She gains consciousness slowly but with a forceful urgency as if something inside her wants out and needs her awake in order to do so. She wakes. She is in the Dream Cradle, that is evident, but something is wrong, very wrong. It is dark, naturally, but there was always a small, smoothing hum, a fresh breeze and just enough light to see her hand in front of her eyes before falling in deep, uninterrupted sleep, The Rest. Now something has interrupted it. This is new. This has never happened before. The Rest is never interrupted. She sees nothing in the darkness. Her left hand hits the wall. She tries to sit up only to bang her head to the ceiling. Her right hand does the same. The Dream Cradle has grown smaller. She finds it funny, the oxymoron of growing smaller, but then the panic and claustrophobia hits her. She cannot turn over, she cannot move, she cannot breathe, but scream, oh yes, that she can and she screams right into the darkness for no one to hear.
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The Shift
Science FictionTina lives in Nycla, a planet wide megalopolis of 12 trillion people, who all work and play in three strictly defined shifts: the Work Shift, the Play Shift and the Rest Shift, each taking eight hours with a short transition time in between. Once Ti...
