Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) Page 20

  She gives me an unhurried glare and then seems to resign slightly. “You were not told about your body needing autogeneration because this was a part of the fabric which created your future. A necessary part of the future.”

  “So you are meddling in my life.” I sigh. “I should have guessed.”

  “Everything that happens to you is not about you,” she says.

  “What? Who else did my almost dying, because you left out an important detail, affect?” I ask, pushing back the frustration threatening to erupt.

  “It is hard to say, but I approximate millions.”

  I gasp, wondering if I’ve misheard her. “That’s impossible,” I say. “Something so insignificant can’t affect so many.”

  She shakes her head. “Your history books want you to think so. They teach you great victories are the results of exaggerated efforts. If one actually studied the fabric of these events they would find wars are won from a wink, a gesture, an event that transpired a millennium before the battle. Humanity has always been saved by small acts; the ones where someone gained a piece of their own puzzle, not the ones where a hero stood prodigious on a battlefield.”

  I shake my head, mimicking her earlier movement. “I didn’t gain anything from almost dying. I was drained by that experience.”

  “You still want to believe this is all about you,” Shuman says, leveling her gaze to mine. “A person who saves someone is much more altered by that event than the one who almost dies, wouldn’t you think?”

  Aiden. She’s referring to him. But why? “What?” I ask. “What does that person have to do with any of this? You said this was about me and my future.”

  Shuman doesn’t answer, but instead tilts her head as if saying figure it out for yourself.

  “You’re obviously privy to my life in ways I’m not,” I say, failing to soften my tone. “You seem to be orchestrating something. Wouldn’t it be easier to tell me what you’re up to, so I act in the prescribed manner and then the ‘fabric’ of my life will go as you’ve seen it?” I say, condescension crawling over every word.

  “It is true. I know a part of the future. I know if I do one thing it could cause a certain reality to take place. There are no certainties though. Too many variables. But I would never tell you what to do or even what to expect. I admit I have built the setting in some of your choices, but you have always had a choice in the end. And that is the way it should be,” she says.

  “Choice!?” I argue. “I don’t feel I’ve had many choices. I’ve always got you or someone else messing with the details. I don’t feel in charge of anything anymore now that I realize the intervening Lucidites are always on call.”

  “Do you wish you would have been left in Texas to live in oblivion?” she asks plainly.

  I stare at her with quiet contempt instead of answering.

  “You were born a Dream Traveler,” she continues. “But to be a Lucidite is a choice. If you choose to not associate with us anymore, then will you be happier? All tribes affect a member’s life, as they should. If you see this as meddling, then you must ask yourself if this is the place for you. Maybe you belong elsewhere.”

  In four short words I feel abandoned all over again. Maybe you belong elsewhere. I’d never belonged anywhere until I entered this place. But I didn’t know that until just now…

  Shuman pauses, and her look holds a challenge in it, as if she’s tempting me to stop her from saying any more. “Roya, when you stop viewing your life as something done to you and rather a reality of your choosing then you will find peace. I am not certain of much, but of this I am.” After this statement she smiles. She actually smiles. It looks strange on her face, like the moon wearing googly eyes. In an instant the small expression is gone and her stone face returns.

  “Whatever.” I shake my head at her as I stand. “It’s easy for you to say that from your vantage point of knowing the future. It’s so easy for you to talk about accepting realities when you’re not the one who has to face Zhuang.”

  The insinuation hangs in the air like gasoline, chemical and pungent.

  Her eyes narrow, only slightly, but I spy it. “I believe we are done here,” she says with authority.

  I blink at her, clench my teeth, pluck my journal off the table, and turn to leave. “Coming here was a mistake,” I say to the air as I leave.

  Once I’m in the privacy of the elevator I let out a sigh that sounds more like a yell, all my frustration finally rising to the surface. It feels good to push all the air out of my lungs. When the elevator stops at my level the lady in the lavender scrubs stares at me strangely and I promptly know the elevators aren’t well insulated.

  Long, angry strides carry me to my room. It will take time and space to process my conversation with Shuman. She knew something which inspired her to orchestrate my first meeting with Aiden. But what? And why?

  I immediately write a letter to Bob and Steve. It helped the last time and I could really use the relief. I tell them about the peacock, breaking Samara’s nose, my sessions working with George, and how Ren is strangely the most repulsive and helpful person I’ve met so far. When I’m done I’ve written several pages. My stomach is lighter and I realize suddenly that I’m hungry and haven’t eaten all day. I fold up the letter, address it, and head toward the main hall to find Patrick.

  Chapter Thirty

  The next morning after breakfast, I head to Aiden’s lab as he requested. Voices echo from the space as I approach. I peek around the corner and spy the Head Scientist with his hands in the air, irritation coating his expression. “Well, that’s my solution. If you don’t like it then find someone else to help you.”

  I knock on the door frame. “Hey, you told me to come by. Do you want me to come back later?”

  Aiden’s tousled hair looks even wilder than usual. He smiles and waves me into the room. “No, come on in. I was just reviewing some of the equipment with Ren.”

  “Yes, Mr. Mad Scientist was just over here being a Negative Nancy,” Ren says, standing beside a table in his usual dark green suit.

  I ignore Ren, which is becoming easier with practice. “You said you had some stuff to show me,” I say to Aiden.

  “Yes.” He pulls a small box out of his pocket and withdraws a tiny earpiece.

  I freeze. Petrified. It’s another object from my closet. From the fifth task. Why? It was one of the things in the box with the baby teeth. The one I threw.

  “This is a VDR Shield,” the scientist sings, oblivious to my nervousness. “It sends out an electromagnetic shield which encases the cortex, also known as dream central. If a person wears this then they’re protected from Zhuang infiltrating their thoughts. This is the same technology that works at the Institute, keeping us all safe while dreaming. I’ve been able to isolate it into a tiny personal unit. Pretty, cool, huh?” he says, his eyes dazzling with delight.

  “Yes, that’s very cool!” I say. “So now that we have this type of technology then can we just give these to everyone in the world and call it a day?”

  After I ask this it seems like a stupid question. If Aiden thought it was stupid then he doesn’t show it. “They’re expensive, hard to reproduce, and the technology is unreliable,” he says. “I just wanted you and Ren to see it because it marks a new era of development. In the future, it would be great to offer these to Lucidites not housed at the Institute, the same way we give them protective charms. Unfortunately, we’re still a little way off from that.”

  Ren flashes an arrogant grin at me. His pointy canines make him look menacing, although I sense he’s all talk. “We have enough food to feed everyone, sweetheart, but still people go hungry. Be realistic, would you?”

  I shoot him a dirty look before focusing my attention back to Aiden. “What does VDR stand for?”

  “Ah, yes,” he says with enthusiasm. “It’s a term that in French means ‘dream stealer.’ Voleur de reve.”

  “What does French have to do with any of this?” I ask confused.


  “That”—Aiden holds up his hand—“is a story for another time.”

  “Honestly,” Ren says, folding his arms across his chest, “I’m unimpressed. That’s what you’re looking for, right, Dr. Hotshot? You want me to say this is the future that will save us all. Right?” Ren laughs and then continues, “It’s not. If you ask me I think we’re better off with less technology. Flynn should have gotten rid of the entire science department when we took over this place. I’ll never understand his stupid love for science.”

  Ren turns and looks at me. “You know Flynn thinks that if the spirit of dreams and the logic of science married then the world would be a happier place. Next time you see him, why don’t you ask how that’s working out for him?”

  With a turn he makes for the door. “This, as I suspected, was a huge waste of time. Glad to know you’re throwing millions of dollars into this rubbish, Aiden. Keep it up, you daft scientist.”

  Once Ren is gone the room gets bigger, brighter. I blink rapidly for a second. “What in the world was that all about?”

  Aiden laughs, obviously letting off some steam. “That was Ren acting exactly like Ren.”

  “Yes, I know, we’ve met. But what’s he going on about? What was that whole thing about getting rid of the science department?”

  “Oh, right.” He scratches his chin and says, “Well when the US government pulled out of the Institute forty years ago, many of the Lucidites wanted to abolish the science part of it. As you heard Ren say, Flynn loves science and against many people’s wishes he kept the department alive and funded. It’s because of this that I have a job. Ren personally believes my work complicates the Lucidites’ mission. You would understand how we’re natural enemies, although personally I think he’d make an excellent party guest.”

  We laugh and I automatically loosen up. Then I’m reminded of something I read in the folder recently. “The US government abandoned the Institute because they weren’t able to prove there were any results to lucid dreaming and ESP, right? Well, how’s that possible, since we know it’s real?”

  Aiden sits in his chair and leans back. His jawline looks more defined as he gnaws at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, this is a good part of the history. When the Dream Travelers were invited to take part in the research the first person they brought in was Flynn, the founder of the Lucidites. He assessed the situation pretty quickly. Apparently, he’d been trying to secure a location for the Lucidites for a while, but was finding it difficult. This was exactly what he’d been looking for. However, he knew the US government wouldn’t go away unless the whole project proved useless. Flynn also knew the government would abuse these powers if they discovered them to be real. It didn’t take long for Flynn to infiltrate the research with his own findings, which showed ESP and all related fields to have inconclusive results. Almost everyone working for the government packed up their suitcases and took the long submarine ride home. Since then this place has been mostly free of any Middlings.”

  “W-w-wait,” I stammer confused. “They took a submarine?”

  “Well, naturally, that’s how people originally got to the Institute. This mode of transportation is only used now for shipping goods in and out.”

  I’m uncertain why this new bit of knowledge instantly cramps my stomach, making me feel uneasy. Although I knew the Institute was underground, I hadn’t considered it was submerged in water. Now the crazy way that it takes to enter the Institute makes more sense. At least it makes more sense for people who are becoming accustomed to accepting strange alternate realities.

  “Wow,” I finally say, hopping up on one of the stools next to the work bench. “That’s fascinating.”

  “I thought so too.” Aiden stands and walks to the table where I’m seated, only six inches away. “So, naturally, people want to know how the US government would just forget they funded an Institute. Why wouldn’t they come back and take it over with some new research mission, right?”

  I’d thought the same thing when I first read the history of the Institute. I nod, staring into Aiden’s excited blue eyes. His passion for his work isn’t just attractive, it’s inspiring. I hope one day to do something that touches people, either because of its significance or because of my enthusiasm for it. Aiden does both.

  “Thanks to a remarkable technology we never have to worry about the US government again,” Aiden says, almost jumping up and down. His mood has infected me and I’m ready to jump on the balls of my feet with him before even knowing what he’s going to say. “With the modifier we’re able to implant ideas or, more importantly, in the case of the government, remove histories from people’s minds.”

  Even as Aiden speaks, these words have a hard time registering. They catch in my brain like slippery stones in a net. If I tried to pick them up they’d slip through my fingers, their mossy surface defying my ability to grasp.

  “I don’t understand,” I finally admit.

  Aiden gives a sensitive smile and nods, like my inability to understand my native language and this string of familiar words isn’t ridiculous. “The Lucidites used this device to extract all memories of the Institute and the project from the government employees. Like pencil marks on paper, all their experiences here were erased. They’ll never remember those years working here. It’s a blank gap, but not to the point that they want to ask questions. It’s just like they had one long night of dreamless sleep.”

  I swallow and stare at Aiden, lost for words.

  “Well, and of course all paper records mysteriously disappeared as well. There are no traces this place ever existed.” Aiden laughs abruptly like this is a funny practical joke.

  “This device, it erases memories? Realities? I thought you said it implants ideas.”

  “It does both.”

  Aiden flashes a cunning smile, but for some reason it’s easier to resist than the last one I’d seen him adorn.

  He carries on, “What we did to the US government is known as receding. With the modifier we also can implant. Now you’re seeing how fantastic this piece of technology is,” he coerces in his passionate manner. “It both removes memories and puts them in someone’s mind.”

  “The Lucidites used this back in the 1970s when they took this place over, right? So this type of technology has been around for a while?” I ask.

  “Oh yeah! However,” he hesitates, “the earlier versions had kinks. I’ve worked them out now, but…” He looks at me for a few seconds and then says, “There were issues with the implanter part of the device. With time people forgot the embedded reality.”

  “That must have made things pretty complicated,” I say.

  “It was, but not in the way you’d think. The people being embedded ignored the reality we were trying to get them to accept. This just created extra work for us.”

  “So the modifier is still used?” I ask.

  “Oh yes,” he says triumphantly.

  A knot rises automatically in my throat. I no longer feel like bouncing on my toes. “Why does the Institute use the modifier?”

  “Only to protect good,” Aiden says, leaning down on the table, closing a few more inches between us. “We never manipulate lives for anything else.” His breath coasts against my cheeks.

  I ease back a few inches. “Manipulate lives?”

  Aiden counters with a look of confusion.

  Something in me is on fire. This conversation has ignited a fast-burning fuse. “Seems like you’re playing God,” I say, an undercurrent of bitterness in my voice.

  Aiden recoils. There’s a flash in his eyes. He’s offended. In one small whispered statement I’ve created distance. “Why would we be given these talents if we weren’t supposed to use them?” he says in a quieter voice than usual.

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what Zhuang’s telling himself.”

  “No, this is different,” Aiden says. The anger in him engulfs the passion, like a hot blanket. I’ve struck something, a place in him he’s used to defending.

  “Ma
ybe I see what Ren was talking about.” I slide off the stool. “Manipulating lives,” I repeat, shaking my head. “That’s an abuse of power. You can’t do that, Aiden. It’s wrong.”

  He stares at me for a long time. His expression is one of hurt laced with disappointment. I feel exactly the same way. But I can’t condone this. How can Aiden or Flynn or anyone think it’s their right to tell people what to think? Or erase their memories? Erase their lives? Everyone always uses the “greatest good” argument. That’s how wars happen and people die. They always die to protect the greater good. But we shouldn’t have to lie, cheat, and kill to protect good. That’s counterintuitive.

  I’m torn as I stand looking at Aiden. I don’t want to argue with him. The last thing I want to do is argue with him. But now that I know the truth I can’t look at Aiden the same way. In a matter of minutes everything has become tarnished and ruined.

  “I’ve got to go.” I turn to leave. I focus on each step that carries me to the exit. I try to distract myself from the heartfelt music resonating overhead and the disappointed eyes on my back.

  “But…” Aiden says.

  I halt gently in that large space and stand motionless. One second passes, then two, then ten more. I’d been hoping and waiting for that little “but,” so when I heard it I stopped. It took a great deal more effort to turn and face him. His expression is pleading and also hard like stone, unchanging. I need him to say something to repair the last few minutes. I need him to fix things. I need him to make me want him again.

  He takes a long breath, closes his eyes for a second, and opens them again. “I’m only doing my job. Don’t be mad at me, please.”

  I tilt my head sideways, baffled. “It isn’t about me, Aiden. It’s about abusing some power you think you own.” I shake my head at him, at this whole preposterous conversation. “I don’t want Zhuang to hurt people, but I won’t allow that threat to excuse this. It’s immoral to erase or plant ideas in the minds of innocent Middlings. If that’s what the Lucidites do, then maybe I don’t belong here.”