Escape with the Dream Maker (3 page)

“Well, what about you?” Sarah exclaimed. Acting hurt by Josh's tone, she said, “You've had as much chance to look around as I've had.”

Josh was irritable and allowed himself to speak back sharply. Soon the two were arguing. Their voices rose, and a man walking by looked at them curiously.

Instantly Josh and Sarah turned and walked away. “Well, that was dumb,” Josh said. “We've got to find a place to meet where nobody can see us.”

“I don't think it matters, Josh,” Sarah said. “I don't think we're going to find anything here.”

“We've got to find something. This place is the only clue we have. Have you talked to any of the others?”

“Yes, I talked to Dave. He's pretending to be a merchant, stopping for a few days in town. He hasn't found out anything either, and he said he talked to Jake, and Jake didn't know anything.”

The two walked on silently until Josh abruptly said, “It looks hopeless, Sarah.”

“What about the man that's supposed to help us?”

“There's no way for us to find him.” Josh shrugged. “We'll have to wait for him to come to us. I guess that's all we can do now—just wait.”

Sarah stared at Josh oddly. “You're not yourself, Josh.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you're not acting like your old self.” Sarah seemed to find it difficult to explain. “I know you're tired, but all of us are.”

“Well, we can get rested up here. Nothing to do but wait,” Josh said moodily. He kicked at a stone and sent it flying. “I always did hate to wait. I won't get in a line if there's any way to stay out of it. My folks always said I was too impatient.”

“Your dad didn't think so.”

Sarah had lived with Josh's family for a time before the Great Burning. It was one thing that tied them together. Josh loved to hear Sarah talk about his parents. They were his tie, in his memory, to his old life.

“I wish Dad were here,” Josh said. “He'd know how to handle this.”

It was a futile wish, and Josh knew it. His father had helped them out of the sleep capsules and then had died.

Sarah took his arm, and he turned to face her. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be critical, Josh,” she said softly. “I know this is getting to all of us, but Goél said it
won't be long now. The last battle is coming—very soon.”

“I wish it was here today!” Josh frowned. “Tell the others to get word to me at once if Goél's servant contacts them. We've got to do something soon. Good-bye, Sarah.”

 

Sarah watched Josh walk off.
He isn't going to last like this,
she said to herself.
I've never seen him so nervous and upset. We've got to do something!

F
or five days Josh felt his nerves getting more and more ragged. Every morning he arose, went out on the streets of Acton, visited stores, shops, talked to the people on the streets—such as would listen.

But absolutely nothing happened. In one meeting with Sarah, he complained, “These people are closer than clams. They don't talk about anything except the weather.”

Sarah had been equally disappointed. “It's like they're here—but they're not here,” she said. “I try to talk to them, and they answer back, but they never really
say
anything, if you know what I mean. They seem to be going through the motions. Their minds are someplace else. And at night there's nothing doing. It's sort of like a ghost town.”

Josh had noted this also, and it puzzled him. He had considered leaving Acton and striking out cross-country in hope of finding Goél—but in the first place, he didn't know where Goél was. He did know that Goél had entrusted them with this mission, and there seemed nothing better to do than to stay.

As the days passed, he grew more weary. From time to time, he would see one of the other Sleepers, but they all carefully ignored each other.

One morning Josh woke up feeling terrible. It was like he was coming down with the flu, although he knew the problem was more a mental thing. Getting out of bed slowly, he moved like an old man. He pulled
his clothes on, stared at himself in the mirror, and decided to skip brushing his hair or washing his face. “What difference does it make?” he said aloud to his image. “Nobody's going to pay any attention to me anyway. It's like living with a bunch of zombies.”

He passed through the inn and did not even stop to eat breakfast. He had lost his appetite and sometimes would forget several meals in a row. He could tell he was losing weight from the way his clothes were beginning to hang on him, but even this did not seem to be important.

All morning Josh walked around the town, slowly, stopping from time to time to sit on a bench in front of a shop. He had stopped striking up conversations, for that seemed futile. All that was left to do was to wait—and he was not good at waiting.

When the sun was high overhead, he felt thirsty and walked toward a pump that was set in the middle of the street. There was a tin cup attached. He pumped up some of the water and found it had a harsh, metallic taste. He swallowed a couple of mouthfuls and spit the rest out.

“That's the worst water I've ever tasted.”

Josh turned quickly. The voice had been cheerful, unlike the voices of most citizens of Acton. He found himself staring at a man of about fifty with a pair of steady gray eyes and a Van Dyke beard. He was wearing khakis and was neat and wiry.

“Yes, it is bad,” Josh said.

“I was just going into that inn over there to have something a little better than this water. Care to join me?”

“Why—I don't mind if I do.”

“Come along, then. By the way, my name's Oliver.”

“I'm Josh.” It had been a little risky to use his real
name, but Josh had chosen to do so. If he took a name such as
Tom
and someone called for Tom, he knew he would ignore it.

Walking alongside the newcomer, Josh felt a flash of hope. Here was the first person he had met in Acton who seemed to be alert and open to conversation.

“Well, innkeeper, let's have some of your best cider,” Oliver said. “Bring us a whole jug. I'm dry as dust.”

“Yes, sir!”

When the innkeeper brought the jug, Oliver paid him and picked up the two glasses. “Let's sit outside at that table. I like fresh air.”

“So do I.” Josh followed the man outside, the two sat down, and he watched Oliver fill the glasses. Picking his up, he tasted it and said, “This is good.”

“Yes, it is, isn't it? Are you a stranger here?”

“Yes, just came in from the country, looking for work.”

“Not much work going on in Acton.”

“So I've found out. Haven't been able to find anything.”

Oliver spoke with some assurance of the countryside. He informed Josh that there was not a great deal of work around Acton, except for someone who had a trade. He seemed relaxed as he sat there, and he talked generally about the town, about the crops, and about what was happening in the world. He seemed to be well informed.

Suddenly Oliver looked directly at Josh and said clearly, “The stars are doing their great dance.”

Instantly Josh felt a thrill of recognition.
The password!
He gave the response, “Yes, and every tree will sing.”

Oliver laughed out loud, then put his hand out. He
grasped Josh's with surprising strength. “That's some disguise you have on there, Josh.”

“Well, it's about all I could come up with.” Josh began to talk eagerly. “I'd about given up on finding you, Oliver. Have you been here all the time?”

“I'm in and out. I have to make a living, you know.”

“Have you made any headway on finding out where the missing servants of Goél have gone?”

“Not really, but we'll find them. Where is the rest of your group?”

“They're here in Acton. We thought it better not to come in together.”

Oliver nodded approvingly. “Very wise. The Sanhedrin would have spotted seven young visitors instantly. Let's think of some way that you and I can be together while we're figuring out how to go about our problem.”

“How could we do that?”

“Oh, I've got a little money. Suppose I hire you to do some work for me?”

“What kind of work do you do, Oliver?”

“I'm a scientist.”

“Really? My father was a scientist.”

“You look like a bright young fellow. You probably have some science in you.”

“No, not very much, I'm afraid,” Josh said ruefully. “I guess I take after my mother.”

“That's probably just as well. Actually, I'm an inventor. Most of my inventions don't work, however.” He laughed cheerfully at his own remark. “They all work except for one little flaw, which makes them useless,” he added.

“What are you working on now?”

“I've found something that I think could be quite potent. It's not fully developed yet, but it's quite an invention, if I do say so myself.” His eyes glowed, and
he leaned back, sipping the cider. “Yes,” he said, “I could hire you, and that way we can spend a great deal of time together without looking suspicious. Let everybody know that you are working for me.”

“That sounds good to me. Tell me more about your invention.”

Oliver leaned forward, and his gray eyes gleamed. “I'm working on something really big, Josh. If it works—” He broke off and laughed at himself again. “I sound like every wild-eyed inventor in the world, don't I?” Then he sobered and said, “But if it works, Josh, it'll change the whole world as we know it.”

“Can't you tell me about it?”

“Oh, no. Not good luck to talk about things like that—things you're going to do. But I can tell you about my
smaller
invention.”

“All right, let's hear it.”

“Well, back in Oldworld they had things called television.”

“Why, of course, I remember that. We had a television.”

Oliver blinked with surprise. “Of course. I forgot you came from Oldworld in the sleep capsules. As you know, there hasn't been anything like television for a long time—most technology was wiped out. I'd like to hear about television. I never actually saw one. Tell me about it.”

Josh told about television and about some of the programs that he had liked.

Oliver listened carefully. When Josh ended, he said, “Well, if you can imagine a combination book, television, and docudrama, that would be sort of what my invention is like.”

“I don't understand.”

“Come along. I'll give you a demonstration. We'll
take the rest of this cider with us.”

Ten minutes later Josh was inside a large room in a house on the outskirts of town. The room was filled with all sorts of equipment, wires, and blinking bulbs, all of it incomprehensible to him. “Jake would love this,” he said. “He's quite an inventor himself.”

“Is he now? Perhaps we can use him.” Oliver smiled. “Come over here, and I'll give you a quick demonstration.”

Josh stepped to the chair that Oliver motioned him to and sat down at his command.

Oliver picked up something that looked like headphones, except that it had rods instead of earpieces.

“This fits over the head, you see? We'll take it very easy.”

Josh sat there as Oliver put the headpiece over his head. He noticed that the wires ran to a complicated-looking black machine.

Seeing his eyes, Oliver said, “That's what does the work, right there.”

“How does it work?”

Oliver adjusted the headset, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, yes, I found out this helps.” He went over to a cabinet mounted on the wall, took out a bottle of clear liquid, and poured a few drops into a glass of cider. “Here.” Stirring it with a wooden spoon, he handed it to Josh. “Just sip some of that.”

“What is it?”

“Actually it makes your mind very active, but you probably won't feel a thing. It helps with the Dream Maker.”

“Is that what this is called? The Dream Maker?” Josh sniffed at the contents of the glass, then drank it down. It seemed to have no effect, and he said, “How does the machine work?”

Oliver sat in front of him. His eyes were bright as he explained his invention. “The Dream Maker, as I told you, Josh, is somewhat like television, but it's like being
in
a play instead of just watching. The box there is like a computer. It has all sorts of things in it on disk. Books, for example. Did you ever read a book called
A Tale of Two Cities?”

“Why, yes. That's by Dickens. I've read that book.”

“Well, it's on the hard drive there. So you've got the book there, you've got your mind here, and the innervision takes the information—the book, that is—and you become a part of it. It's like you're in the book itself. Like you're in a dramatized, television version of the book. For example, if I set these dials, suddenly you're living in
A Tale of Two Cities.”

Josh listened closely, and it all sounded fantastic. Oliver's eyes appeared even brighter, and the drink seemed to have made him a little sleepy. He asked a few questions, and then Oliver said, “Would you like a sample?”

“Why, sure. Can I go to the last part of the book where Sydney Carton dies on the scaffold?”

“I don't see why not,” Oliver said cheerfully. “Sit there and concentrate on me while I set the dials.”

Josh never knew exactly how it happened. He just watched Oliver for a moment as he turned certain dials and pushed certain buttons.

Then Oliver said, “Now, think about
A Tale of Two Cities.
Think about Sydney Carton.”

Suddenly Josh found himself drifting away. His vision was becoming blurred. He could still see Oliver's bright gray eyes, and he could hear Oliver speaking, but it was as if he were far away.