Nightmare

He closed his eyes and a moment later, a recorded drum playback filled the room.

'Focus on your breathing,' Mother Ara said in a calm, soothing voice. 'Feel the air fill your lungs as you breathe in and out, in and out.'

The meditation exercise continued. Once, Kendi lost his balance and had to reposition himself. All throughout, Mother Ara’s quiet voice urged him to leave his body behind, ignore it. But he couldn’t ignore the physical sensations-the spear under his knee, the floor beneath his feet, the clothing on his body. He suppressed a grimace, frustrated. He couldn’t keep up the concentration to ignore anything. It felt like something was there but just out of reach, and harder he tried to reach it, the further away it moved. Maybe the spear was the wrong idea after all.

Some time later, Mother Ara told him to open his eyes. The drum playback ended.

'That was pretty good,' she said. 'Better than before, in fact. Your heart rate dropped, and your breathing slowed considerably. Brainwave activity was a little high, but-'

'I can’t do it.' Kendi disentangled himself from the spear and dropped onto the couch. 'It’s still not working.'

'Kendi, you haven’t been doing this for even a week,' Mother Ara reminded him. 'You’re doing very well. It takes months or even years of work to get to the point where you’re ready to enter the Dream.'

'Months,' he muttered. The frog farm and its months of unchanging labor flashed before him. Had he just traded one kind of mindlessness for another? And how long would it be, then, before he got a chance to look for his family? Years? Martina would be all grown up before he saw her again, and Mom and Dad would be old and gray.

'Don’t get discouraged,' Mother Ara said. She shut off her data pad and put it away. 'Your Silence is very strong. When other Silent touch you, they get a serious jolt. I don’t think we could keep you out of the Dream if we tried. How are your dreams at night? Still vivid?'

Kendi shrugged, again feeling hemmed in by the tiny room. He glanced at his fingernail and the new chrono- display implanted on it. Lesson time was almost over.

'Practice on your own, too,' Mother Ara continued. 'Every moment helps.'

'Okay.' He gathered up the spear and checked to make sure his own data pad was in his pocket. 'Are we done?'

'Not quite.' Mother Ara’s voice took on a more serious tone. 'I got a call from your history teacher today.'

Uh oh, Kendi thought.

'She says you skipped out. You also missed language studies and philosophy. I checked.'

'I had to work on this,' Kendi protested, holding up the spear.

'Kendi, you can’t skip class. Everything you learn there is important, especially language studies. You have to learn to understand the Ched-Balaar.'

'It’s boring,' Kendi mumbled. 'Why can’t we just wear a translator or something?'

'You might not always have a translator on you. Besides, the Ched-Balaar learned our language. It would be rude not to learn theirs.'

'I can’t sit that long.'

'Learning to concentrate in class will also help you meditate,' Mother Ara pointed out. 'And you can’t take formal vows as a Child until you complete your education. You have to go to class, Kendi. This isn’t a choice-unless you want to leave the Children entirely. Clear?'

'Yeah, okay. Can I go now?'

'Not until you swear to me that you won’t skip again.'

'Fine. I swear.'

Mother Ara got up from her chair and sat next to him on the couch. 'Kendi, I know a lot of stuff is hard for you. You went through hell. You lost your father and brother and sister and got sold into slavery, then you got sold again and lost your mother, and now you’re here on a world where people live in treehouses with aliens. I can understand why you’d have a hard time caring about the history of Bellerophon or deciphering Ched-Balaar teeth- clacking.'

Kendi didn’t say anything. He just stared at the floor and let Mother Ara’s words coast past him.

'If you want to talk about any of it,' Mother Ara said, 'let me know, okay? A lot of times just talking makes people feel better. Or if you don’t want to talk to me, you can talk to someone else. The Children of Irfan take care of their own, Kendi. Maybe we’re not the Real People, but we do our best.'

Kendi still didn’t answer. Mother Ara sighed and patted his shoulder. Abruptly, Kendi felt like he was going to cry. He held his breath to avoid it.

'Well, all right,' Mother Ara said. 'You’d better get going. And I have a dinner to cook. See you at the Festival games tonight?'

'Yeah, okay.' Kendi took up his spear and pad and left before Mother Ara could see the tears gathering in his eyes.

'So what’s the latest on the investigation?' asked Uncle Hazid around a mouthful of curried shrimp.

Ben looked up from his plate. The question had been directed at his mother, but something in Uncle Hazid’s tone got his attention.

Mom blinked. 'What investigation?'

'You know,' Aunt Sil put in. 'The one about the Dream killer. I’ve heard he can change shape in the Dream. Is that true?'

'How in the world would I know?' Mom said.

'You’re assisting the Guardians on the case, aren’t you?' Aunt Sil said. Like Mom, she was short and round, with a heavy face and thick black hair that swooped or twisted over her head as whim and fashion decreed. She wore a corsage of red and blue flowers. It matched the centerpiece on the table. The rest of the house was decorated with more flowers and the computer played Festival music in the background. Ben liked everything about Festival except the annual family dinner. Fortunately, that part always came first, meaning he could get it out of the way and enjoy the rest of the evening.

'The case?' Mom said.

'I heard all about it from Jenine Frank at the Guardian outpost just up the walkway,' Aunt Sil said. 'A nice thing-you’re working on a famous murder case and you don’t even tell your own sister.'

Ben put his fork down, unsure how to feel. 'Mom? You never said anything about this.'

'I-that is, I’m not supposed to discuss it,' she floundered.

'Well, certainly not with someone who isn’t Silent,' Aunt Sil said with a friendly smile toward Ben. 'They wouldn’t understand. But we’re your family.'

Ben’s jaw firmed until it ached but he didn’t say anything.

'Sil!' Mom said. 'That’s not-'

'Did you get to see the body?' interrupted Tress. She was seventeen, also short and dark-haired, and already into advanced Dream studies at the monastery.

'Yeah!' said Zayim, who was sixteen and battling acne. 'Was it all creepy? The news services said it was all bruised.'

'Kids!' Uncle Hazid admonished. 'A healthy curiosity is one thing, but this is gruesome. It’s a dangerous situation. Everyone’s running scared, Ara. What can you tell us?'

Mom face went tight-lipped in an expression Ben knew well. At this point, they may as well try to pry open a clam with their fingernails. 'I said I can’t discuss it. Any information about the investigation that gets out could get back to the killer and help him-or her.'

'We won’t tell anyone,' Tress said, opening her eyes until they looked wide and innocent. Ben recognized that expression too, and he had long ago learned not to trust it.

Apparently Mom had learned the same lesson. 'And how are your studies coming, Tress?' she said.

'Fine,' she said. 'But what about the-'

'And yours, Zayim?' Mom interrupted. 'Did you pass your first-tier qualifiers yet?'

Zayim, who was more distractible than Tress, went on at some length about the tests he had taken in the Dream to prove the amount of control he had. Ben tuned it out and went back to eating. Zayim and Tress were