The stench of rust, sweat, and soot clung to Thaddeus like a second skin.
His breath fogged in the early morning chill as he stalked through the narrow alleyways of the Outer District, head down, hands deep in the pockets of a patched-up coat. The distant hum of the upper tiers — drones, luxury rail lines, synth ads — was like a song playing for someone else, somewhere far beyond reach. Up there, the world spun golden. Down here, it crawled in the dirt.
He hadn't slept in two days.
Not because of hunger, though that was a constant. Not even because of the gangs or the occasional corpse rotting under the trash piles.
It was the shadows.
They moved when he looked away. They whispered in voices he didn't recognize — in a language no one should know. And when he finally blinked long enough to fall into half-sleep, something reached for him. Something cold, wrong… wet.
Every night since his sixteenth birthday, he woke up screaming. And lately, he wasn't sure he was even waking up at all.
The Emergency Public Awakening Clinic was on the edge of Sector 9, wedged between a condemned textile plant and a chain-fenced incinerator lot. Most people called it "The Farewell Wing."It was free. Because what could you possibly charge a corpse?A flickering holo-screen greeted him at the reinforced glass door:
WARNING:
If you are experiencing active Harrowing symptoms, you must undergo an Initial Dream Insertion Trial (IDIT).
If you do not survive, you will be humanely disposed of.If you return Tarnished, you will be executed.
By entering this facility, you waive your right to complaint or compensation.The only charge… is coming back alive.
"Name?"
asked the nurse without looking up.
"Thaddeus."
She tapped her tablet with a slow, practiced apathy. Her white coat looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks.
"Symptoms?"
"Shadows. Voices. Sleep distortion. Time loss. Cold air. I think I stopped dreaming."
She paused and looked up. "Then it's already started."
He stared.She sighed, gestured toward a sealed room behind reinforced glass.
"In there. Strip down to your underlayer. You'll be restrained for your own safety. And ours."
The room was cold. Sterile. Bright lights hummed overhead, cutting into his nerves like scalpels.
A technician strapped him to a padded slab — arms, legs, chest. Another one calibrated a device that looked like a cross between a VR headset and a bone saw.
"Relax," one of them said. "The system won't kill you. Not directly."
Thaddeus swallowed. "How long will it take?"
"Could be hours. Could be days in there. Time's funny in the Dreamscape."
"And if I come back…"
"Well if you come back, then you are lucky but not necessarily only sense now your more tired into the nightmare more than ever but on the bright side you can get fans and riches and women if… that's what you're into."
"And if I come back wrong?"
The technician met his gaze. "Then you're no longer Thaddeus. Just another monster."A needle slid into his neck. Cold fire ran through his veins.The ceiling cracked apart. Not physically — not in this world. But something deeper, in the corner of his perception. It felt like falling asleep underwater while someone whispered your name from above the surface.His fingers twitched.Then his eyes turned pitch black.
And Thaddeus fell.