"Nnn..." He mumbled, feeling around the console for the master illumination toggle.
“You are requested to report to 1348 Normandy, District 83.” it said. Switching on the lights, he found another button that opened a drawer, where he found his glasses. Scrambling out of the bed, he tossed the covers back over it and pushed it into the wall. His quarters was built to be small and versatile, being almost claustrophobic and only a couple square feet large, but it served many purposes, with many facilities that could be pulled out like drawers, such as his bed or a sink. Many of the quarters were similar, to preserve space, but some were larger to support other needs or wants.
As he was looking at himself in the mirror he pulled out of the wall, he was trying to remember the dream he had, as not only did he find it intriguing, he felt he was going to need it for future analysis, especially considering how much pressure ASIT had on it's psychiatric members to find symptoms of CR in it's members as early as possible. Pushing the mirror back into the wall, he pulled out a thin desk that had papers, handbooks and writing utensils perfectly placed by a machine, which would have done the same thing to his bed. Originally the machine would get him the daily newsprint, but that company was shut down when they found it was much easier and more efficient to do it digitally. That could be said about this entire city, he'd think, Everything that can't be replaced digitally is reused and beat down until nothing of it remains. He preferred to keep everything as physical as possible, however, and preferred to write things down. He figured the reason why people were so wrapped up in the virtual 'reality' was so that they forgot about the world (walls) around them. However, there were those who still well aware of it, and these people were those who often went through bouts of depression, but depression was a good sign of humanity, and he preferred that over machine any day. Why else would he have such irregular sleep patterns. It did pose a scary thought, though; What if we, as humans, lost our physical form and simply were consumed into digital space? He did his best not to repress this thought.
Taking the old-fashioned designed pen and a grey blank page, he began to write, as the dream quickly escaped his memory.
I had a dream just now. The computer will put down the date and time at the top of this page. However, I can only write a quick note as I am being summoned for duty, and I remember very few details. In the dream, I was running
Ending his hastily written note, he pushed the desk back into the wall and scrambled to get ready to leave. He got his Power Vest out of a digitally locked drawer and put it on. It wasn't active, but it was fully juiced and ready for use whenever he felt the need. Putting on a jacket, he scrambled out of his quarters and headed straight for the vehicle lot, jingling his keys in his pocket. The nice thing about old-fashioned locks is that they couldn't be hacked, and hacking could be done more quickly than more conventional methods, and few used those sort of locks anymore anyhow. Keeping an eye on the time on his heads-up display on his glasses, he realized he was going to be a bit late. Can't possibly be too different from the last case, he thought So maybe they can do without me for a couple minutes.