Dreamworms Book 1: The Advent of Dreamtech

by Isaac Petrov

  “I’ll go, Dad,” Bram says.

  “Sure, Bram,” Edda says, venom still drenching her every word. “Encourage him.”

  Bram slams the table in sudden outrage. “Don’t even dare open your mouth!” He stands, dragging his chair noisily back. Besides him, on the rocking chair, Hans is looking up at him with large, curious eyes. Bram points a shaking finger at her. “You’ve done enough, spoiled brat! Grow up!”

  Edda stares up at her brother like she doesn’t know him. Bram’s glare is… disturbing, Ximena thinks, his expression… so horribly distorted. When a soft face not made for fury is gripped by it, beware being on the receiving end.

  “Bram, sit,” Willem says, his voice patient, soothing. “Aws Gift Eve, remember.”

  But Bram glowers on, cheeks inflamed, finger fixed inches away from Edda’s nose. “What’s next, huh? What do you want now? To invite the inquisition for dinner?”

  “Oh, come on,” Edda says, her voice shaking lightly. “You’re so naive. The Quaestor is bluffing, yeah? All she wants is to get into Dad’s pants.”

  “And of course, if she’s not,” Bram shrugs his shoulders with enraged exaggeration, “who fucking cares about the consequences, yeah?”

  “Bram, stop, please,” Edda says, a hint of tears welling up in her eyes. Ximena feels her shock at seeing her little brother like that. He is never mad. He is never mean. And he sure as Dem never curses. “You know as well as I do that Dem is not for real.”

  Bram purses his lips, eyes still glaring at Edda, but says nothing.

  “Dad is going to die, goahdammit!” she says. “For no reason!”

  Bram turns his face to Willem, and his expression softens immediately. He sits, eyes sunk, and begins to rock the baby chair to the visible delight of Hans.

  “That is not true, Edda,” Willem says, his voice a notch louder now. “I’m meeting Goah’s Embrace because it is my time to do so.”

  “But—!”

  “Shut up!” Willem lashes out with as much fury as Bram displayed before.

  Edda gapes back at him, dumbstruck.

  Hans begins to cry, and Bram takes him into his arms.

  “Shut up, Edda!” Willem says, his voice barely under control. “This is the last time I will speak of this with you. Now, get this into that thick skull of yours. I had a good life under Goah’s Gift, like I hope the three of you are having. And now the end has come. As simple as that. Under no circumstances must this family leave the protection of aws Gift and aws Compacts, because outside there is only barbarism; and short, miserable lives. Now listen: I must go, a baby girl must come, and life goes on, understood? And it is your responsibility to make it a good life for all of you.” His eyes lock alternatively on both of his children, who stare at him in stunned silence. “You are going to be Elders now. Behave as such, Goah’s Mercy, and take responsibility over the family.”

  “Yes, Dad,” Bram says, eyes on his cup.

  Edda stands noisily and storms out of the kitchen.

  Edda slumps into her bed and begins to sob. Damn him! Ximena hears her thoughts streaming unimpeded through the psych-link. Damn him and his cold logic! It’s… hopeless! Doesn’t matter what I say–or do. Nah, nothing is going to convince him. Pure Sin!

  Edda takes a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions, drawing discipline from her training. Goah, it’s so much easier in dreams! But she needs to calm down and rest. It is an important night, the most important so far. The final trial is about to begin, and she needs to have a clear head and be ready.

  What if Elder Yog disqualifies me? The thought crosses Edda’s mind like a bullet through a brain, shattering away the modest inner peace she had gathered. Her breathing quickens. Goah, if I’m out… She whimpers loudly at the thought. She stands, and paces her bedroom back and forth, over and over again, eyes on the wooden floor. Breathe, she thinks, and she gasps. Breathe!

  If she doesn’t pass the trial… If she doesn’t make the Path in the Shadow… What’s left for her to do? Her father is too stubborn. Her family is crumbling, and she cannot allow the only certainty in her life to falter. What can I do? Ximena almost gags at the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness. Without the powers of persuasion, without the powers of a Mind Walker, what can I do?!

  Twenty-Three

  The Final Trial

  “Happy days of light, Edda, Speese,” Gotthard says, walking towards them in the dark, flat ground of the staging permascape.

  “Hey, Gotthard.” Edda gives him a sidelong smile. “Happy days of light.”

  “Did I hear right?” Gotthard gives Edda an admiring smile. “You killed one of the…?” He points at the two marai that stare squarely at Edda from a distance. “Whoa! You are really something, dowry sister! That’s the big boss around here, you know?”

  Edda’s lips twist into a grimace. “Yeah, I know. She almost disqualified me. Thankfully, very few of us actually made the Third Step.” She gestures at the few remaining young colonists next to them. “Plus, apparently, it’s got to be an even number of mensas, so…” She shrugs.

  “Happy days of light to you too, Speese.”

  Aline gives him a sulky nod, but says nothing.

  “Sorry to hear that your rat lover didn’t make the Path,” he says, his tone clearly saying he is not sorry at all. Ximena can feel his amusement through the psych-link. Apparently, it is tethered to him in this section. “The conflict of wills can be painful, you know? It is not for everybody.”

  “Do gather, human candidates,” Rew calls. Luckily, Ximena thinks, because Aline seemed about to leap on Gotthard’s neck and rip it into gory chunks.

  The remaining candidates approach slowly and take position a few yards in front of Rew and Yog’s two bodies. Rew’s eight Walkers form a line behind them. For the first time since the trials began, Ximena realizes, there are more mares than humans. Almost double the number.

  “Be proud, Human Walkers of the Path of Light,” Rew says. “Six of you have made it to the final trial, may it be fruitful for us all.”

  Ximena feels Gotthard’s excitement burbling inside. More than excitement. It is almost… hope. He has really made it to the final! The power of the Shadow Path so close—within reach. If he gets it, he could show those—

  “The final trial begins now,” Rew continues, “and will conclude in twenty-four days.”

  Twenty-four days, Ximena thinks. A multiple of six, of course. Since this is the night of the twenty-first of December—aws Gift Eve—the trial will run until, hmm, Ximena tries to make a mental calculation, but fails; sometime in mid-January.

  “Do form in teams of two,” Rew says. “Do it now.”

  Gotthard exchange a glance with Rutger, and walks towards him, of course. The remaining four young candidates were already arranged in couples. Ximena almost chuckles; there’s no doubt, no discussion as to who pairs with whom.

  “Very good,” Rew says. “Thus, Redeemed van Dolah shall partner with Woman Speese, Redeemed Siever with Man Kraker, and Senior Elder Smook with Junior Elder Smook.”

  Rew turns her white eyes to Yog and regards her in silence for a few seconds, as if secretly communicating. The two bodies of Yog begin reverberating with a single female voice, her tone as pleasant as usual. “Only one team shall be deemed worthy to pass the trial. Only one team shall qualify to be led into the Path in the Shadow and serve as Walkers of the Mind.”

  Gotthard smiles, turns his head to meet Rutger’s anxious gaze, and winks. Nice display of confidence, Ximena thinks. If only Rutger knew that Gotthard is melting inside.

  Rew speaks now. “You do have twenty-four days to unequivocally prove your worth. You shall demonstrate that humans can indeed exceed the skills of marai when dealing with other humans. And you shall do so by using your gained Walker skills to plan and execute a disruption in your society such that humanity shall be moved a step away from its demise. The team that achieves the largest impact shall be deemed worthy to be led into the Shadow. You do have a qu
estion, Redeemed van Dolah?”

  “Uh, y- yes.” She looks as nervous as Gotthard feels, perhaps more. “How can we, uh, get together in dreams, and into each other’s heads, and so on? We still don’t—”

  “Indeed. You have not been initiated yet in the melding of minds; the Second Wake is the domain of the Shadow Path, thus each candidate team shall be assigned a support Walker.” Rew gestures back with one of her arms. “Walker Moih shall support the team of Elders Smook, Walker Qoh shall support the team of Redeemed Siever, and I shall personally support your team, Redeemed van Dolah.”

  “Ah, so you will help us, yeah?”

  “Indeed. We shall do as you do request. Alas, we cannot provide the crucial ingredients you need to succeed: the human psyche. Only by drawing a cunning plan from the well of your human creativity and navigating the intricate relationships that govern human behavior can you hope to achieve what we marai can seldom do.”

  “So we need to make something happen that is, what, disrupting you said?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Like what?”

  “The nature of your scheme you shall decide with your partner, Redeemed van Dolah. Do choose wisely. It ought to be something that you can accomplish inside the allotted time—twenty-four days—and that showcases considerable potential to improve the sorry state of human civilization.”

  “Improve civilization… So, say, like people living longer—that would be a good thing, yeah?”

  “That would be a good thing indeed.”

  “And if we all do well,” Edda gestures with the hand at Gotthard and the Smooks, “who determines the winner?”

  “I shall, human,” Yog says, her empty eyes locked on Edda, who blinks and takes a step back.

  Gotthard lets out a laugh, his hopes heightened, and shouts at Edda, “Don’t think killing that alien was so smart, huh, dowry sister?”

  Twenty-Four

  Sardines and Tears

  “Okay, people,” Miyagi says, pacing the stage, hands on his back. “We all know what trial project Edda and Aline finally pursued, don’t we? It surely left its mark in history.” He chuckles softly and raises his head to meet the eager gaze of his students. “But I want you to see the scene where they finally commit to it. Bear with me, please. It’s not long.” He smiles apologetically at Censor Smith, who gives him a polite nod.

  The auditorium goes dark with a gesture from Miyagi to Ank. A sight of the colony of Lunteren from the air fills the amphitheater with vivid intensity. It is a bird’s eye view, sliding gently over the tiled roofs and backyards of the settlement. Ximena sees considerable movement on the streets—hats, colored robes and winter tunics going about their business. She bets it is more busy than usual these last days of the year, with the Eleven Days of Light in full swing, and the Century Festival just around the corner. She can almost imagine the frenzy—the excitement—in those tiny figures below.

  The scene slides down, closer to Lunteren, to its western district. A large square, close to the busy road that leads off to the harbor, is teeming with colonists: an open-air market at the peak of its activity. Like a placid pigeon, the amphitheater lands at the edge of the market into the smell of fresh fish and horse sweat, and the shouts of merchants and hagglers.

  Two chatting teenage women—Edda and Aline—walk into the market from one of the narrow side streets. Both are wearing ankle-long winter tunics. Edda’s is bright white, in stark contrast to her dark skin, and Aline’s is pale blue. Both wear external belts, but Edda’s is black, thick and ornate, braided from dyed leather strips. A gomen, Ximena recognizes: the belt of a redeemed. Not in much use anymore, not even in the GIA. Each of the girls carries a sleeping toddler on their backs, wrapped in flexible, warm cloths.

  “Come on, I want to surprise him!” Aline smiles in anticipation.

  “Chill, mensa! You’ll wake up the babies.”

  “I don’t know about Hans,” Aline caresses the sleepy toddler on Edda’s back without slowing her pace, “but Goah knows an earthquake can’t wake Alida from a nap.”

  “Wait till she ends up on the ground in the middle of the Post Way from all your trotting. Take it easy, sister—Piet is never so early. We’re bound to make the harbor before he docks.”

  They must slow down as they begin to cross the market, which is teeming with people, the mood frantic. The girls navigate through the crowd with practiced skill, trying to avoid the busiest stalls. The smell of fresh fish intensifies, as does the noise of commerce. Many of the haggling clients are children under ten, and wear trousers below their shorter tunics. Edda and Aline head towards the street on which occasional pedal carts loaded with even fresher fish make their way into the market.

  “Hold on. Oh, the smell—too good to resist. One second, yeah?” Edda stops in front of a small cart displaying a range of fried fish of diverse color, size and texture. “Aws Blessings, Elder Reckers. Happy Days of Light. How much for the sardines?”

  “Happy Days of Light to you too, Juf Edda.” The man, already over twenty, thick black beard, tall black hat, bows politely.

  “I’m not your Juf anymore,” Edda says with a broad smile. “Just call me Redeemed van Dolah, like everybody else.”

  “Goah’s Mercy, so formal. You’ll always be my Juf, Juf Edda.” He smiles with the charm of the merchant. “That’s nine karma each, twelve with bread. Just came in. These sardines were still in the water a few hours ago.”

  “Any for you?” Edda asks Aline, who shakes her head impatiently. “Then make it one—no, two, please. No bread.”

  They exit the market on the road to the sea. The sun on their faces hangs low over the sapphire shallows that sparkle beyond the harbor. As they walk out of the colony, the outer fields of Lunteren open on both sides, stretching for miles along the coast. The fields to their left, closer to the colony, are covered with black solar panels, white wind turbines and cylindrical metal structures. Further down, on the right side of the road, a few large industrial plants grow like tumorous contraptions.

  “Careful!” Edda says, mouth full of sardine, gesturing at a hasty horse and cart that approaches them head on. They stand aside as the cart trots by towards the colony. The load is crudely covered with canvas, but they can easily make out some items beneath: there are speakers, cables, microphones, even a guitar. “See?” Edda says. “The Century Festival, it is going to be big, sister! This is an opportunity we just cannot let go.”

  “Is that why you slept with Consul Levinsohn?”

  “Hey!” Edda almost chokes. “For the last time, Goah’s Mercy. It was in a dream, okay? That doesn’t count as sex.”

  “Fact is,” Aline points back at the receding cart, “you brought the Festival to Lunteren. Remember that day? It seems like an eternity already, but it was, like, just ten calendar days ago.”

  “Wake days, but yeah.”

  “Aliens had just said hello—aliens, Goah’s Mercy! And instead of being in awe like everybody else, you go off looking for an advantage. So Edda. How in Goah’s Name did you know that it would come in so handy one day?”

  “I didn’t. Back then it just felt like an opportunity, you know… for,” she shrugs, “whatever. Media attention is always good. It creates… chances. And now, see?” She spreads her arms. “We happen to need a project for the trial. Something big, yeah? Something that makes a lot of noise. It’s… perfect!”

  Aline laughs. “Quaestor Mathus would say it was Goah’s Will all along.”

  Edda snorts. “If that bitch knew what was coming…” She laughs and puts the second sardine in her mouth without adjusting her pace along the road.

  To their right is a large factory that steadily belches black smoke high into the air.

  “By the way,” Aline says, her face wrinkling in disgust. “this is my family’s contract now, you know?” She gestures with her thumb at the building and shakes her head. “The Sievers want yet another steel-melting wing, as if they didn’t make enough karma already. With coal, can you b
elieve it? The Quaestor raised the limits of aws Balance just for them. Pure sin!”

  “Yeah, I guess. At least your family gets part of the karma.”

  “That makes me feel dirty, Edda. Thank you very much.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I was trying to cheer you up.”

  “It’s like it doesn’t matter what we do.” Aline shakes her head in frustration. “Even after, you know,” her voice has shrunk to a whisper, “our little action on the coal barge.”

  Edda chuckles. “Lunteren’s most popular diving attraction.”

  “We risked being caught,” Aline says, her expression as sour as her voice. “And for what? They just roll more karma, and…” She turns her head and gives the industrial site a glare meant to melt it away. Then she stops in her tracks, eyes wide with sudden inspiration. Her toddler—Alida—bumps blandly against her mother’s back, but keeps placidly sleeping, just as advertised. “I have an idea!”

  “Uh oh,” Edda says, stopping next to her.

  “Let’s blow up the factories!”

  Edda rolls her eyes and swallows her last piece of sardine.

  “What?!” Aline says with a frown on her face and a hand on her hip. “It hits all the right notes! Good for society, and… Ha! Imagine the faces of the Colony Elders, not to mention the Sievers, Haacks, De Ridders, and I say let’s include the Van Kley’s processing plant for good measure!”

  “Oh, come on, Aline. You are thinking too small. We have to shake society, remember? Disrupt it, Rew said. And you want to, what, repeat the coal barge fiasco?” Edda waves a hand at a point on the sea, next to the harbor.

  “But… this is way bigger than a barge. I’m talking about destroying all the polluters in Lunteren! The whole lot: industries, plants, warehouses, we could—yes!—clean Lunteren once and for all!”