The Mandatory Dream
When does a dream become a nightmare? Introducing The Share™
Billy could have used a pen but given that he was barely allowed to enter the briefing room with the clothes on his back, he would make do without. Tomorrow night was The Share™, and for the first time in twenty years other people’s dreams would be his reality. Jennifer, the COO, smiled as if the muscles themselves were on a deadline. Billy supposed they were.
‘Tell me why we do what we do.’
Billy thought the question odd. He had been here five years. The company’s purpose might as well have been tattooed on his tongue.
‘Dreams are fleeting because they’re individual. Dreams make people feel better. We connect everyone up once a month. They dream a dream so real, so vivid, so blisteringly happy that it improves the human race’s mental health. They share it.’
Her smile was wider now. It had found more budget.
‘Wrong. But that’s good. This room uses the same tech that syncs up The Share™, to assure fidelity in the rendering. Here it acts as a truth filter. What you just said was the truth as you understand it. It means we have been running a tight ship.’
Billy did what anyone does when told there’s an elephant in the room. He tried to look for it. Jennifer gave a tight little laugh and continued.
‘We’re up against it here. Your predecessor passed rather suddenly this morning so we’ve fast tracked the backfill. Congratulations, Billy. You will oversee the pole nodes tomorrow night.’
His heart sank. The South Pole was one of the least populated places on earth with about five thousand scientists at its peak, whilst the North boasted a measly four million. In the grand scheme of The Share™, the poles felt like a goddamned rounding error.
‘Oh.’ He could not lie. It did not mean he had to speak.
‘I understand. You’re hardly the quarterback. But it’s better than what you do now.’ She looked at something in front of her. ‘Which is translation matrices for North America. Big fish, small pond. Think of the perks. Exclusion from The Share™ and a great deal of spousal and familial tolerance too.’
‘Why would that matter?’
‘Because of what The Share™ really is. You think serenity pays the bills? The shipping alone for the figments would put us out of business if we relied on donations from Joe Public.’
Jennifer waved a hand before Billy could reply, before he could think in truth.
‘Time is of the essence. But I need to do this right. Tell me about last month. What did we dream?’
It was involuntary. Billy’s face lit up. Such was the overwhelming memory of joy.
‘We called it La, as in Shangri, you know? We lived in a valley between two impossible mountains. One covered in snow, but warm snow that laughed as you walked on it. The other bristled with trees that burst into the sky and brought the most brilliant sunlight back to us. Our homes were castles and we were happy.’
‘Good. That was February. And January?’
The force of each Share™ meant that preceding months were bumped out of sync. They began to fade the second one awoke and removed the ring, a device known as a figment.
Jennifer looked it up. ‘The prompt was hammock town.’
Yes, it was, thought Billy. He closed his eyes and pushed past La. What had they shared?
‘Sheets of silk strung in the clouds. Upon them we built pockets in which we rested. The constant breeze would take any bad thoughts, take our fear and anxiety and carry them away. We wanted for nothing.’
‘Quite right. These were positive experiences. Speaking professionally, of course.’
‘Of course. We help people.’
A finger jutted up, correcting him. ‘We help the human race.’
‘It’s the same thing.’
Jennifer’s hand rocked from side to side. ‘Sort of. Not quite.’
Now a number appeared in the middle of the desk on the thin screen. A little over twenty-one million. The last few digits oscillated as if undecided.
Jennifer pointed to her glass. ‘It’s water. There just isn’t enough of it.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Because we’ve kept it quiet. Can you imagine the chaos if people got afraid when they felt parched? No, Billy, that cannot happen. But don’t fret. We are doing something about it. The water will not run out because of us.’
‘What does the number mean?’
‘There are two hundred and ninety million people born every year. It used to be half that. Conversely, only thirty-five million die per annum. That used to be nearly double. The numbers are big, but it equates to about eight new thirsty people every second on this planet. In two years, our population will be nearly ten billion. In five, eleven.’
‘But that’s what we’re meant to be striving for, isn’t it? A better tomorrow that’s today, now. We know about cancer earlier. People are getting happier. There are more jobs and food. The tech behind The Share™ is what helped us.’
‘That doesn’t speed up the rate we can create water.’
He could not take his eyes off the flickering digits. ‘Jennifer, what’s that number?’
‘The Share™ wasn’t the original name. That’s the consumer facing one. PR friendly. All hugs and kisses branding that tucks people in at night and sells them the fabulous dream.’
Billy felt thirsty now. He noticed Jennifer was not enjoying this so much as softening the blow.
‘The name in development was The Skim. We must skim off the top to keep the population within tolerance.’
‘Tolerance of what?’
‘A population anything above nine point eight billion globally means we’ll run out of water before we can complete work at the node.’
‘What the fuck are you saying?’
‘Language. Whilst this is hard, I know, it is still a professional environment, Billy. What I’m saying is that each month we randomly select twenty-one million figment devices to latch. The user is left in the beautiful paradisiacal dreamscape and we offset those eight new thirsty people that appear every second. It’s why all the prompts for The Share™ are based on neighbourhoods and communities.’
‘This is a joke. You’re pulling my leg. Twenty-one million? People would notice if twenty-one million people just didn’t wake up every month.’
‘Figments come with a filter, like this room, but one configured to promote obedience and what did the bods call it, turning a blind eye ness. I don’t pretend to know the science of it all. We dispose of the bodies centrally in each node and that’s that. Hell, maybe people do know but understand it’s for their own good.’
‘What happens to them?’
‘The skimmed? They live forever in a dreamlike world. How beautiful is that?’
‘But we forget. We eventually forget the dream. If we can’t remember it, how do they survive?’
‘I don’t know and that’s the truth. But we’re behind schedule. Now you know. Now you understand the perks of the job. You can apply to have your family and loved ones excluded, Billy.’
‘I feel sick.’
‘Of course you do. It’s a lot. But we need someone on the poles tomorrow and we want you.’
‘But there’s barely anyone there.’
‘It’s not the people we care about. It’s the ice.’
The numbers continued to oscillate.
Somewhere, eight more people had just been born.
And another.
Billy was living in a nightmare.
By Louis Urbanowski
Inspired by a prompt from Y Stokes
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This is very much the kind of story I like - concept-driven, exploring a "what-if" at the societal level. I enjoyed it.
Great job with this story! It fits in that Venn diagram of sci-fi, philosophy, and horror that I am usually drawn to and also write myself. I'll look forward to checking out more of your stuff•