Dreambreaker

A Step Into the Abyss

The sun hadn't fully risen when Simon trudged into the stark, gray office building that housed The Regime's Compliance Division. It was a world of fluorescent lights and cold metal, filled with rows of desks that echoed the same dull hum of machinery. The air was thick with the scent of recycled paper and faintly bitter coffee, a scent that had become as familiar to him as the sound of his own heartbeat.

He settled into his cubicle, the walls around him bare and uninviting. There was no room for personal touches, no photographs, no hints of individuality. His life had become a series of mundane tasks, a loop of monitoring, reporting, and submitting to the dulling routine that The Regime imposed. Simon's fingers hovered over the keyboard, a momentary pause in the mechanical motions that ruled his day.

His daily routine was predictable: wake up, report to work, stare at the endless feeds of surveillance footage, and ensure that everyone adhered to the strict guidelines set by The Regime. Today, however, he felt a flicker of something unusual stirring within him—a yearning for something more, something alive, like the spark of a dream. Yet it was overshadowed by the oppressive weight of conformity that had become his existence. He was a hollow shell, performing a role but feeling nothing beneath the surface.

"Simon!" a voice called from across the office, snapping him back to reality. It was his supervisor, a middle-aged man named Barrow, who prided himself on his ability to keep everyone in line. "Get over here. We need to discuss the latest compliance measures."

Simon nodded, a practiced response, and rose from his seat, following Barrow to a glass-walled conference room. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, that the eyes of The Regime were trained on him. The thought made his skin crawl, but it was nothing new. It had been years since he'd felt truly free.

Once inside the room, Simon took a seat at the long table. Other compliance officers were already seated, all dressed in the same gray uniforms that blended them into the drab atmosphere. Barrow launched into a speech about the importance of maintaining order and preventing unrest among the population. Simon nodded mechanically at the appropriate moments, his mind a foggy haze as he absorbed the words without truly engaging. Each point seemed to echo a mantra he had long internalized but had ceased to believe. His gaze drifted, and he focused on the flickering fluorescent lights, his thoughts swimming between the dullness of the room and memories of a brighter time that felt increasingly distant.As the meeting droned on, Simon felt a peculiar sensation building inside him—a yearning for something more, something alive, like the spark of a dream. Yet it was overshadowed by the oppressive weight of conformity that had become his existence. He was a hollow shell, performing a role but feeling nothing beneath the surface.

After the meeting, as his coworkers filed out, Simon hesitated. He had an idea, one that had been building quietly inside him, and today felt like the day to share it. The Regime was always looking for new ways to tighten control, and Simon believed he had a solution.

"Barrow," he said, calling out to his supervisor, who was gathering his belongings. "I was thinking... What if we started a program to capture and condition Dreamers before they show any signs of radical behavior?"

Barrow turned, a skeptical expression crossing his face. "What are you talking about, Simon?""Listen, many Dreamers are killed or exiled when they show signs of rebellion. What if we could identify them early and condition them to ensure they stay compliant? It would save resources and make our jobs easier."