April 6th, 2011 Nightmare Iya

In the not-too-distant future, violence has been outlawed. To enforce this, they
developed a way to isolate and remove a rehearsed set of actions from the brain. They
first wiped criminals and soldiers, then moved on to athletes in violent sports. This was
called the Primary Wipe. Now, the society is controlled by a system where the Pacifists,
who are a group a bit like the neighborhood watch, report violence to the system. When
someone's file contains too many reports, they are taken to one of the many Collection
centers in the city and scanned for any violent tendencies. If there are some, then are
then sent for Wiping. Kath Lyn is the daughter of a once-famous Tae kwon do instructor
who was in the Primary Wipe. So much of his life was tied up in his martial arts, that he
is a shell of his former self. Kath Lyn was not wiped because she never took his lessons.
Will Am, or Bill, is her boyfriend and a member of the Pacifists.

The needle pulled through the cloth and bounced a few times, like someone jumping off a

bridge to suddenly discover they are attached by a bungee cord. The needle looped in and

around the tail of thread until a knot was formed. She bit the trailed thread and severed the

needle from the cloth patch she had sewn back into place.

"Good as new." Kath Lyn said aloud to no one.

She stabbed the needle back into its sheath in her large eraser and ran her hands along the

jacket to smooth it out. A man's jacket, but with thin shoulders and chest. It would never have

fit her father. It almost fit her actually.

Standing, Kath Lyn folded the garment so the repaired patch was on the top. It was a

crest with a dove, backed by crossed olive branches, flying above a city: the symbol of The

Pacifists. After it was set on the desk by her bed, she wandered into the dining room in search of

something to drink.

"Iced tea." she ordered from the fridge. A glass plunked down, soon followed by ice and

brown liquid from a dispenser.

"You have 11 beverages left in your allotment." the computer trilled.

"Yeah, thanks." she grumbled. "Any allotment for straws?"

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 "Negative."

Kath Lyn laughed bitterly and sat with her drink. "I figured."

She tapped her fingers rhythmically on the black surface of the table. Her reflection

stared back at her and fired the neurons in her brain.

"Oh, right." she mumbled. "I need to text Bill."

She waved her hand over a white dot on the table and a keyboard flickered to life under

the glass. Each letter was outlined in blue neon that darkened as she tapped the keys in quick

succession. 'Fixed your jacket, come and get it. Kath.'

"Send. End program." she commanded.

The keyboard faded into the obsidian undercoating and she sat back in her chair. Lifting

her glass slowly, she took a sip from the edge. The rush of air and liquid made a violent slurping

sound.

"Visitor: Will Am."

"Let him in." Kath Lyn replied.

She set her glass in a small black alcove and the computer took it back for recycling. The

door whizzed open and let him through, tall, skinny and blond.

"Kath!" he exclaimed, hurrying over to grab her waist. "Oh thank goodness."

"What? What's gotten into you?" she asked, bewildered.

"Nothing…" he lied badly. "I just… missed you."

"You saw me last night." Kath said drily. "I ripped your jacket then, remember?"

His face grew more worried and he quickly shook his head. "That's fine!" he said, the

words spilling out and falling over each other. "It's just a jacket, I'm not mad at all."

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 "I didn't say you were." Kath replied lightly. "Are you going to let me go now?"

He quickly released her and took a nervous step away. She raised an eyebrow at him

curiously.

"Right, sorry."

"What is wrong with you?" Kath Lyn asked. He wasn't usually clingy.

The pair waited a moment for the dots to connect between his ears and he reluctantly

sighed.

"You'll say I'm being stupid."

"We'll see." Kath Lyn replied, taking a seat at the table. She waited a moment, then

patted the table in front of another seat. Will Am waited a few breaths, then sat where indicated.

"I'm listening."

"I… had a nightmare."

Kath Lyn waited for him to continue. After a bit, she nudged him on with: "Unhuh."

"It's stupid, I know." he admitted. "But…"

Kath Lyn sighed and looked at her expectantly.

"It was about you."

"Okay. What about me?" Kath asked. She wondered if it was about her ripping all the

patches off his clothes in a fury. That might not be too far from the truth.

"Well, I was at work." he explained. "Just… a normal day. I was talking to Fer Ed and

suddenly my supervisor came over. She gave me a folder and…"

Kath frowned as she watched the color leech out of his face.

"Well, inside was a picture of you and…"

Kath Lyn put her hand on his and gently squeezed.

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 "Hey. I'm right here, alright?" she said softly.

Will Am swallowed and cupped her hand in his, caressing the back. "She said you'd

committed suicide. And the picture was you. Dead and… in a pool of…"

If his face had been any less serious, she would have laughed openly.

"And why would I ever k—" she started, then quickly cut herself off before the forbidden

K-word. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know!" he cried in exasperation. "It didn't make sense. I thought… maybe

because I was so mad about the patch last night or… maybe your dad died in his sleep or… How

should I know?"

"I'm not going to commit suicide over a rip." she explained, calmly laying out the facts.

"I've fixed far worse tears in my father's gi than that."

"True…" He was beginning to seem more calm.

"And I'm not going to do it because of my father," she added. "He's pretty much already

dead and I'm still alive."

Will Am frowned at her. "No, he isn't."

Kath Lyn removed her hand from his and sat back in her chair. "Yes he is."

"Kath, you know the law…"

"Really?" she replied sarcastically.

"Please Kath, let's not start this." he pleaded, reaching over the black table for her hand

again. "Not now."

She stared a moment at his hand, palm up and waiting for her reply. She didn't want to

take it. She would have rather swatted it away. Screamed at him. Explained how the man

moving around as her father was an imposter. A walking false hope. Some moments, he would

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be just like himself. He would smile, recognize her. He would talk as if everything was as like

that summer before the law was announced. Then, it would be gone—murdered by the

nothingness that consumed his mind—and it would take another piece of her heart with it.

Maybe then Will Am would get it. Maybe then he'd understand.

But she didn't. She laid her hand over his and put on a smile.

"Okay, Bill."

Will Am smiled in relief and lifted her hand to his face to feel the warmth. The cold

temperature surprised her and absorbed the heat of her anger.

"That… dream really scared you, didn't it?"

"Like nothing I've ever seen before." he replied instantly.

Kath Lyn looked at her blushing reflection and felt guilt digging at her side.

"I woke up and checked the records." he added. "It was so real… When I found your

message, it was such a relief. I had to run over and make sure it wasn't just a cruel joke."

"My sense of humor isn't that bad." Kath Lyn joked.

He made a face and she laughed.

"You have your moments…" he replied, lowering her hand back to the table.

"Hey, that was funny." she said playfully.

He laughed in disbelief and settled down into the light argument.

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 The Original Story

My little brother needed a book for homework. A book project. Perfect, I lend him my

favorite one; I've been waiting for a way to get him to try it. It was a wonderful success. He

loved it. Read the whole trilogy in an instant. Devoured it.

One night, I was the last one to bed. It was late, past midnight, and I only had to use the

bathroom before I was finished and could welcome sweet sleep's embrace. I went into the

bathroom and flicked on the light, the fluorescent blubs dim like my wits from lack sleep. And

there it was: the black book. On the counter. Alright, so maybe dad was reading it. He always

brought books into the bathroom to read and then forget them. I'd just put in my room with me.

But when I picked it up, the binding was torn. I stared in shock and actually began to cry.

My favorite book! The only hardcopy version I have of my favorite author's works! Broken!

Ripped! I was so upset that I took the book to the kitchen table and left it with a note. I drew a

large crying face on the note: T-T with the words, "What is this?!" on it and cried myself to

sleep.

The next morning, as I half dozed between snoozes of my alarm, I had a dream. It's the

only way I have dreams actually, when I'm just conscious enough to remember them, but not

lucid enough to affect them. I was in the van with my mom, driving home after class on another

normal day. I was telling her how my classes were going. Normal chit-chatting.

Then suddenly, she turns to me and says: "Michael committed suicide."

I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. Or that I fell on my stomach on ice and the

wind was knocked out of me, leaving me gasping just to breathe. She took out her cell phone

and showed me a picture. My little brother was lying in a crater at the bottom of a cliff.

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 It sounds so stupid now of course. A crater under a cliff? Maybe with a sign above him

saying "Ouch!" It sounds so cartoonish.

But it terrified me. I woke up in a panic. No one was home. I scurried to the twins'

room to see if his things were being packed up. It looked normal, but maybe he was still in the

hospital. Maybe he wasn't completely dead yet.

So I ran to the kitchen to where the phone was. There was my book, my silly book that

was originally so upsetting to me. But it was in a different place. I picked it up and, to my

wonder, it was fixed. Clear tape had been laid across the binding and it looked almost like new.

I found the note underneath and my knees nearly gave out.

At the bottom, underneath my stupid drawn sad face of T-T was Michael's horrible

scrawl. I was so relieved to see his uneven and hard to read printing. So overjoyed at any sign

of life still in him that I stared at it for several minutes before I could actually read it. He and

mom went to the public library and got my book fixed and he was explaining that he didn't know

what happened to my book and he was very sorry.

When he finally came home from school, I hugged him so tightly. As I tried not to cry, I

told him that any old book could be replaced or fixed and that not even his genetically identical

twin brother could ever replace him.