42 leaned forward, suddenly appearing less relaxed. “It is possible that he would be released back into C.A.T. once his injuries repaired. But I must tell you, I have never seen a Boy fully recover. The electroconvulsive procedure used to treat the dream anomaly does unbelievable damage to the brain and body. And any Boy who does not regain full function following the treatment will not be allowed to return.”
62 and his elders fell into contemplative silence again. 62 decided that one day, he would go back to Level 2 and make the doctor pay for what he was doing to 99.
He could feel the heat of anger swell in his heart.
CHAPTER 38
Each morning 62 rushed to find 99 after he disappeared with the doctor for treatment. He would race to the Dressing Hall and search for his brother. When 99 wasn't waiting in line for the showers, 62 looked for him in the tunnels. When he couldn't be found walking through the tunnels, 62 hurried to the classroom to see if 99 was there. For nineteen cycles 99’s desk sat abandoned. On the twentieth day, it was no longer there.
The tones sounded and no sooner had 71 turned to address the class with a greeting than 62 shot his hand up in the air. “Welcome, class. I would ask if there are any questions, but it appears that there are. 1124562, what is your question?”
“What happened to 99’s desk?”
All of the other Boys in the room looked around, suddenly realizing the absence of their brother’s desk. It bothered 62 that he was the only one who ever noticed these changes, but he pushed away his annoyance and focused on the teacher.
“Unfortunately, 1124999 will no longer be attending classes with us.” 71 locked eyes with 62 knowingly.
62 frowned, but nodded that he understood. He looked down at his tablet and turned it on, then off, then on again. His foot tapped the floor nervously as he fought to hold back tears.
71 started forward as if to offer his sympathy. Before he crossed the distance of the classroom one of the Boys on the other side of the room raised his hand.
71 stopped abruptly and addressed the Boy. “24, your question?”
1126224 rushed through his question with excitement. “Was 99 bad? I didn’t think he was bad, but he went away and isn’t coming back. What did he do?”
71 sighed. “99 was a good Boy. He simply wasn’t feeling well and left to get the issue remedied. Unfortunately, he is not able to return.”
“He was unwell?” 25, who had been seated beside 99 for quite some time, looked terrified. He gaped at his brothers and added, “I heard that sometimes a Boy can get unwell and then all the Boys around him get unwell too!”
There was a brief gasp in the room followed by a dozen voices echoing, “Yes, was he unwell? Will I be unwell, too?”
62 glared at the Boys around him, all concerned only about themselves. He was disgusted at their lack of concern about their missing companion. He hunched down in his seat and focused on the blank tablet screen in front of him, drawing lines and shapes upon the white background and doing his best to ignore the petty exchanges being made around him.
The teacher made his way through the escalating chaos of the class until he stood close enough to his desk to tap the screen of his tablet. The wall behind him illuminated and a large grid appeared. 71 cleared his throat to regain the focus of his students, and when that failed he shouted, “Excuse me!”
The roar of voices quieted to a low murmur. 71 cast a warning glance at the few remaining chatterboxes in the room and finally the class fell silent. 71 turned to the wall.
“An excellent question has been posed; the question of communicable diseases.” 71 drew lines across the grid until there were several rows of boxes outlined. “Let us assume that these boxes represent your cubes. These sections between each box all house an intricate filtration system that removes 99.9987% of common allergens, viral agents, bacteria and other disease hosts.”
On another section of the grid, 71 drew what was clearly a floor plan of the large Dressing Hall. “The tunics that you pick up here in the entrance of the Dressing Hall are all embedded with nanotechnology. These microscopic nanobots tirelessly patrol your bodies day and night to remove microbes, bacteria or bodily secretions that could, in the right circumstances, cause you to become unwell.
“The showers themselves also spray a combination of hydrogen and oxygen that has been infused with antimicrobial, antifungal and antibacterial compounds which further prevents illness.”
71 turned to face the classroom and raised his hands in the air. “The only possible way for me to pass an illness on to you, or for you to pass an illness on to me is for both of us to exchange bodily secretions directly from our eyes, noses or mouths. This is why C.A.T., and indeed all of Adaline, frown upon physical contact from one Man or Boy to another. As long as we do not invade one another’s personal space, it is statistically impossible for disease to exist.”
A hand rose in the corner and at 71’s nod a small voice creaked, “But then how do Boys get unwell?”
“An excellent question. While we do all that we can to prevent illness, it is true that occasionally Boys and Men do become unwell. This can be due to any number of causes, but most frequently it is found to be due to an internal anomaly within an individual.” 71 paused as each Boy looked around the room and then down at his own chest to try to spot any anomaly among them.
“The majority of anomalies are benign, meaning that they never become an illness and never exhibit any symptoms. An anomaly may be as simple as having a few too many or too few hairs upon one’s head, or may be as complex as having conjoined organs. Major anomalies are typically identified and resolved prior to animation. Minor anomalies that progress to illness later in our lives are addressed as they become a concern.”
“What do we do if we find an anomaly?” 12 shouted the question out as he felt around his ribs through his skin.
71 looked back at 62 and answered seriously. “If at any time you feel you are suffering from an anomaly, or you are feeling unwell, you are required to notify either your teacher or a Nurse of your condition.”
62 looked up from his tablet at last, a trickle of tears visible on his cheek.
CHAPTER 39
The silence of the pod was broken by the tiny beep of buttons being pressed outside 62’s door. 62 opened one eye and lifted his head slightly to see who or what was accessing his data panel. He couldn’t get a view of anything but the blue glowing words and numbers scrolling across the sign above his neighbor’s cube across the hall.
Cycles since animation… 3,650… Height… 139.4 centimeters… Weight… 32.564 kilograms… C.A.T. Result: Unknown.
The beeping noises outside 62’s cube ceased and the door slid open. A Man 62 didn’t recognize reached in and attached a small sensor to the back of his neck where 62 knew his data chip was implanted. Through the slit of his partially open eyes, 62 could see a long black cable strung between the sensor and a scanner box that the Man held in his other hand.
“No Sir. All vitals are within normal range. It doesn’t appear that his data feed has been tampered with.” The stranger whispered into a small communication device he wore on his head.
62 could hear the feint buzz of another voice leaking out of the earpiece. The stranger nodded. “Yes, Sir. I will continue manual monitoring during rest. No, there was no response when I applied the electrode. The Boy still sleeps.”
The stranger pulled the communicator headphones from his ears and gently removed the sensor from 62’s neck. As he wound the cord up and put the scanner box away in a pouch on his back he whispered, “I certainly hope that you are not being tampered with, little brother. If you are, this could be a very long road for both of us.”
62 lay still and silent while he waited for the stranger to creep back out of the cube. A few beeps sounded and the door slid closed before the soft padding of bare feet on the hard floor signaled the Man’s exit. Once he was a few paces away, 62 crept up to the door and looked out the small opening. The stranger’s shado
w disappeared into the darkness before 62 could see where he was heading.
As 62 craned his neck and leaned closer to the door, his hand slipped and touched a sensor on the wall beside him. Not realizing his error, he jumped at the startling voice of the Nurse who responded to the signal.
“Boy 1124562, are you unwell?” The Nurse’s eyes glowed yellow as it stared in at 62 and extended its hand out to extract his data from the port beside the door.
“No, thank you. I am well.” 62 looked away from the Nurse and craned his neck again to look down the hall. “Who was that Man?”
“All Men are secure in their pods to rest. Are you unwell?” The Nurse’s eyes flashed green and yellow as it began to download.
“I am well. Thank you. I just woke up.” 62 sat back down in the center of his cube.
“Do you require assistance returning to sleep?” The Nurse leaned against the screen on the door and the click of its fog dispenser rang in 62’s ears.
“No, I don’t require your assistance. I will rest now.” 62 laid down and closed his eyes. The Nurse ended its connection with his data stream and moved away into the darkness.
62 remained still and silent, but he could not quiet his mind enough to fall asleep. He didn't know how a Man could have entered his cube without the Nurse knowing of his presence. With hundreds of thousands of sensors in the pods, it should have been impossible for a Man to pass through the halls unnoticed.
A flicker of lights and the sounds of breakfast overcame 62 before sleep came to him again. In nervous exhaustion, he put away his blanket and waited for his meal to drop through the chute. Like he had done hundreds of times before, he followed his brothers through the halls and tunnels in seamless repetition of the morning ritual.
Standing in line behind hundreds of brothers in the Dressing Hall, each exchanging their dirtied tunics for clean ones, all standing like a wall of mirrors against one another, 62 felt lost. His desire to dream, learn and create dissolved in a great wave of despair.
Unlike the orderly Boys around him who each stood up straight, sleepily pointing their chins up and out in indistinguishable obedience, 62 slumped his shoulders and hung his head. The visit from the Man in his cube extinguished his drive to be different and brought to light all the ways his existence differed from those around him.
None of the other Boys 62 knew had ever received private tutoring from a teacher. Neither had any, except 99, mentioned the ability to dream. Not once had he caught a glimpse of another Boy scribbling drawings on the margins of his tablet, nor had he witnessed them openly argue with either Man or Nurse. He was fairly certain that none had escaped the deadly treatments on Level 2, and was confident that no one else received secret visits from Men in the quiet time of rest.
62 looked up at the Shower Aide looming above him and let the cleaning fluid run into his open eyes. He expected the liquid to sting; had hoped that it would burn his eyes and distract him from the empty emotions brewing inside of him. To his surprise, the liquid did not burn and instead spread a cooling sensation over his gaping eyes. The flow of the clear liquid did blur his vision, and he stood in awe as for a moment all of the stiff fixtures around him were given the illusion of bending and flowing in an imaginary breeze.
The shower ended and he shook his head, forcing the illusion from his eyes. He wished to be like all the other Boys. If only he could be unconcerned with the goings on of Adaline. If only he could stop the dreams. If only he could stop worrying about his brothers. If only…
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing tones of class, and the clearing throat of his teacher at the front of the room. 62 turned on his tablet in unison with the rest of the students. But when he looked up at 71, he didn’t see the same plain old Man that his classmates saw. 62 noticed the teacher’s unusually puffy eyes. He observed a tired lisp creep into the Man’s speech. And when 71 extended his hand to point at the day’s schematic, 62 was the only Boy who seemed to notice the long, dark, angry slash extending from the teacher’s wrist to his elbow.
CHAPTER 40
It took some time for 62 to enter his dream, but he did finally make it into his subconscious. Once the falling sensation ended and he found his footing, he imagined the small pinhole of light that 71 normally opened to connect to him. A faint speck glowed in the air in front of him and he focused on his teacher, trying for the first time to make the connection himself.
“Hello?” 62 pressed his mouth against the light and hoped that 71 was on the other side. He did his best to focus on the defining features of the Man; his long flowing beard, his sparkling brown eyes and the long narrow gash on his forearm. “Are you there?”
“I am.” The whisper came through so soft that it was hard for 62 to know if he imagined it, or if it was actually there.
“I hope that this is you,” said 62. “And, I hope that you are all right.”
“I hope that I am me, as well,” the small voice replied. “If I’m not who I am, or if you are not who you are, then I fear we are both in trouble. But, to ease us both do you know Chobham?”
“I do. Will you join me?” 62 moved away from the light and surrounded himself in the darkness of his dream.
“It's impossible.” 71’s voice was quiet, but the sound of defeat was unmistakable. “They are watching me closely now; if I jump they will know.”
“What happened to your arm?” 62 asked the question with hesitation.
“I was attempting to reach through, but found myself in the wrong dream. Once I discovered my error I pulled back, but the person on the other side grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. I had to force the connection to close before I had made it all the way back.”
62 held his hand over his mouth, astonished. The light faded but then shone brighter as he focused, trying to imagine the Man’s tired face. “I thought that we couldn’t be hurt here.”
“I thought the same,” came the reply. “But it's clear that I still have much to learn about the connection between our mind and body. The wound is most certainly real.”
“Can I try to come to you?” 62 wasn’t sure how to make the transfer from his dream to 71’s, but he desperately wanted to see his teacher.
“You could, but it would be dangerous for both of us. The monitors in my cube are all active now; even if I twitched with the effort, I’m afraid they would know.” 71’s speech faded as if he had turned his head away from the light to look behind him.
62 was suddenly distracted by the feeling of something on the back of his neck. He moved his hand to brush the sensation away, and became aware of the hand pressing a small electrode to his chip. He fought the urge to wake up, and instead stood still and rigid in the dark. The distraction averted his focus enough that the pin of light that connected him to 71 faded to darkness.
All that 62 could hear was the sound of his own measured breathing. The disembodied hand that pressed the sensor to his neck grabbed hold of his arm and moved it gently to his side.
“Hush, Brother.” The strange voice rung in his ears. “This will only take a moment.”
62 held his breath and started to wake. His lungs began to burn and his mind was dizzy with the sensation of moving from dream to reality. His eyes fluttered open to the dim blue light of the open door, and the unmistakable feeling of a large Man’s body pressed against him in the tight confines of his cube.
“Who are you?” 62’s voice was groggy with sleep.
His question startled the Man, and he could feel the tug of the cable connected to his neck as the stranger pulled away slightly. The cube was silent aside from the sound of close breath.
“I am a maintenance Man.” The reply was uneasy, as if it were being answered for the first time.
62 turned his head slightly and could see the outline of the Man’s face in the blue light. The maintenance Man was much younger than 71. His beard was dark and thin against his jaw line, his eyes flashed with secrecy and his thick hair looked black in the dim light.
“Why are
you here?” 62 rubbed his eyes and tried to seem as drowsy and weary as possible despite the urge rushing through his bones to get up and run away.
The Man cocked his head, considering the question. “I'm just doing my job. I got a call that there might be a malfunction and I came to check on it.”
62 tugged at the sensor on his neck. “A malfunction here, in my cube? It seems fine to me.”
The maintenance Man nodded, light bouncing off of his cheeks as they moved up and down. “Like I said, just doing my job. Now, go back to sleep.”
62 mirrored the stranger’s reassuring nod and closed his eyes. He didn’t return to sleep though until well after the Man had put away his scanner and snuck back out of his cube. When he did finally reenter his dream, he again focused on 71 until the opening between them shone in the darkness of his mind.
“Is it you?” 71’s voice rang with panic.
“It is me, and I know Chobham.” 62 pressed his face into the small ray of light and tried to show himself to his teacher. He didn’t know if his features would shine through, but the warm light on his face had a calming effect. “There was a Man here; a maintenance Man. I noticed him last cycle, too. He says he had a report of a malfunction in my cube.”
“What was he doing?” 71’s face pressed into the other side of the connection. Lines of worry were visible, even in the brightness of the warm light.
“Both times, he put a sensor on my neck and read my data with a scanner.” 62’s hand brushed the still sticky spot where the cable had been connected.
71’s head shook from left to right. “This is not good, Brother. The Community must suspect you’ve been tampered with. We must not connect our dreams any further. There is no telling what they will do if they discover us.”
“What do I do if he comes back?” 62 was filled with dread as the teacher began to pull away.
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