Sleepers: The Awakening

Sergey led Nikola down back stairwells and service hallways to reach a lower basement. Instinctively, Sergey increased the grandeur of his manner to compensate for the plainness of the passages, restoring the annoying equilibrium. However, his pomposity declined when they reached a seemingly simple door, requiring both punch code and finger print to open.

"Brace yourself, it's cold," Sergey said. The cold was the last thing on Nikola's mind.

Row upon row of men in glass jars loomed before him. Each jar stood upon a metal dais crowded with dials, knobs, and buttons of every sort. Lights from the dais shined upwards, illuminating the men from below, while a tether led from the men's ankles to inside the dais itself. Some form of liquid filled the jars nearly to the top, allowing the men to float neutrally buoyant in their glass shells, but they were by no means still. The tethers tugged on the passive bodies, jerking them about until they crashed against the jar walls. In the darkness, the dais lights threw ghastly shadows over the macabre mannequins, dancing to the thumping of their flailing limbs and the swishing of their liquid stages.

"Ivanoff, what is this?" Nikola gasped, unable to mask his awe.

"This," Sergey indicated, with a theatrical sweep of the arm, "is my army of sleeping children, forty in all. They are all mine, though their mothers vary. I have been growing them for twenty eight years now, ever since I made my second fortune."

"But, why? If they aren't dead from these conditions, they are mentally infants, with the strength to match. Why would you create them?" And how? Nikola puzzled, you couldn't have done this yourself. Who helped you?

"Look closer. The liquid is highly aerated, and my children wear nose plugs that act as gills for them. They receive nutrients from a leg IV. See it, running from the tether up to their thighs? All the equipment uses self sizing technology, so we never need to change it. As for education, look at the speakers in the dais. I've written everything out, from infancy to their current age, and had it adjusted for the liquid they float in. You see, they are not technically sleeping. They are in induced comas, in which they can hear everything around them. Muscles, I have no solution for, but the tether stresses the bones to keep a healthy level of bone mass on them. When they awaken, they will need rehab, but not nearly as much."

"A politician through and through. How do you manage to answer my implied questions without answering the stated one? Why?"

"Because they are like me. Once they have woken and recovered their strength, I can place them in key positions around the globe. I have the connections to falsify childhoods and families, and each one has learned a different language. Then, with the seeds planted, I can cultivate the world I described, one where those who would, can reach greatness. The details, I'm sure, would bore you, but surely, you see the value of what I offer."

"And this grand scheme requires me? It's flattering, but I don't quite see where I fit in." As Nikola's composure returned, it occurred to him that the room really was quite cold.

"I had a scientist in my employment. He made all of this possible, a genius of a man. Unfortunately, he willingly passed away, leaving me and my children in a difficult position. He left instructions for their care, but I lack the education and the time to make sense of it. That is where you fit in. I need to wake them, tomorrow if possible, and you are the only man I can trust for such a delicate matter."

For several moments, Nikola stood frozen, absorbing the information and implications of the situation. At last, he responded, replying in a flat, dead voice.

"We despise one another. I could turn away right now and report this incident. It would destroy your life."

"I could convince several friends of yours and all of my staff to testify that you had never come to my house and that you are an unstable alcoholic, possibly schizophrenic. It would destroy your life"

"Our old stalemate. Against one another, neither can win..."

"but together, we cannot lose."

Both men stared at the rows of dancing bodies. Sergey broke the silence.

"I'll give you the directions left by my late employee."

"I look forward to it."

The men left the sci-fi nursery without another word. The collection of sleepers continued to float and swirl in the half darkness, when a quiet pop and unimpressive spark came from one of the forty jars. Half an hour later, the man within awoke to a nightmare. Happy birthday, Sergey Jr. XXIII.