Lucas Wolenczak leaned back in his chair, letting his head hang over the backrest. He closed his eyes and let his headset slip backwards slightly. The only way he was getting away with this at all was because Ford was on bridge duty at the moment, not Hudson. No, Hudson wasn't on duty, but he had taken the time to come down and chew Lucas out over some reports he had felt weren't up to par.
Living's just too hard to do…
Lucas was beginning to understand that no matter what he did, it wouldn't be right. Or if it were right, it wouldn't be up to Hudson's expectations. Why did he do this? Why did he feel such a desire to enlist? He could have done hundreds of other things, but he had chosen to subject himself to this hell. Why?
It's chances, not choices…
Really, he knew. He'd been desperate, confused. In that moment in Hudson's office, Lucas hadn't seen any other options. And at first enlistment had been great. He'd gotten his own room along with some other perks like the global access pass, and he'd gotten recognition. But was it worth this? Hudson had once said there were always options; it was just a matter of choosing the right one. Lucas wondered if he had chosen wisely.
Noises not voices…
"You okay, Lucas?"
It was Henderson, the next station over. Lucas sat up straight and turned towards her slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. It was a standard, one he'd used all his life. He'd been using it a lot more recently, though, and he wasn't fine at all.
A day's just a thing to get through…
His days were beginning to blur together, and Lucas found himself counting the hours. He didn't know what he was counting to: the end of his four-year stint in the Navy, the end of the tour, the end of his life? Every second that ticked by was another second he was losing.
Living's just too hard to do…
He was finding it difficult to come up with good reasons to get out of bed every morning. The one he'd been using lately was that if he didn't get out of bed, he would incur the wrath of Hudson, which was worse that the wrath of Bridger any day. Bridger, at least, had never seemed perpetually pissed off at him.
I'd rather be dreaming than talking…
The shift ended, and Lucas bolted from his seat the moment he saw his replacement. He needed to get something to eat, and he needed to get away from the bridge. There had once been a time when Lucas had loved to be on the bridge, because there was always something interesting going on. Now that he had an actual assignment, he found it a lot more boring than he could ever have thought possible.
There's nothing to hear or to say…
He sat in the mess hall with Tony, Tim, and Lonnie. Their words washed over him, and if any of their comments were directed towards him, he didn't notice. For their parts, they more or less ignored him. They'd gotten used to this new Lucas, and no longer were they trying to get him to revert back into his old self. Lucas wondered if there was any of his old self even left.
With ears covered mouths closed…
He wished he could focus in on the conversation, but every time he tried, the buzz of their voices rose and fell and never really became clear. It was as though he were listening to radio static underwater.
The world is opposed…
Even though he couldn't figure out what they were talking about, Lucas was sure the gist of their conversation had to do with either their mundane existence, or how much the world had changed. Those were always the prime topics to discuss over dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast. It was as though they were all in a loop, and Lucas had pulled himself out of that loop on the third or fourth repetition.
Nothing gets in or away…
All of Lucas' words were trapped in his throat. He feared voicing them, because he knew that saying anything about this new life would make it become all the more real, all the more true. He wanted to think this was all a bad dream, and when he woke up he'd be back in his bunk, with Ben Krieg knocking on the door trying to convince him to take part in some "surefire" scheme.
There's nothing to hear or to say…
After a half-hour or so, Lucas excused himself and wandered down to the Moon Pool. He had some research he'd wanted to work on, but whenever he started to work on it, there was always something or someone else that needed his attention.
I'd rather be dreaming than thinking…
Lucas wanted to be able to turn his brain off. He wanted to be able to stop thinking for at least five minutes. Then, maybe everything would settle down in his brain and he'd be able to focus again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shut off his mind. It was like a curse. The one thing that made him special, and now he wanted nothing more than to be able to turn it off.
Thought's a small comfort to me…
He'd always found solace in his science, but even that had more or less been ripped way from him. Sure, he was the science officer, but now that seaQuest was back to being a military vessel, there was not much call for his skills. No longer were the labs humming with activity, no longer could he go down to Sea Deck and share his thoughts and observations with Westphalen or Smith or Bridger. He was hardly able to talk to Darwin anymore.
Dreams might be pretend…
There was Dr. Perry, but she wasn't a scientist in the way Westphalen was, or even the way Smith had been. She was a doctor, and that was all. She and Lucas had only a passing familiarity with each other, and had only worked together once or twice, both times on things Lucas would have been able to do much quicker and more efficiently had Westphalen been there.
But at least dreams end…
He never thought he would ever wish to be anything less than above-average. Yes, there had been times when he'd longed to be a normal kid, but he always was able to realize the importance of his gifts and had never felt serious about wanting to lead a normal life. He had liked the life he'd had.
And I just can't stop thinking, you see…
Now, though, now that his mind was going in a thousand directions at once with no way of reigning it in, he longed with every fiber of his being to be "normal". Maybe if he was able to turn off his mutinous thoughts he wouldn't feel so tortured during bridge duty, he wouldn't feel the need to lash out at everyone, he'd be able to take Hudson's demands with gentle good humor. Like everyone else seemed to be able to do.
Thought's a small comfort to me…
He'd briefly considered giving himself a lobotomy, but then decided that not only was it impractical, it was also messy and very, very permanent. No lobotomy. And no pills, no homeopathic remedies, no hypnosis.
I'd rather be dreaming than sleeping…
Hours later, Lucas had found himself wandering back to his quarters – the empty one, no longer shared with Tony. Sparsely furnished and decorated, it felt more like a cell than a room. He missed his old room, the one with the bunk beds they would fight over and the posters of scantily-clad women Tony insisted on hanging all over the place. He missed Mammal Engineering. The first room, the first tour, had been makeshift in the actual mammal engineering section of one of the science decks. It was closer to the Moon Pool and his work with Darwin, and Lucas had liked its cramped coziness. The second room, the second boat, the second tour, Mammal Engineering had been more or less a joke he and Bridger had set the room up around. He missed that room.
Just sleeping you're just as well dead…
Getting out of his uniform and pulling on sweatpants and a tee-shirt, Lucas realized that, although he was tired, he would not be able to sleep. Sleep was a luxury he was no longer able to afford himself. There was always too much going on in his head for him to be able to fully fall asleep, and he was never able to stay asleep for more than a couple hours at a time.
In dreams I can fly…
He'd never had trouble sleeping before Hyperion. Since returning, though, his dreams and anxieties kept him awake far more than Lucas wanted to admit. His body longed for rest, but his mind would not allow it.
In dreams I don't die…
Lucas thought about going for another walk around the ship, but decided against it. He would probably run into Hudson, who would want to lecture him about something. Or tell him some asinine story that was supposed to have something to do with something, but seemed to Lucas to have nothing to do with anything. He didn't dislike Hudson, really. He just wanted more than anything to avoid him.
That's why I lie here in this bed…
Lucas lay back in his bunk and tried to read, tried to allow the vibrations of the boat's engines lull him to sleep. He tried this approach every night, and every night he failed. It reminded him of a saying he'd heard once – had it been from Bridger? "Insanity is when you keep repeating the same behavior and expect a different result every time." Lucas supposed it just proved he was going insane.
Just sleeping you're just as well dead…
Lucas missed his old life. He missed being excited about being on the bridge, he missed talking to his friends, he missed being able to sleep through the night. He missed his old life, longed for it with everything he had.
I'd rather be dreaming…
Lucas knew he was fighting a losing battle. He didn't know exactly what he was battling, but he knew he was losing. And he couldn't do one damn thing about it. Resigned to this knowledge, Lucas fell into troubled sleep.
END.
"dreaming" by Loudon Wainwright III, used without permission