Part 22 (1/2)

”Jennifer.”

”Um . . . this is a little hard to explain, but you see . . .” There was no other way for Becker to say it. ”I'm what they call a Fixer in this place called The Seems-which is this place that makes our World-and um, they were trying to send you a Dream tonight, but because of a Glitch in the Department of Sleep, they couldn't get it to you, and then by accident I popped your Dream because . . .”

Jennifer was looking at him like he was totally out of his mind, and Becker worried he was botching the whole thing.

”Sorry, I know it doesn't make a lot of sense . . . it's just . . . there was something special in that Dream and because of me, you couldn't get it. So they let me make a new one and deliver it myself.”

Jennifer glanced around the schoolyard-the place that had been her own personal Nightmare ever since she'd moved from Vancouver to Caledon.

”You're telling me this is a Dream?”

”Yeah. I made it in The Seems.”

”Then why did you make it so bad?”

”Well, it's about to get a whole lot better, if you want it to . . .”

Becker could tell that Jennifer wasn't quite buying his story, but she didn't exactly say no.

”Then follow me.”

After a moment's hesitation, she finally got up from the bench, and Becker led her back in the direction of the trees through which he'd arrived. The kid in the dirt was still there, codesigning a two-car garage with a freckle-faced third-grader.

”Who's that?” asked the smaller of the two.

”No one. He's just a Fixer in The Seems.”

The kids shrugged, as if that were all but obvious, then went back to their architectural plans. Neither seemed to notice that the trees that had once loomed over their shoulders were no longer there, having been replaced by a tall, wrought-iron gate-the kind that might adorn a deserted amus.e.m.e.nt park- complete with rusted turnstile that led to the other side.

”I've never seen this here before,” observed Jennifer.

”I told you, this is a Dream,” said Becker. ”Anything can happen.”

”Tickets! Tickets!”

A vintage ticket taker with a red, white, and blue carnival hat sat on a stool beside the turnstile, waiting for the only two customers of the day.

”Hey, Dr. Kole.” It was Becker's English teacher, who he'd specially chosen for this part.

”h.e.l.lo, Mr. Drane! I hope you have your tickets in hand, because I cannot allow our personal relations.h.i.+p to influence the performance of my duties!”

Becker pulled two s.h.i.+ny new tickets out of his back pocket and handed them over.

”Remember, the park closes promptly at dusk!” He ripped the tickets in half and handed one stub to each of them. ”And be careful, my dear-this one's quite the ladies' man.”

”Is that so?” Jennifer laughed, and for the first time since they'd met, Becker could feel her spirits lifting. He knew that was probably because she could glimpse what was on the other side of the gate.

”Shall we?”

Dream 532 was only ordered in the most dire of circ.u.mstances and it entailed the revealing of The Seems to a person in The World. It was only done inside a Dream because the aforementioned person was not actually being recruited for employment (in that case, they would have gone to Orientation), but rather needed a little help in negotiating the peaks and valleys of ordinary life. And even if they remembered everything that happened, they would no doubt write it off as a Dream, while hopefully the experience they had within would be memorable enough to change the way they looked at things when they woke up the next day.

The specific places that person visited in the dream varied on a Case by Case basis, but Becker wanted to give Jennifer ”the deluxe.” First, he took her to Time Square-the quaint town center in the Department of Time, complete with Second Hand Stores, Daylight Savings (FDIC), and Magic Hour-arguably the best coffee shop in the Seems. Then they stopped at the Sound Studio (where they design everything we hear) and the Olfactory (and all the things we smell) and they even dropped by the Weather Station, where Becker could show off a bit, because he knew the guys up there from a previous Mission.

”Briefer Drane,” exclaimed Weatherman #3, upon seeing Becker with his wide-eyed companion.

”That's Fixer to you, Freddy!”

”Hey, congrats. How 'bout Yesterday? Was that a perfect day or what?”

”Keep up the good work.”

Jennifer was impressed that Becker knew the people responsible for Weather, and she wasn't afraid to throw in a request of her own.

”Um, do you think you guys could do me a small favor?”

”For a friend of Fixer Drane . . . anything!”

”Well, I was just wondering if you could, like, bring down another ice age or something on this little town called Caledon.”

”Caledon? Ontario, Canada? Sector 104?” The Weatherman quickly flipped through his log of local forecasts. ”No Ice Age scheduled there for another thirty-two thousand years. How 'bout a Cold Spell? I could do that without having to get approval.”

Jennifer laughed. ”As long as I get a couple snow days out of it.”

Becker knew where this was coming from. ”Don't let a few bad apples spoil the bunch.”

”Yeah. Sure. Right. I'm sure there's a lot of cool people I just haven't met yet.” On the way out the door, though, she looked back and flashed Freddy the signal to hit 'em with everything they got, and the Weatherman gave her a thumbs-up.

But it was at the Big Building itself where Jennifer was really blown away.

Though it's strictly against the Rules to meet your Case Worker in person (even in a Dream), Becker made arrangements to stop by when the entire staff was out to lunch. While they rode the elevator up to the 423rd floor, Becker filled her in.

”. . . and so each Case Worker has about twenty-five individual Clients that they manage, and their job is basically to help you in any way they can. Like sending you Happy Thoughts or nudging you down the right path, or in your Case, ordering up this Dream.”

”And they let you design it?”

”The Pleasant Dreamers helped me out.”

”That's a pretty cool job.”

”Totally.”

The elevator dinged and they wandered down the seemingly endless hallway to office #423006. A knock on the door confirmed that no one was there.

”C'mon . . .”

Inside the office was a messy desk with a nameplate: ”Clara Manning, Senior Case Worker,” and posted all over the walls were pictures of her Clients. You really have to love your people in this job, and it was clear that even though the two had never met, Clara felt that way about Jennifer.