Activated

chapter 15: in dreams 2

Soji was ordered to move to another sleeping quarters, where he had a room to himself. These new quarters were on the highest floor of the four-floor barracks, and recruits seldom reach that lonely part. Soji found older soldiers occupying the other rooms beside his.

His new room was sparse but comfortable, especially that bed with a thick mattress and downy blanket. It was about as large as his own room back home, with enough floor space to walk around in, a nice well-worn empty bookshelf, a large writing desk, and a cabinet.

As someone who preferred to chat with other people before going to bed, having solitary sleeping quarters was a sad change for him. Nonetheless, he thought about the good points of such a move. He had more space for books and shoes and shirts. And no one would throw a pillow if he snored.

He did wonder why there were no locks at any of the doors on that floor. But he had no possessions worth stealing, so he ignored that small detail.

He was allowed to help in the barracks kitchen if there were no lectures or training sessions he had to be in. The kitchen workers welcomed his assistance. None of them seemed to notice that within a month or so, Soji spent all his waking hours there.

“Are you still a soldier, Soji?” his friends at the vegetable-chopping table chided him.

He shrugged. “Maybe?”

“But the archers have been sent to southwest Pendi with the cannoneers. And Bruno heard the ice programmers are moving out, too. What are you still doing here?”

“I don’t know.” Then he grinned. “At least let’s make something tasty to celebrate when they get back!”

They all agreed, and started to plan for some fruit pudding.

……………………..

His first few nights in the new sleeping quarters were dreamless. He was too tired from all the training sessions and lectures. But as he grew fonder of his new bed and got accustomed to it, he began to dream again.

He fell and fell into that deep darkness he fell into that first time. His hands and legs were tied with chicken twine. Something pulled the strings, pulled his left arm outward one way. Something pulled his right arm another way. Something pulled his left foot forward, then his right foot, then his left foot again, until his feet were dragged along to walk.

He could not wrench himself out of the strings that tied him, the chicken twine was tight around his wrists and ankles, the forces pulling at them too great. He wearily let himself be dragged along by the strings, as they walked him along the vast emptiness.

‘Who are you? What are you? What are you doing to me?’ He shouted and asked through the vastness.

But nothing and no one answered him.

He was plunged even deeper into the darkness, until he was surrounded by the thick emptiness. The vast darkness touched his whole body and even filled his mouth and throat.

You will do as we say. You will not know how. You will not know why. You simply will. The darkness whispered into his mind.

‘No,’ he managed to mouth out.

He was pushed farther down.

And farther.

Until the thick emptiness filled him, so thick that he could not even move. Until he could no longer struggle against the emptiness, and surrendered to it.

He felt himself engulfed by the vast empty darkness. He felt himself becoming part of it, one with that darkness. Helpless against its power…and yet…and yet…feeling its strength.

‘Who are you? What are you?’ he asked again.

Nothing answered him.

But even as he was lifted slowly back up to the surface of that darkness, he felt the strings still tied on his arms and legs, still felt the weight over his whole being. They were not removed from him.

He opened his eyes in his bed. The morning sun warmed him from the window. He felt both rested and exhausted, if that were possible. It had been a long dream, almost a nightmare. He was not sure he remembered it, but he knew it had lasted the whole night.

He raised his left hand. There were no marks over his wrist. Neither were there marks on his ankles. Yet he still felt bound.

He placed his right hand over his chest and prayed.

By He who controls all programs, what is happening to me?

……………………

“Soji! Hey, man! How are you?” the cleaners slapped him on the back as he passed to the pantry.

“Still sleepy. G’morning,” he grinned back at them. He grabbed a basket and started getting onions and celery.

“That’s good. We got worried when the brigade commander came yesterday…”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Said you were ‘indisposed’. Wouldn’t let us visit your quarters, though. Did you get a fever or something? Maybe you should take it easy today, too?”

Soji scratched his head. “But I was here yesterday.” He pointed to a raven-haired cleaner. “I helped you mop the floor before going home yesterday, Shiro!”

“That was the other day!” Shiro protested.

“No, that was yesterday!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest a little more?” the assistant head cook chimed in.

“Thanks, maestro, but I’m fine today, don’t worry about me,” he grinned at everyone again and headed on to the vegetable area.

He chopped the onions and celery in silent efficiency. How could he possibly miss a day in his life, without having a fever? He had skipped other days in his life before, but he knew well that he was down with a very bad cold. That, or his mother had told him he had been delirious the day before, the day he missed.

Last night he went to bed feeling fine. Nothing was wrong with him at all. He did have one of those odd long dreams last night, though.

He was a bit hazy on the details. He knew he was pushed down hard and fast into that deep darkness, then nothing for a long time. He remembered feeling the sensation of walking around the whole of the capital, once in the silence of the deep evening, and once in the midst of the bustling market day. He bumped into people, but was not sure who, when, how, where.

It’s just like going to market for the kitchen. The voice in his head said once.

How could that be? He was not stopping at any stalls, looking at potatoes, checking the fish if they were still fresh.

Listen. It is just like going to market.

No, it’s not.

He got knocked down and pushed down more violently after that protest. If it could be possible to be knocked unconscious in his own dreams, he was knocked out in the midst of the market, his face hitting the muddy wet and bloody floor.

He woke up after some time, and looked up to a bright sunny day, remembering nothing else.

“Soj? Something the matter?” Yoko, who chopped the potatoes beside him, patted his shoulder and asked.

Soji looked down at his onions. The chopping was uneven, anyone could tell. It had been worse for the celery. He sighed and proceeded to dice both onions and celery finely, with more concentration. “I’ve been having bad dreams lately,” he answered Yoko. “That’s all.”

“Anything I can help with?” she asked kindly.

He shook his head. “I wish I were a tougher soldier. I wish I weren’t such a coward. I wish I had guts to kill.”

“That’s a scary thing to want, you know.”

“I know. I wish the dreams would go away.” He finished dicing the celery and placed them into the soup. “I wish they’d just let me be here.”

We won’t let you go, Soji of the meridian. The voice in his head answered. We will not let you go.