It had been the strangest of all control dreams.
In fact, was it really a control dream? It was a dream where she knew she was dreaming, but she didn't seem to have control.
In one way it was wonderful to dream about Herago. It was almost like seeing him again in reality. But there was something very odd about him. Not about him, exactly, but about what he said. He was definitely the old Herago, the Herago that Liana remembered from Seren-ila. But he kept insisting that this was his dream. Which was ridiculous. The dream was hers. Liana knew that this Herago, even though he was exactly like the Herago of old, was just something that she was imagining. Everything about him – everything about him in her dream – was made up in her own mind. She knew that. That was how dreams worked. Control dreams more than any others.
So why did her own mind bring her a version of Herago that started arguing with her? Why was he saying that this was his dream, not hers? The Herago in the dream seemed to think that she was just something that he had imagined. Which was also ridiculous. Why had her imagination served up a version of Herago that was annoyingly saying impossible things?
Impossible. Maybe that was why. Impossible. Maybe her own mind was playing with the idea of Herago's Impossibles, so showing her something that seemed like it really was impossible.
But it really was annoying. Liana and the dream Herago started off by arguing about which one of them was real. What is the point of that sort of argument? She knew she was real. In the end she gave up. It was silly to argue with her own imagination.
But then he started telling her about the hostel he was staying in. He said it was a tall, grey and silver, ugly building, with an enormous letter 'T' on the top of it, and tiny windows on each floor. Tag, he said. Tag windows on each side.
The hostel had been built right next to what used to be Middle Meadow, which had now become a place for Barty flying machines to land and take off. Liana hadn't been there since the Bartyronians came. Nobody could move about freely anymore. Guardians could stop you in the street and asked you what you were doing, and if you weren't doing something that they approved of you could get taken away – she didn't know where. The dream Herago told her how the noise in the hostel from the flying machines nearby kept him awake most nights, and tonight was the first really good night's sleep he'd had.
As he spoke, Liana thought that she could hear the sound of the flying machines – a sort of background hum, ugly and annoying.
Herago also told her that Tilero was there with him, and sometimes he managed to make music in the night, which disguised the sound of the flying machines. Liana listened hard, half-thinking that she would hear some of Tilero's music, but none of those sounds came.
Liana started telling Herago about how things were in her hostel. But why did she do that? Herago wasn't real. Still, she felt like she had to, and the dream Herago acted as if he really wanted to find out more. She started to tell him that Silmoa was there with her. But she didn't get far before she awoke to the sound of the alarm. Reality was telling her to get up.
All of the next day, Liana thought about it. At the factory, she continued with the boring, mind-numbing work, but her thoughts kept returning to her dream.
So she hardly noticed Silmoa carrying her shocking stick. At least, she didn't notice until Silmoa touched her on the shoulder with the stick.
'Oww!' said Liana. 'Why did you do that?'
'It's my job,' said Silmoa. 'You weren't working. I have to prod you so that you do your work!'
'But, Silmoa ...'
'I'm Simek! And you aren't allowed to talk back to me now,' Silmoa said, and she walked away.
Liana tried to concentrate on the work, but soon she was thinking again about the dream. It really had been as if she was talking to the real Herago. Her friend from Seren-ila. And she had been in Seren-ila. As if it was still there, underneath the awful buildings that the Bartyronians had put up.
Herago – the dream Herago – had told her that he was thinking about new sorts of Impossibles. He said he had tried some out in the place where he was living, and nobody knew how they worked. He smiled a very Herago type of smile.
'We should meet up again,' he had said.
If only she could see the real Herago, she thought, as she just about managed to plant another spike on another disc.