Beck was sitting down for the most peculiar breakfast he’d had. The scrambled eggs, potatoes and other dishes in front of him were normal fare, and although they smelled delicious, he didn’t feel particularly hungry. The other strange matter was that while he was sitting at the promenade in the Barclay estate, it was the one inside his own dream world.

When he had arrived back from exploring the tenements that night, Maude had ambushed him with the promise of food as soon as he had stepped through the doors. Beck’s immediate reaction was to say no — he wanted to get to his real breakfast — before he realized that it would be suspicious to the figments of his dream if he appeared to never eat.

He assumed that the maid simply ignored his schedule in the Reverie, but it was clear she simply didn’t have time. Now, however, she did; Beck began to see other workers pass through the entry going about their business. It seemed the Reverie had started providing him with an entire staff to run his manor.

“Come now, don’t be shy!” she broached.

Beck looked to Patch for support, but the bear was curled up at the foot of his chair, resting. Unfortunately talking to a cat, or whatever the maid saw the velour as, would also raise many questions.

“I appreciate the meal, but you’ll have to forgive me if I can’t finish it. I’m not used to eating at this hour,” he said. Given it was the perfect hour for having breakfast it was an audacious claim, but it wasn’t like he was an expert in lying like his uncle was.

“With your hours, you probably have your first meal of the day at midnight,” Maude commented.

He took a bite of the eggs to give himself time to think of a response. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but they tasted exactly like what he expected scrambled eggs to taste like. Perhaps the sensory realness of the Reverie was something else it had plucked from his real life experiences.

In the end he took a page from his uncle and stuck with a half truth. “My work involves the science of dreams. By its nature most of the research happens throughout the night, hence the odd hours.”

“Cripes, that must be a nuisance,” Maude said. “I can’t fathom what you do in that line of work, but you’ve probably heard many fascinating stories about what people dream about.”

“Of course.” The housekeeper didn’t need to know she was participating in one right now.

He took another mouthful of the food and looked around the entryway. The other staff were still bustling about. Beck didn’t know what they even needed to do to keep a fake residence in order, and their presence was more of a hindrance than a help. If his world wasn’t populated, he didn’t have to keep up the facade of relative normalcy every time he was here.

Down on the first floor his eye caught a splash of color. Next to one of the flower displays, a young girl in a blue dress and with a blue ribbon in her hair was peering up at Beck from between the petals. It was a shock to see a child in the Reverie, and for some reason the girl gave him a sense of recognition he couldn’t place.

He turned back to Maude. “Who’s that girl?” he asked with urgency in his voice.

She was taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “Who do you mean?”

Beck turned to indicate the girl down below, but she was gone. “There was one passing through, long dark hair and a blue outfit. Does that sound familiar?”

“It’s possible one of the new hires brought their daughter with them. I’ll let everyone know to keep careful watch over their children,” she said, still giving him a wary look.

“I see.” It was clear Maude didn’t know what was going on with that girl, either. Beck reluctantly took some bites of the meal to appease the housekeeper, who eventually wandered to the West Wing to the staff quarters. Once he was sure she was gone, he got up and made his way back to his room.

----------------------------------------

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

When Beck woke up back in the real world he was immediately struck with how hungry he was. It was much more noticeable since he just ate in the Reverie. That did answer one thing that Maude’s breakfast brought to his attention: food in the dream world did not affect his corporeal body. A fact that anyone would have found obvious, but his experiences at the manor made him throw what was certain out the window.

He got up and changed into a new outfit. Another aspect of life with his uncle that he would have found insane previously is sleeping in his slacks and shirt. Beck noticed that he appeared in the Reverie in the same clothes he fell asleep in, and he had no desire of exploring that world in his pajamas.

Eager to eat some real food, he rushed out into the main hallway and almost got run over by a cart being pushed by. Being caught off guard, it took Beck a moment to digest what had almost hit him. The cart was manned by a few people wearing white gowns, which seemed out of place until he noticed what they were moving; sheets, oblong pans and bags of intravenous fluids.

There was only one passage past where Beck’s room was, to the East Wing. The door was open, held in place by Rowan. As the doctors went past him, he gave his nephew a polite smile.

“What’s happening?” Beck asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” his uncle said. “We just need to top up on supplies.”

Without any more explanation, Rowan closed the door and disappeared into the East Wing. For a minute he stood and waited, listening for anybody else approaching. After concluding he was alone, Beck went up to the entrance. In the past few days he had almost entirely forgotten about this section of the manor. He pulled at the door handle, but it still remained as unyielding as ever, just like his uncle.

Frustrated, he walked down the opposite way to the promenade. As always Nora and Amelia were already at the table, distracted with their usual morning routines of scrutinizing documents and perusing the morning’s paper. Beck loaded up a plate with toast and porridge before taking a seat and looking across at his coworkers. If his uncle and Fielding were not being forthcoming, perhaps those under their employ would be.

“What does the company do in the East Wing, anyways?” he said bluntly.

Amelia looked up from the newspaper she was reading with a bored expression, while the housekeeper gave him her typical sour face. “Has Rowan really not told you about our basic operations?” Nora chided. “That’s where everyone mapping out the Reverie is.”

Beck couldn’t help but narrow his gaze. “If that’s the case, why aren’t I allowed there? That’s what I have been doing the last few nights.”

The housekeeper could only respond with a huff.

“Sensitive information, as well as uncomfortable truths, lie on that end of the manor,” Amelia spoke up. “Rowan doesn’t want that to fall into the wrong hands. Nor does he want those who can’t handle it to have access.”

A hush fell over the table. Beck knew that the way his uncle treated him was abnormal, but hearing what he thought of him laid out so plainly struck him. He picked at his toast to distract himself.

“It’s not like there is much you’re missing out on,” Nora grumbled. “Most everyone working in that wing is sleeping.”

“If that’s all that they are doing, why would they need the attention of medical staff?” he countered.

“You must have seen them pass through this morning, then,” Nora said, very much unconcerned. “Many of our workers stay in the Reverie much longer than just a single night. They’ll be inside for days, even weeks, and we need to take care of their bodies while they are still traveling.”

That made him pause. Logically, the idea of willingly sleeping that long made no sense unless someone had unwavering commitment to the mission his uncle and Fielding were heading. While he had experienced for himself the present threat of the Stranger, Beck couldn’t imagine what urgency prompted such drastic dedication. Perhaps it simply testified to the scale of the Reverie, and how far away the land of Midwich was. He considered his own time spent exploring the in-between, and how the hours seemed to slip away. Was the same fascination he felt in those fantastical landscapes the same one keeping others anchored in that other world?

Regardless of the situation, Nora wasn’t telling the full story. Whether it was for the same “protection” that his uncle claimed was the reason for his misdirection, he wasn’t sure. Seeing as he wasn’t going to be getting any straight answers to his most pressing concerns, he went back to his breakfast. After taking more bites out of his toast, he was reminded of his experience with Maude earlier.

“When you eat in the Reverie, what happens?” he asked.

As soon as he said it, he realized just how stupid the question sounded. He expected the normal agitated response from the housekeeper, but she replied to him in a measured tone. “From what I’ve heard, nothing at all. The sensations are still there, but it does not affect your body here.”

“You don’t hunger in the Reverie,” Amelia added. “Neither do you grow tired, or need to do many of the other things you naturally need to do.”

“So while I’m exploring I don’t need to eat or sleep at all.”

Nora set down the papers she was sifting through and her face became soft. “There are reasons to eat and sleep other than sustenance,” she said. “Routines order a person’s life. Even when they aren’t necessary for survival, they make us human. I worry a lack of them is detrimental to our sanity.”

The sincere concern from her was unexpected. “Do you think that has affected some of the people here?” Beck said.

The housekeeper tutted. “It would at least explain why Rowan is so unstable most of the time.”