Inception: Dreams or Reality? Part 1
A/N: I almost didn't get to post this today since an power outage last night here in Happy Valley, Utah knocked out the WiFi, and it finally returned a few hours ago. Any how, here's the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy it.
Read, review, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Inception, Batman, or Doctor Who. I only own the characters that I created.
CHAPTER FOUR: COBB'S REQUEST
Some time later, they were on the jet leaving Japan; inside, Cobb was reclining in his chair across a table from Arthur, who was picking at his salad angrily, and Emma, who was refusing to look at their friend, her eyes fixed on her food.
"Look, I know how much you want to go home-" Arthur began, breaking the silence.
"No, you don't," Cobb said sharply, earning a warning look from Emma.
"But this can't be done," Arthur continued, refusing to be cut off.
"It can," Cobb insisted. "You just have to go deep enough."
Arthur shook his head, refusing to believe that it was possible since it'd never been done. "You don't know that."
"I've done it before," Cobb announced, and his friends were taken aback by this news. Inception was possible?
"You have?" Emma asked, surprised and Cobb nodded. "Whoa…"
"Did it work?" Arthur asked, forehead furrowed.
"Yes," Cobb answered quietly and there was obvious guilt in his voice.
"Who did you do it to?" Arthur pressed, but Cobb ignored the question, and after a few seconds, he shrugged, letting it go…for now.
"So why are we headed to Paris?" Emma asked.
"We're going to need a new architect," Cobb responded, lifting up the shade on his window to peer out. "Hopefully one who won't skimp on the details like Nash did, and won't betray us either."
"Here's hoping," Emma muttered, and Arthur agreed, neither of them wanted to imagine what was being done to the older man by Cobol right now.
A few days later, they arrived in Paris, France, and Cobb, carrying a bag of stuff toys he'd gotten from a local toy shop, headed directly to Ecole D'Architecture, the very college that he and Mal had attended when they first met years before, and the same college that had brought Emma and Arthur together.
Walking through the hallways, Cobb soon reached a lecture hall and peered inside before entering; seated at a desk at the bottom with chalkboard filled with information behind him, was a rumpled professor with receding white hair, blue eyes, and he was hunched over a bunch of papers that he was reading and grading.
'Some things never change,' Cobb thought with a small smile as he seated himself in one of the wooden rows, peering down at his father-in-law; it was well-known around the campus that Professor Stephen Miles hated his office and preferred to work in the lecture hall that he taught in, and Miles had been heard to say more then once that the day he was to use that office, was the day he would finally retire.
"You never did like your office," he commented, finally getting his father-in-law's attention.
Miles looked up, squinted, and then recognized his son-in-law. "No space to think in that broom cupboard," he stated as Cobb made his way down the stairs. "Is it safe for you to be here?" he asked, hoping that no one had managed to ID his son-in-law…yet.
"Extradition between France and the U.S. is a bureaucratic nightmare," Cobb pointed out, reaching the floor.
Miles grimly smiled at the running joke between them. "I think they'd find a way to make it work in your case."
Cobb didn't doubt that for a second and then set the shopping bag on a clear spot on the desk. "Can you take these back for the kids?" he requested.
Miles frowned, wishing that things were different. "It'll take more than the occasional stuffed animal to convince those children they still have a father."
"I know," Cobb admitted wistfully. "I thought you could talk to Marie about bringing them on vacation. Somewhere I could meet-"
"Why would she listen to me?" Miles asked, thinking of how his estranged wife would react at the request; after all that'd happen, they were now going through the motions of a divorce for the past five years, without very much progress…yet.
"You were married for twenty years," Cobb reminded him.
Miles sighed. "She blames me as much as you."
Cobb felt his temper flare at the thought of just how unfair Marie was being to them both, because of what'd happen to Mal. "Doesn't she understand that my kids need me?" he asked, reining in his temper.
"Yes, she does," Miles confirmed. "We all do. Go back and face the music, Dom," he advised. "Explain what Mal did."
Cobb sighed, wishing that it was that simple, but he knew that it was impossible to explain without getting a lot of important people in trouble, and the worse was that it was unlikely that anyone would believe him either. "Be realistic, Stephen," he said seriously. "They'd never understand – they'd lock me up and throwaway the key. Or worse."
Miles didn't look convince. "You think what you're doing now is helping your case?" he asked.
"Lawyers don't pay for themselves," Cobb countered. "This is what I have. This is what you taught me."
Miles frowned with clear disapproval of what his son-in-law was doing for a living. "I never taught you to be a thief."
"No, you taught me to navigate other people's minds," Cobb agreed. "But after what happened with Mal there weren't a whole lot of legitimate ways for me to use that skill."
Miles sighed knowing that the younger man was right on both marks, and once again wished that he'd never introduced either of them to the blasted program that started this entire mess. "Why did you come here, Dom?" he finally asked since he knew that Cobb wouldn't risk seeing him without having a good reason, beside dropping off gifts for his grandchildren.
"I think I found a way home," Cobb told him hesitantly. "A job. For some very, very powerful people. If I pull it off, I can get back to my family. But I need help."
"My God," Miles realized with a small smile. "You're here to corrupt one of my brightest and best."
Cobb chuckled grimly since it was somewhat true, the program had changed him, Mal, and even Emma and Arthur to an extent, and there was no going back to the way they used to be. "If you have someone good enough," he confirmed, "you have to let that person decide for him or herself. You know what I'm offering."
"Money?" Miles guessed.
Cobb shook his head, mildly annoyed. "No, not just money: the chance to build cathedrals, entire cities – things that have never existed, things that couldn't exist in the real world."
"Everybody dreams, Cobb," Miles reminded him. "Architects are supposed to make those dreams real."
"That's not what you used to say," Cobb countered sharply. "You told me that in the real world I'd be building attic conversions and gas stations. You said that if I mastered the dream a whole new way of creating and showing people my creations. You told me it would free me."
Miles winced at having his own words thrown back at him, remembering the lecture that he used to give to his students when he was involved with the dream-share program which, unfortunately, was still going strong at the college and was looking to steal more of his students from underneath him. "And I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was wrong."
Cobb smiled and shook his head. "No, you weren't," he insisted. "Your vision was a vision of pure creativity. It's where we took it that was wrong."
Miles conceded to that fact. "And now you want me to let someone else follow you into fantasy."
"They won't actually come on the job," Cobb promised, "they'll just design the levels and teach them to the dreamers."
"Design them yourself," Miles suggested helpfully.
Cobb sighed unhappily, wishing that he could design the levels himself, but he knew what would most likely happen if he did, and he was gonna have to admit to the older man. "Mal won't let me."
Miles stared at him, appalled that the rumors were true. "Come back to reality, Dom," he pleaded. "Please."
Cobb scoffed. "You want to know what's real, Stephen?" he asked. "Your grandchildren waiting for their dad to come back. This job – this last job – is how I get there." 'And it will be my last job,' he promised himself. 'I'll never do anymore dream-sharing after this is over.'
Miles fiddled with some of the papers on his desk, unable to look the younger man in the eye, but it was clear that he was starting to cave.
"I wouldn't be standing here if there were any other way," Cobb explained, almost pleading. "I can get home. But I need an architect who's as good as I was."
Miles finally smiled at him and put on his glasses. "I've got someone better."
Two hours later, Miles and Cobb were waiting out a different lecture hall, watching as students filed out, hurrying to get to either their next class, appointments, etc.; soon the older man waved over a young woman with long brown hair, brown eyes, and freckles covered her face, and Cobb was surprised since she didn't look much older then sixteen or seventeen years old.
"Ariadne."
Ariadne Castle came over, clutching a brown book bag in her arms. "Yes, professor?" she asked, proving that she was American, and swung the heavy bag over her shoulder.
"Ariadne, I'd like you to meet Mr. Cobb," Miles said, gesturing to him.
Ariadne eyed Cobb, sizing him up before offering her hand and he shook it. "Pleased to meet you."
"If you have a few moments," Miles told her. "Mr. Cobb has a job offer to discuss with you."
This piped Ariadne's interest and she looked back at Cobb. "A work placement?" she asked.
Cobb smiled slightly. "Not exactly."
Soon Cobb and Ariadne were on the roof of the college, and she was eating a sandwich she'd packed for a quick lunch between classes and was leaning against a railing, watching as Cobb pulled out a pad of graph paper and pen, which he handed to her. "I have a test for you."
"Aren't you going to tell me anything?" Ariadne asked, surprised as she swallowed her food and put the rest of her sandwich away for later.
"Before I describe the job," Cobb explained, removing the cap from the pen. "I have to know you can do it."
"Why?" Ariadne asked, wondering what kind of job they were talking about that needed someone like her; yes she was one of the youngest students at the college learning to be an architect, but she knew of others who were even better then she was.
Cobb shrugged, a little sheepishly. "It's not, strictly speaking, legal." And got raised eyebrows in return. 'At least she isn't walking away…yet.' "You have two minutes to draw a maze that takes me one minute to solve," he instructed and glanced at his watch as she got ready. "Go."
Ariadne began drawing lines on the paper, constructing a maze.
"Stop." Cobb took back both items and examined the maze before solving it at a speed that surprised the young woman, and he looked her directly in the eye as he ripped off the sheet, crumbled it, and handed the pad and pen back. "Again."
Ariadne quickly drew out a new maze, which was even more complex, then the first maze.
"Stop."
She watched with a smile until Cobb quickly solved the new maze and her smile faded as he shook his head, ripping off the sheet of paper, crumbling it, and pocketing it along with the first one.
"You'll have to-" Cobb began when Ariadne snatched the pad and pen back with a scowl; watching, she then flipped the pad over and began drawing a series of concentric rings instead, and then handed them back to him with an defiant expression that reminded him a lot of himself.
Bemused, Cobb began working on solving the maze and got stuck several times before eventually solving it, and the fact that it took longer then a minute to solve was impressive in itself; he beamed at her. "Now that's more like it," he praised and she grinned, thrilled at stumping him. 'Miles is right,' he thought, remembering when he had done this same test and had gotten it right on his fourth try. 'She is better then me. But can she do as well in the dream?'
Meanwhile, Arthur and Emma had called upon some of their contacts to help find them a place to work; now they were walking down a narrow street, following the directions on a scrap of paper until they reached a tall building. Using a key that'd been provided, Arthur unlocked the door and they headed inside.
After several flights of stairs, they reached the top loft and looked around an empty and dusty workshop that clearly hadn't been used in some time; after confirming that the power, water, and the various equipment were all operational, the couple nodded in approval. It would work for the planning and research stages of the job.
Using the freight elevator this time, Arthur and Emma rolled in several large black cases and then worked on setting things up; they first dragged a pair of lawn chairs into the middle of the room, positioned one of the many tables, and then Arthur opened one of the black cases, pulling out a familiar silver briefcase, and set it on the table while Emma opened the other cases to get out more equipment. They had a lot of work to do before Cobb arrived with their new architect.
Sometime later, Cobb and Ariadne were sitting at a table at an outdoor café, and he was explaining the basics of the job and what her role in it was.
"They say we only use a fraction of the true potential of our brains…but they're talking about when we're awake," Cobb explained. "While we dream, the mind performs wonders."
"Such as?" Ariadne asked, sipping her coffee; she'd heard from fellow students about the dream-share program, but hadn't really paid much attention to it, wanting to focus on her studies instead.
"How do you imagine a building? You consciously create each aspect, puzzling over it in stages," Cobb responded. "But sometimes, when your imagination flies-"
"I'm discovering it," Ariadne suggested.
Cobb nodded, impressed. "Exactly. Genuine inspiration." He then pulled out his pen and began drawing two circling arrows on the paper tablecloth. "In a dream your mind continuously does that," he explained. "It creates and perceives a world simultaneously. So well that you don't feel your brain doing the creating. That's why we can short-circuit the process."
"How?" Ariadne asked, now wondering if the rumors about the dream-share program being used for illegal means were true.
"By taking over the creating part," Cobb responded, drawing a line through the center of the circle. "This is where you come in," he explained. "You build the world of the dream. We take the subject into that dream, and let him fill it with his subconscious."
Ariadne frowned. 'Is he really serious about all of this?' "But are you trying to fool him that the dream is actually real life?" she asked uncertainly.
Cobb nodded, once again impressed of how quickly she was picking up on what he was telling her. "While we're in there, we don't want him to realize he's dreaming."
"How could I ever get enough detail to convince him that it's real?" Ariadne asked, already seeing several flaws in what she was being told.
Cobb smiled. "Our dreams seem real while we're in them," he stated. "It's only when we wake up we realize things were strange."
Ariadne didn't look convinced and gestured around them. "But all the textures of real life-the stone, the fabric. Cars…people…your mind can't create all this."
"It does," Cobb corrected. "Every time you dream. Let me ask you a question: You never remember the beginning of your dreams, do you? You just turn up in the middle of what's going on."
Ariadne shrugged. "I guess."
"So…how did we end up at this restaurant?" Cobb asked.
"We came here from…" Ariadne began and then trailed off, confused. Just how did they end up here and why couldn't she remember?
"How did we get here?" Cobb pressed. "Where are we?"
Ariadne looked around, her confusion mounting since it looked like they were outside one of Paris' many cafés, and then it dawned on her and a faint rumbling began. "Oh my God," she whispered, spooked. "We're dreaming."
Cobb nodded as the rumbling grew louder and he knew that meant only one thing, and it wasn't a good thing. 'This is gonna hurt us both.' "Stay calm," he advised. "We're actually asleep in the workshop. This is your first lesson in shared dreaming."
Scared, Ariadne looked around, her mind reeling and Cobb braced himself as the entire area around them exploded with people, furniture, and other things flying around them; she gaped at the chaos as the building behind them began collapsing, and she saw that Cobb was shielding his head against the incoming downpour of debris.
"If it's just a dream!" she shouted over the noise. "Why are you covering your-" she was then hit in the face with a bunch of broken glass and she crumbled to the ground.
Ariadne woke up with a jolt, the memory of the glass hitting her slowly fading away while the pain seemed to linger.
"Because it's never just a dream," Cobb remarked, and she looked at him, spooked; they were both in the lawn chairs and Cobb was sitting up, amusement flickering in his eyes. Sure enough, they were in the workshop, and Arthur and Emma were standing nearby while in the background, Edith Piaf's "Non, je ne regrette rien" was playing. "And a face full of glass hurts like hell, doesn't it?" he asked, and she nodded. "While we're in it, it's real."
"That's why the military developed dream sharing," Arthur explained. "A training program where soldiers could strangle, stab and shoot each other, then wake up."
"How did architects get involved?" Ariadne asked.
"Someone had to design the dreams," Emma answered. "Which is why they typical go to colleges to look for promising students that are going to graduate in architecture or even interior designers will be recruited to help create the dreams."
While Ariadne absorb all of this, Cobb sat back in the lawn chair, adjusting the tubes on his wrist. "Let's go another five minutes," he suggested, and Arthur nodded, going to the machine and reset the timers while Emma turned the music off.
"We were only asleep for five minutes?" Ariadne asked, surprised. "We talked for an hour at least…"
"When you dream, your mind functions more quickly," Cobb explained, "so time seems to pass more slowly."
"Five minutes in the real world gives you an hour in the dream," Arthur added.
"Let's see how much trouble you can cause in five minutes," Cobb suggested as a challenge.
Ariadne couldn't help but smile in response and settled back in the chair as Arthur pushed the button and the mixture of drugs flowed through the tubing and into their systems.
A/N: Next time Ariadne will create a dream and will cross paths with someone unpleasant. Put in your reviews of who you think that person will be. R&R everyone!