"Co to think of it, if this is a dream..."
With his destination just ahead, Jenkins paused. He concentrated, trying to will an apple into existence, to have it fall right before him, but the fruit never materialized. Theoretically, his Psychography and Creation Pencil abilities should have been far more potent in a dream, but the stark reality of his failure was a potent reminder: this was no ordinary dreamscape.
As he walked on, the base of the enormous floating tal city slowly ca into view. The lowest level of the structure hovered about ten stories off the ground, connected to the world below by hundreds of lifts. Those at the edge of the palace's vast shadow carried cargo and passengers to its outer periter, while the ones deeper in the shade transported users directly into its interior.
The tal lifts appeared exceptionally crude, so much so that Jenkins questioned the very principles of their operation. Visually, each lift consisted of only five parts. Four were slender tal rods arranged in a square, connecting the ground to the palace high above. The fifth was a massive tal plate resting between and connected to the rods.
The center of each tal plate featured a slight protrusion, like a button magnified dozens of tis over. Jenkins watched as people and cargo boarded; a simple press or step on the raised section was enough to make the stationary platform ascend automatically.
If not for the strange patterns etched into the plate's surface, hinting at its supernatural nature, Jenkins would have suspected this dream world utterly defied the laws of chanics.
Fortunately, it seed that, on the surface at least, the rules of mind and matter here were consistent with the real world. This suggested the Difference Engine, while not fully conscious, was not entirely lost in its slumber either. Like Jenkins himself, it had to be at least partially aware that this was a dreamscape.
Jenkins chose one of the lifts at the edge. After stepping onto the tal plate, he lightly pressed the raised, circular brass button in the center. A heavy sound, completely disproportionate to the button's size, echoed out. The platform lurched once, then shot upward at an incredible speed, carrying Jenkins with it.
Gazing down at Nolan from above, the familiar city took on a strange new look, webbed with an intricate network of pipelines. Even with its bustling population and its nurous, powerful factories, Jenkins couldn't shake the feeling that everything he saw was utterly lifeless.
Perhaps it had sothing to do with the sallow yellow sky. The color gave him the unsettling impression that this dream-city was slowly sinking into decay.
The lift ascended with incredible speed. Within seconds, he was standing on a narrow walkway outside the palace. He touched the surrounding walls—slanted yet perfectly straight—confirming once more that the floating, pyramid-shaped structure was made entirely of tal.
Driven by curiosity, he rapped his knuckles lightly against the wall. Perhaps because this was a dream, he could actually see so of its internal structure, but only the shallowest layers. Deeper within, everything was shrouded in a thick, gray fog; he knew there was more, but it remained invisible to him.
He followed the walkway horizontally and soon ca to a set of stairs leading upward. Navigating the structure was like walking through a cubic maze, spiraling ever upward. It took so ti, but he finally reached the top level.
From below, the top level appeared to be a standard triangle. But upon reaching it, he discovered its periter was composed of phantom-like walls. The interior was invisible from the outside, yet the exterior was perfectly visible from within.
He reached out and touched the seemingly solid wall, built from reddish-brown stone bricks. His hand passed through it as if piercing a warm film of water. He stepped through, finally arriving at the summit.
The summit was a massive ceremonial ground, and no one barred his entry. He hesitated at the threshold, peering inside. Once he was sure it was safe, he stepped onto the floor, which was paved with parallelogram-shaped tal tiles.
Square pillars of varying heights were scattered across the platform, both they and the floor tiles inscribed with gear-shaped runes. In the very center of the platform was a raised dais that strongly resembled the sealed A4 Type Arithtic Auxiliary External Machine. Incomprehensible runes and symbolic icons flickered across its surface.
However, dozens of pipes, each thinner than a little finger, plunged deep into the floor tiles from the base of the dais, resembling blood vessels. The material of these slender conduits was impossible to identify by sight, but they were translucent, allowing Jenkins to see a rust-colored yellow fluid flowing continuously from beneath the floor, through the pipes, and into the dais.
He thought for a mont, then walked over to the dais and rapped his knuckles against it.
"Is anyone there?"
As soon as the words left his lips, he took a quick step back. As he did, the light suffusing the symbols and runes on the dais's surface began to converge at its center. The runes' glow vanished in an instant, replaced by specks of blue fluorescence that dotted the entire surface.
A pillar of white light then erupted from the altar, its brilliance flickering against the decaying yellow sky. Within the column of light, a human head slowly materialized. Of its facial features, only the outline of the ears was distinct. There was no trace of eyebrows, and its eyes, mouth, and nose looked as if they were covered by a thin sheet of paper.
In other words, it was a faceless man.
"You're finally awake."
Jenkins spoke first, before the entity could, and then spoke again, cutting off its question before it could be asked.
"After such a long ti, I've finally found you. So, how's the dream?"
"Very good."
The words were ford from the grinding of machinery.
"So, do you know you're dreaming right now?"
"Of course, I do."
"Then, are you aware that you've been trapped in this dream for thousands of years?"
"I am not."
Perhaps because its true form was chanical, it lacked any capacity for rich emotion. Even when confronted with such a startling revelation, its response was simple and direct.
The brief exchange confird Jenkins's suspicions. The Difference Engine was semi-conscious—aware it was dreaming but ignorant of reality. This, he supposed, was the price it had to pay. To fully experience a dream and birth a soul of its own, a sacrifice was necessary.
"You're in a half-dreaming, half-awake state right now, aren't you? You know you're conscious, but you don't fully understand this world."
If it were fully conscious, Jenkins never would have made it this far. He would have been hunted through the city by countless dream-monsters, forced to flee for his life.
"Then who are you? Have you co to wake ?"
The chanical voice asked, its tone sluggish.
"No, I haven't co to wake you."
Jenkins refused to believe the Difference Engine would enter a dream so recklessly, assuming no one could ever intrude. It must have prepared for the possibility of an attack during the brief monts it was lost in the dreamscape. Therefore, Jenkins had to avoid saying anything that might provoke hostility.
He decided to try a different approach, to test just how gullible this entity was.
"As for who I am... I am you,"
he declared with utter confidence.
"Then who am I?"
"You are Jenkins Williams. To be precise, you are the 'ego' of Jenkins Williams. I am his 'superego,' and the completely subconscious 'id' is still trapped in the deepest layer of the dream."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
An unnatural light flickered across the surfaces of the surrounding pillars. Jenkins sensed he was approaching the entity's threshold for hostility.
"According to my—that is, Jenkins Williams's—research, the human psyche can be divided into three parts. Explaining it in detail would be tedious, but you can think of it this way: the 'id' represents desire, which is suppressed by the conscious mind; the 'ego' is responsible for navigating the real world; and the 'superego' is our conscience, our inner moral compass."
The chanical voice fell silent for a few seconds before responding.
"A very interesting theory."
"Yes. So, because of certain events, the individual known as Jenkins Williams fell into a deep slumber. We are, in fact, the sa person, just different manifestations of his psyche. The 'id' is trapped in the deepest level of the dream, a place I call the Lost Verge. You, as the primary conscious part, are trapped in the main dreamscape, with only a partial understanding of the truth. And I am another, smaller part of that consciousness—Jenkins Williams's ntal defense chanism—and therefore, I know the most. For years, I have been searching for you both within this dream."
The story flowed more and more smoothly. Perhaps Jenkins truly had a gift for lying.
"A very interesting story. So, why did I fall asleep?"
"You've even forgotten that? It seems the situation is worse than I thought."
He frowned.
"The final battle was coming to a close. Unable to defeat our enemy, I—that is, Jenkins Williams—chose to fall into a deep sleep for a fleeting mont to seek strength from within. Because of the disparity between dream-ti and reality, we've spent millennia in here, but only an instant has passed in the real world. Your mory of reality may be hazy, but surely you can feel yourself growing stronger in this dream, can't you? That was the purpose of entering it. But our goal isn't just to seize power from the dream; we must also awaken. And that is my mission."
"But my mories of reality are different from what you've described."
"Of course they are. We entered this slumber in the final monts of our battle. The enemy would naturally try to influence us; it wouldn't just stand by and do nothing. And what a formidable enemy it was."
"If you cannot convince to believe in the reality you speak of, I will have no choice but to eliminate you."
The Difference Engine was not as easily fooled as Jenkins had hoped. But he had already prepared for this.
"The enemy shares the sa source of power as we do. That's why it was able to make you—the 'ego'—lose your way in this dream. Surely you rember the phrase 'our origins are one and the sa'? No? It seems you've forgotten. Our enemy and we... we both wield the power of sin from the 18th Epoch. We are both masters of the chanical."
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