20
“Memory Dump: A-D. Memory Dump: E-H. Memory Dump: I-M.”
Quark never anticipated the daunting size of the Memory Department. Everything was organized to a degree of obsessiveness, but that should make it less difficult to find the information he needs.
'I got to start with Leo.'
Librarians were marble golems' dragging towering carts of handwritten paperbacks despite looking tired and fragile.
None of the ones Quark saw—and hid from—looked like they should be able to lift more than two books over their heads.
They were tarnished, stained with coffee and dust, cracked and chipped with eons worth of work they've put into maintaining the records.
The maze was wrought with knowledge and wisdom, from the worn limestone of the walls to the faded mahogany flooring where millions, perhaps, billions of feet have made their mark—there was no doubt in Quark's mind that whatever he was looking for, would be here.
'Somewhere.'
Quark followed the signage posted on the walls, the maps that were scarce and far between. He planned a course, one where there would be plenty of hiding places.
Thankfully, the halls were also lined with ten-foot statues.
Previous managers, Quark believed There weren't any newer creations after the last statue he tucked behind.
Some old-mortal man named 'Alambee.' The marble and bronze statue had split and cracked in the hands and face—then again, it may have been intentional.
The librarians were slow. Quark held his breath as they slumped past; they never spoke, but Quark could hear the labor and the exhaustion, like overworked steam ducts.
Tip-toeing along the wall's edge, each door he passed contained muffled, meaningless conversations and laughter; desk jockeys and paper pushers having a cup of coffee in between offloading and sorting the infinite amount of memories that came through on an hourly basis.
Shuffles of paper, another chortle, a passive comment, followed by the sounds of slurps and grumbles.
He ducked into a room. Skyscrapers of filing cabinets shadowed Quark from the buzzing of the Edison bulbs. Hopefully, the guards have asked Pulse for an encore or two. Quark knew he would have. Two encores would be the minimum to show respect for Pulse's talent.
A bulky, humming computer remained on the home screen in the middle of the room. “Enter Name” was in bold letters, and the keyboard clicked and clacked away as Quark trial and error-ed his way to the correct galactic spelling of Leo's name.
He had to scroll through a list of all the Leonara McCarty's on Earth.
He joked about how strange it was that numerous Earth's people share a name.
Next to each Leo was a picture, and Quark remembered her profile picture clearly from her notes.
Clicking on her file, and then zooming on on her photo, she looked even more tired and worn.
Next to her picture, was her name: “Leonora McCarthy: Active.”
"She must be in this department tonight..." He fiddled with the mouse, adding a curse while he puzzled out the mechanism.
Memories were in chronological order. The first years of Leo's life were skimmed. Nothing much more than first words, first day of school, firsts of nothing extravagant. He absorbed keywords from her mother language. The words clicked for him, making sense for the rest of the pages.
Curiously, there have been efforts to redact certain events of her life. "REPRESSED." There was no way to retrieve that information. What was left for him to read made part of his chest seize.
"MENTAL ASYLUM" Was a large section.
"But why..." He went back a few pages. An abundance of incident reports were from different departments Leo has frequented. Wish Fulfillment especially.
A majority of said reports involved Ruin.
"Nightmare Infiltration: Wish Fulfillment. Ruin broke containment. Damage is minimal.
"Nightmare Infiltration: Abstract, second incident. Ruin broke containment. Damage is minimal.
“Nightmare infiltration: Wish fulfillment. Fourth incident. Ruin broke containment. Damage, Severe. Report to Seret Gamal of potential Reality Breaking Harm.”
"Reality Breaking..." He cocked a brow. "What does this mean by reality breaking..." Quark hurried to find more information. He opened a spare tab, searching the database for the term.
'TEN LAWS OF DREAMS.'
“Ten...”
‘Obey the Pull.
‘Dreamers must depart every night by waking up.
‘No dreamer is allowed to stay longer than 8 hours Earth time.
‘All stars recruited must remain in their designated departments.
‘Dreamers are forbidden from reading dream texts.
‘Stars found corrupted must be separated from the dreamworld IMMEDIATELY.
‘Stars are forbidden from dreamers' domains.
‘All relationships between stars and dreamers are void. ‘Reality and dreams are separate at all times.
‘Any dreamer finding their physical body marked by dreams must be reported and protocols administered.
‘The universal order WILL be maintained.’
"If Leo can get hurt by Ruin... by dreams in general..."
The incident reports go on and on. Twelve reports were excessive enough. Thirty was the breaking point.
Memories of her time in the Asylum did not ease his soul.
Leo's words filled his mind, disjointed and randomly accessed. The eighteen-year-old version of the woman he's come to adore spoke as though beyond the grave.
“They promised me... They said I could come back. They promised me!
'What am I supposed to do? I don't know what I'm doing.
'You promised you'd help! You promised!
'Why am I not good enough? Why am I not good enough...
'REPRESSED. Forget you REPRESSED. Fuck it all. Fuck you, fuck all of you.”
Images attached to the memories were censored, though not enough that Quark couldn't fill the blackened gap with a morbid imagination.
Finally, he had to force the computer to shut down.
"How... How could they do all that to her..." He hung his head in his hands. One of Pulse's smokes would help, he was sure. The ache in his stomach was wrenching enough, but the burning of his eyes...
Tears. Quark had no idea a star could produce tears.
Yet he is. In a dark room with the hum of the lights surrounding him. Alone–’Like Leo.’ Crying felt natural. It was necessary. There was no way to stop it after the first tear fell down his chin. Was that it? Was that her life? Swallowing sorrow and isolation until it choked?
"Leo... I'm so sorry, Leo."
He couldn't read anymore. 'How could they have done that to her...'
Seconds away from turning off the terminal, there was a message ping next to her name.
'ACTIVE. STATUS: Distressed. ACTION: Lock down and Contain.'
“Lock down and...” His mouth fell open. “Ruin...”
His body went faster than his mind. One moment he was sitting, the next he was bolting out of the room.
His mind was still lagging behind, 'Leo... what's happening to Leo?'
What could happen to Leo? 'Where is she?'
What is this world? 'She's in danger...'
She's going to get hurt. How can a dream hurt her? Could it hurt him?
'Hurry, hurry, hurry. Leo needs you. She needs us. She needs to be saved.'
Pulse, running from the guards from the gate, slammed into Quark and caught him. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t notice it was Pulse at first. He almost screamed, and Pulse shook it out of him. “We're in trouble!”
“Us?”
“The guards got privy. Something set them off. We need to get out of here before they catch us!”
“Forget them! Leo's in trouble!”
“What?”
“We need to find Leo! Like, right now!”
Pulse grabbed his hand. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”
“The dreams,” Quark yanked them, leading them away from the golems and guards. They were turning the corner, shouting something that got drowned out. “The dreams can hurt her. It can hurt us, I think. I don't know why, but she's in danger. It's Ruin. It's Ruin. It has to be!”
Nothing prepared Pulse for that information. Too many questions had to be answered, desperately.
But Leo was in trouble.
Pulse had the same line of thoughts as Quark did—if a dream could cause harm, then could it kill?
They ran until they were dots of color in the distance. They ran until blades of grass, once so soft, scratched at their calves. Running away, running to her.
Could this dream hurt her? Could it kill her?
'Could it kill them?'
Their hearts begged them to consider the consequences of facing the unknown as they broke the barriers between the Memory Department and the fluid world of Leo's dream. Her nightmare, as it was becoming.
Before the world came into view, there was the smell of rot.
Could they die here?
What does it take to kill a star?
Could a star die?
What does it mean for mortals to die? If Leo were to die, what then? What happens to her ghost?
Questions upon questions, tossed to the wayside for the time.
Leo needed them. She needed her stars.
“We're coming, Leo!”