Asleep

34 Paying the Price

Charlie~~

The eyes of seven children stare back at me. Children although I'm only a year older than them. I can't refer to myself as a child. Children aren't monsters.

Dad stands near the wall, his eyes shining with approval.

My palms slick, I wipe them on my pants. "I'm Charles Pace, son of Doctor Richard Pace, your boss." Your owner is what wants to slip out. "We study oneirology, the science of dreams. We've made it possible to live a life inside of a dream. We've designed dreams for companies so their employees can get more hours in."

Dad nods as if to say I'm doing a good job and to urge me to continue.

Sweat beads on my forehead. "We're able to design these dreams and improve upon them because of our dream called Somnia. This is where you will work as a dreamer." The sweat trickles down the side of my face. "You'll begin a new life there. It will be your new home. You'll never wake up. You won't need to."

The room is silent as the new dreamers process my words.

Dad smiles at me, pride in his eyes. He must finally see himself in me.

A few of the children stand and shout at me, but the security guards enter the room, and those children sink into their seats.

The guards lead the recruits to change into their uniforms, and Dad walks with me to the Hall.

"How do you feel?"

I give him a look filled with all the disgust that I feel.

"You got to the point quickly."

"I saw no point in having them ask questions."

"You'll have about a month to decide what you want to do next time."

"And then my debt will be repaid?" It's been a week since Tye and Nora quit. I haven't seen either of them since.

"Yes. I trust you've continued to keep an eye on her."

"That's been hard to do since you've made her hate my guts."

Smiling at a young, pretty oneirologist passing us, he says through is teeth, "I didn't make you come to headquarters. She never had to learn of your involvement."

The new dreamers are led into the Hall. Shoved is more fitting for how the security guards get the children to their designated beds.

The boy at the front looks as if he's about to wet his pants. There's nothing I can do for him. He means nothing to me. They mean nothing to me. It becomes my mantra—I repeat it so often. I step toward that boy, my brother Thomas joining me at my side. He doesn't have sweat beaded on his forehead. His face is devoid of emotion. I'd almost say he look bored.

I'm doing this for Nora, the girl who did mean something, I tell myself as I grab the boy by the arm, and Thomas and I haul him onto the table as the boy lashes out, twisting and kicking. Two oneirologists rush in to pin his flailing limbs.

"Please," he begs. "I'll do any other job."

Bile rushes up my throat, and I force myself to swallow it. I hold him down as he's hooked up and injected with the sleep serum.

I can't recall if I fought when I was being forced asleep at the age of seven. I don't think I fully understood that Dad intended to keep me asleep for the rest of my life.

When I was awakened three years later, they had to inject me with an em-pen to strengthen my muscles after being sedentary for so long, to reverse the atrophy that had taken place. With my grandfather's research, the em-pens only take about a minute to finish their job. Many of us who spend long sprints in the dream use the gym located a floor above us whenever we get the precious chance to wake up. This boy will never get that opportunity.

His cheeks are stained with tears as he blinks, a long, drawn out blink.

The next time he shuts his eyes they don't open.

I turn away, bend over, and hurl up my breakfast onto the gleaming gray floor.

I realized I needed to update today because it's April 1! I don't think it comes up in this draft, but it did in almost all the past versions: April 1 is Nora's birthday and, also in the past versions, was the day before the story started.

There are a lot of people to feel bad for in this chapter, but the one that probably isn't going to get any recognition is the poor person who has to clean up Charlie's breakfast. Can we take a moment to feel bad for them?