The Secret Of The Heart

The waiting room was draped from top to bottom with purple wall features, these flag like structures ran down to the floor. They canopied across the cieling as they intertwined with chandeliers of gold. Pillars of hazy marble held the building firm.

Andrew could hear his own breath echo around the halls as he sat on a chair that was far to small for him. The arms of the chair were hugging him viciously as he squirmed slightly for a bout of momentary solace.

A synthetic voice boomed throughout the room.

“Patient number 101 report to the sleep tax rebate office.”

Andrew looked about himself in confusion, after all, he was the only person in attendance, at least from what he could tell.

Nevertheless, the white double doors at the end of the hall swung open long enough for one invisivle person to waltz right on through, this feeling of automation gave Andrew comfort.

He looked down at his ticket, the number “507” was etched onto a small piece of what appeared to be sugar paper. He contenplated eating it, before stopping himself abruptly.

There were no windows in this room, Andrew observed as he squinted his eyes to meet the glistening chandeliers above hin. Their illumination streched through the floor as Andrew was greeted by his own reflection upon looking down.

He smiled at himself before his mind began to wander again.

“Some sleep might be good” he thought to himself as he tried to drift off into an uncomfortable slumber. He contemplated sleeping on the floor, but again, he restrained himself for fear of being reprimanded.

He allowed his eyes to close for a moment, before being reminded of his sleep tax. A digital alarm clock imprinded on his eye lids glowed a deep red hue, if he focused hard enough, he could see the outline of his veins illuminated by his biological clock.

The timer read: “00:30”

Andrew hadn’t been careful, these six hours were supposed to last him the whole week. It was times like these when Andrew remembered what his father used to tell him:

“An hour a day keeps the cryptids away”

Andrew had been brought up to fear the cryptids, because he knew very well the consequences of meeting one.

Certain death, among other punishments were assured.

This addage of guilt swirled around in his thoughts for a few moments before the synthetic voice pierced the silence once more:

“Patient number 367 please report to the sleep tax rebate office.”

Still a long way from salvation, Andrew turned his attention to his dream diary.

Flicking through the pages, he pondered on his quotas:

“Locate Nirvana”

“Locate Atlantis”

“Locate Heaven”

“Locate Hell”

These tall tasks have eluded dream surveyors for centuries, Andrew’s leads were second to none.

He flipped the page to reveal a map, detailing seemingly infinite corridors and passageways, alleyways leading into the darkest streets of consciousness itself. They twisted and winded across the page, as if they themselves were trying to escape the page.

Looking at this labrynth for too long gave Andrew a headache, he averted his eyes and flicked forward a few pages. When Andrew looked down once more, he was met with a most perplexing sight.

Two lines, symmetrical in nature, convexing away from eachother at their first point of connection, before reaching up and out, only to concave in to meet once again, completing this shape.

Andrew was puzzled, in all his years of astral syrveying, he had never seen such a thing before. Let alone in his own notebook.

A wave of anxiety washed over him.

Andrew stood up quickly, he could feel the blood rushing to his head, he must be conscious, he must be.

He quickly rummaged in his pocket. He didn’t find what he was looking for, panic began to set in.

He looked around frantically, his reflection staring anxiously back at him through the marble pillars.

Andrew finally turned his attention to the floor behind him, where sitting peacefully on the cold floor, was his lucky red dice.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he knelt down to pick it up, running his thumb across the top, he could vividly feel the indents of four holes, then two, then five, then one, then three, then six.

He was safe, but Andrew’s eyes were growing heavy.

He sat on the cold marble floor, staring at the walls, maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment…

As his eyelids closed, he was met with a harrowing figure:

“00:00”

Where had his time gone? When had he spent it? Surely he hadn’t slept since he last shut his eyes? Had he?

In that same instant, a low drone pierced the silence, the hairs on Andrew’s neck stood on end.

There, at the end of the hallway, stood a creature whose hairs stretched across it’s body and pierced in and out of it’s flesh like a needle threads through a new sweater.

Andrew winced, he caught a glimpse of the creatures cold, emptied eye sockets before darting to the floor.

He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The creatures low drone persisted as it trudged across the hall, Andrew could hear it’s slow footsteps slumping closer and closer to him.

He raised his eyes slightly, he had to look, he couldn’t restrain himself. He saw the threaded legs of this humanoid beast pulling itself along, like a puppet on strings it dragged. All the while emitting its harrowing call that grew louder and louder, until Andrew had to close his eyes and clasp his ears with his hands.

In that instant, the synthetic voice chimed in, ushering silence once again across the hall.

“Patient number 507, please report to the sleep tax rebate office.”

The white double doors of salvation swung open.

Andrew darted his head up, he made for the exit, almost taking the small chair with him as he went. The low drone behind him was no where to be heard, and he had no desire to turn his head to check if this visitor still remained.

The white doors promptly shut behind him.

Before Andrew, laid a room far more soectacular than the waiting room.

The marble pillars were now encrusted with the green hues of emerald, it crawled up the bastions like lightning, the purple banners that lines the high walls were interlaced with gold stripes, leading to a crystal cieling that glimmered.

“How can I help you patient 507?”

Andrew quickly looked down at the darkened oak desk, a woman looked back at him with an unassuming gaze. Her dark hair was pinned back, and she wore a long blue cloak that disguised her appearance.

Andrew cautiously walked forward to the empty seat, he tried to choose his words carefully but his last encounter shook him:

“I’m looking to get an extension on my sleep hours, I have all the relevant request papers here.”

The nurse took Andrew’s papers and looked them over for a moment, occasionally glancing back up at Andrew, who was now reclining into a decidedly more comfortable seat.

The nurse broke the silence:

“Well i’m not at liberty to give you access to extended hours, you are aware of the restrictions i’m sure.”

“That’s a shame.”

Andrew tried to gauge the circumstances, he was running out of time.

“Maybe there’s something else you can help me with?”

“And what might that be?”

“I’m looking for Nirvana.”

The nurse, slightly taken back, took a moment begore responding.

“If you’re looking for Nirvana, you are looking in the wrong place.”

In that same moment she produced a small charm from her pocket, the shape of which bore a striking resemblance to the drawing in Andrew’s notebook.

“I’ve seen something like this before…” he mused.

“I’d be surprised if you hadn’t. There’s one inside of you right now of course.”

“What?”

The nurse paused for a moment before continuing, her suspicions began to mount.

“How did you happen upon this place?”

“I had an appointment, didn’t I?”

The nurse narrowed her eyes for a moment, she laid her hands flat on the table:

“The scarlet sun sets only on the horizon…”

Andrew looked back at her, a moment of confusion came before a sudden realisation.

He had been compromised.

In that instant, the nurse revealed a pistol from under the table, and fired three quick shots.

Andrew lunged forward. The first shot scraped across Andrew’s left cheek, but the second and third pierced his chest, sending him slumping back into his seat, gasping for breath as he looked on in shock.

The nurse stood up from her seat, weapon cocked, she slowly approached Andrew, whose breathing was now laboured and heavy, he could feel warm blood pooling in his lap.

“Nirvana is not for you, patient number 507, and as long as I live, it’s secrets will be safe from your kind.”

She was now inches away from Andrew, the pistol she held was now pressed against Andrew’s forehead.

The nurse held a hand to his chest, she could feel his heart rate slowing.

“That thing you feel beating in your chest is not some archaic device…”

Andrews eyes widened for a moment, a rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins.

“I’ll put you out of your misery… dream eater.”

Andrew side swiped the pistol from the nurses hand, sending it sliding across the marble floor.

He created space between the two of them, before rummaging in his pocket and producing his ticket.

He placed it in his mouth and swallowed, the nurse darted towards Andrew and attempted to retrive it, but it was already too late.

Andrew’s pupils dialated, he cracked a smile as the nurse wrapped her hands around his throat.

“Don’t you realise what you’ve done! You have brought them here! You have sentenced us all to a fate worse than death!”

In that moment, a familiar low drone boomed from behind the double doors, ushering silence into the room.

The room around Andrew began to melt away from his field of view. The reflective marble melded with the purple banners and golden lights, flickering and waving him into a deeper consciousness. The motto of the sleep tax institution was etched into the cieling, and its words danced above his head, slowly disappearing from view:

“ET NAVIGARE IAM ASCENDIMUS”

The last thing he heard was the fading of the drone, the creatures cry echoing into nothingness.

Andrew awoke abruptly, his pain had subsided.

He found himself in a suburban community, his bedroom overlooked an empty road, with street lights illuminating the darkness of night.

A blank piece of paper sat on the table across the room, Andrew dragged himself out of bed and sat at the desk.

He took a pen from the drawer and began to write:

“I have new information, a potential breakthrough.”

He waited for a moment before the page responded in kind:

“Were you followed?”

Andrew paused before replying:

“I’m one level up now, but I had to leave my conduit behind, sustained too much damage.”

The page responded quickly

“Damage?”

“An insurgent, nothing more. She gave me a lead on Nirvana.”

The page was still for a long time.

“Did you encounter any cryptids?”

Andrew was frozen in thought, the memory of the threaded beast returned to him like a lingering nightmare.

“No sir, requesting further orders.”

Andrew endured another bout of silence.

“You stated that you were compromised. Standard procedure dictates that your memory will be wiped and you will be discharged effective immediately.”

These words hit Andrew sharply, he could feel his chest start to beat rapidly. A flood of memories washed over him, he felt the silence of the sleep tax waiting room, the pain of lead piercing skin, the fear of impending purposelessness.

In that moment, Andrew made a conscious decision.

He grabbed the paper and tore it to shreds.

Andrew would find Nirvana, even if it was the last thing he would ever do…