Dreamworms Book 1: The Advent of Dreamtech by Isaac Petrov (drm ebook reader TXT) 📕

“I know how,” Pieter says sourly, still glaring at Gotthard’s back. “By walking over to aws Womb and giving away an ovum to the Kraker family.”

“Piet!” Aline turns and gives him a scandalized look.

Edda laughs and shrugs. “I think you’re right, Piet. Gotthard may not respect many things—but family, that he does.”

“Goah’s Mercy, Edda,” Pieter says, voice drenched in disgust, “what a catch. You’re always talking about how we must be oh so alert, how those rastocrate families have our sacred rights in their sights, and just want to oppress us and all that shit. And then you fucking bind to one of them!”

“You mean aristocratic, Piet,” Edda says, an incipient frown of anger on her brow. “And it was my dad who arranged the dowry bond.”

“How unfortunate for you. Well, at least you get to enjoy the karma.”

The scene vanishes and the spring sun and blue skies return to the amphitheater. Ximena and many of her fellow students stretch their dream limbs as they refocus their attention on the stage below.

“Sorry, people,” Professor Miyagi says, “the dreamsenso section finishes here. I was thinking about prolonging it with Edda’s spectacular slap across Pieter Ledeboer’s face, but it was getting way too long already.”

Chuckles, polite laughs and whines of disappointment fill the open-air auditorium.

Miyagi takes a few steps, hands on his back, as if reflecting. “You know what comes to my mind when I witness the events leading to the Century Festival?” He pauses and looks gravely up to the students’ expectant faces. “That they had some dubious taste in music.”

All students burst out laughing.

“No, seriously, people,” he says as the laughs die away, “when I watch this scene, I always wonder about Gotthard. You have seen the little asshole. He lives a life of privilege—the Kraker are a prestigious scientist family. And yet, the poor bastard seems to be the only one who knows that the Babi asteroid is coming, and has the education to understand what that ultimately means.” He shakes his head. “The world lives in innocent denial, and science has been silenced by dogma. Ignorance—not truth—is guiding humanity in the age of Goah. Ignorance, fanaticism. And lies. Not the most reliable guides, I would say.”

The words hit Ximena like a sting. It’s a strange feeling. On one side she intellectually understands what the professor is saying, that aws Head was looking the other way when a world-ending event was literally falling over their heads. They covered it up, they buried it. History repeating itself, just like in the first collapse. Worse. Yes, the professor is telling the truth, she knows, and yet she feels attacked inside—in her identity—by his words. The blue-and-white section of GIA students at the other end of the hemicycle also stirs uncomfortably. This is not history, not by far. They are still living the age of Goah, at least in the Goah’s Imperia of the Americas, as vibrant as it was one hundred years ago. Aws Head is not just a human-made institution. It’s more than that, much more—it’s also divine. They’d never—

“Imagine what he might be feeling.” Miyagi’s words interrupt Ximena’s thoughts. “Loneliness, perhaps? He’s a father, and perhaps he is relieved that his son will live a normal, fulfilled life, and his grandchildren as well, and so on for a few more generations. Does he even care, with the short lifespan of his time, what will happen to his descendants a hundred years in the future? Does he even care,” he lowers his voice, as if thinking aloud, “about us?”

Ten

Worth and Soul

Rew paces forward, or rather floats an inch over the ground towards the forty-eight youngsters.

Ximena feels Edda’s inquisitive eyes scanning the elongated form, and comparing it with the eleven mares standing in a neat row behind her. There are subtle differences. Yes. Some are slightly higher, or thinner. Even length of arms and legs vary from one to the next. The shade of white of their skin also differs subtly. They’re just… animals, Ximena thinks, same as us, with individual traits and variations, the result of evolutionary pressure in a resource-scant ecology.

“I do welcome you back to the staging permascape,” Rew says, and waves an arm across the infinite flatness of dark stone and black skies. “It is only us here—our conscious minds—then at this point only we do matter, what we marai say to you, and what you ultimately decide to do with our words.”

Rew turns her head to the side, and three mares walk forward to stand next to her. There are subtle differences among the three, as there are among the rest, but they move as one in precise synchronization—same gait, same speed, same balancing of the arms as they slide, same stance as they stop.

“Do meet Overseer Yog,” Rew says, bowing lightly to the three mares. “She shall clarify your choices.”

“Sense and bind, humans.” The words emanate as a single feminine voice from the three heads. Ximena feels Edda’s wonder as she realizes how alien the aliens really are. “All of you are here to serve us.”

Not the sexiest of speech beginnings, Ximena thinks. Edda and the others seem to agree, their faces expressing a degree of unease.

“You shall be granted abilities that no other humans possess.” That’s better. “You shall exert power over other humans, and so do our bidding.” Ouch. “It is imperative that only humans of worth are provided access to this knowledge. Walker Rew,” the three heads turn lightly left, where Rew remains fully still, “suggests that all of you are of worth. I shall judge that. I shall assess each of you at every step to determine if you are worthy of carrying the power of a Walker of the Mind.”

A Walker of the Mind. Edda’s excitement flows through Ximena like a hurricane through a ravine.

“Worthy are those with the will to exert power,” Yog continues. “I shall assess who is worthy among you, humans. Walker Rew and her Deviss Walkers,” her