along the edge of the stage illuminating the heavy red velvet curtains that hang at the back of it.
“Emma, we’re the only ones in here.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
The lights slowly flash on and off indicating that we should take our seats. Zoë heads down the stairs first and I follow as she walks to the front row and sits dead center.
The lights on the stage fade completely out and the recessed lighting on the ceiling follows. A large white screen lowers down in front of us and a projector in the rear of the room sparks to life. Delicate music plays as various images of people and places fill the screen. A gruff man’s voice begins, “Darkness has surrounded our people for more than three centuries. For hundreds of years, we have gone to bed at night not knowing if we would awaken in the morning or fall victim to our curse. Legends of a savior have long been told, some believe, some do not. Most who come here do believe and choose to fight. Fight for life, fight for peace, and fight for the end of dark times.”
The images change to those of various parts of the colony. “Our state of the art facility has been constructed with the plight of the dreamwalker in mind. With advanced medical technology and prominent members of the medical community staffed in our facility, we are able to make your prolonged dreamwalking hope a reality. Dr. Himanski, pioneer of the extended dreamwalking service, brought his vision to light for you.”
A doctor appears on the screen working in a laboratory and then talking to people in an office. The footage is obviously dated. He is an older man, partially bald and what hair remains is bright white. He wears thick, black-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat and speaks with a Swedish accent. “My goal has always been to find a way to keep our people safe and happy. After lengthy research, and many, many years of trial and error, we have finally been able to accomplish that goal.”
The narrator speaks once again, “in over twenty years of operation, not a single casualty has occurred. Our top team of physicians along with our world-class nursing staff is fiercely dedicated to the survival of our people.”
I turn to Zoë and whisper, “this place is seriously creeping me out. It feels like a cult, or a prison. This video is making my skin crawl.”
“I know. Everyone here is just… odd," she whispers back. "And why have we only seen security guards so far? Where are all the other people? This video has labs full of them, yet we’ve seen none.”
“This place doesn’t seem big enough for everything this video is showing. Do you think it’s all here or could there be more than one location?”
“I don’t know. I was expecting a bunch of hippies living in tents.”
We stop talking for a moment and turn back to the video. The narrator is discussing the life of Dr. Himanski. The words flow around me, but none of them land like they should. I can’t sit still and watch a video on the life and times of anyone right now.
“Why would my dad send us here? Why couldn’t we just stay at home and be hospitalized?”
“Emma, if we did that everyone would think we were on drugs or that something suspicious happened to us. The police would question our parents. Who knows how long we would be able to survive without this specialized help. We need more help than a regular hospital can give us. I don’t think we have a choice. There’s no other way to do this.”
“You are correct with that statement, Miss Carver.” A man’s voice billows through the room from the top of the steps. Startled, we turn around.
He begins to walk down the stairs while pressing a button on a remote control he carries in his hands. The projector turns off and the screen retracts into the ceiling. Another press of a button and the lights return to their dimmed state. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Jeffrey Milton, Chief of Staff here at the Himanski Clinic.”
“The Himanski Clinic?” Zoë asks. “Wasn’t that the guy in the video?”
“Yes. Had you bothered to complete the orientation film you would have heard that Dr. Himanski himself was a noble dreamwalker and created this facility in the hopes that one day, the savior would learn of it and find herself needing his services.”
His eyes bore