Dreams in a Dead World

Navigating her way through the hatch, Ren went for the proto-goo dispenser. It wasn’t much of a breakfast, but it kept the hunger at bay. She sighed and replayed her night. It wasn’t much, but it beat the harsh, gray world out the porthole.

As she sat she felt a massive hand on her shoulder, “You look thoughtful, little one.”

“Hmm? Morning, Jotha.”

“Stuck on your dreams again?” He lumbered to get his bowl of nutritive glop.

Ren sighed, “I think they’re more than dreams. See, the world wasn’t meant to be like this. It was…”

“Enough,” Jotha said with a huff as he plopped down, spilling some of his semi-solid food, “Dreams are for the night. Work is for the day. Such is life.”

“But it doesn’t have to be. Before the wars, the world was not like this. There was…”

“What, young one? What was there that our synthoes or VR-pods can’t give us now?”

Ren fought back a tear, “They told me there was…”

“Who told you? The faeries in your dreams?”

“Yes! Jotha, there was magic in this world once.”

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