Mandatory Dreams
There's a Ghost in the Grid
An Explosive Fiction Writing Prompt - ✍️ Happy Writing!
The Mandatory Dream
Every citizen is legally required to participate in a communal dream one night per month, apparently for mental health monitoring. However, your character discovers the dreams are being harvested to fuel an invisible, living infrastructure. #Cyberpunk
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The stale, humid air in the Hub tasted of recycled oxygen, cheap ramen, and old socks. Jax Matthews sat reluctantly on the edge of his cot and rubbed the tactile sensors embedded in his temples, which hummed with a low-frequency warning only he could detect. His implants were defective, creating a grueling daily cycle of glitches and clicks he refused to report. Undergoing the painful surgery again was not an option, even for a young man like him. He’s seen too many of his neighbors return from the clinic as zombies from the pain, or hollowed out by the very tech meant to sustain them.
Nevertheless, time waits for no one. It was 2 a.m., and time to report to the Mandatory Dream Center. It was his and every resident’s civic duty to report once a month, but it felt more like a digital prison disguised as a contribution to the collective. Yet, there was no time to cry over spilled milk. Jax hastily got dressed and stepped out into the corridor.
The Hub was a human-made landscape of skeletal remains, draped with dead vines and exposed rusty pipes. Even the air felt worse here, carrying a layer of dust and decay that seemed to whistle throughout the residential block. As he walked, ignoring the flickering lights and distorted shadows, his boots crunched on the gravel floor. The graffiti on the walls wasn’t just strange markings, but calls for help left by those who’d already lost their minds to the system. However, he tried hard not to notice the fresh paint.
As Jax reached the Dream Center, his view changed. Unlike the rusted chaos of the Hub, the Center’s interior featured a smooth marble floor and sterile air that reflected the cold temperature in the room. Yet, nothing scared him more than the sight of the Minister.
The Minister of Wellness was an elder without sensors, a relic in a world where there weren’t many like him left. Nowadays, everyone has an implant. It was the only way to play the retention game the grid demanded. Yet, Michael Sneak, the Minister of Wellness, the man with no implant, and the man in power, was the primary one proclaiming that the Dream Project fueled survival. It was the authorities’ way of synchronizing collective psyches to create an unstoppable civilization and prevent the churn of a failing world. Well, at least that’s what they told the people, because without the adrenaline-filled dreams, we assumed the Hub would fail.
Everyone accepted that truth, but Jax felt the system was a content treadmill designed to drain their souls. He could literally feel it in his bones, yet no one was powerful enough to question the Ministry. As always, at the start of a dream session, the Minister paced across the floor, echoing collective harmony with his raspy voice. Yet, Jax never believed a word. He suspected their dreams powered primal magic designed to grant the elites immortality, much like the dark legends of old. But he never shared his far-fetched thoughts, and he couldn’t allow his imagination to get away from him, because being deemed unsuitable was worse than the dream sessions.
Under the flickering lights, Jax headed toward his sleep station, which felt like a coffin, and prepared himself for the procedure. As he reclined, the headrest adjusted with a pneumatic hiss and released the needle-like probes that sought out the ports in his temples. A sudden, sharp chill filled the base of his skull as his mind linked with the network. It always felt like a psychic hook reeling his consciousness into the grid while leaving his body behind.
For Jax, the hangover from the grid was more than just a typical headache. It was a form of torture that seemed to increase after each session. Every blink felt like sandpaper across his retinas, as if he’d been cutting stones and particles had infiltrated his eyes.
As he stumbled out of the Dream Center and back into the Hub’s gray halls, that familiar metallic tang returned. He walked past people leaning against rusty pipes, still sporting the “Grid-stare”. It was the same nightmare he lived through once a month; however, it was there, amidst the hiss of escaping steam, that the rumors grew the loudest. Everyone whispered of a place where the Minister had no influence. They called it the Pit, a sanctuary for the glitched or those seeking a way out without losing their minds in the process. Jax’s imagination may have toyed with the idea of unescapable primal magic, but with his temples burning, the Pit began to sound like the only real way out.
Rather than returning to his room, Jax roamed the halls until he found himself at the entrance to the mysterious Pit. Apparently, there were several, but this was the only one he was aware of. The man hovering around the door tried to act invisible, but it was clear he was guarding the entrance to the Pit.
His sensors appeared to be an earlier model, or perhaps they were just decorative decoys, because Jax couldn’t imagine the authorities allowing rusty implants to remain in circulation. However, it made it obvious the man hadn’t been to a dream session in years. Yet, before Jax could utter a single word, the man spoke.
“Young man, you know you shouldn’t be here. Were you followed?”
“No, Sir. I was super careful, but I had to come. I think my implants are malfunctioning. If I go through another dream session without your help, I think I will die. I want to make a trade for a Lucidity patch.”
The older man leaned in with narrowing eyes as he took a closer look at Jax’s sensors.
“Son, have you tried to remove these? You’re not just glitching, you’re about to blow a fuse.”
Jax’s voice trembled with fear. He hadn’t tried to remove his sensors, but now it was clear something was seriously wrong.
“No, Sir. I would never tamper with my implants.”
“Son, I’m afraid you need more than a lucidity patch. That’ll only temporarily disable the neural link, but given the state of your ports, it looks like the hardware needs to come out entirely.”
“Sir, you know I can’t return to the Hub without my sensors. I’d be flagged as a deviant within minutes.”
“What do you have to trade?”
“I have a laptop. It works, but I haven’t figured out how to connect it to the network.”
“A laptop? I haven’t seen one of those in years. Where did you get it?”
“It’s a family heirloom. My family has been hiding it since before the Dream Project started. Since I can’t use the device, and I don’t have any family left, trading it is my only shot at avoiding the clinic for another painful surgery.”
“Okay, son, I’ve heard enough. Return with the tech. I’ll connect you with the right person.”
As he left the older man, Jax realized how special the Pit was. The rumors must be true. It was a miracle that older people still existed, because those tethered to the newest sensors rarely lived past forty. That’s what killed Jax’s parents, although the Ministry officially recorded their deaths as natural causes. Then he began to wonder why the Ministry hadn’t simply paved over the Pit. It was blatantly obvious he wasn’t the only person who knew it existed. Surely, word had reached the Minister by now, yet he allowed the place to stay open.
However, now was not the time to compound his problems. He needed to retrieve the laptop and return to the Pit as quickly as he could.
Later that night, Jax returned with the computer. The world seemed to dissolve with each footstep because he knew everything was about to change. He didn’t know how, but dealing with a person from the Pit guaranteed his life would be altered. With the laptop in hand, the doors of the Pit crept open. There was no one there to greet Jax, but he knew where to go. Clearly, the single pathway was designed intentionally. As his heart began to beat faster, he entered an open area.
A man in a long black robe emerged from the shadows. When he stepped into full view, the low amber lights flickered across his weathered face. However, Jax felt puzzled. He didn’t see any metallic scarring or sensors embedded in his temples. The man smiled.
“You must be Mr. Matthews. I knew the laptop still existed, but I didn’t know who had it. Son, you’re holding the future of the Hub in the palm of your hands.”
Jax looked down at the mysterious computer and stuttered.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. I’m here for you to fix my sensors.”
The tall man leaned in and whispered.
“Son, I know why you’re here. I’m Don Younger.”
The stale air in the room seemed to dissipate. Jax knew he was in the presence of a legend. Everyone knew about Don Younger, but few had ever laid eyes on him. He is the only living man who escaped the torture of the Dream Program. While thousands of citizens wandered blissfully into the Dream Center monthly, Don remained a refugee, consistently on the run from the authorities. He was elusive and a myth to the younger generation.
“Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Young man, don’t get starstruck. I’ve been told your implants are malfunctioning. Yet, there’s no need to be alarmed. It’s common. Most report the matter and receive new sensors. Why didn’t you self-report?”
“Sir, I remember the initial sensor surgery as if it were yesterday. The pain has never left me. It feels like a sharp chem-burn that has never healed.”
“I’m sorry, son, but your pain was necessary to retrieve the laptop. Since you’ve answered all my questions and it doesn’t appear you’re working for the other side, I have a confession... I had a hand in your botched surgery. Well, we did. It was the only way to protect the sacred spaces of your mind.”
“We?”
“Yes. May the dead rest in peace. Your grandmother, Delores, was very special to me.”
The air in the room didn’t just dissipate; it transformed into electrified static.
“My darling wife, Delores, and I were trying to save you.”
Younger continued as a tear formed in the corner of his eye.
“We wanted to save our daughter as well, but her husband made that impossible. He was a company man at heart and couldn’t be trusted. So, when we heard your mother was pregnant with you, we sprang into action and devised a new plan.
Forget what you’ve heard or know about the Dream Project. You see, those sensors ensure a steady workforce. Nothing more and nothing less. During dream sessions, people are programmed into a zombie labor force, tasked with jobs to be carried out until their next session. They work unconsciously instead of sleeping. Your sensors aren’t malfunctioning. They were designed with a firewall to protect key parts of your brain.”
Younger gestured to the laptop.
“This is the key to a better tomorrow. It’s the computer that holds the original code of the Dream Project. Your grandmother assumed no one would ever suspect the old relic, given to you as a toy, would be so valuable. But, she was right.”
Jax was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the great Don Younger was his grandfather, but there was no time to waste. So, without hesitation, Jax handed over the heavy old relic.
Younger quickly placed the computer on a stone slab and cracked open the screen. Immediately, the power flickered, and the computer began to cast an ancient blue light across the room.
“Jax, this computer holds a dead man script. It’s the code to bring the network to its knees. Once I connect it to the system, people’s implants will stop working. But I need your help. Your sensors serve as the bridge to access the mainframe. After I upload the stop script to your implants, you can pass the code to the system during your next dream session.”
Younger looked at Jax and softened his expression.
“Son, I’m afraid your pain isn’t over. I’ll give you a lucidity patch to help keep you awake and to manage the pain, but it won’t stop you from feeling the data flow. I know you’re scared, but this will free everyone from the network. However, I won’t force you to make this sacrifice. You must make the decision on your own.”
“Grandpa Younger, why hasn’t Minister Sneak shut this place down?”
“That’s simple, my boy. Sneak doesn’t want to deal with glitches. As long as his well-oiled machine is working, he couldn’t care less.”
For the next few weeks, Jax roamed around the Pit, wondering how his grandfather survived living in this dark, gloomy hole for so long. He was scared, but he tried not to show it around his grandfather.
However, the day of his scheduled dream session, Jax was a ball of nerves. Yet, he returned to the Center and reclined in his sleep station as if nothing was happening. Once his sensors linked to the network, the data began to overpower his senses. The patch was helping, but his body felt like a ghost roaming through the grid, wreaking havoc.
While Jax worked on the mainframe, Don Younger ventured to the Hub to watch as people’s sensors stopped working. Men and women were slumped on the floor, while others sat frozen in place. He knew Jax had accomplished the mission.
However, the fight wasn’t over. To ensure the system couldn’t be rebooted or repaired, the Ministry of Wellness had to be dealt with.
Don grabbed his old revolver and headed out of the Hub. It was time to settle an old score. As he reached central command, he yelled.
“Michael Sneak, it’s been a long time.”
In a panic, Sneak looked over his shoulder and realized all his security guards were passed out on the floor.
As Sneak reached for something to protect himself, he spat.
“Don Younger, I should have known you were behind this.”
“Yes, you should have known, but it all ends today.”
In a dry, desperate tone, Sneak chuckled.
“You think unplugging the network will set people free? You just sentenced everyone to their death. The Hub can’t survive without the grid.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
However, the defiant voice wasn’t coming from Don Younger. As both men turned around, Jax stood in the doorway. His face was pale, and his temples were bleeding, but his eyes were clear. For the first time in many years, his mind was free from the haze of the network.
Don smiled at his grandson and tossed the revolver. The shot was swift, bringing an end to the nightmare once and for all.
Outside, in the Hub, residents began to stir. They weren’t zombies anymore. They were scared, exhausted, and confused, but they were finally fully awake.
Don and Jax walked out of the command center together, holding hands, leaving Sneak to die alone in the dark. A new dawn was coming, and for the first time in years, everyone was awaiting its arrival.
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Other Stories Written from this Prompt
The Mandatory Dream: When does a dream become a nightmare? Introducing The Share written By Louis Urbanowski
Mandatory Dream written by Bob Icus
Loved it! Excellent scene setting and a cool take on the prompt. Will be a pleasure to link it on mine!