Finding the cracks

This dream is different from the others. There are no shadow rabbits that lead me to a tree in the middle of the night. No shadow bush people come speak to me while I try to relax in the park.

But I’m in the park. I’m a tree. The tree. My roots are long and deep—deeper than anything my appearance suggests. My branches are bare, yet they feel strong.

I’m alive. I’m growing. Down. Always down. My roots need thorns for protection far more than my branches. There’s something in the soil. I need it.

It needs me. It’s trying to dig its way to reach me. I can hear it, and I think I might be crying. But that’s not all that’s going on. My roots have also grown outwards.

They burrow gently under the buildings without disturbing the foundations. I’m not trying to kill anyone. I just want to look. There are too many things that don’t make sense anymore.

My heart and lungs—or what passes for them—are racing. Maybe it’s because of what Bao said, or my mind is fixated on those odd seeds that are currently resting on my desk.

Or maybe this is just one more thing that corresponds with my birthday times four. Always in fours. I’m not stupid, and even if I were, I don’t need to be a genius to understand how to use my roots to get what I want.

I want to see—to know. So I press my roots up, gently, carefully, and feel only vibrations for a moment. I can’t risk breaking the buildings, even though a part of me that might be the tree, but also could be Rei, would enjoy that for all the concrete that’s choking the ground.

But such things would have to wait. The vibrations eventually turn into sounds, and then—finally—color. Bright, artificial light is everywhere.

Some lights are also making sounds, and it only takes another moment for me to recognize them as TVs, monitors, and just about anything that can be classified as a computer.

My screen is also making a sound even though it's plugged in and in sleep mode. I’d worry about that later. There’s so much to see and hear. I won’t be surprised if I have a headache when I wake up.

The one beneath me says something. My roots have stopped growing. As much as I want to console them and meet them…I need answers first.

But there’s so much noise. I take a deep breath, feeling my branches clench as I suck in as much oxygen as possible without leaves to help, and find the root I need.

It didn’t take long. The root—more like a tendril—has been waiting for me. The library has always been one of my favorite places. And that made this one grow strong.

That made me smile. This one would be very helpful. It poked at the foundation beneath the basement, which was also beneath the security office.

The wall of monitors was on, and someone was staring at them quite intently despite the late hour. The library is always closed at nine. The lights were either dimmed or off.

No one else was inside the building. Another quick brush of roots also showed there were no cars in the parking lot. Yet here was someone intently watching something in the dark.

I stared at the monitors. Footage from my panic attack—that’s what I decided to call it until I could think of something better to appease Mrs. Astral—greeted me.

But the footage wasn’t on one monitor. It was on every wall, and in different perspectives, including three from inside the reading room: one above, one facing me from the door, and one behind me.

I looked at the others, feeling my heart clench as I found a thermal detector of all things near the bottom right. It was currently showing my accelerated heart rate.

But none of them showed Bao. I watched myself tense, eyes widening in terror on one screen right before several of them went blank. The thermal one was still working, though.

And several minutes pass before the footage continues with me running for the door. I didn’t know what to make of that. Why didn’t Bao turn up on camera?

He’s clearly the reason why I didn’t run out of the room right away. So why did the footage Mrs. Astral and the security guard showed me running as soon as I got scared? There wasn’t enough time for someone to alter the footage. But the proof was right there. I was alone in the reading room. Was Bao really just a figment of my imagination? But if so, then what’s with my dreams? I’m dreaming right now. I know that. But everything feels so real, like I could close my eyes and become one with the tree.

The one beneath hears me. I can hear their roots crawling closer. I could reach them in about five minutes if I let go of the buildings and continued digging.

But I’m not done yet. I focus on the person and find Mrs. Astral, but not the same one I know. My Mrs. Astral is always bright and cheerful, while this Mrs. Astral is serious, even as she daintily drinks some coffee from a pink mug.

Her eyes are drawn to one monitor in particular, so I turn back to them. She’s staring at a feed that covers the front door. It’s closed. No one opens it.

I stare for a few more seconds before finally turning away completely. Mrs. Astral wasn’t my concern right now. I send my roots further, hunting for something I haven’t seen since we moved here.

Children.

Teenagers.

People close to my age.

But my roots don’t find any.

Except for Zack.

My brother, who’s six years older than I am.

I don’t like the idea of spying on him, but my roots are waiting.

They want to show me something just like the rabbit did right before I turned four. The one below also wants me to see it. They slow, almost grow still.

I can feel the pulse of their heart echoing mine. The choice is mine, and I make it. Zack’s room is on the same floor as mine. Finding him is easy.

He’s sitting in front of his computer with a pair of headphones on, foot tapping in time with a beat I can barely feel. I’ve never been inside this room.

Zack has never been inside mine. It was an unspoken agreement between siblings to respect our sleeping areas. But how was he going to know? The room looked a lot like mine.

Same white paint on the walls.

Same floor space.

Same general layout.

The differences are in the decorations. Two tall bookcases made of dark wood dominated his walls, leaving the third to contain a closet and a bed.

I poke around inside it, grateful I can’t smell, as I find some clothes and a couple of bottles of beer. I was more impressed than anything else. I’ve never seen alcohol at the Drop Off, and didn’t even know that he liked to drink.

The roots strained slightly, nudging me toward the desk with Zack still unaware. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I poked under the bed instead. My brother must have cleaned recently because the floor was free of dust. A pair of shoes and an old lunchbox that used to be bright blue greeted me.

I stared at it, wondering how I could open it without being able to touch it. But dream logic doesn’t care about such minor details. I wanted to see what was inside the lunchbox, so I found myself slipping between the edges and staring at everything.

It started as an unorganized jumble. Letters, old report cards, and various holiday-theme cards were stacked on top of each other and pressing against the lid.

I didn’t know Zack was the sentimental type. Once he showed our parents his test scores, he’d throw them away, forcing someone else to fish them out if they wanted to gloat and praise him.

It made less sense than everything else that had happened so far. I didn’t understand why the roots wanted me to see it. But they still insisted, and the one below me was still waiting.

I didn’t want to keep them waiting. But even dream logic isn’t enough to make me feel like I have unlimited time to poke around. I needed to figure out why Zack and I are the youngest people living on base.

So I slid back out like a sheet of paper and turned to my brother. He hadn’t moved. That was good. I didn’t know what would happen if he decided to go for a drive.

He wasn’t the type to leave his computer on while he was out, and even if he was, it was sure to be protected with a password—one that I’d never be able to guess.

I hovered near his shoulder like I would if I were actually standing there and froze. My heart, lungs, eyes, and ears stopped working. Yet I was still able to understand what Zack was doing.

He was looking at a camera feed from my bedroom, a bird’s-eye view that also had an infrared screen in the bottom right corner. I focused on that to keep myself from jerking awake.

The one below sensed my pain and was now redoubling their effort to reach me. They wanted to comfort me. My roots wanted to comfort me.

I didn’t want to be comforted, though. I watched as Zack typed something that drew the camer’s gaze to my face. I look dead. That’s the only way I can describe it.

And Zack is frowning now, leaning forward as if concerned. But I knew better. My brother didn’t care about me, and for some reason, I’m part of his work.

The base’s work. I didn’t need to follow my roots to understand this. They showed it to me—all of it. The cameras. All kinds of cameras. Some are big enough in places one would expect to see them.

And far too many so small that I couldn’t imagine how anyone could make them, let alone touch them without breaking them. I wanted to smash every single one into pieces.

I could hear the hums now. My house was full of cameras, though I felt relieved to find that the bathroom and our parents’ room didn’t have any. Zack had one inside his computer.

It watched him as he was watching my body. I couldn’t tell if he was aware of it, but that didn’t matter. I had had enough of this dream. The one below didn’t like that.

My roots didn’t like that. There was something else I was missing. Something important. I could almost taste it, but my mind was made up.

I needed answers. Zack was awake. Our parents were in their room, peacefully sleeping the night away. I wouldn’t have a better chance. I sent my love to the one below and opened my eyes.

The camera was loud. I didn’t know how I missed hearing that obnoxious hum before. It was irritating, and the one inside my screen was even more so. But I scooped it up anyway as I headed to Zack’s room.

He wouldn’t use sign language to save his life, and I didn’t want to go in there with empty hands. I had been powerful in my dreams, and I needed to be now.

I didn’t bother knocking. Zack whirled around, headphones still on as he glared at me.

“What do you think you’re doing, Rei? Go back to sleep before I tell our parents you’re acting odd again.”

I shook my head. -And watching your little sister sleep is normal?-

Zack’s eyes widened. I expected him to shrug it off or call me crazy. A part of me wanted him to. But instead, he leaned back, letting out a relieved sigh.

“Finally, I was wondering if you’d ever figure it out.”

-What are you talking about?-