The Dreamcatcher

The Dreamcatcher
S. Lukyanenko
Automatic Yandex translation and Rumor V.N. self-translation for the military Moon.

Although Grig was deservedly proud of his ability to search, but trying to find August-Robert on the Playground in advance caused him despondency.
Every moment in the world, a third of a billion children are sleeping at the age when dreams already have a form, but are still separated from the world of adult dreams (and this is not about sex or drinking at all – adult dreams are mostly about the most ordinary boring work). The playground is divided into zones, each of which has millions and tens of millions of children. Come on, try to find one among them?
For the first time, Grig clearly stumbled upon a small simulacrum not by chance. There was something about August-Robert that sent him towards the Dream Walker who was looking for the Black Castle. But now Grig was sure: there would be no easy meeting.
Just in case, he still walked through a Children's Store that resembled the famous London Hamley, New York Schwartz (alas, it has long been closed in the real world), Moscow Detsky Mir, Beijing toy market ... well, and all other children's goods stores in the world.
Noisy children, sometimes with parents-relief, and more often escaped in a dream to freedom. Legions of dolls, endless rows of video game consoles, mountains of designers, flocks of flying drones – all the whistles in the world (that's what Grig called any device that meets three requirements: to make noise, to sparkle and not to do any useful work).
The children did not look at Grig, who had taken the form of a child, even with his wonderful dog team. There were dogs here, too–gigantic enclosures where elephants could be walked, crammed with yapping dogs, mostly puppies. Live real elephants, by the way, were also nearby, behind the dolphin pool, to the left of the bamboo grove with pandas.
Grig called August-Robert loudly several times, then decided that he had had enough shopping for today, and went on.
He passed the Bedrooms where the children slept, who dreamed that they were asleep. Oh, don't laugh. There are enough children in the world who dream of getting enough sleep.
He walked past the ships launching into space and barely fought off an offer to become a captain on a pirate schooner that was preparing to sail for treasure with a dozen sailors and a hundred jung.
In general, after a couple of hours of intense searching, Grig became convinced that he could not find August-Robert on his own. It remained only to take a chance and resort to the help of one of the Keepers.
Grig found a secluded corner in a tree house: a sturdy, well-built wooden house, where a reliable ladder led. It wasn't too spacious, but it was very cozy. In one window you can see a wild forest, in another – a restless seashore, and in the third – a relief mother caring for a flowerbed with flowers. The child who took this house was clearly a good obedient son, who did not go far from home even in his sleep.
Grig squatted down and thought for a few seconds.

Hans or Mikhail?
Hans gave him a promise to come to the call. And the author of the Book knew him. But he is very old-fashioned, stubborn, harsh. They had a nice chat with Mikhail, but what's on his mind, really? James is, by all accounts, a little crazy. They say that Henrik is a very correct Keeper, but Grig was not familiar with him. And the female Guardians, Anna Emilia and Diana, are too busy with the kids, it will be difficult to reach them.

So Hans or Mikhail?
It seemed that it was necessary to call Mikhail. But... he's too clever…
- Grig called softly. – Hans, you promised to come… Hans!
The air in the middle of the single room condensed into a tall, stooping figure in a black frock coat. Ungainly, big-nosed, with deep receding hairlines, Hans carefully cradled a girl of about three in pink pajamas in his arms. The girl sobbed softly, falling asleep. Hans made terrible eyes and cautiously shook his finger at the Dream Walker. Greg nodded understandingly. The dogs in the corner huddled to the floor, but Hans winked at them, and the dogs happily wagged their tails.
Grig thought he liked their reaction.
The girl whimpered a little more, then took a finger in her mouth and fell asleep. Hans opened his hands, and the girl disappeared.
- Teeth hurt, – explained Hans.– you can't eat a lot of sweets!

"I won't,"– Grig said obediently.
Sighing, the Dreamworker sat down on the floor in front of him. It's like it's formed in three quarters. He was so ugly and ridiculous that he aroused involuntary trust. A person who is so unlucky with his appearance simply cannot be bad either.
"What's it to you, Grig?" "You're an adult," Hans said.

– Did you find out? "I don't think you were at the bridge."

– I have my own sources of information, – Hans said dryly. - Snowflakes tell me their stories, the wind whispers words carried away from my lips, toys confide children's secrets.

– Soldier boy! –He's disappeared somewhere!"
Hans smiled and suddenly became very charming.

"Our clever Cliff has it. No, don't think about it, I treat him well. Cliff is one of the kindest adults I know. But he is a cunning schemer, you can't take that away from him either.
– Should I become an adult?  Grig asked.

"It's easier for me when you're a child." I've never been able to talk to adults. Honestly, even you are too big…
Grig sighed and became a five-year-old. The proportions of the body changed, Hans seemed to have grown up, the room in the tree house turned into a huge hall.
"I'll try this," he said. – But I'll be a little more stupid, sorry. The appearance obliges.
– It's okay.  Hans reached out and patted him on the shoulder. – Children are not more stupid, they are just different. Why did you call me? Seventeen million four hundred thousand and sixty-three children are crying in their Dreams from pain and grief. Two million more need to understand something very important in a dream. And at least six hundred and eight children risk death if this important thing is not understood.
Grig frowned.
– Whether to go for a ride with the guys tomorrow, hooked on trains, – said Hans.– to try or not the powder that will be brought to school tomorrow for nothing and from which you see dreams in reality. Should I go to visit that uncle who says that he has a wonderful toy railway, but you can't tell anyone about it.
"You can't approach everyone in their dreams anyway," Grig replied quietly.

- Yes. And that's why I chose you, Grig. Every second of our conversation is paid for by the death of a child. Do you understand?

Grig seemed to suffocate. He shook his head.
Hans looked at him sadly.

–I... I'll be quick...– whispered Grig.

– Take your time. There are conversations in which you can not rush, even if the price is high. I will answer all your questions.

– Who was the author of the Book?  Grig asked.
–His name was Howard," Hans answered easily. He smiled. – Good boy. Children are not often aware of Dreams, but I think he believed in them from infancy. I helped him a little, but he was strong himself. He believed in Dreams, and they answered him in the same way.
– Is there a Spiral of Dreams?

- of course.

"And all these... dangers?" Monsters and monsters from outside the City?

"Howard was sure,– Hans nodded.

"What happened to him?" Where is he now?

Hans was silent.
"He was a Sleepwalker..." whispered Grig.

"I don't know, Grig. He just disappeared. He's been estranged from all of us in recent years, but... you know, he was originally a Dream Walker. But when he brought the Spiral of Dreams to the City, he became stronger than all of us. He became not just a Sleepwalker, he became practically a demiurge. Built his own Black Castle. And then he disappeared.

– Who is August-Robert Clark?
– The simulacrum he created. As I understand it, he is the only one capable of resisting the dark desires of the Great Artifact. It's made that way.

– And he goes on your hikes with a Spiral every time?

– The first four and the last five times – yes. We also used Dream Walker children, but it didn't end well for them. The artifact corrodes even the purest souls.
–Mikhail said it was the fourth trip," Grig whispered, "and John said it was the seventh…

– There were more than two dozen of them, – Hans smiled.– The first time we went with August-Robert together…

"Ah..." Grig hesitated.
"John wasn't here then. I wanted to take the Spiral back to the ruined city where Howard got it.

– And what…

– We were eaten by monsters on the way. But I was reborn in the City. After that, I realized that I was stronger than I thought... but not strong enough for such a path.
Greg slammed his fist on the floor in frustration. Hans, for all his oddities, was an old, experienced and strong Hypnotist. And it was only enough for one attempt.

"Hans, I need to find August-Robert.

– Why?
–I talked to Maria from the Library," Grig admitted. "She believes that the boy is not only the bearer of the Artifact. He is also the key to managing it. Can destroy or subdue the Spiral of Dreams. Maria is going to tell this to the Dreamers.
Hans frowned:

– I would never have thought that. It's certainly not that simple, but…

–Hans, help me find him,– Grig pleaded. – We seem to have a good relationship with him. I'll try to talk, to help. I don't want the Co-Creators to disassemble it and master the Spiral.

– Are you asking for help because you feel sorry for the simulacrum boy? "Or is it because you're afraid for the Spiral and the Land of Dreams?"

"Both,– Grig admitted.
"I don't like such a duality of motivations..." sighed Hans. But you'll owe me…

He closed his eyes and fell silent.

Grig waited patiently.
What is he doing now, a lanky weirdo? Rushing along with the wind over the expanses of the Playground, looking into the faces? Jumping from mind to mind, like a spark running on a sparkler? Asking other Sleeping Pills?

How can hundreds of millions be checked in minutes and seconds?

Well, how can you know exactly how many children are here and which of them is in danger?

Probably, you need to become a Sleepwalker to understand this.

Hans opened his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Grig. August-Robert Clark is not at the Playground. He was last seen here three days ago.

"So where is he?"

– In other parts of the City. On the Wastelands. In the Open Spaces. Anywhere. But I would start with the quarters of Eternal War and Bodily Joy.

"That is, next to the Black Castle," Grig nodded. Thank you!

But Hans still hesitated. I looked at the dogs.

Greg swallowed.
"I can't take away what belongs to you and only to you," Hans said. "But... there is one girl. Good brave girl. She dreamed of becoming a beauty blogger, I don't understand what it is, but probably something good and important. She has less than a month to live. Sleep is her only joy. And she dreams of a dog.

– There are a lot of dogs here!  Grig pleaded.
– You know the difference between a relief and a simulacrum.

– A month?  Grig asked after a pause.

– Yes. Alas. A month at best.

"Only if someone agrees," Grig said.

The terrier got up, came over and licked his nose.
"I'm not giving you up for good," Grig said firmly.

The look of the dog told him that a month is an eternity, and thirty times in a row. But the terrier licked him again and came up to Hans.

"If August–Robert Clark appears in Children's Dreams, I will immediately inform you," Hans promised. "There is enough of the child in you that I can send a message.

He disappeared–along with the white terrier.
– A girl who is dying and dreams of a dog... – sighed Grig. – Listen, I couldn't refuse!

The dachshund climbed onto his lap, and the mastiff lowered his huge head on Grig and sighed. Now, in the body of a child, Grig was three times smaller than him.

– Ugh, you're going to crush me now!  Grig was indignant.

But he felt light from the fact that he was understood.


There are probably people who love war, and they even dream about it. Not the army as such, there is nothing reprehensible in the love of army regulations, rigor, the chiseled step of the parade troops and the rumble of combat vehicles. For children and women, this is generally a normal dream. They say that in the nineteenth century there was even a special quarter – the Parade, where brave soldiers continuously marched, and the girls waved to them from the window, blew kisses, then took them to the post – and with voluptuous moans indulged in love.
But the First World War changed the minds of both men and women. The war has turned from a noble bloody craft into a dirty bloody quarrel. No one admired the overdressed Polish hussars, the gallant French soldiers, the disciplined Prussian army and the brave Russian Cossacks anymore. The war stopped pretending and became what it really has always been.
Some people still like her, but Grig wasn't one of them.

Therefore, having sensibly reasoned that the quarter of Bodily Joy is the last place to look for a simulacrum, doomed to always be a boy, and not feeling enthusiastic about the idea of Eternal War, Grig went straight to the Black Castle.
Just to see what's out there and how.

Somewhere in the depths of his soul, however, he felt a shameful thought: he wanted to see a cyclopean structure made of white stone, to feel again that calm delight that he had already experienced once.
Oh, no, no! He wasn't going to be tempted.

Moreover, the crab builder somehow chased him very badly. But then Grig was sincerely going to help with the completion of construction and was ready to drag the unfortunate August-Robert to the Castle.
...It was more fun to go with dogs. The mastiff walked ahead, patronizingly glancing at the small simpletons, the dachshund trotted under his belly. Hardly for security purposes–she had an ego worthy of a Krech. Rather, the dachshund guarded the mastiff from below.
Grig knew where to go and didn't want to linger. The playground was rushing by – laughter, tears, snot, colorful drones flying into the sky and balls rolling underfoot, the hum of electric motorcycles and the popping of toy guns. Faces are white, yellow, black, faces of colors not found in reality; dreadlocks, forelocks, bangs and pigtails…
"Why don't I have a wife or children?" thought Grig. And recoiled from the thought, shaking his head angrily. Because he has a Dreamland. Because only she is real to him.
It became sparsely populated and hilly around. The air is fresher. A flock of children went skiing. The rope line stretched at an incredible height, but maybe, in childhood, it really lifts to the very heavens.
Grig went out on the slope and looked at the Black Castle. The dogs sat down at his feet.

He rubbed his chin and said:

– Wow…

No, in general, the Castle has not changed.
But the visit of the Dream Makers, who extracted the Spiral of Dreams from him, left its traces.

The white walls were chipped in places, blackened in places. About two dozen tanks froze on the slopes of the basin. Grig had little interest in armored vehicles, but it seemed to him that the "Armata", "Abrams", "Leopards" and "Merkavs" were frozen there. Perhaps the most interesting thing was that the ancient KV-2, which looked like a museum exhibit among the dead titans, broke through closest to the castle. However, already near the moat itself, some force tore apart the veteran's clumsy tower - it did not cut, did not blow up, but stretched and tore it, as if it were made of papier–mache.

Greg shivered.
Trampled, blackened snow covered motionless bodies. Mentally, Grig understood that this was cannon fodder, a high-quality relief created by the Lords of War and sent to death in the first row. A variety of camouflage patterns, cloaks and exobrony... some of the soldiers, it seems, were not even human…
Straining his eyes (which is a good substitute for binoculars in Dreams), Grig saw a couple of young green-skinned guys, half-naked and armed with bows; a snake girl covered with scales below the waist, and a hefty guy with snow-white skin and angular features, as if he had been casually carved out of a piece of marble.
Grig couldn't say anything about the figures completely encased in metal armor. Maybe it was people. Just people with very big heads and hands reaching to the ground.

The tail of the helicopter was also sticking out of the ground, the rest of the parts were not observed.
Yes, storming the Castle was not easy for the Dreamers. It was obviously not without Robert, but most likely all the Warlords worked together.

And what is the result?

When the defense was broken, they went inside, taking August-Robert with them, stuffed an Artifact into his chest (or did he put it himself?) and they left.

And the Castle began to recover, waiting for the Spiral of Dreams to return.
A giant crab was slowly crawling along the most damaged wall. The stone behind him turned snow-white, as if the crab was a paint brush. Getting to a crack or pothole, the crab began to work quickly with its claws, as if sewing up a hole, and the integrity of the wall was restored.
Judging by the speed of the crab, the Castle was almost destroyed during the assault.

– Well built, conscientiously, – said Grig.

The crab stopped.

He turned around, holding on to the wall with a pair of paws and one claw.

And the second claw waved to Grig.

A trickle of cold, sticky sweat ran down the back of the Dream Walker.

"No, no, no," he said. – You'd better come to us. Although this is not necessary. Sit there, fix your abode.
The crab, as if it had heard, clung to the wall again and crawled along it. Then he froze. And suddenly he threw out-shot down one of the front legs, which suddenly stretched for several tens of meters. He pierced the dead frozen body of one of the fighters with it. Pulled it up to him. The crab worked hard and got hungry.

Or maybe he was restoring a Castle from a dead relief.

The mastiff growled.

Greg spat and turned away.

Isn't all the might of the Warlords enough to destroy this place and this creature once and for all? They dream of nuclear bombs!

–Come on, guys,– he said to the dogs. – Good dogs don't have to look at this.