pastels of nature, it was peaceful and silent but for the occasional trill of a bird.
“I like it.” She breathed in dream air, which smelled of green and living things.
“You did some research.” His fingers tightened on hers. “Tell me.”
She watched wisps of white mist wreathing around fir trees. “Strange. It felt unreal. This is unreal and it feels real.”
“I know. Tell me what you learned.”
She found words coming from her lips, a recitation of information flowing effortlessly between them. Rimsky-Korsakov, Antin’s Syndrome, flying at the mere suggestion of a thought and touching tiny spheres containing the universe…
And then she stopped.
He shifted and let their intertwined hands rest on his knee. “What happened then, Martine?”
She closed her eyes and frowned. “I don’t know…I-I tried—he wasn’t there.”
“Who?”
“Taber.”
There was an instant of complete stillness. “Who is Taber?”
“A strong man. It was bad—bad that he was so ill and wouldn’t let me help him pass. He didn’t want to let go. I had to…I had to push him. First time I’ve been so drained in a long time.”
“I see.” That strange stillness surrounded them again. “You couldn’t find him in the data-storage division?”
She struggled with images that shifted and faded as she tried to stare at them. “No. I tried… I wanted to know about his disease, but he wasn’t in the medical section. I finally found him…”
“Where?”
“Where you told me to look. 12-19 B. A door. There was a huge door and it had something on it. A symbol. It slammed in my face.” She leaned back on a sigh.
“Do you remember the symbol?”
“Yes.” She half-closed her eyes as light brightened over the horizon. “Dawn’s coming.” How do I know that ?
“Tell me about the symbol, Martine.”
John sounded serious so she tried to describe it. “Round…no…a long oval. With a sort of dash in the middle…it could have been ancient. Greek perhaps?”
“Did it look like this?” John picked up a twig, leaned forward and drew some markings in the sandy path beneath their feet.
She stared. Then nodded. “That’s it. That’s what I saw on the barrier.”
“ Theta .”
John barely breathed the word, but as soon as it passed his lips, Martine’s dream began to crumble and she awoke chilled and startled, as if somebody had moved in her bedroom.
She even sat up and activated the low light. Her room was, of course, empty. And the silence in her apartment was a normal kind of silence that told her she was alone. Leaving the light as it was, she lay back and tugged the covers around her neck.
What was this theta symbol? What did it represent? And how did she know what dawn looked like or even that it was coming?
She’d never seen the real sun rise. For generations, nobody had. The atmosphere had become discolored by too many decades of careless pollution. Although it was improving, it was still nowhere near the point where the sun’s rays could be discerned through the murk. Occasionally there was a brief sighting of a glowing disk. That was it.
The planet had evolved and adapted to what mankind had done to it. But those precious moments just before dawn were now only memories. Or video reproductions. What she’d seen…well, it felt like the real thing.
Martine found herself trying to grasp an alien concept, one that involved reality. And exactly what reality she was living in.
But her brain couldn’t work around that idea, and although she didn’t realize it, she once again fell asleep.
This time, she didn’t dream at all.
In his lofty apartment on top of the Eternal Tranquility facility, Williams Jr. stared out of the functioning windows into the murk of the predawn hours. He knew people envied him the specially reinforced glass holes in his wall.
He wasn’t sure they were on the right track, since all they showed was a world gone to hell and back. Mostly the atmosphere was dark,
“I like it.” She breathed in dream air, which smelled of green and living things.
“You did some research.” His fingers tightened on hers. “Tell me.”
She watched wisps of white mist wreathing around fir trees. “Strange. It felt unreal. This is unreal and it feels real.”
“I know. Tell me what you learned.”
She found words coming from her lips, a recitation of information flowing effortlessly between them. Rimsky-Korsakov, Antin’s Syndrome, flying at the mere suggestion of a thought and touching tiny spheres containing the universe…
And then she stopped.
He shifted and let their intertwined hands rest on his knee. “What happened then, Martine?”
She closed her eyes and frowned. “I don’t know…I-I tried—he wasn’t there.”
“Who?”
“Taber.”
There was an instant of complete stillness. “Who is Taber?”
“A strong man. It was bad—bad that he was so ill and wouldn’t let me help him pass. He didn’t want to let go. I had to…I had to push him. First time I’ve been so drained in a long time.”
“I see.” That strange stillness surrounded them again. “You couldn’t find him in the data-storage division?”
She struggled with images that shifted and faded as she tried to stare at them. “No. I tried… I wanted to know about his disease, but he wasn’t in the medical section. I finally found him…”
“Where?”
“Where you told me to look. 12-19 B. A door. There was a huge door and it had something on it. A symbol. It slammed in my face.” She leaned back on a sigh.
“Do you remember the symbol?”
“Yes.” She half-closed her eyes as light brightened over the horizon. “Dawn’s coming.” How do I know that ?
“Tell me about the symbol, Martine.”
John sounded serious so she tried to describe it. “Round…no…a long oval. With a sort of dash in the middle…it could have been ancient. Greek perhaps?”
“Did it look like this?” John picked up a twig, leaned forward and drew some markings in the sandy path beneath their feet.
She stared. Then nodded. “That’s it. That’s what I saw on the barrier.”
“ Theta .”
John barely breathed the word, but as soon as it passed his lips, Martine’s dream began to crumble and she awoke chilled and startled, as if somebody had moved in her bedroom.
She even sat up and activated the low light. Her room was, of course, empty. And the silence in her apartment was a normal kind of silence that told her she was alone. Leaving the light as it was, she lay back and tugged the covers around her neck.
What was this theta symbol? What did it represent? And how did she know what dawn looked like or even that it was coming?
She’d never seen the real sun rise. For generations, nobody had. The atmosphere had become discolored by too many decades of careless pollution. Although it was improving, it was still nowhere near the point where the sun’s rays could be discerned through the murk. Occasionally there was a brief sighting of a glowing disk. That was it.
The planet had evolved and adapted to what mankind had done to it. But those precious moments just before dawn were now only memories. Or video reproductions. What she’d seen…well, it felt like the real thing.
Martine found herself trying to grasp an alien concept, one that involved reality. And exactly what reality she was living in.
But her brain couldn’t work around that idea, and although she didn’t realize it, she once again fell asleep.
This time, she didn’t dream at all.
In his lofty apartment on top of the Eternal Tranquility facility, Williams Jr. stared out of the functioning windows into the murk of the predawn hours. He knew people envied him the specially reinforced glass holes in his wall.
He wasn’t sure they were on the right track, since all they showed was a world gone to hell and back. Mostly the atmosphere was dark,
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