Code of the Council

Point CRP

It's so dark. Why is it so dark? I'm running. Running far, far away. And something's chasing me. It's big. Big and bad. I have to run. Far away, away from the big bad thing. I trip over a root and fall. The thing is over me now. This is bad, very bad... It's looking at me, and it has the face of a Council mask. "You're not going anywhere..."

I wake up with a start, breathing heavily. Alex is snoring beside me, tossing and turning in his sleep. I shake him awake. He opens his eyes, but they are clouded with worry and sleep. He opens his mouth to scream in his half-awake state. I clamp my hand over his jaws and turn on the lights.
"Alex!" I hiss. "Wake up." He blinks in confusion.
"Sadie..? I-it was there. And it was going to eat me. And the council mask..." He must have had another version of my dream. Rumors are that the Council control what you dream, but its highly unlikely. Unless... I take off my sleep pads, a soft cushion that goes on your wrist and controls your body temperature during the night. Our blankets are thin, and besides, sleep pads are alot more efficient. I fiddled with the battery compartment releasing the secured tab. I felt the heat lift, and a calm cool settled over me, very much unlike the Council-generated heat that the sleep pads gave. Tomorrow I would sleep without them. As I shook out the batteries, a small purple chip fell into my lap. A deep violet. The Council color.

The day dragged on. I kept looking at our bright green clock on the wall. Saturdays are Study Days, but I couldn't bring myself to open the tab in my holipad. And one problem was stuck in the back of my mind. What was this point CRP? I swatted the ghostly image of the holipad floating about my desk, and it disintegrated under my touch. The bookshelves were stalked high, but they would not carry the book i needed right now. I went down to the cellar and rummaged through the pickle jars. No, no, no... There. I lifted a dusty book and blew on the cover. The faded, golden letter shimmered faintly. "Atlas Of Qeant."

I carried the book to my desk, where i turned on the Ophthalamp and studied the cover. I could see it much clearer now, courtesy of the Ophthalamp, which combined the technology of glasses and a heat lamp. The cover was old, made of thick leather. The pages were yellowed with age and ripped in some places, but it was still readable. I flipped through the pages, searching for anything that could be "Point CRP." I gasped as I came across images of beautiful fountains, neatly arranged gardens, and benches carved from stone set along the dirt paths. Point CRP... Central Recreational Park, the only surviving relic of the Lost Times.