The Morning After.

Pious Clemency's stomach lurched. Last night's home brew crashed in acidic waves against his innards. The cool of the ceramic basin drained into his fingertips sending small shivers up his arms. Fighting down the bile that assailed the back of his throat, he fumbled the Venetian blinds open. Blinding rays of sun exploded on the retinas of his eyes. Finally last night's illicit concoction won the battle. Gripping the edges of the basin for support, Pious fell forward into the waiting bowl and relieved his stomach of its contents.

Dressing, slowly, Pious winced as every muscle screamed in revolt. The stench of stale liquor hung like an invisible mist over the tiny, unkempt bedroom. He scratched at his unshaven jaw, drawing a pin-prick of blood from an unhealed razor cut, whilst he rose from the unmade bed. Growls mixed with piteous squeaks exited his guts as he tiptoed round the strewn underwear and socks that littered the way towards the door.

The wall-screen flickered into life, stopping Pious in his tracks. After a moment of static, a stern face emerged from the electronic blizzard. Black hair, combed back from his forehead, sat above a unlined face that was so emaciated it finished in a point. Eyes, too round for his thin skull, scanned the room. When they found Pious, the pupils bored into his very soul.
“ Citizen 25/ 333984, good morning.”

Pious dry gulped under the baleful stare. A nod his only reply.

“I've been looking over your last productivity report. It seems we have a problem?”

“A problem?” Pious squeaked.

“Yes, a problem. Your input into 'The Shared Dream' has fallen badly. You missed three days since your last report – dropping your input by sixteen percent. I'm afraid you'll have to report to your nearest office for an update on your progress.” The face on the screen smiled a sickly smile, which bared perfect teeth behind his thin lips

“But it's Sunday.”

“The dream never sleeps, Citizen 25/333984. Neither do we. You'll find your local office open and ready to take whatever steps necessary. Have a good day, Citizen.” The screen faded back to static before turning itself into standby.

“I don't think I will.” Pious muttered at the fading light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The building towered above those around it, tapering into a point far above where Pious stood craning his neck. Glittering in the afternoon sun, The Shared Dream's local office made its once-glorious neighbors pale into insignificant. The concrete and steel embodiment of their view for the future, it sent a shiver up his back despite the warmth of the spring afternoon.

Shrugging, he walked towards the marble steps of the entrance. Last night's one man party still drummed in his brain, the morning's coffee swirled around is insides. His tongue felt alien in his mouth, a thing of foul-tasting sponge.

With a well oiled swish, the doors swung back into their hidden alcoves within the pristine walls. A soft hum filled his ears, the hum of people at work. His shoes clacked on the polished tiles of the floor, loud. Behind an impressive raised desk sat a pinched faced woman, her greying hair tied into a bun.

A red tongue licked her pale lips, as raptors eyes watched his pensive approach. She ran a long nailed finger over the screen before her. The pointed tip of her unpolished nail made a virtual slash across the line of digits. 25/333984.

Nervously, Pious reached up and placed his identity card through the slot in the glass front. He strained upward, pushing the card with an index finger till it disappeared beyond his line of sight.

Awkward moments passed, he looked around the deserted foyer. The floor reflected the outer light of the sun, which flowed through the high paned windows. Leather covered chairs, polished to a high sheen, stood in rows around the curved walls.

Pious study of the building was rudely interrupted by the noise of paper shooting out a slot, about waist high, in the tall desk.
“Please fill these forms out in triplicate and take them to The Office Of Dream Resources.” The officious voice droned. The sound of a bell ended the instructions. Warily, he pulled the pile of paper from the slot and shuffled to the empty seats to begin the filling out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He glanced up from time to time, whenever someone passed. They all wore grey, grey shirts, grey pants, grey faces. Seems the dream came in shades of grey.

“Excuse me,” he said in a small voice standing before the desk again.

The bird-like face of its occupant looked down from behind her cage of glass. “Yes, what is it?”

“Where's The Office Of Dream Resources?”

“Second landing. It's signposted.”

“Thanks.”

He walked towards the stairs when no acknowledgement came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The deep varnish of the door reflected back a distorted replica of his form as he rapped one of the dark panels. He waited, no reply. He was just about to knock again, when the door opened gently and quietly inwards.

Behind a desk the same deep hue as the door, a grey suited, balding man sat. As Pious entered, the man fussed over different colored sheets of paper, hissing between his teeth as he did so. He waved impatiently for Pious to seat himself.

“A right little farrago we've got here Citizen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Excuse you? Why I couldn't possibly do that, could I.”

“I didn't mean it like that. I meant --”

“He didn't mean it like that, did he not?” The man stood to glower down at Pious. “This last report of yours is a disgrace Citizen, a disgrace! Productivity down a whopping sixteen percent, missing days. You're spoiling the dream for others, and when you spoil the dream for others what does it become?”

“I dunno.” Pious sank back in hope of getting away from the ever nearing face of his accuser.

“He doesn't know,” The man said in a sing-song voice. “It becomes a nightmare, that's what.”

“Listen, I can explain. Things have gotten a little out of hand.” Pious started on the defensive.

The man sniffed the air before him, curling his nose as he did so. “Is that alcohol I smell?”

“No.” he lied.

“Now, now, Citizen. Don't lie to your superiors. You know alcohol's banned, disrupts the dream it does. I'm afraid your chickens have come home to roost. I was going to give you a slap on the wrist and send you on your way, but this makes it different. This here is a Class One offense. No, I'm afraid you'll have to become part of the dream now.” He pressed a button on the desk's top and sat back down, dry washing his hands as he did so. “Don't worry, it only hurts for the first hour.” he grinned.

Pious never heard the door open, or the guards draw near. The ether soaked cloth covered his mouth and he drifted away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cool air wafted over his face, and the hum he heard in the foyer below filled his hearing again. Pious forced open his heavy lidded eyes and was met with total darkness. His heart flipped in his chest, until he saw a tiny chink of light flicker in one corner of his prison. His breathing steadied, at least he wasn't blind.

The lights flickered on in sequence, from the furthermost end of the room till they rushed over his head searing his eyes with their ferocity. He yelled out in pain and shock, the pain passed shortly and he opened his eyes. The room was empty. Empty and void of any furniture, bar the seat he was strapped in. The hum grew louder. From the ceiling a three screens dropped, advanced on an unseen rail and came to a stop before him. Slack-jawed, Pious watched the screens unfold till they surrounded him. A series of probes and appendages whirled from hidden crevices.

The screen burst into life with a glaring flash of white light. Within that glare rose a speck of black, growing ever bigger till it took on the form of a face. Not a human face, but a dreamlike vision perfect in every way. He wasn't sure what sex it was, just that it was perfect.

“Hello Citizen 25/333984. Are you ready to join with me?” The voice at once calmed him. It was like cool cream on a burn.

“In what way.” Pious giggled.

“In whatever way you want.” the image soothe

“How's about a few drinks first. Loosen the mood a little.”

“I'm afraid that's not possible. I am the dream, such things are not possible.”

Pious looked into that perfect face and it smiled back. “The Shared Dream's a computer?”

“The Shared Dream is more than a computer, it is the World. I am the World.” The voice laughed softly as it answered.

He shifted against his bonds, suddenly growing uncomfortable. “Hold on now. What's going on here. I thought I was here to get a little kick up the butt, not find out the whole thing's run by a computer.”

“Oh, I'm sorry Citizen, you can't leave this room now. You will become part of me. In grained on my circuits, the electrical charge of your body will become one with me.”

“All this because I lost some days at work and drank a little.”

“Ants.”

“Ants?”

“Bees.”

“Bees? You've lost me.”

“The hive mentality. Humans worked for themselves. Now I've changed that. Everything is controlled by me, you are the workers, I am the Queen. You've strayed from that path Citizen. I can't allow that.”

“Hold on I'm not part--” The words died in his throat as the first of the probes reached for his temple.

More small, sparkling sliver implements joined in the dance. Pious felt hot blood trickle down into his eye. What was left of the alcohol in the pit of his stomach exploded from his mouth. Acidic bile and alcohol sprayed down the stainless steel arms that fought to dissect him. Seeping into joints and flowing down circuits. The arms flailed back, as if stung. A waft of burning solder filled the air. Fingers of orange flame played around the joints of its arms. The perfect face flickered in and out of existence. With a loud bang the screen blinked out, showers of sparks flew from the arms to scatter across the floor. The bright lights dimmed to red and in the distance an alarm sounded.

Like dying snakes, his bounds slithered to the floor. Pious wiped a hand across his forehead, it came away wet with blood. Stunned he sat in the chair, until realization dawned, he had to get out of here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the door opened the alarm grew louder. Figures ran aimlessly through the dim corridors, seemingly disorientated. There's your hive mentality now. Take out the Queen and the rest are useless. He dodged the first group he met, they talked gibberish as they passed. The next, a little more coherent and alert, it took him awhile to convince the leader he wasn't an intruder, but a maintenance worker. In a moment of bravado, he asked the security guard the way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Halfway across the entrance hall the alarms stopped. His shoes clacked loudly in the hush. Pious quicken his step for the front doors. From behind a voice called out. He stopped and felt blood wind its way through his stubble. Focusing on the exit he waited.

“I said Citizen 25/333984 do you feel better.” the bird-woman called.

“Much.” He replied as he exited the building.

He walked out into the sunshine, wondering if he'd any moonshine left at home.

THE END.