The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters:

A Schwarz Fic

The ultra-modern building is crowded today, and everyday. People swarm through the doors, up and down the escalators, packing into the elevators. There’s always training in progress on the Physical Acceleration level; personnel monitoring the trainee’s at work. Above ground on the Information Processing level, trainees and instructors pick up their weekly scores. Who needs improvement, who is at the top of the class, who stays at the academy, who will be removed from the academy…questions that spin through their minds as they wait for the printouts at the computer terminals.

The redhead already knows the answers to his own questions. His printouts read stellar, as usual. He’s only just learning to handle telepathy, but it hardly shows on the list of 9s and 9.5s. He takes an escalator back down to the training facilities, eyeing some hot chick riding up the opposite escalator. He yawns. He is bored with their minds, but can’t turn the sound off. Dampening the volume on the NOISE, he turns his eyes downward, scanning the glass-and-steel floors for the girl…

Trainee Crawford forces his way up the escalator. He’s pissed-off today. There is a blot on his record, and it’s all his fault…

"Lighten up, what’s with that face." His lover laughs as she kisses him. He doesn’t kiss back.

"Look at this! Look at this score! 7.5! I got 7.5 and I know I could have dodged that one…" He fumes. Sylvia takes the paper and scans it while he continues to curse. "What’s the point of being a precog then?! I could have missed that one!"

"Brad…" Sylvia sighs. She’s used to his quest for perfection. The score sheet reads like a model student’s, except for the shot Brad took to the shoulder. This was all relative really, considering all training was done in a virtual-reality plane. On the Display Screens, a young trainee is engaged in combat. The boy (it looked like a boy) executes a series of whirlwind kicks against his computer-generated nemesis. The CG falls and a gaggle of girls glued to the screen begins to squeal in appreciation. Brad gives them a dirty look that Sylvia misses. Her communicator has just gone off.

"This’ll take a sec, hon."

"Yeah. Sure." Brad is still staring gravely at the shrieking fans. Sylvia takes a few paces away, toward the double glass doors and taps the pin over her heart. Instantly, a tiny microphone and ear-piece extends to her reach.

"Hi! Is this about re-scheduling my classes?…Yeah, I can’t make it to teach on Friday because…"

Brad is not listening to her. He watches the girls with an empty stare, not seeing them. Why don’t I find this place weird? A woman walks past him. She’s dressed in a silver miniskirt and see-through plastic blouse. There are stars painted over her nipples. Her hair is turquoise. Why don’t I think this is any stranger than LA? Oh god, LA… Sylvia hangs up the communicator and turns her attention back to her lover.

"That’s settled." She notices the grimace. "If you’re gonna look so sour, let’s go to the club and dance! Let’s go to the bar and get plastered! Lighten up, this isn’t the end of the world yet."

"I don’t want to go to the club or the bar. Why can’t we just go back to my quarters?" Brad’s voice takes on a petulant tone when Sylvia laughs, "Why don’t I find this place weird?" Another striking woman, this one with lopsided black hair and vivid green eyes waves at the couple as they walk through the glass doors into the Pleasure Dome and Domestic Quarters.

"Hey, it’s Midori…I dunno Brad, the Real World is a lot weirder than this…" Sylvia lights up a cigarette, throwing her match into an ornamental flowerpot.

"Yeah…true…oh god, LA was just sad…"

The girl isn’t there yet, but a pair of girls strolling by catches his appreciative glance. They smirk at him while he gives them the once-over. He finds a cigarette in the depths of his pockets and pulls it out for a quick smoke. His current flame is usually late, so he’s not worried. Midori strolls out of the door beside him just as another length of ash falls away from his cigarette. He’s quick to pull her back.

"Baby, you missing me at all? I thought we had a date for tonight."

"Can’t make it." Midori struggles from his grip and starts to stalk away.

"Why’ve you been avoiding me, is there something you want to tell me."

"I think, with your reputation with the girls, you’d know what my message is." Midori is striding toward the women’s showers.

"Are you trying to break up with me?" he laughs.

"I saw you with that slutty blonde bitch Sylvia last week at the club!" Midori snarls over her shoulder.

"But baby, that’s because you weren’t there yet! She means nothing to me, I swear!"

Midori sweeps through the sliding doors without reply. He leans against the wall, trying to keep his slick cool. "Besides, she’s already told me she’s not interested." He means to yell this through the door, but somehow it comes out much too soft for Midori to hear. Scanning the wide hallway for trouble, he taps the control pad and waits for the door to hiss open.

As he steps into the steamy showers, a CI console drops down. Its canned computer voice instantly grates on his nerves.

"You are not identified as a female person. CI has requested that you leave the bathing area immediately…"

His face has a practiced sour look on. He is glaring at a spot on the far wall, ignoring the glowing screen. In his mind are a thousand NOISY slipstreams. He focuses on one belonging to the woman who is just about to turn around and notice him.

Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

He instructs her. Further off is another woman, drying her legs next to the control pad…

It’s too fucking NOISY in here. I’m shutting this thing down.

"It’s too fucking noisy in here. I’m shutting this thing down." The woman snaps, somewhat forced, as she taps on the pad. The console returns to its station in the ceiling. He turns on heel and swaggers down a row of lockers. There is one woman, with nothing but a towel on, kneeling in front of her locker. She is also about to notice him but he traces the NOISE back to her head…

Don’t turn around. There is no one there.

Frozen in the act of turning, she goes back to her locker. He stops right behind her, to appreciate her assets. Leaning over her supple neck, he blows quickly and scampers away, while the surprised woman jumps up and looks the other way.

"There’s no one there." She says, surprised…

He tiptoes up to shower number 302AM. Midori’s clothes lie in a pile on the tiles. The water is heard through the frosted glass panel. He grins. Midori leans out the door,

"Hey Ronnie, can you throw me my towel?" Then she turns around and notices him. "What the hell are you doing in here?! This is the women’s room!"

"I want to know why you won’t date me tonight?"

"I’m busy…look, you should get out of here before you get in trouble!" Midori is standing on the tiles now, one arm wrapped around her breasts and the other around her crotch.

"Why? No one notices me. There’s nothing wrong." There is a smug note to his laughter. Two women are walking up to Midori and one is holding a blue towel. He reaches through the NOISE to find their minds…

There is no one here. I deny your eyes sight.

The women don’t appear to see him as he leans against the wall, laughing openly now.

"Here’s your towel, Midori." The brunette says, somewhat vacantly. Midori takes the towel offered and wraps it around herself. With a final frustrated look at the women as they leave, she faces him.

That’s very funny, smart-ass. I’m not impressed. You can’t even control the noise can you?

Of course I can control the NOISE.

You’ve got the power baby, but you’re way too unskilled and stupid to become anything important with it.

That’s not fair! It’s not like TK (TeleKinetic) I’m still at the top of my class.

For now, you are.

Midori smirks and digs up her clothing.

"Don’t be like that. I really like you, I’m not mean or anything." He whines.

"I’m busy hon. Why don’t you go dancing with the other girls?" Midori is already zipping up the front of her black sweater.

"Why do you hurt me so…" He mewls, burying his face in her soft neck.

"Stop being such a big, ah, suck…" Midori’s hand finds itself tangled up in his red-gold hair. He is fast enough to undress her again and she pauses struggling long enough to kiss him back… "Don’t. Don’t! We could get in big trouble!" But he doesn’t listen. She sighs and dances her fingers down to his fly. They back into the shower and let the door slide closed, "You’re way more trouble than you’re worth."…

He throws off his black visor helmet,

"Kuso…" he hisses.

The VR metropolis dissolves into crystals of colour and light. His instructors are already busy gathering printouts and biological readings. He blinks once, to banish the red from his eyes. Then, Trainee Naoe stalks out of the room. One of his instructors waves a paper happily under his nose. He can make out the long column of perfect 10s before the paper is yanked away and fed into Central Intelligence. He manages a tired smile but he’s actually thinking of his sleeping pallet and the privacy of his quarters. He pushes through a crowd of admiring fans (mostly teenaged girls) outside the training room doors and heads for the elevator bank. His chief trainer steps out of one of them.

"Hey Nagi-chan. I caught the last minute of that fight…you were really something else."

"Domo-arigatou." Nagi’s voice is softened by fatigue, "Chandra-sama…"

"You aren’t in Japan anymore, ya know," Chandra places her hand on his shoulder as they both re-enter the elevator. "You don’t have to call me ‘sama’. We’re equals."

"I know. I’m tired. I’m going to go eat and maybe sleep for a couple of hours."

"Good kid, you deserve it."

They are using katanas today. There is blood all over the floor and he has to hold his side where the CG slashed him. It is a flesh wound and doesn’t even hurt but his trainers are calling over the communicators. He’s lost too much blood. He’ll have to stop the session and see the meds. Ignoring his trainers, he holds the katana comfortably, an extension of his arm. The CG prepares to lunge at him but he’s too fast for it. He hacks it down the middle, a gory diagonal slash from right shoulder to lower left abdomen. The CG falls and his trainers are yet again impressed by his seemingly unlimited endurance. He finally lets the meds fall to dressing the various gashes he received during the fight. Even though the fights are VR, the wounds are real. They’ve been conditioning him to not feel pain, to not be hampered by any physical discomfort. He shrugs the annoying meds off and doesn’t bother to check his readouts. They are almost always perfect 10s. Right now, all Trainee O’Sullivan wants is to veg out in a rejuv tank and simmer. There is always pain under this hate. He stalks silently into the corridor, now growing dark with night even though it is underground. Simulated days always give the academy a nice touch. There always blue skies upstairs under the "sky light". There is a girl bouncing toward him. He ignores her until she runs up to him and exclaims,

"Oh, Farfie! You’re just the coolest! I’m so impressed!" Her voice is extra high and perky. Farfarello winces at being called "Farfie".

"Yeah?" he says evenly, "Uh, who’re yeh?"

"Oh, I’m such a big fan! I was just watching that last fight, you were so awesome!"

"Er, thanks."

"Do you want to go to the club or something?" The girl is, ironically enough, dressed in a long gothic gown complete with fishnet fingerless gloves and a black-lace shawl. Her lank black hair swings in her pale face but she is too bouncy, too hyper, to pull off the Vampirisma look. Farfarello fights back a laugh; she is too annoying to want to hang around with.

"Not really."

She apparently hasn’t heard him, because she is leaning closer to him, gazing at his tight muscles.

"Wow, you’re just so…hot…" She says under her breath. Her hands reach out to feel one of his biceps but he backs away in shock and disgust.

"What is yher name?!" he asks, desperately trying to fend her off.

"Sally! Wow, do you want to stop by my sleeping quarters sometime too?"

Farfarello feels his fly come undone and notices where Sally’s attention is directed,

"What the hell are y doin’?!" Farfarello turns to the wall to zip up again.

"Oh I’m a TK so I was just, you know, having some womanly fun…"

"Er, I, gee, look Sally I’m busy and I gotte go." Farfarello takes off at a jog but to his deep aggravation Sally is following.

"Hey, I heard you’re, like, some anti-christ or something."

"Religion is not somethin’ I wanne talk abou’ righ’ now…" he shoots over his shoulder, dread sharpening the white of his skin. He comes skidding to a stop at his door. Sally is knocking into his elbow.

"You really are so amazing Farfie, I really think we could,"

"That’s nice!" Farfarello chirps, a fake smile plastered to his bone-white face, "Maybe I’ll see you around Sally! G’night!" Still smiling hard, he about-faces and slams into his room. From the corridor he hears the dreaded wench,

"Ok Farfie! I’ll see you at drill tomorrow morning!"

When he is sure she’s gone, he lets out a sigh of relief.

"Damn perky bitch!" He mutters. His CI console suddenly shoves its blank screen into his face.

"CI has detected an increase in heartbeat and blood pressure. Will you allow the system to perform a pre-cautionary test to…"

"Get out of me face, fuck it!" He snaps testily. The console moves aside as he stalks to a blank wall. Tapping a control pad and his sleeping pallet juts out from the wall. Farfarello sits down and starts rubbing his eyes. He feels little monitoring tabs try to attach themselves to his wrists… "I said stop!" The snake-like wires try to tap into his neck. He flicks them away with quick, irritated strokes. "Gettoffgettoffgettofff!"

"Allow CI a retina scan of identification…"

Before he can argue, the screen scans his left eye. There are violet and green afterimages from the screen’s brightness.

"I said stop it! Jesus fucking Christ!"

Finally, the bothersome console retracts into the ceiling and he can nap in peace.

Nagi is seated at a table in one of the many cafeterias. There is a plate of sushi and another of robata in front of him and getting cold. He can hear a giggling from somewhere above him and regrets that the cafeteria is in a multi-level atrium.

The two girls giggle madly behind their kimono sleeves. They’ve been watching the cute fighter from before as he sits alone eating.

"Ooh, lets go see him, lets do!" The girl with black hair titters.

"Ooh, he’s so cute, lets go play, lets!" her redheaded companion agrees.

"Ooh, where’s that kawaii fighter?" Another girl calls. The first two beckon the third over and they stare avidly at Nagi’s head. Eventually, the noisy group attracts other teenaged girls in the area. They all flock to the railing to watch their hero dine.

Nagi looks up at the railing and notices a large group of girls staring at him and laughing. He frowns hard and looks around for some cover. He notices several glass privacy screens stacked in an alcove and uses his TK to glide the panels over. From behind his new seclusion he hears many sighs of disappointment. Deciding that he’s not hungry anyway, Nagi steals away from the table and to the doors. He’s got other plans…

Brad pauses at the railing. There is a group of girls clustered near him and giggling wildly. He looks over but all he can see is a pair of screens lined up. Brad wonders what all the fuss is about.

The club rocks to the techno loops blasting from the speakers. It is always crowded, just like the main facility. Trainee Albrecht sways up against the body of his dance partner, Sylvia. She is blonde, busty and pretty like what he appreciates. But he does not hold her attention and when he tries to get closer and pull her into his arms, she sidesteps. Her gaze is pulled over his shoulder, to the bar. She waves and smiles, letting him know that they will not be dance partners for much longer. She walks away as the music runs into a drum machine-driven riff. Industrial noise, not unlike the NOISE in his head.

Sylvia can see that Brad is not in the mood to dance. He’s barely touched his beer and is staring into the distance. She wonders whether he even noticed her dancing with that sultry redhead, Schuldig. That little womanizer has been after her for weeks, but he’s too young and she knows that she’s in love with Brad. Putting her arms around his muscular torso, she kisses him. He responds this time,

"Now can we go back to my place?"

"I’m game. But if you’re in such a rotten mood, why not go back down to PA and up the score. The training facilities are open all night."

"I like the way you think."

They kiss yet again as they stroll out of the club

Farfarello goes over to his own private rejuvenation tank, 217XF and steps inside. The moment he seals the doors, red fluid begins seeping in. He closes his eyes and tries to drift off into sleep. The cool red meds instantly go to work healing the many scars and tears of today’s battle.

Nagi is standing in front of a reflective panel. He changes the settings so that he appears to be standing in an Arabic palace. Excited, he tries to find the settings for "dancing harem girls". He himself is dressed in the sweeping swathes of an Arabian prince. The settings are locked to minors however. Disappointed, Nagi starts swiveling his hips to imaginary harem music. Slowly, his excitement trickles back. He doesn’t care if he is alone. He can imagine the harem girls. It is imagination that guides his hands down to that area. Temporarily shocked, he looks up into his reflection’s eyes. He notices the curve of his smile and the malicious glitter of his own eyes. Yes, he does want to do this. Swooning to the floor in wicked pleasure, he lets imagination help him the rest of the way…

Brad’s black Mercedes takes the corner at hair-raising speeds. The red car that’s been trailing him is still behind, hugging the lip of the cliff they’ve been racing along. The sleek red car starts nudging forward, to send Brad’s car over the edge. This training session is going much better than the previous one. His precog is back on track.

"How am I holding up in the scoring?" He shouts into his communicator. He is exhilarated.

"Looking good, Brad. Be careful though, you’re still in the danger zone."

"Man, this other guy is relentless!" Brad whoops, pleased rather than afraid. The challenge drives him to new heights.

Schuldig grits his teeth as he spins the steering wheel, barely avoiding a nasty crash in the canyon below. Instead of taking his mind off Midori, this late night training session is bringing down his scores! The red BMW squeals in protest as he takes another turn at 120 MPH. It’s ridiculous, but he wonders how the VR program is keeping up with him and his faceless adversary. This is impossible in the real world…

"Watchit baby, there’s an obstruction in the road ahead, slow down, try to get the other guy to the edge."

Brad’s precognitive powers have already alerted him to the hazard in the road. He stomps on the brakes, hoping his nemesis will continue into the peril. To his chagrin, the red car also comes to a screeching halt, inches from the hazard; a collapsed section of road. Brad storms out of his Mercedes,

"What the fuck is this! This is a fucking forfeit!"

But the VR program is already shutting down. The black world of the cliff-side highway dissolves into shimmers of colour. Brad glares daggers at Sylvia. She shrugs from her station in the trainers’ booth.

Schuldig is panting hard as he gets out of his car. He closes his eyes to the ever-present tidal wave of NOISE and when he opens them again he’s back in a VR cell. His trainers are shaking their heads and looking relieved. He laughs weakly and tries to hunt for a joint with shaking hands.

Brad stalks out of the training room. Sylvia hasn’t followed and at this moment he doesn’t care. Not watching where he is going, Brad crashes into someone. The other man careers into a wall and starts swearing in Korean. Brad’s glasses have been knocked askew but he doesn’t need them to see up close. The other man is tall and bald and Asian. There are piercings in every bit of visible flesh but Brad can imagine there are others that he doesn’t want to think about. The Asian throws Brad a filthy look and runs a finger over the outer edge of his ear, exposing a crest of needle-spikes in the cartilage. Brad gives an involuntary shiver. The Asian barks one more insult in Korean and storms off. Brad wisely chooses to go in the opposite direction.

Nagi slips along the black hallway. His light footsteps clang unnaturally against the metal floors. He hates the computer room, with its infinite proportions and creepy wiring coils. He passes by a rejuv tank with someone inside. Nagi studies the foggy red figure and judges it to be a man. He stops to think for a minute, then pushes the Release button. There is a loud sucking and gargling and the med liquid starts to drain. Nagi scampers off without a backward glance, on his way to meet Midori.

Midori is waiting at the other end of the vast networking room. Nagi is glad to leave the perpetual dark and smell of wiring.

"Hello Midori senpai."

"Hey Nagi-chan. You’ve been training pretty hard, so I hear."

"I was just on my break." Nagi smirks, thinking of his secret game.

"What’s that look for," Midori’s husky voice takes on that sly tone like she’s trying to bribe Nagi. "Did you get into trouble?"

"No, I’ve just been on break. I don’t want to go back to mainstream training though, it’s tiring and repetitive."

"That’s the way you learn. But I bet I could sign out a water tray for you in the equipment room, if you care to wait. Kids aren’t authorized to be in the Arsenal."

"I can wait." Nagi sounds almost sulky, hurt that Midori doesn’t trust him.

They come to a halt before a nondescript grey bulkhead. The doors slide open when Midori’s retina scan clears her. Nagi’s curious gaze roves hungrily around the large room. There are racks and racks of assault rifles, a wall hanging with katanas and medieval broad swords. Dozens of teenagers with shaved heads are sitting in the lotus position, contorting spoons or intricate puzzles floating above their heads. The room is specifically an arsenal for the TK unit. One of the boys throws a cocky smile at Midori, bending signs and consoles to obstruct her path to the storage room door.

"Very funny, Hu! Get back to practice and get this crap out of my way." Midori says dryly.

There is a man leaning against the sword wall. He smirks at Midori when they walk in but Nagi arrests his gaze. Nagi makes a note of the armaments before acknowledging the man. He’s one of the weirdest looking people Nagi has seen at the facility thus far. Long sea-green tresses that fall over his eye and give him a sexy appearance crown one half of his head. The other half of his head is shaved bald and decorated with tattoos. There are piercings in his ears, nose, lips, chin and eyebrows. The man’s smile widens when Nagi meets his gaze.

"Hey cute kid!" The man says brightly as he swaggers over.

"Hello." Nagi smiles becomingly. He can sense what is coming next, from the hungry look creeping into the other’s eyes.

"What’s it take to get a cute kid like you into bed?"

"Money." Nagi purrs without hesitation, "Lots of money. American money."

The man’s pupils dilate as he opens his mouth to respond. Midori chooses that moment to walk back through the other doors, a large glass tray tucked under her arm. She smiles knowingly at both Nagi and the stranger.

"Hey Jailbait, you met my Prodigy I see?"

"He is one cute little kid." Jailbait says, rather irritated by her fast return but trying to hide it behind a smile.

"If you wanna get CI on your ass, you can go right ahead and take him." Midori makes a sweeping gesture to indicate Nagi. Nagi preens himself before taking the water tray. He can use it to practice precision control with his powers.

The droplets dazzle and glimmer in the air. Nagi is careful to keep the simulated water drops above the glass projector. He makes some land on the rippling surface, while others he arcs into shimmering waves and sprays. The crown caused by his splash is frozen into a perfect moment. Controlling the forces of nature is much harder than manipulating the sad toys of the human world.

Farfarello runs a hand over his still-damp arms. Someone (Sally probably) had let him out of the rejuv tank. But, no one was around. Farfarello scratches his head and shrugs. Now that he is fixed, he can go back to training in the VR.

Nagi is running away from a CG. It’s been trailing him ever since he re-entered the mainstream program. Holding up an uzi, he takes aim and shoots. The CG is damaged but unfazed. Nagi decides to run. The CG upgrades itself into a man’s shape. Nagi knows the program has just got more dangerous.

Farfarello dodges the bullets hailing down on him. The CG is smaller than what he’s normally used to, clad in black and wearing a helmet. It only appeared fifteen minutes ago in the training program in this form. He tries to crawl to a better vantage point but the CG has him pinned behind a pile of shrapnel. Deciding to take a wild gamble, Farfarello sprints for an air vent and scurries along it, practically crawling. He casts a look over his shoulder and doesn’t see the other figure entering the other end of the vent.

Nagi ducks into a vent, to avoid getting vaporized by the CG. He scuttles along, until he hears sounds in front of him. Using his TK, Nagi puts up a barrier.

Farfarello sees red in front of him and decides to shoot it.

There is an explosion.

Nagi hides his face from falling debris from the explosion.

Farfarello opens his eyes from the blinding light. There is a little boy, also lowering his arm from his face.

Nagi feels a wail rip from his throat.

Farfarello gets yanked from the training program. His readings are off the scale. He slaps his chest to make sure his heart is still beating.

"Get away from me Sally!" He barks at the shrieking goth girl. It is not quiet here so Farfarello decides to find a place where it will be quiet. When he gets back to his room, he yanks on the cords of his CI console until they come out. The ends spark a bit but it doesn’t hurt. It never hurts. But, oh god, inside, it aches and aches and aches…

Nagi lets Jailbait rub his back soothingly. Midori hands him a glass of milk she managed to procure from god-only-knew-where. He gulps back the cool tasteless liquid. Jailbait is now blowing gently on his neck. Nagi rolls his shoulders.

"Stop it. There’s no way you’ll ever get me." He sneers. Jailbait actually looks crushed. Midori nods, giving Nagi permission to leave the training area. Nagi goes straight to his room to play his secret games. He doesn’t feel lonely. He’s not trusting of adults, or anyone at the facility. He’s happy to be by himself, a little mouse curled up in a ball making himself squeak.

Schuldig is standing on the roof. He can tell it’s the real roof because he can smell and taste the wind. The sun has just set and the sky is a dusty purple. The smoke from his joint is delicate blue against the sky. He can smell cologne under the air and weed and wonders where it’s coming from. The NOISE has stopped, temporarily. He breathes a heavy sigh, one that shakes his ribs painfully. When he moves, he feels hardened. Though he can’t really hear them, he’s sure his limbs groan like rusty hinges. He feels petrified. The lack of NOISE leaves an empty space, an ache that swells his heart and makes him want to jump into the wide blue sky. The ache, the need to flex non-existent wing muscles and soar takes his breath away. He gasps, choking back the dry hacking sobs. He will not cry because the NOISE is finally gone. It will only come back again, later. Schuldig hugs his arms to his body. He cannot fall asleep, what with the taste of freedom right in his mouth.

Brad draws Sylvia closer to him. He loves having her as a partner. She’s not touchy about sex the way some women are. He is glad to have a woman asleep on his shoulder. He knows that they won’t stay together. He could do something to keep her, but eventually he won’t be able to stay here himself. One day, he’ll be back in the Real World. His thoughts wander into the visions of the end. They haunt him every night, right before he drops off to sleep. One day, his sleep will make a monster of him.