I've decided to write an Inception story. It'll be a slash story between Arthur and Eames, but I don't know how long it will take me to get there. The rating is currently T, but it may change.
Just a note to say that Inception obviously is not mine, and if I made money off this I would not have to live with family. Also, Christopher Nolan is a genius. Title is because I have been listening to my Toy Story songs, by Randy Newman.
Strange Things are Happening
It was in a dream that Arthur's interest was first piqued. He was visiting Yusuf to collect the compound necessary for steady, two-level dreaming. It should be capable of keeping the projections calm even when changes were made. In a mind that was not militarised, at any rate. As partial compensation, he had agreed to help the man out in tests, the rest was monetary. Arthur trusted Yusuf; he was an honest man, and Saito believed in him. He trusted Saito to do all the necessary research before placing his 'Tourist' mind into the chemist's hands. Also, Eames swore by him.
Yusuf was trying to develop a compound that would allow the dreamer to change. This would be particularly useful in extraction for if the original dreamer was killed and the job had not yet been finished. They had decided to stick to hotels in this dream. Each of them had a different style so they could tell who the new dreamer was. One minute he was looking through the hotel waiting for Malik to die, the next he stepped out the lobby into a classroom.
He frowned and stepped further into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. High School style posters covered the walls; a large display of the planets (Nine of them, rather than eight); another display on wave partials, on light waves, microwaves, infrared rays and other kinds of electromagnetic radiation. With paragraphs of writing; bullet points; flow charts and mini diagrams all done in bright colours... The place made him slightly nostalgic of his own high school days spent carefully, neatly making revision posters.
He focused his attention on the students who were filing into the classroom from a corridor filled with lockers along the far side wall. The transition from the hotel had been smooth; he'd still been expecting to see the hotel lobby through that door. He'd not felt any kind of jolt to imply to original dreamer had been kicked out. No one glanced at him. Students sat at their desks, some pulling out books and stationary, others turning to chatter. The stern looking teacher stalked straight past Arthur and dropped his books onto his desk. The children looked to be in their teens, maybe fourteen or fifteen. They all wore school uniforms; black shoes, black pants or a black skirt and tights, white shirts and dark blue sweater vests with a school logo emblazoned on the breast. They wore white, blue and gold striped ties and most had blazers over the backs of their chairs. A few wore pullovers as well.
They all seemed to speak with English accents. Arthur stared curiously at them, he was supposed to be in a hotel, and none of them had specified an English hotel. He wondered where this was coming from.
"Quiet! I am doing the register. Thompson, sit!"
Arthur moved over to the door, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. This was odd. Not the projections conversing, but how far removed from the others he felt.
"Peter Allen?" A small boy responded. Arthur watched him pull an exercise book from his bag.
"Michael Adams?" Another boy called out.
"Helen Carter? ... Cameron Dunne? ... Stephen Eames?"
Arthur's attention left Neptune and refocused on the lanky boy who answered the teacher's call. Stephen Eames... He could see some semblance to Eames. The grey eyes, the full lips, in his slouch, even in the way he was sucking his pen.
"Patrick Johnson? No? ... Andrew Lee?"
Beside the boy Eames sat another familiar face. Yusuf? They both wore the same uniform as the other students and they were both neater than Arthur could remember ever seeing them. Yusuf was slightly plumper than he was now, and his arms were folded in front of him protectively. Eames was staring at the ceiling, still mouthing his pen in an inappropriate way that was apparently a habit, and not a ploy to annoy Arthur as he had assumed.
Why were they here? Was this a memory? He knew Eames and Yusuf had met before the Fischer job, that they had been friends in Mombasa. He did not know if they knew each other in school. They were only born five months apart, close enough to be in the same school year. However, he had never asked Yusuf about his past, having no real interest in it and Eames had invented fantastical stories when questioned about his.
"John Parker? Hey, quiet... Yusuf Sareen?" The boy answered.
Were they just his own projections? If he headed into the corridor, would he encounter a young Cobb by a locker? Or a teenage Saito in the school yard? Might he see people from his own school days?
He was torn between staying and watching them, or going to explore.
He heard the opening notes to Cantus Iteratus, Yusuf's current countdown music. He only had a few minutes. He decided to leave the room and head down the corridor, passing cabinets that displayed trophies and decorative shields. The other classrooms seemed to be empty, but details littered the walls regardless. Rows of desks stood empty in the bright sunlight that filtered through the windows. Posters filled with pictures and words covered the walls.
He opened one of the doors and glanced in, still listening to the singing voices. It wasn't empty. There was a teacher sat at the desk, looking blankly at the cover of a maroon exercise book. He moved onto the next room and pushed the door open. Another teacher stood facing her blackboard, chalk held limply in her fingers. Her face was expressionless and Arthur backed out the room.
Then he woke up.
Beside him, Robinson and Hall were both moving. They were Yusuf's friends and fellow chemists.
Yusuf was pulling the IV out his wrists, looking confused, but eager.
"Fascinating. Most curious... Thank you, Adoyo." He accepted a cup of water off the old man and he muttered to himself. "Fascinating."
"Hey, was that your old school? I think I recognise the school crest." Robinson was now stood by the old sink.
"Yeah," Yusuf was nodding, "But it was so empty. I went to secondary school and sixth form there."
Malik, the original dreamer looked curious. "I thought we were sticking to hotels. A school?"
"Yes. I took control of the dream after you kicked out, but I think it was my memories that took over. There were teachers in the classrooms-"
"They were well creepy!" exclaimed Hall.
"Yes... But no pupils."
"No," Arthur spoke up. "I was in a physics class, but there were people there. The teacher took roll call."
They all looked over. Arthur frowned. He had a desire to ask about Eames, but he knew to stick to the important things now. Questioning Yusuf about the young Eames would not get him his compound, or help Yusuf develop this batch.
He suppressed a sigh and went to get a bottle of water out of his bag.
There, hope you have enjoyed it so far. I'm not brilliant at updating, but I don't want to leave this too long. Especially as I can't really read my own handwriting so it's better not to leave my notes too long without adding anything to them.
I did my best to Americanise certain things, but I couldn't remember what word to use instead of jumpers. Hopefully pullover works fine.
Please let me know what you think, and if you've spotted any mistakes I've missed. Reviews help motivate me to update... =)