Cathedral of Dreams (2 page)

“Nothing like before,” Keith said, knowing that there must be records of his episode. “I had a bad dream. That was all. I had no recollection of it when I awoke this morning. Nothing to worry about, I'm sure.” He hoped that Richard did not sense the shakiness in his voice.

Richard opened a wrist computer and glanced over some information. He typed and spoke at the same time, “No recollection,” he said. He looked up at Keith. “We received a very slight reading, and wanted to be sure that you're feeling all right.” He hesitated as he had earlier in their conversation, as though he had to think of what to say. “May I ask, is this the first time since several months ago? Have you had other feelings that seemed odd or unusual in any way?”

Keith thought back, but didn't put too much effort into it. His biggest concern at the moment was to get through this confrontation, no matter how pleasant, and to get on with his normal life. “This is the first. And I had all but forgotten it until you visited.” As he said this, the feeling of dread made itself known, like a shadow slipping across the floor in the corner of the room. Keith hoped that Richard could not detect the wave of emotion on his wrist computer, if, in fact, that was what the data portrayed.

“We are very sorry for bothering you, but it is our duty to make sure that every resident is completely happy with his or her life, is satisfied with accommodations, and has no reason to strike out at anyone in any way.” Richard reached to shake Keith's hand.

Keith accepted the gesture. “All is fine here. I appreciate your concern.”

“It is the concern of all of the Newcity Police, young man,” Richard said.

The use of the words “young man” reduced the handshake to official business and far from friendly. Richard, if familiar, was now a member of the Newcity Police force just doing his job. Keith sensed a separation of emotion between them whether real or imagined.

Richard's two associates never came very far into the apartment, and now they backed into the hall. Other people walked by, residents. Keith nodded to the ones he recognized. Everyone was on his or her way to work, as they should be.

As though Richard knew Keith's thoughts, he said, “You have an additional thirty minutes due to this inquiry. Relax.” The men turned sharply to leave, then stepped away as though they had another important call that they were already late for.

Keith thanked them for their concern as he closed the door.

The room enlarged now that it was empty. Being a rather bulky man, Richard had taken up a lot of space. Keith glanced around in an attempt to find something to do for the extra time he had available. He could switch on the news, but disliked the noise in the morning. No music either, for the same reason. He sat on the sofa and crossed his legs. What was that dream about? Closing his eyes brought nothing into view, no change in emotion, thank God.

He got up and paced to the kitchenette and pressed the coffee button. A cup slipped into place and coffee and creamer entered the cup simultaneously, in the exact amounts that he liked it. He took the cup back into the small, efficient living room and sat down again. It was curious how he thought about the police a little while before they arrived. Did that happen to anyone else? He couldn't have known about them arriving. He set the cup down, then picked it back up and sat holding it in his lap. He hardly drank any of the liquid.

He decided that he didn't know that the police were coming, but naturally feared that they would arrive after his dream. It was coincidental that they arrived just as he was leaving for work. He nodded to himself, satisfied with his conclusion. Still he wondered, why must he make more out of things than what they are? He never used to do that.

It was times like these, no matter how few they were, that Keith wished he had a close friend—or a woman—to talk with. He could contact a neighbor, and there were workmates, but no one who lived with him.

Time moved so slowly when he sat alone. He opened his mouth to start the television, but nothing but an “Oh” came out before he changed his mind and clammed up. No noise.

Could he request a woman that was not noisy in the morning? The women he had requested in the past talked too much when they first woke up. And, there was that one time when he was requested and stayed at that woman's residence—what was her name?—no matter, she talked almost constantly. That is what prompted him to be removed from the companion list for a while. Now he thought that a quiet woman might be the answer. Perhaps there was a woman in the system who would want only a short relationship, several days perhaps? Someone who was quiet, even shy, would do.

Keith got up and poured the remaining coffee into the sink. The cup went into the cleaning receptacle, and he opened the screen on the terminal next to the refrigerator. He used a finger to flip through the pages until he reached the Companion site. He voiced his request in single words as the screens passed through their sequence. He didn't concern himself with physical matters, but requested only those women who wanted a short relationship and were quiet in the morning. That should open the possibilities and increase his chances of approval. Before closing the terminal, he requested that the person come by a half hour after he was home from work. That would give him time to freshen up. He didn't mention sex in his request, but considered that as an option dependent on how well the two of them felt matched.

His request had passed the remainder of the half hour perfectly and he walked around the counter and out the door. Few people were in the hall now that the morning rush was over. He walked to the end of the hall where the space opened into the central dome. He lived high into the residencies and stopped briefly, as he often did, to glance down into the metropolis that was Newcity. From his vantage point he could see thousands of individuals wandering the streets, taking elevators, riding in travel carts. The corridors appeared to be full, even though many residents were at work by now.

This area of Newcity was the most recent of the livable residencies. Keith had been here for close to thirty years, but hardly remembered anything prior to his sixteenth birthday. The celebration included a lot of people he recognized as family if he thought about it, but few people he could actually name. Even the mental images he had of his parents were questionable. From then on he had been alone and found that as a preferred state of living.

Many of those who wandered past him on their way to work or home or somewhere else said hello. He had no obligation to return the greeting, but often did so knowing that it was the polite thing to do. The faces he saw this morning were different than those he usually saw and recognized from many years of occupying the same time space: they who went to work at the same time and came home at the same time ad he. There was a similar effect to his lunch hour, only with different faces. Although he had become friendly with a few people, relationships with Keith didn't appear to last long or become very deep.

This morning, though, he wished he would run into a few of those familiar faces. The short half-hour of being alone made him want to talk with someone, reach out. He might even have asked Robert or Carl or Maria to stop by sometime.

The crowd at this hour, thirty minutes past his usual period of transit, was so much smaller, intensifying his sense of feeling alone, which reminded him of the feeling of dread, and he wondered if that was what the dream was about. Did he sense that he'd be detained and that he'd feel alone? If so, was that the first time that day that he knew what would happen in the future? The second time being when the police arrived? Perhaps he dismissed the coincidence too easily.

As the sense of dread returned, sweeping through his body once again, he feared that someone was watching him. He moved away from the dome center and turned to go to work. No one appeared to be following him, but the sense of something being wrong lingered. It could be another precognition. A third.

Keith scurried toward the elevator and was the last to enter. The doors closed and the compartment dropped thirty-two floors before it stopped, the doors opening onto a large shopping plaza. Storefronts were bursting with items for sale. Large, sometimes flashing, signs announced electronics, clothing, accessories. Several people exited the elevator. No one got on. Before the doors closed, Keith noticed a few children with their parents and wondered about his own family. Why had he forgotten them? Were they in Newcity? He could make an inquiry but didn't feel compelled to do so. He vaguely remembered being transferred to Newcity. Was that possible? Could he have been transferred away from his family?

Down another twelve floors and the doors opened to a courtyard of tables and imitation foliage. Hallways peeled off in many directions from the space. Bland, windowless office doors lined each hall. Keith left the elevator and stepped into the courtyard as the elevator doors closed behind him. He traveled down a hall that led deeper into the maze of offices. He turned to the right and walked to the end of that hall as well. Along the way were emergency-exit doors, closets, and other offices. A man he didn't know came out of one office and said, “Good morning.” Keith automatically the greeting, and continued on his way until he came to the Office of Goods and Services, his work area.

Satisfied that he no longer felt a feeling of dread and that he would soon satiate his sense of being alone, Keith opened the door to the offices. Maria sat behind a high counter in front of him. Framed abstract artwork spread in a variety of sizes behind her and along the wide wall. Two sofas and several chairs rested along the walls. Maria had dark hair and large eyes. She was pleasantly dressed in a beige blouse with decorative stitching along the collar and down the row of buttons. He couldn't see her skirt, but knew that it would be perfectly matched to her blouse. Maria always dressed handsomely.

“You look very beautiful today,” Keith said, settling into the start of his workday. Purpose was a wonderful emotion. It brought the realization that he was effective and necessary. Even though he recognized that his personality stepped into a new place when he was at work, it was okay with him. He suspected that there were actually several unique but complimentary personalities within him. The work personality was perhaps his most refined and familiar. No wonder, for he spent more hours at the Office of Goods and Services than he spent anywhere else in Newcity.

“Thank you,” Maria said. “And you look dashing.”

Keith nodded and placed his arms on the counter.

Maria handed him a stack of paper. “Hard copy reports from maintenance and shipping.” She flipped down about half way. “The blue page starts the shipping reports. Could you deliver them downstairs before you start?”

“Of course.” Keith always accepted a job where he got to go somewhere or deliver something. Although he enjoyed sitting in front of his terminal and shuffling through quality or maintenance reports, he rather liked the movement. He picked up the hard copies. The information would already be in the system, but they produced hard copies as backup, the Stack Printer ejecting neat bundles of reports all day. The reports would then be distributed by hand and eventually stored in filing cabinets in their individual offices.

Maintenance offices were one floor down and Shipping was two floors below that. Keith decided to walk. After observing himself in the mirror that morning, he figured he could use the exercise.

He left the offices and strolled down the hall, shoved on a large metal door and entered the lighted metallic stairwell. There was no carpeting on the floor, and ribbed metal strips ran across each step. The landing was long and wide, and several doors were set back from the open space just as the doorway he now occupied. He stood there for a moment, secure in the small, closed-in space around him. He took two steps and the landing opened before him.

He walked down the stairs and stopped on the next landing. He took his time. A small sign announced the maintenance offices. Keith wandered across the landing and stood in the alcove for a brief moment before pulling the door open. The halls were empty. For having so many people in Newcity, there were a lot of places that appeared empty.

Newcity, he knew, was at full capacity. Everyone understood that another building was going up somewhere. But most of those who lived in Newcity would never see the next residence. Perhaps some of the children he had seen would be transferred there.

He delivered the paperwork to the receptionist in Maintenance without noticing or focusing on her or the offices. He had been there before and was rather businesslike in his communications. Back into the hall, through the door to the stairs, and he entered the next alcove. It felt good to stand in the small space, but he quickly made his way down to the next level. Just as he turned to go down the stairs toward shipping he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. A small, darkly dressed figure—a child?—hunched down into the corner of one of the alcoves.

Keith's heart beat a little faster and the feeling of dread returned. He scurried down the stairs, while simultaneously turning his thoughts to something pleasant, the possible meeting with the woman from the Companion site that evening. It appeared to work. His nervousness subsided. At least he hoped that he had felt nervous. That emotion would not register as a threat. Yes, nervous. He had not expected to see anyone in the stairwell, especially a child. It wasn't dread, then. There was a difference.