Sleeper Cell
By Casey Douglass
as part of #fridayflash
The figure under the
heavy duvet groaned and rolled onto his side. The air in the dark
room was stuffy and oppressive, the kind that hinted at antique
oxygen that was captured many weeks ago. The only illumination came
from the faintly buzzing digital alarm clock, its digits declaring
01:17 in a ghoulish green light.
A tiny breeze fluttered
at the tattered posters on the wall before all became still once
more.
‘According to the
manifest, this one sleeps like a log.’
Another swift movement
of air billowed gently and faded into nothing.
‘Ugh this room
stinks!’
‘They all do, to
varying degrees.’
A tall stick-like
figure moved out from the deepest patch of darkness and approached
the bed. ‘He sleeps like he welcomes the oblivion.’
A smaller figure joined
the larger one, its hands clasped behind its back. Both were cloaked
in black material that shifted and swelled as the eye roved over it.
The material hid their contours, their only visible body parts their
hands and faces. Over-large foreheads squatted down on beady eyes,
the nose in between looked stretched and pulled, the tip hanging just
past the chin over mouths that were just a dark ‘O’. The larger
one spoke again:
‘You are happy with
your assignments?’
The small one nodded.
‘Do you have any
questions?’
‘No Sir.’
‘You understand the
ramifications of failure?’
The small one looked up
at the tall one. ‘Yes Sir.’
‘What is your task?’
‘To manage and
harvest my allotted cell, to utilise the energies within in
furthering the goals of the movement, to stay hidden and nameless.’
‘Very well. You seem
to have a firm understanding of your role but I think that perhaps a
little test is needed. Why do we not like night workers and what do
we do about them?’
‘We erm, we don’t
like night workers because they are awake at night, going against the
grain of the majority and denying us their sleeping energy. We
manipulate their bodies to hasten poor health which will make them
give up that kind of work or die, restoring the balance.’
‘Excellent! Question
two. Explain Mardum’s principle of manifestation and tell me what
your assignment is with ten sleepers.’
‘Haha that’s an
easy one Sir. Mardum’s principle states that every sleeper
generates five unnims of dark-wave energy. To derive your
manifestation powers, that is your solidity, stability and reality
control, you simply multiply the number of asleep by five. As far as
my task with ten sleepers, that would generate fifty unnims, which
would be...erm...information gathering from electronic devices, such
as computers, tablets and phones.’
‘Very close. Fifty
unnims just pushes you into your next grade of action, which in this
case is modification of ventilation and air systems to force them to
sleep longer and more deeply. If a little toxic gas gets into the
atmosphere, it can push them into a deeper level of sleep. How much
energy will they generate from this Kinnar state?’
‘Two extra unnims
each.’
‘Good lad!’
‘Thanks Dad.’
The tall figure ran an
alabaster hand over the head of the shorter.
‘You are very young,
too young really, but needs must. Our people are fading down into the
nightmare plane again, which is why it’s all hands on deck, so to
speak. If we can’t infiltrate this world and make it our own, we
are finished.’
‘I know Dad.’
‘Can you do it?
Manage this ten story dwelling and get the energy you need to further
our aims?’
‘Yes!’
‘Good boy.’
A mumble came from the
bed followed by a dry cough. The two figures looked at each other as
they began to fade.
‘See you at home son.
If you get there first, make sure you wash properly. I know we will
have to get used to the stink of this world soon but there’s no
reason to bring it back with us before we have to.’
‘Okay Dad.’
The smaller figure
blinked out in a quiet pop of air. The larger one lingered a few
moments longer. He appraised the room around him. ‘Animals,’ he
whispered, before imploding into nothing once more.
