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

“Now, I have a question for you.” He moves a finger slowly across the amphitheater. Yes, definitely show. “I produced the dreamtech lessons for a more, er, commercial version of the dreamsenso. But truth is, they are of limited historic interest. I can summarize the next one simply by saying: the mare Rew trained Edda van Dolah on the second step, and then she faced the second trial with the other remaining human candidates.” He spreads his hands. “Done. Is that okay with you, people? Should I skip Rew’s lucid dreaming lesson?”

A loud roar of protests engulfs the auditorium. Mark is shouting ‘NO!’ at the top of his lungs next to her, as are most of the students. Miyagi smiles, pleased. Oh, Goah. Ximena rolls her eyes. Showman through and through.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smirking. And gives Ank a curt nod.

The auditorium darkens.

A sunny scene pops up with sudden radiance, forcing the students to squint. It is a dream landscape, viewed from high in the air, and lit by an unnaturally small, red sun. As the students’ eyes adapt, they begin to discern far below an orange-yellow desert, fiercely bright in the sun, that extends all the way to the horizon. A massive, abrupt mountain range crosses the desert in a zig-zag, and unnatural rock formations sculpt the slopes and peaks. The scene glides towards the higher rocks on the higher mountains.

Some students murmur and point at a lone human figure in the middle of a wide natural rock bridge that spans two of the highest peaks. It’s Edda, Ximena recognizes as the scene glides closer, wearing a short, white summer gown. She is standing at the edge and stares serenely down at the sand abyss below. Ximena leans back at the sudden surge of vertigo. The chasm is several miles high!

Edda watches with calm curiosity the mysterious giant pyramids scattered all over the sand like islands on an archipelago, enormous structures made of copper-colored metal that feel as old as the mountains themselves.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Rew asks. She is standing next to Edda, in her natural, vaguely humanoid form: tall, thin, and eerily white.

“Why should I be?” Edda replies, while moving her uncovered arms in the warm breeze. She seems to enjoy the sensation.

“The altitude—most humans would respect the void.”

Edda gazes down again. “It is very high. I should care, yeah?” She has turned to ask Rew with the familiarity of an old friend.

“I do believe you should. Ten miles high over certain death deserves… attention.”

She keeps her eyes locked down, with more curiosity than discomfort.

“What are those?” She points her finger at the dozens of ancient pyramids that seem to own the desert, their enormous scale obvious even from this height.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious.”

“Why?”

“These buildings… So large and old… What is their purpose? Who built them? Why here?”

“So many questions. That is very good, Redeemed van Dolah. So it begins.”

“What begins?” Edda stares into Rew’s blank eyes.

“Awareness—questions lead to awareness.”

“Questions lead to awareness,” Mark repeats slowly, almost reverentially. Ximena looks at him with curiosity. His eyes are locked on the scene like he is having a religious experience. “The litany of the second step.”

“Awareness… of what?” Edda asks with a frown.

“First the questions, then the awareness.” Rew gently touches the side of her head with one of the three narrow appendage-like ends of her arm. “More questions. What else do you see,” she waves her arm around the landscape, “that is worthy of your curiosity?”

Edda scans her surroundings again.

Her eyes widen, as if she had just arrived there. Then she looks down—miles down—and for the first time a surge of vertigo flows through the psych-link, melding harmonically with Ximena’s own.

“The height is scary,” Edda says, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. A flock of bird-like creatures passes by miles below, so far away that it is impossible to discern the species. Her breath quickens. “Why wasn’t I anxious before? What is this place?”

“More questions,” Rew says.

She takes her eyes off the abyss, and steps away from the edge. “Where’s home? How did I reach this place? Did I fly like the people in the golden age, in a machine?”

“You are doing well, Redeemed van Dolah. More questions.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” she says, her frown deepening. “What’s the meaning of all this?” She turns to Rew, who remains silent, and simply stares back at her with intensely white eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Awareness.” Her psychic voice reverberates a notch louder. “All your questions lead to the one, simple, elegant answer.”

“What answer?”

“The only answer, Redeemed van Dolah.” Once again Rew gives Edda’s head a gentle touch with her appendage. “Do explore the questions. Do reflect.”

Edda’s eyes wander over the desert, the pyramids, the rocks, Rew herself, as her thoughts, initially tumbling in chaotic chunks through the psych-link, begin to slow and crystallize into concepts, into reason.

She turns to Rew with an expression of triumph. “I’m dreaming!”

“Awareness,” Rew says, and clumsily gives Edda a very human nod.

“I’m dreaming!” Edda repeats with a smile. Ximena feels her wonder at the realization that her consciousness—her senses—are locked inside her own mind. Everything feels so… real, so vivid; even the fresh smell of the air; all a simulation created by some other part of her, a hidden part, outside of her control.

“What’s the big deal?” Ximena whispers at Mark. “She’s been, er, aware before many times, while training for the first step.”

“Lucid,” Mark says. “We say lucid now, not aware. And no, this is different. This time Edda was not artificially pulled into lucidity by the will of a Walker.” He waves a finger at Rew. “This time Rew is merely nudging, teaching Edda how to become lucid on her own, teaching her to wonder and reflect. Questions lead to awareness.” He smiles brilliantly at Ximena, more with his blue eyes than with his lips. “By asking the right questions. And finding the right answer.”

“I do congratulate you on becoming aware, Redeemed van Dolah. But do beware. Awareness