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Tick.
I felt the clock’s gears shift ever so slightly, rearranging its internal structure.
Tock.
Each second sent a barely perceptible tremor through my mouth.
Tick.
Were they even seconds? I had been trapped here for what felt like hours, yet the sky’s kind blue tone never grew cold.
Tock.
No, I couldn’t think like that. This place didn’t obey common sense.
Dreams might seem abstract at face value, but they’re often rooted in symbolism. Following that line of thought, it seemed likely that my perception of time was being affected by the orb-shaped clock currently lodged in my mouth. I’d already tried to push it out, only to be thwarted by the two thick leather straps fastened behind my head keeping it in place.
My ingress point had been planned ahead of time by my associates.
“All right, Sam, I’m gonna spawn you in at this place called Dream’s Edge. Honestly, kind of a lame name, but whatever.”
“Is it safe?”
She had looked at me with an amused expression and replied, “Well, even if it is guarded, I doubt any enemies would pose much of a threat to you. Besides, script says you start there.”
Shortly after arriving, I’d dismounted my armour and begun following the route.
Unfortunately, it would seem that the hotel had picked up on my entry and activated their security measures.
Dozens of water bubbles had risen around me, each large enough to engulf my entire body. The golden sunlight that shone through them refracted into undulating patterns projected onto the surrounding surfaces. Wonderful as it was, something unseen had been casting shadows through this light in what I could only describe as a grid shape.
Unsettled but not discouraged, I’d deftly slipped between the bubbles, careful not to come into contact with them. My sense of danger must have been dulled by the exhilarating feeling of walking on my own two feet again.
As I’d approached the edge of the trap, a school of fish suddenly had leapt from one of the bubbles, gracefully swimming through the air. I’d watched in awe at first, but about halfway through their course I’d realized they were going to come my way. I’d looked around, trying to find a spot I could use to dodge them: an ultimately pointless endeavour.
The dream swimmers had come charging at me. I’d gritted my teeth, but couldn’t resist the current. Although they’d navigated around my body, the pressure had knocked me square off my feet, right into a bubble.
I’d gasped for air right before being submerged. Slowly, I’d drifted backwards through the miniature ocean. Opening my eyes, I’d been surprised to find that they didn’t sting at all. I’d focused on not wasting too much energy and quickly assessed my situation.
A net had been cast over the surface of the water bubble, gently ebbing and flowing. Bad news. Peering through the netting, I’d then noticed that the other floating spheres were steadily shrinking, and when I’d looked back to my cage, the walls had appeared to grow closer. Very bad news.
I’d stretched out my limbs to try to break through the trap, but it had only fought back harder, progressively pushing my arms and legs back in. It hadn’t taken long before I’d been reduced to a ball myself, legs uncomfortably flexed, knees touching my breast. My arms hadn’t fared much better, elbows stuck against ribs, wrists next to my neck.
Despite this, the net had refused to relent, persistently pressing against my clothes and skin. The pressure on my chest had grown too large and forced what little air I had left out of my mouth. Like clockwork, the portion of the netting that was had pressured against my lips shifted, slipping past my teeth. The vertical cords had vanished, living a single strand biting the corners of my mouth.
The central knot had then begun inflating, slowly taking on the semblance of a large bronze sphere. The cord wrapped around my head had also grown, gradually becoming wide straps.
When it was done, gravity had flipped back on like a switch, and the surrounding water collapsed to the ground with a great crashing noise.
I’d desperately drawn in as much air as I could through my nostrils. As I recuperated, the rest of the rope had finished shifting, wrapping around each individual limb and knotting with itself.
I had been in this position for a few hours now, but once the initial shock passed, I didn’t mind it too much. I was used to waiting, and the view here was pretty.
Suddenly, the clock gag rang like an alarm, waking me from my daydream. A door opened from thin air in front of me and a tall, winged man emerged.
“Hope I kept you waiting,” he remarked with a stern look.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small remote. He pressed a button, but nothing seemed to have happened.
“The Reverie takes security extremely seriously,” he continued. “It’s not just anybody who can even attempt to stow away.”
He squatted down to meet me at eye level, and pushed my bangs aside to peer into my eyes.
“So who might you be, little girl?”
I let out a stifled groan through my gag.
“Well, don’t just sit there and growl, start speaking.”
Annoyed at the prospect of having to talk through the ball, I rolled my eyes and began. However, rather than muffled words, I could hear my voice ring out clearly from my mouth.
“Mr. Sunday, I would appreciate it if you had a little bit more respect for me. We both know you’re aware of my affiliation.”
The gag had speakers in it, producing a crude, metallic approximation of my voice.
He grinned, grabbing my chin and gently pushing it up.
“Maybe you need another twenty-four hours with the clock.”
“Or, maybe, you could ask me a more pressing question,” I calmly retorted.
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“For example, why an Emanator is on its way to your little paradise.”
The statement wiped any kind of amusement off his face. He let go of me and stood back up.
“Go on, Hunter. I’m listening.”
“In approximately three system hours, Duke Inferno will perish. His gang will disband, and an interloper will enter the Reverie with his stolen invitation.”
Sunday was usually a very composed sort of man, but despite his best efforts, he could not hide his shock.
“Perish? An energy-based life form?”
“Gone. Ashes.”
He turned around and peered out at the endless cityscape beneath. After a few moments of deep thought, he began talking again.
“And what would Destiny’s Slave have me do about that?”
“The Astral Express crew will help you solve your little… issue, but for that to happen, the Emanator cannot be allowed to interfere. I’m here to keep her busy.”
He gazed back at me with his brow furrowed.
“You’re… not Silver Wolf, are you.”
I gently shook my head and responded, “I can’t quite blame you for assuming that.”
“Well, you’re not Kafka, obviously not Blade, and I doubt Elio would risk his own hide…”
“Deductive reasoning. A classical detective method.”
He let out a low grunt.
“Fine. I’ll let you off the hook for the moment, but I will cross-reference your claims. If anything you’ve said was a lie, I’m turning you over to the IPC. Understood?”
“Loud and clear, Mr. Sunday! Thanks for understanding,” I finished with a kind smile, slightly visible underneath my gag.
He motioned with his hand, and the net fell loose around my stiff limbs. The straps behind my head separated, and I let the device in my mouth unceremoniously fall to the ground.
As he made his way back to the door, he asked, “What should I call you? You don’t look much like a Sam.”
“You can call me Firefly.”
He gave a nod, and as he walked through the portal, I could hear him mutter something to himself.
“Hmph. Mister Sunday.”
The door shut with a loud gust of air, and I slowly stood back up, stretching out my poor arms and legs. I was already looking forward to my time here, living a bit of the life I never had.
But mostly, I was eager to meet them.