Dream thief

"ARE YOU DREAMING, SPENCER?"

"Yes."

"Is it the same dream? The same as before?" "It is. But it's over now."

"You may sleep a little longer and then awaken when you hear the tone." …

A HIGH-PITCHED ELECTRONIC TONE awakened Spence from a deep sleep. He spun around in the chair and glanced at the digiton above the console. He had been asleep only twenty minutes. Tickler was still nowhere in sight. He rubbed his face with his hands and wondered idly where his assistant managed to hide whenever he needed him. He rose from the chair and stretched.

Soon Tickler came bustling into the room. He was all apologies. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Dr. Reston. Have you been here long?"

"Oh, about an hour, I guess…" Spence yawned.

"I was, uh, detained." Tickler's sharp features gleamed with a slight perspiration. It was clear that he was worked up over something. Spence decided it was too late to start another session that day.

"I think we'll try it again tonight. I won't need you 'til then. I suppose you have something to do elsewhere?"

Tickler looked at him, his head cocked to one side as if examining some new variety of mushroom spore. "I suppose." He scratched his chin. "Yes, no problem. Tonight, then."

Spence handed him a sheaf of folded printouts which he required to be deciphered and charted in a thick logbook-a purely meaningless task, since the same computer that spit out the information could chart it as well. But Spence preferred the personal touch.

"Thanks," he said without meaning it. Tickler took the printouts to an adjacent room and set to work. Spence watched the back of his head as he weaved over the printouts and then left the lab.

Spence made his way down to Central Park-the vast circular expanse of tropical plants and trees grown to help recycle the carbon dioxide of Gotham's fifteen thousand inhabitants. The park formed a living green belt around the entire station and provided a natural setting for relaxation and recreation. The place was usually crowded, though quiet, with people seeking refuge from the tyranny of duralum-and-plastic interiors. He had nothing else in mind other than to lose himself among the ferns and shrubbery and let the day go.

His first thought upon reaching the garden level was that he had discovered a fine time to come-the section was virtually empty. He saw only a few strolling couples and a handful of administrative types sitting on benches. He took a deep breath. The atmosphere was warm and moist, reeking of soil and roots, vegetation and water: artificially controlled, he knew, but he could not help thinking that this was exactly as it would be back on Earth.

He walked aimlessly along the narrow winding paths looking for a private spot to stretch out and meditate upon the state of his being, to think about the dreams and try to get a hold on himself. He was not afraid of "going mental"-a term they used to describe a person cracking under space fatigue-although that was something everyone eventually had to face; he knew that wasn't it. But he also knew he was not feeling right and that bothered him. Something on the dim edges of his consciousness was gnawing away at the fibers of his mind. If he could figure out what it was, expose it, then he would be able to deal with it.

Presently he came upon a secluded spot. He stood for a moment deciding whether to stay or look further. With a shrug he parted the ferns and stepped into the semi-darkness of the quiet glade.

He sat down on the grass and tipped his head back on his shoulders. High above him the sunlight slanted in through the immense chevrons of the solar shields. He saw the graceful arc of the space station slide away until it bent out of sight. One could tramp the six kilometer circumference of Gotham at the garden level and achieve the illusion of hiking an endless trail.

Ordinarily the green and quiet soothed Spence's troubled mind, but not today. He lay back and tried to close his eyes, but they would not remain closed. He shifted position several times in an effort to get comfortable. Nothing he did seemed to make any difference. He felt ill at ease and jittery – as if someone very close by was watching him.

As he thought about those unseen eyes on him, he grew more certain that he was being watched. He got up and left the shaded nook, glancing all around to see if he could catch a glimpse of his spy.

He struck along the path once more and, seeing no one, became more uneasy. He told himself that he was acting silly, that he was becoming a prime candidate for that room with the rubber wallpaper. As he scolded himself he quickened his pace so that by the time he reached the garden level concourse he was almost running. He glanced quickly over his shoulder to see if he was being followed; for some reason he half-expected Hocking's egg-shaped chair to come bobbing into view from behind a shrub.

Still looking over his shoulder he dashed through the entrance and tumbled full-force into a body entering the garden. The unlucky bystander was thrown to the floor and lay sprawling at his feet while Spence stood blinking, not quite comprehending what had just happened.

"Sorry!" he burst out finally, as if prodded by electric shock. The green-and-white rumpled jumpsuit of a cadet flailed its arms in an effort to rise. Spence latched onto a swinging arm and hoisted the suit to its feet. Only then did he glimpse the bewildered face which scanned him with quick, apprehensive eyes. "I'm Dr. Reston. BioPsych. Are you hurt?" he volunteered.

"No, sir. I didn't see you coming. It was my fault."

"No, I'm sorry. Really. I thought…" he turned and looked over his shoulder again. "I thought someone might be following me."

"Don't see anybody," the cadet said, peering past Spence into the garden. There was nothing to be seen except the green curtain of vegetation, unbroken but for the careless splashes of white and yellow flowers blooming at random throughout the garden. "I'm Kurt. And I'm BioPsych, first year. I thought I'd met most of the faculty in my department."

"Well, I'm not an instructor. I'm research."

"Oh," Kurt said absently. "Well, I've got to get back to work." The cadet started off. "Glad to meet you, Dr. Reston. See you around."

On the overgrown donut of the space station the cadets always said, "See you around." Spence appreciated the pun.