Time and Technicalities
by RP Halliway
Chapter 1
The image stuck sharply in his mind, as if drawn in marker on the inside of his eyelids. Silas Coleson awoke with a start, but didn’t open his eyes.
The sounds of the city just waking up started to invade his small room in the apartment. He plugged his ears with his fingers and focused all of his energy on remembering. All too often his dreams faded into nothing. This dream he wanted to remember.
Keeping his eyes closed, Silas reached for his dream notebook and started writing down key moments from before he fully awoke. He added notes about how parts became almost tangible during sleep—another ‘feel-dream’ he wrote. But the tangible moments took a back seat to what he really wanted to capture. The face. Her face.
Quickly scribbling the key details he remembered with his eyes still closed, Silas wanted to keep her face in focus as best as he could. He dreaded thinking that her face would slip away. There was something about it. It represented more about the dream. He was sure of it.
Silas knew his writing would be hard to read later. He silently cursed himself for not getting that small tablet computer he wanted. Finances didn’t seem to justify the expense, but he’d much rather be typing the words, instead of feeling his way around blindly, with pen and paper.
Resigned to the inevitable loss, he allowed himself to move toward wakefulness, but still kept his eyes closed. The city sounds—the few cars passing by, the birds in the few trees lining the streets, a dog barking—grew louder, and his dream state started to fall away.
He recounted the dream one more time, trying to keep it fresh, then he opened his eyes. Reading his blind scribblings, he tied them back to the memories of the dream and wrote a better description in the notebook.
The lifting of an object. An ancient artifact? Then another distinct object. He kept trying to imagine the two objects together, but they didn’t fit. He could feel the abrasive texture of the corroded metal as he held one of the objects. He ran his fingers over the grooves in the metal face. It looked like some kind of reptile, a crocodile perhaps? Silas turned the cylinder over several times, imagining how each of the three pieces fit, but he wasn’t having much luck. He felt a tug on his chest as the girl grabbed his shirt to get his attention.
The girl. Not overly glamorous in “plastic beauty,” as Hollywood would adore, but having a refined elegance and definitely very attractive. Brown hair, just below the shoulders, cute nose, hazel eyes. A mouth trying to express something. Danger? He looked toward the girl, then back to the corroded artifact for a frantic second. Artifact or girl? He had to choose.
He turned and grabbed the girl’s hand, and they both stepped away from the artifact. The dream ended. Silas woke up feeling his heart beat fast, and an impossibly real hand grasping his.
He and the girl had seemed to know each other. But how did he know her? What was their connection? It felt much more real than just a dream. He needed to know more. Where were they? What was the artifact? What did it do? Why the etching? And what was the danger?
Silas finally rolled out of bed a few minutes later and headed to the shower. He heard the buzz of his roommate’s alarm, knowing he had several minutes before Eric woke up, courtesy of the phone’s snooze feature. The shower was hot and powerful, and he reveled in the water pressure. He managed to convince his boss that the old higher pressure nozzle would be better off in his hands than in the recycle bin. The small acquisition allowed Silas to enjoy hot ‘soul cleansing’ showers.
After toweling off, Silas pulled on his clothes. Denim jeans and a thick shirt helped to protect from the exposed dangers on the construction site. After strapping his watch on, he checked the time with his phone. Wearing a watch proved to be quicker than reaching for his phone over and over. Grabbing his tool belt and phone, he headed to the kitchen and stuck a couple of granola bars into an empty pouch on his tool belt. He filled his travel mug with two cups of coffee from the automatic coffee maker.
“Three cups left!” he called out to Eric as he left for the morning.
Silas placed his tool belt into the back seat of his car, a 1999 Toyota Camry. Purchased from a mechanic and with Eric’s help, the car behaved almost as new. He started the engine then reached for the radio out of muscle memory. But he stopped himself, wanting to keep the dream fresh the entire drive to work.
“Hi boss,” Silas greeted Myron, smiling as he wrapped his tool belt around his waist.
“Morning Silas,” Myron replied. He looked up briefly but didn’t return the smile. That could only mean the day was already busy.
Silas cinched the tool belt a little tighter and did a survey of the planning desk and the building under construction. He’d taken on the role of assistant to the manager, which meant he controlled a team of four to six workers at different times.
“Gonna need you up high today,” Myron said, first pointing to the roof and framed-in upper spaces on the plans, and then turning to the work in progress on the roof. “Gotta run pipes and venting. You good with that?”
Silas did a survey of the skeleton roof and the people around him. He calculated that with the lower skilled people working around him, and attention required to stay safe up in the space, he would have to focus all of his attention on the work.
“Uh, boss . . .” Silas trailed off. “I don’t know if that works for me.”
Myron stopped in his tracks, having never heard Silas turn down an assignment.
“What’s up?” Myron asked, growing more concerned.
Silas blushed slightly, seeing the disappointment registering in Myron’s eyes. “It’s kinda hard to say.”
Myron paused, waiting for him to speak.
Silas, still checking for anger in Myron’s face, started slowly. “It’s weird, but I had this dream . . .”
Myron chuckled a bit when hearing the word “dream,” his weathered face cracking into an uneven smile.
The small chuckle from Myron set Silas at ease a bit more. “I had this dream,” Silas started again, “I don’t know how to describe it, other than to say it actually ‘felt’ real. It seems like it is a sign.”
“A sign?” Myron asked, his face turning sour. “What? Are you a psychic now?”
“I don’t know,” Silas answered with a small laugh. Hearing himself say it, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. “I’m not saying I’m psychic. But I saw a face in the dream.”
“A face?” Myron asked, still staring down Silas, like he was trying to digest whatever was going on in Silas’ mind.
“Yeah . . . A girl,” he said.
“Ah,” Myron replied with a laugh. “Yeah, those girl dreams get to you.”
But this wasn’t just about the fact that it was a girl.“The face was only part of it,” he said. “The rest of the dream seemed so real too. Like I even felt parts of it, and that’s what made it stand out. It was so real.”
“And what does that have to do with you working high up today?”
Silas knew his boss was reaching maximum impatience.
“Well, I feel like . . . like I’m going to be too distracted,” Silas said. “And that could be dangerous.”
He knew all he had to do was mention possible danger and Myron would take note. He should have started off with that.
Myron glanced up at the high space. “The last thing we need is an accident on our record,” he said. Then he walked back to the planning desk. “You know what? Take the day off. Call it an unscheduled vacation day. Get your head in order. But you better be here tomorrow.”
That was way more than Silas could have hoped for. Somehow things seemed to be working out okay—so far.
“I’ll be here for sure!” Just the relief of not having to focus on work was already helping the dream filter back into his mind.
“Hey, you know what?” Myron seemed to stare off into space for a few seconds, and then settle on a thought. “Remember that studio project we finished up about 3 months ago? The artist?”
Silas remembered it well. “Yep. I remember.”
“You should head there and ask for a sketch. I remember seeing a lot of faces and portraits and that kind of stuff. Might be a worthwhile effort to put your face to paper.”
A sketch! Great idea. “You’re a genius, Myron!” Silas said.
“Yeah, I know,” Myron said. “Just be here tomorrow on time.”
The morning drive passed easily, with the rush hour traffic thinning before Silas. The timing of the drive from the construction site to downtown coincided with the beginning of the work day, and cars melted away into parking lots as he exited the suburb and turned onto downtown Main Avenue.
Fifteen minutes later, Silas arrived in the parking lot of the art studio. He quickly noticed the outer advertisements and new interior displays, put up after the crew finished the remodel. It was modern and flashy, so unlike him.
“What am I doing here?” He gripped the steering wheel. “Am I really trying to get a picture done of some girl in my dream?” He hoped they wouldn’t laugh him out of the place.
He exited the car and walked toward the door of the studio. Approaching the main doors, Silas noticed the “OPEN” sign in the window. At least he wasn’t too early. The studio door opened smoothly, and Silas heard a small chime ring out toward the rear of the studio. He stepped through the door and walked toward the closest display, pretending to be interested.
“I’ll be right out!” a voice called from what he knew was the back room. He continued scanning several of the displays and started to feel butterflies growing restless in his gut. He knew nothing about art. What should he ask for to get a painting of a picture that only existed in his head? How does that even work?
A familiar face greeted Silas as the door to the back room opened. A young woman walked out, drying her hands on a rag. “Hi there. Anything I can help you with this morning?”
“Hello.” He returned the smile. “You might not remember me, but I helped remodel the studio here.”
“Oh, yeah. You do look familiar. I’m Jenny. My mom owns the studio,” Jenny said, extending her hand politely.
“Hi. I’m Silas.” He gently shook her extended hand. “And I’m not sure how to ask this question.” Silas let out a nervous laugh.
Jenny shot Silas a sly look with a one-sided smile, “Well, I’m always up for a challenge.” She placed her elbows on the glass counter with her hands together, fingers steepled and wiggling just under her nose, her chin resting on her thumbs. “What do you need?”
He cleared his throat. “I’d like a picture drawn of somebody,” Silas finally said, after rehearsing different opening statements for a few seconds.
“Oh, that doesn’t seem too hard to ask,” she said, turning to a pick up a lined order pad. “Who is the picture of?”
Silas laughed, feeling his face warm, and starting to rock slowly on his feet. “That’s the trouble. I don’t know who it is or even if she exists.”
Jenny cocked her head and squinted at him. “You want to run that by me again?”
Silas hesitated for a second, finally deciding that recounting the dream seemed the best action.
“I had a dream this morning,” he said, shuffling back and forth faster. “And it felt so real. I saw this girl in it, and I’m wondering if she exists.”
Jenny’s shoulders relaxed and her eyes brightened, followed by a quick nod. She put down the order pad. “Oh, I get it. What you want is a character sketch.”
Was that what it was called?
“Follow me.” She walked from behind the counter toward the back of the studio. Silas followed a few steps behind. She stopped at a desk near the back corner of the studio. The computer workstation hummed with the screen darkened.
“This is an art workstation. We’ve been evaluating some ‘sketch artist’ software. You know, like the police use for making a sketch. I don’t think anyone has used it much,” She woke up the computer screen and searched through the desktop icons for her intended target. “Here it is.” She double clicked an icon.
The application splash screen appeared. “It takes a while to load,” she said, as the progress bar filled from 10% to 70%.
“You think this will work?” he asked, hoping for something easy.
“I hope so,” she said. “I’m not very good at paper sketches just from descriptions. I usually work from pictures and personal sittings and such.”
The application finished loading and presented a dizzying array of options and icons.
“Yikes.” He had no clue what to do.
Jenny chuckled at his reaction, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you started.” She sat down and took the mouse, clicking several times. “Here you go. I got you set up to start with a template face.”
“Template face?”
“Exactly. A face of someone that looks kinda close to who you want. I do it with pictures a bit, and it helps to get started. Did the dream look like anyone?”
“Hmmm . . .” Who did the face most look like? “I don’t know for sure, but I remember a long time ago seeing this show, The Flying Nun or something like that, and that sorta seems close, but not exact.”
She stifled a small laugh. “Flying Nun. Interesting.” She opened an internet browser page on the second monitor and did a quick search. “Oh, Sally Fields,” she said, recognizing the face after seeing a few pictures. “Ok, here is a page of pictures, pick one that you think is close.”
He skimmed the page, looking for different angles and expressions, and finally settled on one of just Sally Fields, without the nun accoutrements. “This one seems good to start with.”
Jenny enlarged the picture on the second monitor. “Nice. What is similar?”
“Hmm . . . The shape of the face seems pretty close, and the shape of the nose, too.” Silas pointed to those features on the pulled up image.
“Good.” She started to import and draw those shapes onto the blank digital canvas. In a few minutes she had a rough sketch that Silas approved of.
She stood up and motioned for Silas to take chair, “Here you go. Over here you have the options for different feature. If you click on one, several adjustment sliders appear that let you change the characteristics. Drag and adjust until it shows kinda what you are looking for. You’ll probably have to repeat the process several times as changing one feature can tend to cause the others to look different.”
He sat down at the computer and grabbed the mouse. Performing the stated tasks seemed straight-forward, but he wasn’t sure how well the memory of his dream would survive having to think about so many actions for so long. “Thanks for the help,” he called out as Jenny walked away.
He paused and tried to focus on the memory. Past dreams always faded quickly unless directly thinking about them, and his shoulders tightened thinking about losing the face. Looking at other faces accelerated the threat and reduced Silas’ confidence in what the face actually looked like. He straightened up and started by dragging eyes to the face. Setting the eyes to where they seemed most accurate, he then adjusted the eye size and spacing and shape with the many adjustments available.
Never was Silas more unsure of what he wanted than while trying to digitize a face that only existed in the memory of his dream. Every tweak seemed to create the conflict: is this what I remember? Or is it something that looks best to me right now?
Feature after added feature presented him with an ever growing uncertainty, but he kept working to put to paper—or screen in this case—his dream face. Nose shape, bridge shape, eyebrows, eyes, ears, cheeks, jaw, mouth, and finally hair, went onto the computerized sketchpad. Finally, after over two hours of learning-by-doing and adjusting and readjusting, Silas felt the image captured some semblance of the girl in his dream.
Jenny noticed him stretch and stand up and walked over to the computer. “How’s it going?” she asked, examining the sketch.
“I think I pretty much got close,” he said with a small chuckle, feeling his face warm as his work faced scrutiny from the young woman.
Jenny leaned forward and examined the sketch closely. “Any touchups needed?” she asked, reaching for the mouse.
“I don’t know. There were a few odd things I couldn’t figure out,” he said, standing to get out of her way.
She sat down in the chair and for the next ten minutes worked out some of the more delicate changes needed to get just a bit closer to the actual image from Silas’ dream.
“I think that is as close as I can remember.” Silas took a step back to get a better view, and gave a satisfied nod.
“She looks cute,” Jenny said, clicking the Save button. “This is from a dream?”
“It felt like more than a dream, but yes, I was sleeping,” he said. “It seems like there must be a reason for me to feel and remember this dream so vividly, I think.”
She rolled the chair back and pulled out the USB stick from the computer. “I get inspiration from dreams all the time. I don’t think it’s odd to have dreams like that.” She patted Silas’ arm.
“The weirdest part is that it feels like this girl is out there. Just . . .” He trailed off. That was the weird part. He was sure it all meant something. He just wasn’t sure what.