Asleep

24 Somewhere I'm Powerless

Charlie~~

It's my last day to carry out Dad's orders or give up on four years of freedom.

         I pick up the last letter I wrote and walk it over to Nora. We're alone. It's only a dream; it's not really real. But no matter how many times I tell myself that—lie to myself—it doesn't change anything.

         She takes the letter from me. "Thank you."

         The office door slides open. Tye isn't expected for another hour.

         It's Dad who walks in, grinning upon seeing Nora and I beside one another.

         Nora rises out of her chair. "Doctor Pace." She dips her head.

         Dad watches her like a cat eyes a mouse, except looking at Nora you wouldn't call her a mouse. There's a glint in her eye that says she may be a cat herself.

         "It's a pleasure to see you gain, Ms. Everley."

         "Likewise."

         "Richard." My tone is clipped.

         His eyes narrow, but he doesn't correct me. I've never liked addressing him as Doctor Pace. Richard at least feels almost as informal as Dad.

         "Did your friend Ms. Dacy tell you about the flowers I had sent to the Somnia Sentinel?" he asks Nora.

         She twists up her face in vague confusion and tilts her head. "She didn't mention it."

         Dad can't keep the irritation off his face, and I relish in it. Clapping his hands behind his back, he turns on his heel toward me. "It's been a week. Will you be finished in time?"

         "No." I don't hesitate even as I give up my future.

         A muscle near his eye twitches. "Are you sure?"

         "Yes."

         "That is . . . unfortunate." He rolls his shoulders back, tilting his chin upward and looking down his nose at Nora. "Good day."

         As the door slides shut behind him, Nora steps up beside me, her fingers grazing mine. "I don't like him."

         My heart pounds. What have I done?

         I let my fingers brush back against hers. I allow myself this small bit of comfort.

         "I don't like him either."

*****

         At the end of the work day, I gather up the finished envelopes and slip them into Tye's bag. He never came into work. He won't answer his phone.

         "I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie." Nora heads out the door while I finish powering down my computer. The door shuts, and an unease settles around me.

         "Nora, wait." I let the bag drop onto the table and swipe my hand over the door's sensor.

         She cries out my name.

         I dash out the doorway, heart racing.

The alley is empty.

Hands shaking, I pull out my phone from my pocket and call Dad. I didn't think he'd act this quickly.

         He doesn't answer.

         Where would he take her?

         Somewhere I can't manipulate the dream.

         There are pockets in the dream where Dad has coded in fabricated reality. The dream can only handle so much of it. The master dreamer—the one whose mind provides the basis for Somnia to function would wake up if too much fabricated reality were inserted into the dream.

         Dad uses it in places where the dream could be susceptible to Lucid. My power comes from the dream and my mind. Reality overrides them.

         He'll take her to one of those pockets. The fabricated reality won't keep her from falling asleep if he pushes too far, and she is a Class One.

         I close my eyes, reconstructing his office located in Somnia's headquarters. The glass wall overlooking the city. His cherrywood desk. The bonsai tree in the corner.      

         When I open my eyes, I'm in his office, and he's not here.

         I whirl on my heels, storming through his door and down the halls, passing Cobbs's office and those of other oneirologists who are high up in the company.

         My phone rings.

         "Charlie," Dad says through the phone's speaker. "Terribly sorry to have missed your call. I was handling something."

         "Where is she?"

         "Did you change your mind? It's a little late for that, though I suppose I could make an exception for you."

         "Where. Is. She?'

         Dad steps around the corner up ahead, phone lowered from his ear. "She's on her way."

Keep counting those fingers; just don't let Dr. Pace see you.

~Mikaela