Dream Objects

PART I

Dream Objects

It was difficult, no doubt about it. The news constantly blaring from the television did not incubate the greatest sleeping environment, but I pursued the WILD nonetheless. Still and patient with my hands by my sides, legs uncrossed and cooling down, radiating heat from my extremities, I fell. I could make my mind blank and witness pictures behind my lids. A black and beautiful piece. Faces followed faces followed faces and scenes arrived. I was in them. My daughter was in them. My wife was in them. Friends I didn't know awarded me gratitude and hate. Siesta began every hour of most of my days, but I was en route to immortality thanks to my God of a wife, changing the lives of many. I was her test dummy and I couldn't ask for more. Savannah, our daughter had just been born. She was the cherry on top of a marvelous time of thought, ingenuity, and discovery.

Lamppost...

Hourglass...

Mailbox...

Compass...

Metronome...

Clock...

Upon my arrival, I was greeted by a quaint, but buzzing avenue of shops. There was a low and constant electrical hum filling the air. People were entering and exiting clothing stores, banks, bars and book retailers. I followed along. I waved hello to passerby with no luck at reciprocation. These people had a mission! It did not include saying hello to me. I approached a vinyl shop on the right side of the street and grabbed the door handle. It was locked. Bewildered, I looked as shoppers inside tried to decide which records they would like to purchase. A woman walked through the door and past me.

I asked her, "Is this door locked from the outside?"

She responded while staring at the floor, mumbling, "This store isn't for you."

With little understanding of what she was implying, I pushed the issue, "What do you mean by that, it's not for me?"

The woman didn't respond immediately, but looked up and passed my eyes. After an awkward pause, she stated, "you're supposed to be down there."

She pointed further down the street. Her instructions were quite vague. I started walking away almost instinctively as I just wanted to get away from this strange person. When I advanced down the avenue my attention was peaked by music in a bar that I had been approaching. This door was wide open. It might as well have had a giant sign with my name on it. I felt compelled to enter.

The bar had a bizarre energy; this sort of end-of-the-world celebration vibe. There was a hooded man playing piano in the corner opposite from the door where I was standing. Under his long coat I could barely make out two artificial, robotic legs controlling the pedals beneath the piano. Dancing near him was a drunk woman layered in shawls with a beer in her hand. She sang beautifully when she accompanied the man in the song's chorus:

When does this begin?

Some rules aren't meant to break

We should share all the things we make

Whatever happened to the way we lived?

It's leaking like a sieve

I liked the song and its lyrics. The composition reminded me of myself and how nostalgic I can be. I'm not sure I'll ever see a time when I didn't wish I was back to where I was before.

It was time to join this miserable drunken crowd. Approaching the open seat at the end of the bar near the back of the room, a nearby patron shouted, "old fashioned!" and a lowball glass appeared from inside the bar. I heard the same voice say, "Go on take it, it's your drink right?"

"Yes," I replied, "but where is the orange peel and the cherry?"

"When you live forever the synthetic shit doesn't kill you, grab your drink and join me"

The man was sitting alone at a large round table in the back corner of the bar, he had a hat on as well as an oversized trench coat, which was very similar to piano player's. I had absolutely no idea what he meant by his comment, but I have to admit all of this was very intriguing. I sat down opposite the man and introduced myself.

"My name's Adam, thank you for the drink. I mean- I didn't pay for it. Where are the bartenders?"

"Bartenders were laid off."

"Oh, well that's a shame."

We sat in silence while I drank my old fashioned. The man was pouring shots of whiskey one right after another. I took another look around the bar now that I had a seat and admired the pianist once again.

"What's the story with the piano player with the robotic legs?," I inquired.

His head had grown heavy since I looked away from him, I think he almost fell asleep but then he belched himself awake and poured another shot. "You mean the robot with the human head?"

I stared at him in confusion, I got a little angry because the man was impolite and did not elaborate on any of his responses. He started drifting again so I walked away from the table. I approached the woman that was singing along when I entered in hopes that a conversation with her would be less one-sided and sarcastic.

"You have a great voice!" I shouted over the buzz of the bar. She smiled and continued to dance. "I love this music, it reminds me of the '50s!"

She laughed, took a sip of her champagne and yelled, "It is the '50s!"

Michael woke from his stupor when I approached  him again. He seemed fine. Before I could get any kind of question out he placed his elbows on the table, slapping the back of one hand into the palm of his other. He said, "This is a dream, you know, but nothing to throw away. The consequences of you and your wife's work are laid out here, supplementary to Mr. Player Piano. You two 'blessed' us with artificial intelligence and immortality. This is what that future looks like. This is 2055. The unfortunate thing is it is unlikely that you will really understand the um, symmetry here, it's a little disorienting."

He stared and calculated the possibilities. When, if ever could this make sense to poor Adam? 

Adam did not respond.

"Okay, let's go to the back room, it's more quiet and I'd like to show you something."