Storia: The Dream Machine (La Macchina dei Sogni)
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“This is going to be a bad night,” Vivian murmured as she watched the torrential rain.
There was a loud bang at the door. Vivian hauled it open. Standing in the porch was the city’s Supreme Governor, flanked by a gang of grim bodyguards.
“I hear you sell dreams,” the Governor said, his cold eyes reflecting the neon street lights. “I need a new experience. I need to feel exhilarated. It needs to be transcendental. I hear you can do that.”
“The cost is the same for everyone,” Vivian replied sweetly. “You want a dream? You give a dream.”
One of the bodyguards put a gun to her head. “You can make an exception,” he growled.
Vivian ignored the gun. “The dream is taken at random, and completely anonymised,” she explained calmly. “It’s mathematically impossible to identify the original dreamer.”
“Relax, this is business,” said the Governor, pushing the bodyguard’s gun down. “I’ll pay your price, woman. Just give me what I want.”
The men barged in. The Governor made himself comfortable in an old-fashioned armchair that was in the middle of the apartment. Vivian attached a cable to his forehead. Then she selected a memory card, and inserted it into the dream machine.
“Ready?” she purred.
“I don’t have all night, sweetheart,” the Governor snapped.
Vivian hit the button. A slow blink, a tremble, and it was over.
“That… that was… my God…” muttered the Governor.
As the Governor stepped back out into the night, and his men filed out of the tiny room, the same bodyguard stopped and locked eyes with Vivian.
“You know what’s mathematically impossible?” he hissed. “Your life – if you mention this to anyone.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Vivian nonchalantly, though her throat was dry as dust.
When the men were finally gone, Vivian donned her video goggles and watched the dream that had been taken from the Governor.
At first, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Then she tore the goggles from her face and ripped the memory card out of the machine. She unlocked her safe, tossed the card deep inside, and slammed the door.
Late that night, Vivian was woken by another visitor. The man’s purple mask told her immediately that he was from Better System, the vigilante hacker group.
“I know something, and you know something,” whispered the hacker. “I know that, somewhere in this apartment, is a memory card containing the Supreme Governor’s dream. You know which one it is.”
“Suppose that’s true,” Vivian replied.
“We all know what this city’s become, because of him. Isn’t it time the people saw what kind of man he really is? That dream could ruin him. It could change everything.”
The hacker removed his mask, and held out his hand. Vivian searched the man’s face. She believed she could trust him. But she remembered the bodyguard. She remembered the cold metal of the gun against her head.
“This night just keeps getting worse,” Vivian sighed.