Another night, and yet again Sleech could not sleep. And again, Pring was operating the thought-scanner.
What Sleech saw tonight was a little more interesting than last night. Many people were awake, and, though it wasn't possible to see exactly what they were thinking, everybody seemed to be quite worried, which was as it should be. The more the people worried, the more Sleech could relax.
And then there were those who were asleep and dreaming. If anybody had thought that they could escape from worry by falling asleep, they were mistaken, much to Sleech's satisfaction. For a while Sleech watched the dream of a man who saw himself in a house with glass walls, with faces staring at him from outside. The faces looked stern and disapproving. Every face was the face of Sleech. Another citizen, a lowperson who lived in a habitation far from the palace, was running through corridors, looking for a way out of a building in which she was trapped. One long corridor after another appeared before her, and she got faster and more frantic in her attempt to escape. And there, at the end of each corridor, stood a figure remarkably like Sleech. When she turned her head and looked behind her, Sleech was there too.
And so he appeared, over and over again, in the dreams of the people of the city, always a frightening or menacing figure. Occasionally Tyro would also appear, usually as an enormous statue, but even then, Sleech would be at his side. It seemed that there was hardly a person within hundreds of miles who didn't spend a part of their sleeping hours dreaming about Sleech's fury.
Sleech smiled as he watched these visions, but looking over at Pring, he saw that she took no pleasure in the fear that was on show. In fact, she looked quite perturbed. Perhaps she had similar dreams. She looked like that sort of person.
Gratifying as all this was, after a while it got a bit boring. Once he had seen himself twenty or thirty times as a scary ogre, Sleech tired of this theme. It annoyed him, too, that he was always so ugly. Why? He took great care with his appearance. His hair was perfectly combed, his teeth were straight and square – quite beautiful. But the Sleech in other people's dreams, though recognisably him, was untidy and monstrous. Was there nobody in Bartyronis who thought of him with any pleasure? Apparently not. As another crooked-toothed, straggly haired picture of himself appeared on the screen, Sleech suddenly had a new idea.
'I wish to see the thoughts of the Grabblers,' Sleech announced.
Pring looked confused.'The Grabblers?'
'The Grabblers. Those people hidden in the Grabble mountains'.
'That will need a lot of power, High Master. Their thought-signals are behind an enormous mass of rock.'
'You have no right to question my orders,' Sleech said.' I don't care how much power it takes. Point the machine at the Grabblers!'
'Yes, High Master.'
At last, he would be able to see the dreams of people who'd never heard of him. What was it that frightened them, as they slept? It would be useful to know. It would make them easier to conquer.
Pring moved the probe so that it pointed away from the city of Tyropolis, and out towards the mountains. She turned some dials. The low hum issuing from the thought-scanner got much louder and higher in pitch. The lights in the room started to dim.
'What's happening?' Sleech was alarmed.
'The scanner is going into its high energy mode,' Pring explained.' It will settle once it has locked on to a signal.' After about half a minute the humming died down. The scanner continued to make a noise, but now it was soft and musical, as though the machine itself was calmer and happier.
'Where are the pictures?' Sleech asked.
Pring was busy turning more dials on the scanner. 'They'll come, soon enough,' she said, in a way that Sleech thought impertinent. But before he had a chance to admonish her, the screen started to dance with colour. Not the dark greys and browns he had seen in the thoughts of the Bartyronians, but soft pastel shades of blue, pink and light green.
Now the shapes on the screen became a group of about ten people. They were moving around a big open space. The ground was green. Or at least, it was partly green. It seemed to be made up of little bits of vegetable – small green leaves – very unlike the hard, grey floors on which the people of Bartyronis walked. Between the leaves there was mud and dirt. Sleech shuddered. How could these people stand such disorganisation? How could they bear to walk on such untidy ground?
The people were behaving very oddly. The expressions on their dark faces were unlike those of anybody in Bartyronis. They seemed to be constantly smiling. They were moving around one another, walking and running, and as they did so they passed a small, round object between themselves – tossing it through the air. Sleech could see no point to this activity. What could be achieved by passing a sphere from one person to another, and then back again? If there was something of value in the sphere, why didn't the first person keep it for themselves? And if the person who received it was so keen to get hold of it, why should they then immediately throw it away? As far as Sleech was concerned, getting a thing was good, and losing a thing was annoying and irritating. But for these people, the whole process of getting and losing the sphere seemed to fill them with pleasure. Truly these Grabblers were a barbaric, illogical people,.
'What is the name of this dreamer?' Sleech asked.
'I am sorry, High Master Sleech. Our records have no names for the people in the mountains. They are not yet recorded in our systems.'
'Very well. Move on to another of the creatures.'
'Certainly, Himester.'
The group of people with the sphere faded, and the colours dissolved on the screen. Sleech couldn't help noticing that there was something pleasant about the patterns forming in front of his eyes. Even the transition from one set of thoughts to another was graceful; one might almost say beautiful, though this was not a concept that Sleech thought about. But looking at the shapes moving around before his eyes, Sleech felt pleasure. He shook himself. Such pleasure was disgusting.
He looked over at Pring. She was smiling at the forms moving about on the screen, but when she saw Sleech looking at her, the smile disappeared.
'I am sorry, High Master Sleech. The people in this land seem to be scattered all over the place. There is no pattern to their habitation... it's difficult for the machine to lock on... Oh, here's someone...'
Pring turned a dial at the bottom of the machine, and then moved the directional probe slightly. They both watched intently as another group of figures appeared before them. There were ten or eleven of them, and they were moving in what appeared to be a prearranged pattern. Music was playing in the background, and once again, the people were all smiling. What was so enjoyable? Sleech couldn't understand what made these primitive people so happy. In the dreams of the people of Bartyronis, there had been occasional smiles, but they were on the faces of people defeating others, or escaping from something frightening. These people seemed to be constantly smiling, even when they hadn't defeated anyone or escaped harm. Again, Sleech shuddered.
'Move on. Move on. Find someone whose face is not wearing a stupid grin. Quickly!'
Again Pring moved the probe. Now the screen showed just one person, a woman wearing a flowing green robe. The robe trailed behind her as she moved forward smoothly and quickly. Then the viewpoint changed, but not in a jump, as in so many dreams before, but in a smooth transition, as if the viewer was just turning his or her head to look around. It was like the images Sleech saw every day from the observation cameras at the tops of buildings in Bartyronis. But whereas they showed grey shiny buildings and hunched people moving around below, the view now was of enormous mountains capped with great plumes of smoke.
The view seemed to be constantly shifting. And unlike the previous dreams, Sleech could hear words being spoken. Some of the words seemed to be in the Bartyronian language, which surprised Sleech. Clearly, Pring was also surprised. She pressed another button on the machine.
'I will try to translate the thoughts, High Master.'
'Translate? Why do they need to be translated? I have been told that our scientists now understood how thoughts work. And these are thoughts of primitive people.'
'Yes, High Master. But the thoughts of people from different lands must be translated. Even if they speak our language.'
Sleech grunted, and watched as words appeared at the bottom of the screen. The words made no sense – 'Good... thing-look-at. Excellent shiny... sky object-round all-all... Cold what question question question... pleasure much much many...' Further evidence that these people were little more than animals.
But where was this dreamer imagining itself to be? It looked as if they were almost level with the top of the mountains, but they were not on a mountain themselves. The woman stretched out her arms, and Sleech saw that in her dream she wore a pair of bracelets, with strange swirling patterns on her brown wrists. Sleech tried to look at these more closely, but then the viewpoint swept round and took in the whole of the woman's green dress. Sleech saw that beneath her feet there was nothing. She seemed to be floating in mid-air. And so was the dreamer.
Occasionally Sleech had seen this in the dreams of the Bartyronians. So, the wish to fly was something that even these primitives possessed. But it was strange how real this wish seemed in the imaginings of this creature. How could this creature imagine how it would be to fly? There was something about this dream that was clearer, sharper, more realistic than any of those he had seen in the Bartyronians, or even in the dreams of other Grabblers.
'Why is this dream so clear?' Sleech asked.
'Oh, High Master. This is not a dream. These are the thoughts of a waking person.'
Surely, there was a mistake! The machine was not transmitting properly. If this person was awake, and this really was how they saw the world, then he or she was flying.
Another idea occurred to Sleech. 'These people must have waking dreams. Even when they are wide awake, their imaginations throw up pictures of things that are not possible. It is part of their primitive understanding of the world. That must be it.'
Sleech felt a sense of relief at having worked this out. But his relief was short-lived.
'No, High Master. The pattern of the brain waves shows that this person is fully awake. We are seeing exactly what the person sees.'
At once, Sleech felt a sense of panic mixed with longing. Whereas before the conquering of these people seemed a tiresome duty, now he realised that this was an important task – a task that must be carried out as quickly and efficiently as possible. These savages could fly. He had to find out how they did this. They seemed to be carrying no machinery. And they were moving so smoothly. It was quite wrong that they should have such an ability.
Suddenly the screen went blank.' Where has she gone?' Sleech asked angrily.
'She moved so quickly, High Master. I tried to follow with the probe, but it was impossible.'
'Get her back! Get her back!'
'I will try, High Master Sleech.'
Pring fiddled about with the probe. The flying scene did not reappear. She pressed more buttons and turn more dials, but to no avail. Shapes began to appear once again on the screen, but they were not shapes of people flying through the night sky. The scene that Pring and Sleech were now looking at was the inside of a room. A sparsely furnished room, with walls that seemed made of some sort of vegetable material. Horribly primitive.
There was a bed, which looked basic but comfortable, with some sort of blankets on it. Scattered about the room were papers and strange objects. There were small machines made from wood and straw. Things that seemed to Sleech to have no purpose whatsoever. And in the middle of the room was a cat.
As Sleech looked, the cat changed its form, smoothly transforming itself into a frog. The frog gave a couple of hops, and then another transformation, as it became some sort of large bird.
'What is happening?' Sleech asked.
'The subject is dreaming High Master.'
'I know that,' Sleech said, although actually he had been worried for a moment that once again he was viewing the waking thoughts of a Grabbler.
Sleech found himself fascinated by this strange dream. The animal kept changing its form, from bird to horse, to squirrel... to animals that Sleech found quite unfamiliar. What made this dream so different? It was unlike any that Sleech had seen in the people of Bartyronis. Who was doing the dreaming here? Normally Sleech saw through the eyes of the dreamer, but there seemed to be no dreamer here.
Then, as the two watched the screen, the bat, as it now was, took on the form of a young girl. A child. She was like no child Sleech had ever seen before. Her skin was dark, with a strange pattern of freckles around her nose and under her eyes, and her hair was not dark, but orangey red. Her face wore a quizzical expression. And there was something else. As she squinted out from the screen it seemed to Sleech as if... no, it couldn't be – but really, it was – the girl moved forward as if to examine something. Was she really looking straight at Sleech? She moved her hand as if in a gesture of recognition or acknowledgement. She shuddered, her eyes looking as though they were still focused on Sleech. Sleech quickly turned his head and looked at Pring, though he could still see the child in the corner of his vision.
'How is that possible?' Sleech demanded.
'What, Himester?' Pring asked.
'She can see me! She can see me!'
'I don't think...'
'Turn it off! TURN IT OFF!!'
Pring quickly cut the power from the scanner.
'Now go. Do not speak of what has happened tonight.'
'Of course, High Master.' Pring left, wheeling the machine ahead of her.
Sleech lay on his bed, but he did not sleep.
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