Standing in the familiarity of the SCIP lab, Markman quickly realized that some significant changes had occurred. There was no tear now in the right shoulder of his leather jacket, and no flesh wound stinging at his upper arm. The slick, black handgun and holster had disappeared from his waist. Cassiopia sat wide-eyed in anticipation at the Drack.
“How long was I gone?”
“Two hours. How long did you stay?”
Markman checked his watch. “Slightly more than two hours.”
“Two hours? It was supposed to be thirty minutes, what happened—oh never mind. Hurry, tell me everything. Where were you?”
Drained, Markman collapsed into a chair and recounted the surreal tale of Dodge City, Dreamland. He was carefully evasive about his affair with Cassiopia’s double. The nagging feeling of self-betrayal persisted. And when he had finished the narrative, he began to ask his questions. “And so Dodge City was your idea?”
“Yes, it was,” she answered excitedly. “Under hypnosis you said it was your favorite fantasy so it seemed like an idea that might have more of a chance to work. But I didn’t suggest any conflicts like the gunfight. That must have come from you.”
“And the gunshot wound I thought I sustained?”
“You’ve answered your own question, Scott. You thought you were hit by a bullet, so Dreamland made it happen. In reality, there was no injury at all.”
“And how about Miss Ann, your duplicate?”
“No, I never suggested anything like her while you were
under.”
It was all she could do to stay in her seat. “You realize how fantastic this is, don’t you? It’s more than I could have hoped for. We controlled Dreamland, and we recovered something left behind from a previous trip. We’re getting somewhere.”
“Where exactly are we getting?” Markman asked skeptically.
“I want to make another trip in right away, tonight.”
“What? Already? What about the thing needing cool-down time or whatever?”
“It was only in use for two hours. If we shut it down now, we can get another four hours of use starting at midnight.” With a determined stare, she added, “My father has been in there for days, Scott.”
Markman found himself in reluctant agreement once again, just as he had so many times in the past few days. “Every trip inside is more dangerous if you ask me. We’re playing Russian roulette with time.”
“Now we can create an environment in Dreamland that is optimum for a search. We could even generate an army of Dreamland soldiers to help find my father or an air force to sweep the terrain, but those things would be too dynamic to control. It would be more likely they would locate an imitation of him rather than the real person. I’m not sure what the perfect scenario would be yet, but I’ll decide on one by tonight. We’ll start with something simple and see how that works, but I can’t do it without you.”
Markman rolled his eyes and nodded.
“This time Tel will come with us. We’ll set the Drack to run autonomously. Tel will be handicapped by the physics of Dreamland, but he’ll still be able to detect my father.”
“Tell me something. Why don’t you just create a Dreamland that’s a ten foot by ten-foot room? Ta-da, your searching is over.”
Cassiopia smiled. “That’s pretty good Scott, very ingenious. But what we would have is a ten-foot by ten-foot room inside of Dreamland. We can control somewhat the things that manifest in there, but we don’t control the dimension itself. Dreamland is a balanced by-product of our own environment; the two are directly interrelated in many ways.”
Markman gazed at Cassiopia, remembering the softness of her. His thoughts drifted back to their make-believe rendezvous. He hadn’t actually been with her, but it felt as if he had.
“Scott? Are you okay?”
“What? Oh! Yeah, I was just thinking. You know we could still end up trapped in there forever. If we do, I hope it’s something like the last trip.”
Cassiopia looked as though she had no answer. Awkwardly, she turned away and began typing into the Drack command station. The silence became uncomfortable. “We could find him on the next trip in.”
They looked at each as though neither believed it.
Chapter 22