seem to get rid of them. Nothing helps. Then I ran into Lee, and he admitted to bouts of anxiety, something he never experienced before. Don’t know about Ingrid. She returned to Germany. Quite unexpectedly. She abandoned her dance troupe and just disappeared. Drew, of course, won’t admit to any problems, but I did hear poor Max had some kind of breakdown. So our little group didn’t fare too well, all in all.”
“I don’t think you can blame that on the Morpheus Project. Those things happen.”
“I have nightmares. Terrible nightmares.” Pilar rubbed her forehead with one hand, as if to remove the memory. “I barely sleep anymore. And you, Karen, what about you?”
Karen’s loyalty to Alex overcame her desire to speak the truth. “I haven’t noticed anything. I’m sorry for your problems, Pilar, but I doubt the project is the cause.”
Pilar appraised her silently for a moment. “I’d be careful if I were you. I don’t think the Morpheus Project is what is seems. I believe we were all duped somehow.”
“You’re connecting things that aren’t actually related.” Karen placed her hand on Pilar's arm. “I can’t imagine Ian Vance or the rest of the researchers being involved in something shady. It seems impossible.”
“Does it?” Pilar pulled her arm away. “I don’t know. The project was so simple, so vague … Sometimes I think we weren’t that important, despite what Dr. Vance and the others said. And sometimes”—she glanced at Karen before quickly turning her head away—“I think they did things to us. I don’t know—drugs or hypnosis or something. Messages put in our heads while we were sleeping. Maybe Val had it right.”
“Surely you don’t think that, Pilar. It’s so … fantastical.”
“I know it is.” Pilar rose to her feet. “But watch yourself, Karen. If you start feeling ill, if things about the project make you nervous, just leave. The money isn’t worth it and neither”—she cast a sharp glance at Karen—“is Dr. Alex Wythe.”
“Pilar, you have this all wrong,” Karen assured her. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine, actually. I’m quite happy.”
Pilar sighed. “Okay, I believe you. I guess the project just left a bad taste in my mouth. With everything that’s happened, I worry. I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.” She clutched her notebook to her chest. “Just remember—you can usually find me around if you need to talk.”
“Sure, we’ll get together soon.” Karen kept her tone bright. Of course, it was a lie. She had no intention of meeting with Pilar Varda ever again.
FOURTEEN
Karen waited to finish the discussion of her previous night’s dreams before she told Alex about her conversation with Pilar.
“Doesn’t surprise me, to be honest,” he said, crossing to the window. Over his shoulder, the arching branches of a spirea pressed against the glass. The light-green leaves haloed his golden hair. “Pilar Varda was a bit fragile. We made a mistake accepting her into the project.”
Pilar and fragile were two words Karen would never put together. “She seemed very strong to me, even though she was rather quiet. I admired her self-confidence.”
Alex turned and graced Karen with one of his most charming smiles. “Well, you always think the best of people.”
“Not always. Really, Alex, I can’t picture Pilar falling to pieces unless there was truly something wrong. Now, Val Rice, maybe. Or even Lee. They’re so hyper anyway. But not Pilar.”
“She told you she was having nightmares and wasn’t sleeping well. Sleep deprivation can totally change a person’s personality. Then there’s the stress of her graduate studies and, well …” Alex lifted his hands in a gesture of dismissal.
“I suppose you’re right,” Karen said, not completely convinced.
“Sleep and dreams.” Alex’s mind had already drifted somewhere else. “Something we all need. Not nightmares, of course, but better nightmares than no dreams at all. Without dreams, we would go insane.”
“Is that true? I’ve heard you say it before.”
“Yes, quite true. You’re lucky, Karen. The dreams you experience are so unique. Very few people dream as you do. It’s a gift.” He strolled over to her. “Now I’d like to go to lunch, and later, if you wish, I want to take you somewhere.” He held out his hand.
“Take me where?” Karen wrapped her fingers around his.
“It’s a surprise.” He pulled her to her feet with too much force, and she stumbled and fell against him.
His heartbeat thumped, quite strongly, beneath her ear. “Sorry.” The word was muffled in the folds of his blue cotton shirt.
Alex tipped up her head with one finger beneath her chin. “What have I told you about apologizing?” He spoke with mock severity. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get some lunch. I’m starving.” He turned and walked off with no hesitation in his stride.
Karen followed slowly. There was a noise in her head, as if she could still hear his heart.
After lunch, Alex told Karen to return to the Indigo Building and grab a sweater.
“A sweater? But it’s eighty-some degrees out.”
“It is here,” he said, his eyes brimming with good humor, “but not nec
essarily where we’re going. Now run along and do as I say. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”
Karen did as she was told. Waiting outside the Indigo Building, a navy cotton sweater draped over one arm, she kept a close watch for Alex’s car.
He arrived precisely on time. Karen yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat as soon as the engine stopped.
Alex shot her a sideways glance. “It’s customary for a gentleman to open the door for a lady.”
“Back in the Dark Ages, maybe.”
“Are you suggesting I’m old-fashioned?” Alex raised his eyebrows. “Or just old?”
Karen’s lips twitched. “You aren’t that ancient.”
“Older than you, though, by some years. Well, as they say, older and wiser. Though”—he stared at his fingers as he turned the key in the ignition—“I don’t always make the wisest decisions.”
They drove along for some time. Karen didn’t question their destination but noticed they were headed west. At one point Alex initiated a conversation about virtual reality Karen found fascinating but could barely follow. She nodded a great deal and spoke very little as Alex spun out his ideas and theories.
After a time, Karen realized her eyes were closed. She sat up with a start and prayed she hadn’t fallen asleep.
Alex shot her a quick glance. “Am I boring you?” he asked with a wry smile.
“No, not at all. I didn’t sleep too well last night, that’s all.”
“Nightmares?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I almost never do. Have nightmares, I mean. Strange, peculiar, or odd dreams, yes. Nightmares, no.” It was time to broach a question she’d been pondering for a while. “What do you dream, Alex? I’ve never heard you say. Any weird dreams like mine?”
“No,” he replied shortly. There was a moment of silence before he continued in a more pleasant tone. “My dreams are ordinary. Running from unseen monsters, forgetting to study for exams, standing in front of a large crowd naked, that sort of thing.”
