The Stranger - Max Frei [87]
“How is their overall health?” I asked. “Have you shown them to the wiseman?”
“Yes, of course. We cannot just ignore complaints like that, all the more since the trouble began simultaneously with three prisoners. These gentlemen hadn’t been acquainted before, and here in Xolomi, you understand, they couldn’t organize any kind of conspiracy. And why should they? It turns out that the health of all three of them is hardly anything to brag about, but the organs that the transparent ‘dream man’ allegedly targeted are in perfect condition.”
I noted with pleasure that my theory about the influence of personal phobias on the interpretation of nightmares wasn’t so far from the mark. Not bad for a dilettante like myself.
“What could be wrong with them, then?”
“All three of them are gradually losing the Spark,” Janira said in a portentous whisper. Then he went quiet, waiting for the significance of what he had just said to sink in.
I let out a low whistle. To lose the Spark means to suddenly lose the life force, becoming so weak that death comes like sleep after a hard day, when you cannot resist it and don’t even want to. According to my competent colleagues, this mysterious condition is the most dangerous thing that can befall a person born in this World.
“What’s strange is that these unfortunates are getting weaker only gradually, whereas a person usually loses the Spark suddenly, without any alarming symptoms,” said Janira. “In spite of that, our wisemen are absolutely sure of the diagnosis. They say that they can still save them, but medicines don’t seem to be helping.”
“Well, why don’t you try this: move the poor souls to other cells—the farther from cell 5-Ow-Nox the better—and let their cells remain empty until I can discover the cause of this misfortune. You can manage that, I hope?”
“Yes, certainly,” said the Comforter of Sufferers, nodding. Then he added apprehensively, “Are you certain it will help?”
“Almost certain. But that’s always how it is. I can never be completely sure of anything. In any case, give it a try. And do it right now. We may still be able to save them. I don’t know what they did before that landed them in Xolomi, but not a single person deserves such a terrible punishment as sleep filled with nightmares. I’m speaking as a longtime expert in this field.”
“Do you know how to prevent nightmares, Sir Max?”
“I do,” I said, and grinned. “My own, anyway.”
I went back to my cell. It looks like I’ll have my fill of bad dreams here, I mumbled to myself.
I had hardly returned to my senses after the nightmares from the house next door had paid a call, when I was treated to another round in Xolomi, where prisoners are tormented by bad dreams. A plugged up backside, for instance . . .
Nevertheless, I had slept excellently during the day myself. Perhaps it was because it had really been daytime? The heavy cell door closed behind me and . . . disappeared. Here in Xolomi every door exists only for the person in the corridor. From the vantage point of the prisoner, it isn’t there at all. Amazing!
Now I was burning with impatience. Would the “transparent man” appear tonight—and what would he do if I didn’t fall asleep? I was absolutely sure that I wouldn’t. I had slept too soundly and well during the day. What would you have done?
I began waiting for events to unfold, which, in their turn, they didn’t exactly hasten to do. The night brought no answers to my questions. On the other hand, it was generous with strange experiences and sensations.
I felt neither fear nor anxiety, but I constantly sensed I was being scrutinized by somebody’s gaze. And it was