Oh Sleeper

www.thirdpersonwar.com

Timmy fell asleep.

The smell was the first thing he remembered. There was a strong association with memories and smell. But this was supposed to be a dream. Wasn't it?

It burned his nostrils"the smoke, the gasoline. The blood, however, gave off a sweet aroma. Again, it sent him back to his memories, before he started dreaming"or maybe before he woke up. It reminded him of his normal childhood. He still had the scars to prove it. Yes, even scars followed him into his dreams.

The sound came next. It was loud and obtrusive like most sounds are. Sirens and mobs battled for the small space in his eardrums. Neither was winning, but it was obvious he was losing. A single gunfire seemed to silence everything else.

Then he was on his back. He knew because his touch had come to him. Life seeped out of his chest. It was an exhilarating pain, distracting him from everything else except for the cold metal chain around his neck. He wasn't sure why he should be able to feel it even with his body dying. He couldn't remember why it was important to him. There must have not been a smell associated with it.

He opened his eyes and saw blue. It was the sky. He tried to lift his body, but it wouldn’t listen to him. Radio static played in his ear. A voice called to him through it.

“Get up.” It said.

He didn’t want to get up. He wanted to wake up. You are supposed wake up when you are about to die in a dream. You are not supposed to die when you start dreaming.

“Get up or you’ll die.” It said.

He focused on the static. It grew in his mind until it was the only thing he really thought about. Static turned into propellers and then the voice called out again. He turned his head away from the sky to see who it was that was shouting at him.

It was a gun. A large gun was shouting at him.

Blood filled his lungs and he couldn’t breathe anymore. He coughed blood a few times before it clogged in his throat and his vision blurred.

For all purposes, he died.

He awoke again to a different pain but to the same sweet aroma. Something sharp was forced through his palm. Before he opened his eyes he thought he was being crucified. It was not a rusted old nail like he imagined, but a pen.

Quick breaths let him know his lungs were working again. But the eerie white room suggested his eyes were not. Someone made a noise behind him.

“He-he-he, ho-ho-ho.”

A deformed hand reached down and twisted the pen. “Hello there.” The voice whispered in his ear. He cried out in pain.

“My name is Dr. Crink. You can thank me for repairing the hole in your lungs.” He continued twisting. “I will be your only friend for the next few hours. Believe it or not, you will grow to love me. I will be the last face you ever see.”

Dr. Crink pulled the pen out and walked over to face him. His hair grew down to his lower back and his face was deformed by scar tissue. Dr. Crink looked down at him with a smile.

“You think of me beautiful, don’t you?” He asked. The smile, the face, faded slowly. “That’s okay. You will soon look the same as I do, if not more beautiful.”

He turned around and walked towards a table in the room filled with shiny objects. Timmy looked around wondering where he could be. The room had no doors. There was only Dr. Crink, the table filled with shiny objects, and the chair he was strapped down to. He was too afraid to speak.

Dr. Crink picked up a metal stick covered in millions of needles. He pressed a button and blue electricity surged through the metal. He looked at it and his smile returned. Walking over to Timmy, he swung the needles back and forth casually.

“Why so quiet? You are such a shy one... It’s the shy ones that usually scream the most"the shy and the beautiful. They are the ones who feel the most pain. I would know.”

Dr. Crink approached him closer, waving the blue needles in his face. “The funny thing is that the beautiful ones fail to realize we are all ugly to begin with.”

He removed the needles away from Timmy’s face and turned around to walk away. Timmy let out the breath he was holding. At the same time, Dr. Crink turned around and struck him in the face with a million electrocuting needles.

“WHO ARE YOU???”

The needles stuck in his cheek and electrocuted every nerve in his body. He yelled something he could not understand. It was his name.

Dr. Crink drew the needles back and stepped away. He carefully put the shiny object back in its place and walked through part of the wall. The burning in Timmy’s mind ceased and he wondered what had happened. His mind couldn’t understand it.

His cheek burned. He felt blood drip to his chin. It distracted him from the hole in his hand. He only hoped he would bleed out before Dr. Crink returned. Of course he didn’t.

Dr. Crink came through the same part of the wall that he left. Behind him was another person. He was a little older than Timmy, maybe eighteen, and dressed in a black suit. He walked over to Timmy and carefully wiped his dripping chin with a white cloth.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Timothy. I have to say, I’m a little surprised. I expected someone... bigger.”

He handed the cloth to Dr. Crink who then walked out of the room.

“My name is Agent Walker. Do you know where you are?”

Timmy didn’t reply.

“Do you know what time it is?”

Timmy didn’t reply.

Agent Walker was unfazed. “I’ll fill in the blanks. You are in a United World correctional facility for killing the President and leading a rebel group known as the Bloody Rebellion.”

“I didn’t kill the President.” Timmy said. Every word throbbed in fear.

“Yes you did.” Agent Walker said.

“It is five minutes until two on April the second, two-thousand and ninety-four.”

Timmy shook his head. “It’s two-thousand and eight.”

“No, it is not.”

Dr. Crink walked back into the room with a single sheet of paper. He handed it to Agent Walker who looked over it carefully. “We got a strange reading on your nanites. Mind filling us in?”

Blood dripped from his chin onto his pants. He imagined the kids from school laughing at him because he pissed blood. Kids at school petrified him.

“I think I should be going now. I have to wake up for school.” He said.

“But this isn’t a dream.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it is not.”

Agent Walker looked at Timmy for a long moment. “This isn’t him.”

“But the blood test shows significant readings on the nanites.” Dr. Crink said.

“Well then he’s lost his mind.”

Timmy heard them and was just as convinced. He had lost his mind. And it actually wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Dr. Crink moved in closely. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” He ignored the pain in his cheek.

“Tell me about your family.”

“I have a younger brother, Alex, an older sister, Anne, and my Mom and Dad.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I go to school.”

“School?”

“South Mecklenburg High School.”

Dr. Crink looked at Agent Walker. “What is your greatest goal in life?”

Timmy didn’t reply. He didn’t have an answer. Despite all the other reasons he could have to why he thought he was losing his mind, this was the strongest.

“Good God. He really went off the deep end.” Dr. Crink said. “You don’t think the electricity messed with his head, do you?”

“No, I can’t see that being the problem. It’s been used millions of times.” Agent Walker walked around the room.

“Who is God?” He asked.

Timmy looked down at his blood-pissed pants and the hole in his hand. He wondered if Jesus had pissed himself when being crucified. It only made sense. He began to cry and decided to stop. His face hurt too much.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you believe in religion?” Dr. Crink asked.

“I think its a good thing.”

“It’s outlawed.” Agent Walker said. “To practice religion is illegal.”

“Why?”

“Because no one knows who God is. For years humans have created God according to their own image. It creates dissension. It creates war.”

Tim looked up at the two men in front of him. He could barely see through his left eye. It had swollen shut from being electrocuted.

“I guess... that makes sense.”

“Did you practice a specific religion?” Agent Walker asked.

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“Christianity.”

Dr. Crink and Agent Walker smiled at each other. “Is that why you hate us? Is that why you killed the president of the United World? For Jesus?”

“No... I didn’t kill anyone.”

"Yes you did.”

“If I did kill anyone, it wasn’t in the name of Christianity. I don’t think I believe in that anymore.”

Agent Walker laughed. “Good, because it is illegal.” Dr. Crink laughed as well.

Timmy didn’t reply. He knew why they found it humorous and it terrified him. He wanted to find it humorous as well but the hole in his hand kept him from laughing. Crucifixion was not a funny thing.

“Alright, enough games, Timothy. Tell us about your nanites.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Oh, but of course you do!” Dr. Crink said, “Nanites can be used in all sorts of ways. Some enhance muscles, others enhance reflexes, and some even feature tracking systems!”

Suddenly the room exploded and Timmy was thrown to the ground. His head smashed against the floor and his vision blurred. He could hear nothing but the sharp ringing of dying ear cells.

He laid on the cold white floor waiting to die. It scared him that he wouldn’t wake up. You were supposed to wake up right before you die. Why wouldn’t he die?

Two large hands grabbed his shoulders and picked him up. The straps tying him down to the chair were ripped off and he was suddenly being carried away. He still didn’t have the sense to know what was happening. But he knew he was no longer in the room.

“Stop!” He tried to say. There was no way of telling if his voice was working, since he could no longer hear.

“Stop!” He said again.

Suddenly, the jostling of his brain stopped and he felt two hands put him down on the cold white floor. His hearing was slowly returning to him. Sirens filled the air and he was able to make out words.

No time. Move.

He was picked back up and carried. He didn’t fight those hands. They hadn’t tried to crucify him yet.

He blacked out again but opened his eyes to the bright of day. Wind was gushing past his face and he wondered why it was so strong until he realized he was falling.

His vision came to him and he saw the ground coming closer at each passing second. The three large men were falling with him, towards a city that stretched out past the horizon. He looked around in panic, wondering if the men he was with had a plan or had just decided to commit suicide. He decided on the latter once he noticed blood trickling from the back of one man’s head.

He wanted to look at the tremendous city before him but all he could focus on was the ground coming at him like a train. A great anger rose within him. This was definitely the part when he was supposed to wake up. Why wouldn’t he wake up?

He wondered why even in his dreams, things never went his way. The ground was coming at him faster and faster. Life was toying with him"showing him death and snatching it away again. The anger within his chest rose grew in his throat and it only made sense to shout at the world, his torturer. So he did.

Energy began surging through his body as fast as it was coming out of his mouth. Every bone in his body locked and every muscle tensed. He shouted at the world who’s only goal was to show him that he had no control. And suddenly, he saw everything perfectly.

Time seemed to speed up rapidly and yet endless at the same time. He noticed every detail at once"the distance they were to the ground, the number of streets stretching out into the horizon, the eighteen-wheeler passing underneath their falling bodies, and the metal chain kissing his neck. He couldn’t remember what it was. There was no smell associated with it.

The top of the truck was the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness again.

Timmy woke up, still in his dream.

He was laying down flat on a bed, eyes closed. He heard people talking around him. He could recognize one of the voices. It was the voice of the gun talking to him before he died. He didn’t want to open his eyes. It was a terrible nightmare.

“What did you say?”

“He doesn’t remember anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Sigh. “Can we fix it?”

“Not without killing him. His nanites won’t respond to the treatment.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Look, he’s awake.”

Timmy held his breath. He opened his eyes. The hole in his hand was gone. His face was no longer swollen. He saw a boy and a girl"both his age. They looked at him with expecting eyes.

“How do you feel?” The girl asked.

He stared at them.

“You’ve been through a lot today. We were able to heal most of your wounds.” She said.

There was a pause.

“Do you remember me?” She asked.

Timmy did not. “No.”

“My name is Rachel. This is Johny, he was acting as an undercover agent of ours for the United World.” She motioned to the boy next to her. It was Agent Walker. “Do you know who you are?”

He did not. In any sense, he did not. “No.”

“Listen very carefully"”

“Rachel, maybe we should wait.” Johny said.

She shook her head. “No, Johny. He needs to hear this.”

They both looked at Timmy. “What?” He asked.

"Your name is Timothy. You were once an orphan on the streets. You started a rebellion against the United World in hope for freedom. You thought they killed your parents so you took revenge. They began to refer to us as the Bloody Rebellion. The year is two-thousand and ninety-four. Yesterday morning you assassinated the President of the United World. You were captured and had your memory erased.”

“No... this is all just a dream.”

“No, Timmy. This is all very real. Besides, if it was a dream, you wouldn’t know it was. If you did, you would have woken up” Rachel said.

She was definitely the voice from the gun. He smiled in denial. The people in his dream were very convincing. He thought his mind to be a very powerful thing.

“Okay.”

“Stop smiling.”

He couldn't. It was a fearful smile.

“Rachel, let me talk to him.” Johny said.

Rachel left.

“You’re not in a dream.” Johny said. It wasn’t a question.

“Really?”

“I’m probably the only person who really believes that. At least, for you.”

“Why?”

“Well, because everyone else believes that you lost your memory. Everyone thinks that this world is real. They all have their own perceptions of what this world is. And you... well, you have your own reality. Everyone does. And if you believe that this world is just a dream, who is to tell you otherwise?

“We all have our own truths. That is what this rebellion is founded upon. That is what your former self first envisioned"a place where truth was subject to each person’s perception.”

“I see...”

“Don’t think bad of Rachel. She sees things logically.”

“And how do you see things?”

“I see things the way others see them. I guess you could call me an empathetic person.”

Timmy looked around at the dark room. There was only a single overhead light casting down on both of them. Even in the half-light, he could tell that Johny was a person he could trust. His fear was no longer there.

“So tell me about your reality. Where will you be when you wake up?” Johny asked.

Timmy remembered, but not because he wanted to. “I’ll be waking up in my bed. A soft pillow envelopes my head. My alarm clock will be going off. My mom won’t need to wake up me like she does my brother. I follow the rules, I walk in a line, I go to school, I don’t do drugs, and I keep a Christian Bible by my bed that I haven’t read in a while.”

“You’ll wake up to a grey world.”

Timmy looked at Johny. He wasn’t offended. He wasn’t offended because Johny knew. He understood.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to wake up?”

“I did... but now that I think about it, I don’t think so. At least, not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because even when I was being stabbed, electrocuted, and falling through the sky, I was actually feeling something. It didn’t matter that I was in pain or wanted to die. The point was that I at least felt something. That was enough for me.”

“Maybe that explains it.”

“What?”

“Why you haven’t woken up yet.”

Johny left and let Timmy sleep for the night. He said a lot would happen tomorrow and that Timmy should get some rest. Timmy didn’t know what it would be like to fall asleep in his own dream. But he soon found that it was the same as in the grey world.

Before he fell asleep, or maybe during it, he felt the copper chain kiss his neck. He woke up immediately, wondering how he had forgotten it again. Then again, he remembered there was no smell associated with it.

He got up from his bed and turned on the single light. He reached underneath his shirt and pulled out a metal locket. It was round, about the size of a half-dollar, and old. The copper had oxidized and turned green. He smelled it so he wouldn’t forget it again and opened it up.

Inside was a picture of a girl. Her hair was blond and her eyes were golden. She wore an honest smile, not one that many people faked for a photograph, but one that said she was actually happy.

He closed the locket. He had never seen her before.

And yet he could not stop thinking about her.

Reviews

[Nami Machae]

very nice!!! I absolutly loved this. I must keep reading!! heh keep up the good work :)

[Saint George Gonzales]

This, was awesome, I have not read anything in a while that kept my attention like this chapter did. Keep up the good work!

[Timothy Chu]

Thanks a lot! I really appreciate the feedback and I'll definitely take a look at your work as well.