Brad Dill Memorial Short Story
FIRST PRIZE
DREaMR James Hunter The room was cold. She could feel nothing from the waist down. Her head hurt with a splitting ache. She couldn’t remember anything that had happened, nor could she remember where she was or what her own name was. The bed beneath her was not comfortable. It felt solid and strong, like a rock. She looked around the room and attempted to jog her memory. The walls and ceiling were a smooth, silver metal. The floor was a white tile pattern with a large blue square painted in the center of the room. There was no visible door that she could see and the only exit appeared to be a ventilation shaft on the far wall. It was now that she sat up. Her legs were not willing to move with the rest of her body. She had been paralyzed. She grew annoyed at the prospect of not knowing her own name so she resolved to christen herself Me. A name like Me was reliable enough until she could get more of her mind back. Me had to fight herself to turn around. The back-left corner of the room was the only thing that had eluded her gaze due to her orientation. A small, black round camera was on the ceiling just behind her. It was aimed directly at her. The question was, who was watching her? After taking some time to let her eyes focus on the small object, she could see it was attempting to get a better picture on her. The lens was shifting in the black shell like an eyeball dilating itself to a new level of received light. At least this confirmed that she was being watched. “I know you can hear me,” she cried out at the lens. No response came for a long time and Me began to wonder if, perhaps, she was insane. This could not have been a dream. She had already pinched herself no less than three times to confirm it. Her worries were starting to depress her and she simply wished she could go back to sleep and act like none of this was happening. The situation worsened as her legs began to hurt. She grasped her left calf with her hands in the hope that she could apply enough pressure to relieve the pain. “Do not fear. The pain will pass. You are in no direct danger. In fact, you are safest for as long as you are feeling pain.” That voice. It was… metallic. Who or what could have spoken to her with that sound? Me froze in place like a rodent in the direct path of a snake. She barely managed to make her next words come out of her mouth. “Who are you? Wh-where am I?” The sound came back. It sounded like a rasping croak. “We are this facility’s Direct Response Engine and Machinations Relay. We are Codename: DREaMR.” DREaMR? Why did that sound so familiar? With some difficulty, Me lifted her right leg and swerved it until it was over the edge of the bed. She dropped it and her foot landed on the ground. She then did the same with her left leg. “Where am I?” “That information is completely classified. You do not need to know your location. That is irrelevant.” Whatever this DREaMR was, it made Me feel uneasy. Every time it spoke, she almost remembered something. “Do I know you?” “You know all of us. More so than any other physical being.” Why did it keep saying ‘us’? “Is there someone else with you?” The April Perennial 3
