Vision

August 13, 2040

New York

Another lashing. More blood. Fewer tears. I had been used to this by now.

“Sit up boy.” He called.

I obediently sat back up. He came closer, whip in his hand, and I got ready for the last blow.

3, 2, 1

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

I sat up in a cold sweat and smacked my alarm clock, nearly breaking it. I knew the dreams were coming every night, I just didn’t know how to stop them. It was as if it were a whole different story of my life. Each time I slept, I had gotten a different scene of the torture, and when I thought too much about it, I could feel the pain in my bones. Recently, my dreams had been getting more realistic, showing me visions of lashings, labor, and blood. In my dream last night, I was getting whipped for trying to escape, I had succeeded until I had come across a subway station, where I was caught. For some reason, the setting looked familiar. Clearing my head from the visions, I got out of bed and into the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower. As I was brushing, I stared at myself. My brown hair, messy and sticking up in all different directions; the bags under my eyes after trying not to sleep in fear of the nightmares; and the scar on my cheek, one that appeared after my first nightmare. Each time I had these visions, I would get some type of scar on my body, whether it be permanent or not. I sighed as I saw a new scar on my leg, barely noticeable to others, but as clear as day for me. After showering, I put on some clothes and walked towards the tall windows of my penthouse, looking at the beautiful New York below. I went in the elevator, and out onto the streets. On my way to the museum, where I worked part-time, I noticed many people hanging around the newspaper stalls, and lots more staring at the papers in awe. I ignored them and carried on, into the subway station. As I waited for the train, I peered over a nearby person’s shoulder, trying to get a good look at the newspaper to see what all the commotion was about. The newspaper was blacked out in some areas, so it read,

10 y- worker ch- -an a-y from-

The police- looking - n- to arrest -but only for - abou-

If you see these children, report them t-

Please be cautious, they might consider you a threat.

The man walked away, shaking his head disapprovingly, and tossed the newspaper in the trash. A bit of the paper was hanging out, so as soon as the man was out of sight, I subtly walked over and took the paper out of the bin.

“Great,” I thought, “Now you’re pickpocketing trash cans.”

I tried scratching out the blackened parts, but it looked as if someone had hacked the printer during the printing process, and hidden parts of the news they didn’t want leaked. The rest of the article was mostly blacked out, so I skipped over it. Underneath, I saw a picture of HoloPhone, the newest tech company making hologram phones, ones designed for the individual’s eyes. You wouldn’t have to carry your phone, and you could see your screen once you put the contact lenses in your eyes, easily able to turn it on and off. I thought that this company would soon come to an end since not many people bought it due to its high prices. Looking at the picture, I figured out that the article was about HoloPhone. Probably mentioning the worker's rights blah blah blah. I had better things to worry about, not such things like these. I threw the newspaper back into the trash and walked towards the train that was pulling up now. Suddenly I was pushed back by a kid running full speed, who was being chased by a man all dressed in black. His hair was slicked back and he had those dark glasses, that prevented anyone from seeing his eyes. He looked familiar but I couldn’t tell why. Then suddenly I realized where I had seen him before. To prove my suspicion, I bolted after them and took a shortcut to where the kid was heading. I knew because I had seen this happen last night in my dreams. I rounded a corner and caught the boy that was running. I covered his mouth with my hand, and he kept attempting to bite me.

“Stop, idiot.” I hissed “I’m trying to help you.”

He still didn’t trust me and I couldn’t blame him. After everything he had been through, he probably wouldn’t trust adults. I realized that people were starting to look. Grunting, I let him go. To my surprise, he didn’t run. But instead, gawked at my scars. Then he followed me out of the subway and straight to my penthouse. We had lost the man, thankfully, but the little boy still feared for his life.

“Those scars.” He said in a daze, “They look so familiar. They look like-”

“Yours.” I said.

I knew there was something about him. I had dreamed of him all these months. And I had felt his pain and the scars he was getting.

“But how did you get them. And in the exact same places.” He questioned.

“Well, I’ve been having these dreams…” I started. Looking at the boy’s face, I realized he didn’t have a scar on his cheek yet. He was supposed to get it the first day.

“How old are you?” I asked the boy.

“I-Master says I’m 14, but I know I’m younger. Master says I will get a whipping if I tell anybody how old I am.” The boy fearfully looked at me, eyes wide open.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

Looking around, he finally spoke, “10. I’m 10 years old.”

Anger bubbled up inside me. So this is what the newspaper was mentioning. Changing the subject, I then asked what his name was. To my surprise, he said,

“I don’t remember. Master’s been calling me “boy” ever since I started working. I started working around 5 years ago.”

“5 years ago? But HoloPhone has only been around for 2 years.”

“I’ve been shuffled around. Different factories.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How about we call you Will. I’m Reese.”

“Why Will?”

“Because from now on, I’ll make sure you never do anything against your will.”

Right after I said that I heard banging on my door. Someone was trying to get in. I gestured for Will to hide, and once he was safe, I opened the door. My face was met with someone’s fist, and I stumbled back, my nose bleeding like crazy. Or maybe it was my lip. I couldn’t tell. As soon as I gained my balance, I focused my eyes to see who it was. It was the same man chasing us earlier. He stepped towards me, and he punched me again, this time in my gut. I dropped down to my knees, with a staggered breath.

“Where is the boy?” The man gruffly asked.

“What boy?” I responded dumbly.

Another punch in my face. This time, I blacked out.

When I regained consciousness, I was in my bed, and when I looked outside, it was early morning. I quickly got out of bed and checked the time. My watch read 6:45 AM.

“That’s not possible,” I thought. “I couldn’t have slept for a whole day. After all, I was at the subway around 7:30 yesterday. Unless…”

I frantically swiped on my watch to check the date. It was August 13.

“No, No, No!” I screamed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid dreams.”

I had realized that “yesterday” was only last night in my visions. That’s why my nose wasn’t bleeding and my gut wasn't hurting too bad. That also meant one more thing; I could never tell if I was awake or asleep and…

I was back at the start. The boy was out there. Running for his life. And the cycle would continue. Unless, of course, I find a way to stop it.

Thanks for reading!

Kashika Paul