Trees and benches were laid out geometrically, giant Night Lights cast a gentle glow, and in the middle, a granite sculpture celebrated the Department of Sleep’s famed insignia: a single closed eye.
“Cool. I’ve never been to this department before,” admitted Simly.
“I’ve only been here a couple of times myself,” seconded Becker, “but those were on Field Trips—never on a Mission.”
They stopped to read a quotation that was engraved beneath the sculpted eye:
Now, blessings light on him that first invented sleep! It covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; it is meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the cold, and cold for the hot. It is the current coin that purchases all the pleasures of the world cheap, and the balance that sets the king and the shepherd, the fool and the wise man, even.
—Miguel de Cervantes, 1605 W.T. 14
“Who’s that guy?” asked Simly, far more versed in Seemsian literature than that of The World.
“He’s this dude from Spain who wrote a book called Don Quixote. I read it in my Best Books Ever class. Well, at least I read the Cliff ’ s Notes .”
Simly was impressed.
Becker radioed in. “Drane to Central Command, come in, over?”
His orange Receiver was back in working order, the short circuits repaired from the Portuguese rainstorm.
“We read you, Fixer Drane.”
“I have Briefer acquisition and we are ready to proceed.”
“Understood. Permission granted to enter department.”
Almost immediately a silent alarm sounded, and the industrial-sized doors to Sleep began to slide apart.
Central Shipping, Department of Sleep, The Seems
“Thank the Plan you’re here!”
From the observation deck above, a small man in a Department of Sleep hard hat came trundling down the stairs. He was the Foreman of Central Shipping, and he’d been anxiously waiting for them.
“A Glitch in Sleep! I can’t believe this is happening!”
The middle manager was beside himself, so Becker took a page from Casey Lake and stayed on an even keel.
“Just relax and tell me what went wrong.”
“The system was running like clockwork, until we noticed a Blip,” recounted the Foreman. “At first we thought it was just a blown Exhaustion Pipe, but then the Insomnia spread like wildfire, and the next thing we knew, we had a Sleepless Night on our hands!”
The Foreman looked both ways to make sure that no one else was listening, then leaned in to Becker’s ear.
“Do you think it could be The Tide?”
Becker put a finger to his lips, because he didn’t want to foster rumor and innuendo. The Tide was a shadowy organization bent on overthrowing the Powers That Be and assuming control of The World. For the last few months its attacks had increased, both in scope and in frequency, culminating with the assault on the Rain Tower during Becker’s final Mission as a Briefer. But whether it were involved in this was still too early to tell.
“Don’t worry,” Becker reassured him. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”
As the Foreman led them across the factory floor, Simly pulled out his Briefing and began to take notes on Central Shipping. The components of Sleep proper were manufactured in other parts of the department, then carried here via a complex latticework of conveyor belts, tubes, hooks, and ramps before finally being stuffed into little brown boxes, each with its own destination address.
Jami Marmor
Sector 302
MALLEGBERG HOTEL, Room 204
David Bauer
Sector 12
Nir Etzion Kibbutz
Third Cabin, Top Bunk, White Sleeping Bag
Ariff Ng
Sector 904
Carroll 16B, Desk #5
University Of Malaysia
Each box was completely unique and designed for a specific individual, which explains why on some nights you get a little Sleep and on some nights you get a lot. Once they were packed, the boxes were sealed and twined, stamped “Good Night’s Sleep” by Inspector #9, then they began their final journey down and out an exit hatch, through the
“Cool. I’ve never been to this department before,” admitted Simly.
“I’ve only been here a couple of times myself,” seconded Becker, “but those were on Field Trips—never on a Mission.”
They stopped to read a quotation that was engraved beneath the sculpted eye:
Now, blessings light on him that first invented sleep! It covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; it is meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the cold, and cold for the hot. It is the current coin that purchases all the pleasures of the world cheap, and the balance that sets the king and the shepherd, the fool and the wise man, even.
—Miguel de Cervantes, 1605 W.T. 14
“Who’s that guy?” asked Simly, far more versed in Seemsian literature than that of The World.
“He’s this dude from Spain who wrote a book called Don Quixote. I read it in my Best Books Ever class. Well, at least I read the Cliff ’ s Notes .”
Simly was impressed.
Becker radioed in. “Drane to Central Command, come in, over?”
His orange Receiver was back in working order, the short circuits repaired from the Portuguese rainstorm.
“We read you, Fixer Drane.”
“I have Briefer acquisition and we are ready to proceed.”
“Understood. Permission granted to enter department.”
Almost immediately a silent alarm sounded, and the industrial-sized doors to Sleep began to slide apart.
Central Shipping, Department of Sleep, The Seems
“Thank the Plan you’re here!”
From the observation deck above, a small man in a Department of Sleep hard hat came trundling down the stairs. He was the Foreman of Central Shipping, and he’d been anxiously waiting for them.
“A Glitch in Sleep! I can’t believe this is happening!”
The middle manager was beside himself, so Becker took a page from Casey Lake and stayed on an even keel.
“Just relax and tell me what went wrong.”
“The system was running like clockwork, until we noticed a Blip,” recounted the Foreman. “At first we thought it was just a blown Exhaustion Pipe, but then the Insomnia spread like wildfire, and the next thing we knew, we had a Sleepless Night on our hands!”
The Foreman looked both ways to make sure that no one else was listening, then leaned in to Becker’s ear.
“Do you think it could be The Tide?”
Becker put a finger to his lips, because he didn’t want to foster rumor and innuendo. The Tide was a shadowy organization bent on overthrowing the Powers That Be and assuming control of The World. For the last few months its attacks had increased, both in scope and in frequency, culminating with the assault on the Rain Tower during Becker’s final Mission as a Briefer. But whether it were involved in this was still too early to tell.
“Don’t worry,” Becker reassured him. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”
As the Foreman led them across the factory floor, Simly pulled out his Briefing and began to take notes on Central Shipping. The components of Sleep proper were manufactured in other parts of the department, then carried here via a complex latticework of conveyor belts, tubes, hooks, and ramps before finally being stuffed into little brown boxes, each with its own destination address.
Jami Marmor
Sector 302
MALLEGBERG HOTEL, Room 204
David Bauer
Sector 12
Nir Etzion Kibbutz
Third Cabin, Top Bunk, White Sleeping Bag
Ariff Ng
Sector 904
Carroll 16B, Desk #5
University Of Malaysia
Each box was completely unique and designed for a specific individual, which explains why on some nights you get a little Sleep and on some nights you get a lot. Once they were packed, the boxes were sealed and twined, stamped “Good Night’s Sleep” by Inspector #9, then they began their final journey down and out an exit hatch, through the
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