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

“I know, Erik” Edda says, her eyes piercing his. “It’s boring because it’s all a lie. And lies are always so boringly simplistic.”

Silence falls on the class as the students exchange wide-eyed glances. Even Ximena frowns. A lie? Other than the colorful language, Edda has pretty much nailed the essence of the period between the second collapse and the Dreamwars.

“A lie?” Erik seems as baffled as Ximena.

Edda smiles and points at the blackboard. “The history you’ve been taught—all horseshit, yeah?”

“But… It was you who taught us!” Erik says.

“Yeah, I know. That’s because that’s the history I’ve been taught myself. Also lies. And it gets worse. Neither I nor your other teachers know the truth, nor how to get at it. Every book written since Fahey is just… propaganda. Like a fairy tales’ and they lived happily ever after.”

“Then,” Erik spreads his hands, “how can you tell it’s a lie?”

“Because it’s been done before. Countless times, by every dictator and tyrant since the first word was sculpted on stone. And no matter what they want us to believe, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, turning the most benign of rulers into tyrants bent to change the past to control the future.”

“Juf Edda,” a young woman says, raising a hand as she speaks, “are you implying that aws Head is, uh…”

“Corrupt,” Edda says. “I’m not implying it. I’m saying it.”

Ximena leans back. Strong words. Almost heretic. She raises her head at her fellow GIA students at the other end of the small amphitheater to find some mouths covered by scandalized hands.

“What do you know?” Edda points a finger at her equally shocked students. “I mean, really know, huh? How to clear a field?” She points a finger at Erik. “Or gather clams in the low tide?” She points at the young woman. “And live happily-ever-after under a regime that has brainwashed you so completely, that you will voluntarily let them kill you when you reach twenty-seven years of age, yeah? Wonderful.”

Many students’ jaws have dropped. Nobody looks bored now.

“But,” Erik begins, “Dem—”

“Dem is an invention of aws Head, mensas. To keep us all nicely in place, content and ignorant. Did you know that there are books that my family keeps at home,” she points out the window, “that you are not allowed to read? Even us teachers are encouraged not to, but we keep them around just in case we ever need old knowledge.”

Erik scoffs. “Who wants to read, anyway?” Some students laugh at his comment.

“Did you know that there were other religions before Goah? Other gods? Of course you don’t, because no one’s ever told you. So convenient. We all know there’s only one god, yeah? And Fahey is aws Prophet. Let me ask you something, mensas. Do you think the Romans worshiped Goah?”

“Didn’t they?” Erik looks genuinely confused.

“We are about to enter a new century. In just two weeks. A very round number, twenty-four hundred. Did you ever stop for a second to ask yourself what happened twenty-four hundred years ago?”

“I know that one,” Erik says. “That’s when Goah created the world.”

“Pure sin,” Edda says, shaking her head. She sighs. “We’ll leave that for another day. My point is that before Goah, there were centuries of history, of tyrants and democracies, of empires and republics, of slavery and freedom, all hidden from you. For a reason.”

“Who cares what happened hundreds of years ago?” Erik says. “How’s that gonna help me feed my family?”

“Pretty, Erik. Exactly like aws Head wants you to stay. Illiterate and stupid. A model colonist.”

Erik’s pale face turns red. “Juf- Juf Edda, I—”

“I’m trying to make you see that we’ve been here before. Tyrannies hiding the truth from the people, to claw on to their power. Do you mensas think it’s okay that I have books you’re not allowed to read?”

Her students stare at her in silence, eyes blank.

“Am I better than you? Just because I’m a teacher? A specialist? Don’t aws Compacts give you all the same Sacred Rights and freedoms that I possess?”

Some students, including the young woman, nod slowly. Others, including Erik, exchange puzzled glances with their neighbors.

“What aws Head doesn’t know, is that their efforts to suppress the truth are doomed. The changing winds of propaganda cannot hold long against the static certainty of truth. And then, as history shows over and over again—take, say, the French and American revolutions, or the Soviet Union—repression can only hold so long before cynicism turns into activism. And activism into change. Regime change.”

“And what’s the truth, Juf Edda?” the young woman asks.

“The truth,” she shifts from one foot to another, “is that Dem has been eradicated.”

“But if—” Erik tries to speak, but Edda raises her voice.

“The truth,” Edda’s eyes shine with defiance, “is that Joyousday Houses are slaughterhouses, designed by aws Head to keep us ignorant and complacent.”

Most students gasp—both Edda’s students in the school class, and Miyagi’s in the GIA section of the amphitheater. This can’t be right, Ximena thinks, still gaping at Edda, and then throws a wondering glimpse at Professor Miyagi, sitting below, on the front row next to the stage. This is not the Edda van Dolah we’ve all been brought up with. She sounds like, er, a conspiranoid lunatic.

“Mensas,” Edda says, “there’s no right more sacred in aws Compacts than life itself, and aws Head is stamping on it every day with the Joyousday. With the truth in our hands,” she reaches out, hands cupped like she was carrying water, “how can we trust aws Head to fight for our Sacred Rights?”

“That’s a lie, Juf Edda!” Erik stands. He turns to the class. “Don’t listen to her, a demon has taken her tongue.”

“Shut up, Erik,” the young woman says. “Since when can farmers call teachers liars? This is Juf Edda, Goah’s Mercy.”

“Erik,” Edda says with a conciliatory tone. “You are free to leave if you don’t like what I have to offer.” She puts a hand on her chest and