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MegaWorlds - ebook
Before the Sky Goes Out is a philosophical science fiction novel about humanity standing at the edge of transformation. In a world where dreams become a shared space and consciousness is no longer individual, two people are forced to choose between love and the survival of an entire reality. This is a story about memory, sacrifice, and the fragile line between light and darkness — a quiet, powerful reflection on what it truly means to be human when the world itself is reborn.
Ta publikacja spełnia wymagania dostępności zgodnie z dyrektywą EAA.
| Kategoria: | Proza |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-83-8440-864-3 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 2,0 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
_MEGAŚWIATY_ IS AN AMBITIOUS NOVEL AT THE INTERSECTION OF SCIENCE FICTION AND PHILOSOPHICAL REFLECTION ON THE FUTURE OF HUMANITY. THE AUTHORS PRESENT A VISION OF A WORLD IN WHICH DREAMS CEASE TO BE A PRIVATE EXPERIENCE AND BECOME A SHARED SPACE FOR DEVELOPMENT, EDUCATION, AND CONFLICT. IT IS A BOOK UNAFRAID OF BIG QUESTIONS — ABOUT COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS, RESPONSIBILITY FOR SHARED DECISIONS, AND THE LIMITS OF HUMAN INTERFERENCE WITH REALITY.
THE NARRATIVE FOCUSES MORE ON PROCESSES — SOCIAL, PSYCHOLOGICAL, AND ETHICAL — THAN ON TRADITIONAL ACTION. AS A RESULT, _MEGAŚWIATY_ STANDS OUT FOR ITS CALM, THOUGHTFUL PACE AND A CONSISTENTLY CONSTRUCTED UNIVERSE. THE AUTHORS SHOW HOW THE UTOPIA OF SHARED CONSCIOUSNESS GRADUALLY REVEALS ITS FRACTURES, AND HOW AN IDEAL SYSTEM BEGINS TO GENERATE TENSION AND MORAL DILEMMAS.
FOR READERS, THIS IS A DEMANDING BUT REWARDING BOOK. IT REPAYS ATTENTIVENESS, ENCOURAGES REFLECTION, AND LEAVES BEHIND QUESTIONS THAT DO NOT DISAPPEAR AFTER THE FINAL CHAPTER IS CLOSED. FOR PUBLISHERS, _MEGAŚWIATY_ REPRESENTS AN INTRIGUING ENTRY IN THE REALM OF AMBITIOUS SCIENCE FICTION — AIMED AT READERS WHO VALUE LITERATURE OF IDEAS RATHER THAN PURE ENTERTAINMENT.
IT IS A NOVEL ABOUT THE FUTURE THAT DOES NOT ATTEMPT TO PREDICT TECHNOLOGY, BUT INSTEAD WARNS AND INSPIRES, REMINDING US THAT THE GREATEST CHALLENGE HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE HUMAN BEING.CHAPTER 1
She couldn’t remember the first time she fell asleep here
She didn’t dream of falling.
There was no light. No darkness either.
There was sound.
Steady. Deep. As if someone were breathing right beside her — too close to be a stranger, too calm to be a dream.
She opened her eyes.
She was standing in the middle of a city she didn’t know, yet one that felt painfully familiar. The streets were empty, but not dead. The buildings had windows glowing with light, though there were no people anywhere to be seen. The air smelled of rain that never came.
“You came back again,” a voice said.
She turned sharply.
He was standing a few steps away. A man. She couldn’t tell his age — he seemed to be exactly what she needed him to be. Not handsome in any obvious way. Just disturbingly familiar.
“Do we know each other?” she asked.
He smiled crookedly.
“Not yet. But you already remember me.”
Her heart skipped.
The words felt like a key to a door she would have preferred never to notice.
“This is a dream,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I’ll wake up any second now.”
“You always say that,” he replied. “And you always come back.”
He walked toward her. With every step, the space around them trembled slightly, as if the world itself was struggling to contain their presence.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He stopped directly in front of her. Too close. She felt his warmth. She caught the scent of skin — something no dream should be able to create.
“I’m the one you look for when you can’t sleep,” he said softly. “And you… you’re the one who’s been dreaming of me for a long time.”
He touched her hand.
And then she felt pain.
Real pain. Sharp. Impossible to confuse with anything else.
She cried out and pulled her hand away.
“Dreams don’t hurt,” she whispered.
His expression hardened.
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t come back here.”
The city shuddered. The lights in the windows began to go out one by one, as if someone were counting down to the end.
“What will happen if I fall asleep again?” she asked, fear rising in her chest.
He looked straight into her eyes.
“Next time,” he said,
“you won’t wake up alone.”CHAPTER 2
Lena hadn’t slept well for months
The alarm went off at 6:17.
Lena woke with a jolt, as if someone had yanked her out of deep water. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might faint. For a few seconds she didn’t move at all, staring at the ceiling.
White.
Cracked in one spot.
The same as always.
“It was just a dream,” she said out loud.
Her voice sounded чужy — dry, detached, as if it didn’t belong to her.
She sat up and looked at her hand.
On her skin, just above the wrist, there was a red mark. Faint, but unmistakable. Like the trace of someone’s touch. Like pain the body remembers even when the mind tries to deny it.
“No,” she whispered.
She touched the spot with her fingers.
It hurt.
Lena got up and walked to the bathroom mirror. Her face looked exhausted, her eyes far too alert for the early hour. She stared straight at her own reflection.
“You’re not crazy,” she said. “People don’t stay in dreams.”
But his voice was still echoing in her head.
_You always come back._
At work, she was invisible.
No one noticed that she forgot what she was doing three times. No one asked why she stared into space as if listening for something. No one saw her hands tremble slightly when someone brushed past her.
Because no one had ever really seen her.
That evening, she went to bed early. Too early. She lay there in the dark, her heart racing faster than it should.
“I won’t go there,” she whispered. “Not today.”
She closed her eyes.
The city appeared instantly.
This time, he was already there. Waiting.
“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said.
“I didn’t want to,” she replied honestly.
He stepped closer. There was something new in his eyes. Something… heavy.
“This isn’t just a dream anymore, Lena.”
She froze.
“How do you know my name?”
He smiled slowly.
“Because you’ve started saying it out loud,” he said.
“While you sleep.”
The world around them trembled.
And Lena understood that the worst was only beginning.CHAPTER 3
She shouldn’t have touched him
Lena stood facing him, and the city around them was different than before. Brighter. As if someone had turned up the saturation. The cobblestones beneath her feet were warm, and the air trembled gently, like the moment before a storm.
“This isn’t possible,” she said, though her voice no longer sounded certain. “Dreams don’t know names.”
“This one does,” he replied calmly. “And it knows you.”
He started walking down the street, and after a moment’s hesitation, she followed. She noticed the city responding to their movements. When she slowed, the world seemed to slow with her. When she quickened her pace, the echo of her footsteps grew louder.
“Who are you?” she asked. “Really.”
He stopped beside a building with large windows. Light was glowing inside.
“If I tell you,” he said, “you’ll wake up.”
“How can you know that?”
He looked at her carefully, as if seeing more than just her face.
“Because you’ve run away once before.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
“I don’t remember that.”
“Exactly.”
He extended his hand. He hadn’t touched her yet, but it was close. Too close. Lena felt tension ripple through her body — familiar and foreign at the same time.
“If you touch me,” she said, “everything will disappear.”
“Or begin to exist,” he answered.
She should have stepped back.
Instead, she placed her hand against his fingers.
CLOSENESS
The sensation was immediate. Complete. Warm.
Not like a dream. Like reality — the kind the body recognizes without asking permission.
Lena sucked in a sharp breath. The streets around them widened, as if the city were making space for them. The lights in the windows flared on all at once.
“Oh God…” she whispered.
“You feel it,” he said. Not asking. Stating a fact.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
His hand slid over her wrist — exactly where she’d seen the red mark that morning. She shuddered.
“You leave marks,” she said softly. “That’s not normal.”
“You do too,” he replied. “You just don’t know it yet.”
He stepped closer. Their foreheads nearly touched. Lena felt his breath — too steady, too aware.
“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly. “If you know mine, I want to know yours.”
He was silent for a long moment.
“I don’t like my name,” he said at last.
“Why?”
“Because it reminds me that I exist outside this place too.”
That should have frightened her.
Instead, she felt a sharp spark of curiosity. And something else. Something that ached like longing for someone she had never had.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
He met her gaze.
“Noah.”
When he spoke his name, the city shuddered.
RULES
“There are rules,” he said suddenly, stepping back a pace. Too abruptly. “You need to know them.”
“What rules?”
“You can’t look for me while you’re awake.”
“You can’t tell anyone about me.”
“And never…” he hesitated, “…never fall asleep thinking about death.”
“Why?” she asked.
His face hardened.
“Because that’s when you get here faster.”
“And deeper.”
Before she could ask anything more, the world around them began to collapse. Sounds stretched thin, colors drained away.
“Wait!” she shouted.
He moved to her once more. Quickly. Desperately.
“Lena,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “If you ever see me while you’re awake —”
“Yes?”
“Run.”
The city vanished.
Lena woke up screaming.
And her lips were still warm, as if someone had almost kissed her.CHAPTER 4
She Wasn’t Allowed to Look for Him
Lena didn’t sleep all night.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, counting cracks and breaths. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face — too clearly for it to be just a dream. Noah. The name weighed heavy on her tongue, as if speaking it might set something in motion.
_You can’t look for me while you’re awake._
She repeated it in her mind like a spell.
Like a warning.
Like a promise she was already beginning to break.
In the morning, at work, she typed his name into the search bar. She didn’t know why. It was irrational. Childish. And yet her fingers arranged the letters on their own.
Noah.
Thousands of results. Faces that had nothing to do with him. She closed the laptop with a sense of relief — and disappointment.
“It was just a dream,” she said to the empty apartment when she got home.
But when she took off her coat, she saw something that made her knees weaken.
On the hallway mirror, someone had left fingerprints.
Not hers.
Too high. Too wide.
Her heart began to race.
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
She wiped the glass with her sleeve. The marks disappeared. But the feeling that she wasn’t alone remained.
SIGNS
The first time it happened was on the bus.
She was standing by the window, staring at her reflection, when she caught a scent. The same one she knew from the dream. Warm. Faintly woody. She froze, holding her breath.
“No…” slipped from her lips.
She turned around abruptly.
No one familiar. Just strangers — tired faces, everyday life. But the scent didn’t fade. It lingered like an echo. Like a memory that refused to leave.
Then there was the sound.
That evening, sitting on her bed with a mug of tea, she heard breathing. The same one it had all started with. Deep. Steady. Too close.
“Noah?” she whispered, before she could stop herself.
Silence.
But the air in the room thickened unmistakably.
She had broken the rule.
And they both knew it.
THE PRICE
That night, sleep came violently.
The city was darker than ever. No lights burned in the windows. Noah stood on the other side of the street, motionless, his face tight with anger — and fear.
“What did you do?” he asked, without greeting her.
“I just —” she began.
“You weren’t allowed,” he cut in sharply. “I warned you.”
“I couldn’t stop,” she said softly. “I started to feel you while I was awake.”
He went pale.
“That means the boundary is breaking.”
He crossed the distance quickly and grabbed her shoulders. This time his touch wasn’t warm. It was desperate.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “If this goes any further, someone will die.”
“Who?”
He didn’t answer right away.
He looked at the city. At the dark windows. At the emptiness.
“I don’t know yet,” he said at last. “But I know one thing.”
He looked straight into her eyes.
“This won’t be just a death in a dream.”
The city began to collapse. The ground beneath her feet cracked, as if the world were being torn apart from the inside.
“Noah!” she cried.
He pulled her to him. Hard. As if trying to memorize her.
“If you wake up tomorrow and don’t remember me,” he whispered, “it means it was already too late.”
Lena screamed.
And woke up, soaked in tears, with one sentence burned into her mind:
SOMETHING HAD ALREADY BEGUN TO DIE.CHAPTER 5
This Was Not an Ordinary Dream
Lena knew it was a dream before she saw anything.
There was no transition.
No city. No streets. No light.
There was silence — thick, clinging to the skin.
She stood in a room that resembled a hospital ward — but too clean, too empty, too white. A bed in the center. Medical equipment that made no sound.
And someone was lying on the bed.
She took a step forward.
“No…” she whispered.
It was her.
Her body lay motionless, too calm, too light, as if it no longer belonged to the world. Her face was pale, lips slightly parted, as if she wanted to say something — but had run out of time.
Lena recoiled sharply.
“That’s not me,” she said. “That can’t be me.”
“It is,” a voice said behind her.
She turned.
Noah stood against the wall, as pale as the walls around him. He looked… different. As if something was peeling away from him. As if the dream was no longer protecting him.
“Why are you showing me this?!” she cried.
“Because it’s already happening,” he answered quietly.
HOW IT HAPPENS
She moved closer to the bed, even though every part of her body screamed to run. She looked at her own hands. They lay limp. Cold.
“How do I die?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Noah was silent for a moment.
“You fall asleep,” he said at last. “And you don’t come back.”
“That’s it?”
“The worst part, Lena,” he added, “is that no one will ever realize it wasn’t an accident.”
She looked at him.
“Is this because of you?”
His face fractured. Literally — for a moment it seemed as if the light split his features like glass.
“Because of us,” he said. “Because we found each other.”
“Then I’ll stop sleeping,” she said quickly. “I won’t come back. I’ll break this.”
He shook his head.
“You can’t anymore.”
“Why?!”
He stepped closer. Knelt by the bed, by her dead body. He touched her hand with a tenderness that tore at her chest.
“Because it’s not the dreams that are killing you,” he said.
“It’s the fact that you’ve started to belong to two worlds at once.”
THE CHOICE
The world trembled.
The machines suddenly came alive. A steady sound. Sharp. Unbearable.
“I don’t want to end like this,” Lena whispered.
Noah stood up. Walked toward her. Looked straight into her eyes — and for the first time, she saw real fear there.
“There’s one more way,” he said.
“What way?”
“But if you choose it…” he hesitated, “…you won’t be able to return to who you were.”
“Tell me.”
He leaned close to her ear.
“I have to die.”
A scream tore from her throat at the exact moment the world collapsed.
Lena woke violently.
She was breathing hard. The room was dark. Silent.
She reached for her phone.
3:33 A.M.
And on the screen, among the notifications, there was one new message.
Unknown number.
One text.
DON’T LET ME FALL ASLEEP.CHAPTER 6
He Shouldn’t Be Here
3:33
Lena sat on the bed with her phone in her hand long after the screen had gone dark.
_Don’t let me fall asleep._
An unknown number.
No signature.
And yet… her body reacted faster than her mind. A shiver ran down her spine, exactly the same as in the dream, when Noah was close.
“This is impossible,” she said aloud.
But her fingers were trembling.
She replied.
_Who are you?_
The answer came almost instantly.
_If I ask you a question and you answer it wrong, I’ll disappear._
Her heart began to pound.
_What’s my name?_
Lena felt the air leave her lungs.
_Noah._
One second passed.
Two.
The phone vibrated.
_Open the door._
THE THRESHOLD
She stood in the hallway in her nightshirt, bare feet on the cold tiles. Her hand hovered over the handle. Every healthy instinct screamed at her not to do this.
“If this is a dream,” she whispered, “I’ll wake up.”
She opened the door.
He was standing in the stairwell.
Not like in the dream.
Not like an image.
Real.
He wore a dark jacket, his hair slightly damp, as if it had been raining. He was breathing hard. His eyes were exactly the same as before — too alert, too aware.
“Lena,” he said.
Her knees weakened slightly.
“No…” She stepped back. “You don’t exist.”
“That’s exactly why you have to let me in,” he replied. “Before I stop.”
She looked at his hands. They were shaking.
“How is this possible?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I only know that if I fall asleep here…” He stopped. “I won’t come back.”
She let him in.
The door closed behind them with a dull click that sounded like a verdict.
THE BODY REMEMBERS
He stood in the middle of her apartment like someone afraid to touch anything, afraid it might vanish.
Lena stared at him, trying to find even one detail that would give him away. Something unreal. Something dreamlike.
Nothing.
“You’re cold,” she said before she could stop herself.
“Because it’s too bright here,” he answered. “Too loud. Too… real.”
She took a step toward him.
“If you’re really here,” she whispered, “then what I saw…”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “That was the future.”
She closed her eyes. Just for a second. When she opened them, he was closer.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
“You already are,” he replied.
Only then did she realize she was holding his hand.
The touch hit her like a wave. Warmth. An impulse. Something that jumped across her skin and lodged deep beneath her ribs. She pulled her hand away sharply.
“It speeds things up,” he said quietly. “Every contact.”
“Then leave,” she said sharply. “Now.”
He looked at her as if he already knew it was impossible.
“Lena…” he began.
“Leave,” she repeated. “Or we’ll both die.”
For a moment she thought he wouldn’t move.
Finally, he nodded.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he said. “No matter what.”
He passed her, his shoulder brushing hers. Just a graze.
It was enough.
The world spun.
Lena came to on the floor.
The light in the apartment pulsed. The clock in the kitchen read 3:34.
One minute.
She got up unsteadily and ran to the door. She flung it open.
The stairwell was empty.
Only one thing lay on the floor.
Wet with rain.
Dark.
Real.
His jacket.CHAPTER 7
The First Night
Lena did not go to bed.
She sat on the couch with the light on, a mug of tea gone cold, and his jacket draped over the back of a chair. It smelled of rain. And of him. Every time she looked at it, her heart sped up, as if her body knew something her mind still refused to accept.
“I won’t fall asleep,” she said to the empty apartment. “It can’t be that hard.”
The first hours were easy.
Too easy.
At four in the morning, her hands began to tremble. By five, sounds felt too loud — the refrigerator roared like an engine, the clock struck like a hammer. By six, a headache set in, pulsing right behind her eyes.
And then… the images came.
Not dreams.
Flashes.
A city. Windows without light. Noah standing at the end of the street, his mouth moving without a sound.
“I’m not asleep,” she whispered. “That doesn’t count.”
But the world didn’t seem convinced.
A DAY COMING APART
At work, she mixed up the names of people she’d known for years. She caught herself staring at the screen, unable to make sense of the letters. When someone asked her something simple, she answered several seconds too late.
“Everything okay?” a coworker asked.
“Yes,” Lena lied.
When she blinked, for a split second she saw dark windows instead of the office wall. She grabbed the edge of her desk to keep from falling.
“I won’t fall asleep,” she repeated in her mind. “I just have to endure.”
In the afternoon, she received a message.
An unknown number.
_Still awake?_
She froze.
_Yes._
_You told me not to sleep._
The reply came a moment later.
_That was a warning._
_Not an instruction._
Her heart clenched painfully.
_Where are you?_
Three dots appeared and disappeared several times.
_Farther and farther away._
THE SECOND NIGHT
The second night was worse.
Her body began to rebel. Her eyes burned, her thoughts tore apart like poorly stitched fabric. Every time her eyelids closed — even for a second — it ended with the same image.
A hospital room.
A bed.
Her own body.
“Stop,” she whispered, digging her nails into the skin of her forearm.
The pain helped. For a moment.
At three in the morning, she heard footsteps in the apartment.
Slow. Careful.
“Noah?” she asked, though her heart told her she shouldn’t.
The footsteps stopped.
The air thickened. Cold slid across the floor like a shadow.
“If it’s not you,” she said, trembling, “then leave.”
The light flickered.
And then she heard a voice. Not his.
“You’ve been awake too long, Lena.”
Her heart lodged in her throat.
“Who’s there?!”
Silence.
But she already knew one thing:
it wasn’t only Noah who could cross between worlds.CHAPTER 8
The One Who Does Not Dream
Lena understood she wasn’t alone before she saw anything.
It wasn’t a smell.
It wasn’t a sound.
It was the sensation that the air in the room had grown heavier — as if someone had extinguished an invisible light she hadn’t known was there.
“Noah?” she asked cautiously.
Silence.
The clock in the kitchen ticked unevenly. As if it were losing its rhythm. As if time itself wasn’t sure whether it should keep moving forward.
“It’s not him,” a voice said.
It didn’t come from one place. It was everywhere. In the walls. In the floor. In her chest.
Lena stood up slowly.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The light went out.
Not suddenly — rather as if someone were pulling it out of the room. Step by step. Leaving her in half-shadow.
“I am what remains,” the voice said, “when the dreamers stop returning.”
Her heart hammered wildly.
“This is my dream,” she said. “Get out.”
A quiet laugh passed through the apartment like a draft.
“If this were your dream,” the voice replied, “you would have woken up already.”
THE TRUTH SHE DIDN’T WANT
A figure emerged from the shadows.
It wasn’t fully defined. As if the world refused to draw it completely. It had a human shape, but something was wrong — arms too long, a face too still.
“He didn’t warn you,” it said. “He never does.”
“Who are you talking about?” she whispered, though she already knew.
“The one who pretends to dream with you.”
“Noah isn’t pretending,” she snapped. “He’s protecting me.”
The figure tilted its head.
“Protecting?” it echoed, with something that might have been amusement. “Lena… he is the reason the boundary is breaking.”
“You’re lying.”
“He is an anchor,” the voice continued calmly. “And you… you are the passage.”
Her knees buckled.
“No.”
“Every dream needs someone who doesn’t return,” it said. “He returned. That is the mistake.”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
The figure stepped closer. The world trembled.
“I am the Guardian of Sleeplessness.”
“And you… have begun to wake me.”
THE ULTIMATUM
“What do you want?” she asked, struggling for breath.
“Balance.”
It took another step. Cold brushed her skin, as if a door to winter had opened.
“One of you must disappear,” it said without emotion. “Forever.”
“No,” she whispered.
“You may choose,” it added. “That is your privilege. And your punishment.”
“If I choose Noah?” she asked, trembling.
“You will wake up,” it replied. “And forget that he ever existed.”
“And if I choose myself?”
The figure studied her carefully.
“Then you will fall asleep,” it said softly. “And the world will be at peace.”
The light flickered.
It was gone.
Lena collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air as if after a long dive.
Her phone vibrated.
One message.
_He was there already, wasn’t he?_
Tears streamed down her face.
_Yes._
The reply came moments later.
_Then…_
_we don’t have much time left._CHAPTER 9
You Can’t Not Fall Asleep
Lena sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, her knees pulled up under her chin. Her phone lay beside her, the screen dark. Her breathing was shallow, uneven. Her heart was beating too fast, as if it were trying to wake her in advance.
“I won’t fall asleep,” she kept repeating. “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.”
Her eyelids burned. Every blink lasted a fraction of a second too long. Her thoughts drifted apart like words written on water.
Her body did not ask for permission.
The numbness began in her fingers. Then in her neck. A weight she couldn’t shake settled onto her shoulders.
“Noah…” she whispered. “If you can hear me…”
Her phone vibrated.
_Lena._
_Fight._
Tears welled in her eyes.
_I’m sorry._
_I can’t anymore._
FALLING
There was no moment of transition.
One second — she was sitting on the floor.
The next — she was falling.
Not through air.
Through silence.
The city appeared beneath her suddenly, violently. The streets were cracked, the buildings leaning, the windows black like empty eye sockets. The world looked as if someone had abandoned it halfway through existence.
“Noah!” she screamed.
The echo returned distorted. Foreign.
“I’m here,” a voice said behind her.
She turned.
He stood several meters away. He looked worse than she had ever seen him. As if the dream was no longer his place. As if the world were trying to spit him out.
“The Guardian…” she began.
“I know,” he interrupted. “He came for you.”
“He said I have to choose.”
Noah nodded.
“It’s always like that.”
He stepped closer. With every step, the ground beneath them cracked.
“If you stay here any longer,” he said, “your body in the waking world will stop responding.”
“I saw it,” she whispered. “I saw myself dead.”
He looked at her with a pain that couldn’t be faked.
“That was one version,” he said. “The gentlest one.”
WHAT HE DIDN’T SAY
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she asked suddenly. “Who are you really?”
He was silent for too long.
“Noah,” she pressed. “If I’m going to die or disappear, I want to know for whom.”
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were different. Older. Heavier.
THE NARRATIVE FOCUSES MORE ON PROCESSES — SOCIAL, PSYCHOLOGICAL, AND ETHICAL — THAN ON TRADITIONAL ACTION. AS A RESULT, _MEGAŚWIATY_ STANDS OUT FOR ITS CALM, THOUGHTFUL PACE AND A CONSISTENTLY CONSTRUCTED UNIVERSE. THE AUTHORS SHOW HOW THE UTOPIA OF SHARED CONSCIOUSNESS GRADUALLY REVEALS ITS FRACTURES, AND HOW AN IDEAL SYSTEM BEGINS TO GENERATE TENSION AND MORAL DILEMMAS.
FOR READERS, THIS IS A DEMANDING BUT REWARDING BOOK. IT REPAYS ATTENTIVENESS, ENCOURAGES REFLECTION, AND LEAVES BEHIND QUESTIONS THAT DO NOT DISAPPEAR AFTER THE FINAL CHAPTER IS CLOSED. FOR PUBLISHERS, _MEGAŚWIATY_ REPRESENTS AN INTRIGUING ENTRY IN THE REALM OF AMBITIOUS SCIENCE FICTION — AIMED AT READERS WHO VALUE LITERATURE OF IDEAS RATHER THAN PURE ENTERTAINMENT.
IT IS A NOVEL ABOUT THE FUTURE THAT DOES NOT ATTEMPT TO PREDICT TECHNOLOGY, BUT INSTEAD WARNS AND INSPIRES, REMINDING US THAT THE GREATEST CHALLENGE HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE HUMAN BEING.CHAPTER 1
She couldn’t remember the first time she fell asleep here
She didn’t dream of falling.
There was no light. No darkness either.
There was sound.
Steady. Deep. As if someone were breathing right beside her — too close to be a stranger, too calm to be a dream.
She opened her eyes.
She was standing in the middle of a city she didn’t know, yet one that felt painfully familiar. The streets were empty, but not dead. The buildings had windows glowing with light, though there were no people anywhere to be seen. The air smelled of rain that never came.
“You came back again,” a voice said.
She turned sharply.
He was standing a few steps away. A man. She couldn’t tell his age — he seemed to be exactly what she needed him to be. Not handsome in any obvious way. Just disturbingly familiar.
“Do we know each other?” she asked.
He smiled crookedly.
“Not yet. But you already remember me.”
Her heart skipped.
The words felt like a key to a door she would have preferred never to notice.
“This is a dream,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I’ll wake up any second now.”
“You always say that,” he replied. “And you always come back.”
He walked toward her. With every step, the space around them trembled slightly, as if the world itself was struggling to contain their presence.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He stopped directly in front of her. Too close. She felt his warmth. She caught the scent of skin — something no dream should be able to create.
“I’m the one you look for when you can’t sleep,” he said softly. “And you… you’re the one who’s been dreaming of me for a long time.”
He touched her hand.
And then she felt pain.
Real pain. Sharp. Impossible to confuse with anything else.
She cried out and pulled her hand away.
“Dreams don’t hurt,” she whispered.
His expression hardened.
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t come back here.”
The city shuddered. The lights in the windows began to go out one by one, as if someone were counting down to the end.
“What will happen if I fall asleep again?” she asked, fear rising in her chest.
He looked straight into her eyes.
“Next time,” he said,
“you won’t wake up alone.”CHAPTER 2
Lena hadn’t slept well for months
The alarm went off at 6:17.
Lena woke with a jolt, as if someone had yanked her out of deep water. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might faint. For a few seconds she didn’t move at all, staring at the ceiling.
White.
Cracked in one spot.
The same as always.
“It was just a dream,” she said out loud.
Her voice sounded чужy — dry, detached, as if it didn’t belong to her.
She sat up and looked at her hand.
On her skin, just above the wrist, there was a red mark. Faint, but unmistakable. Like the trace of someone’s touch. Like pain the body remembers even when the mind tries to deny it.
“No,” she whispered.
She touched the spot with her fingers.
It hurt.
Lena got up and walked to the bathroom mirror. Her face looked exhausted, her eyes far too alert for the early hour. She stared straight at her own reflection.
“You’re not crazy,” she said. “People don’t stay in dreams.”
But his voice was still echoing in her head.
_You always come back._
At work, she was invisible.
No one noticed that she forgot what she was doing three times. No one asked why she stared into space as if listening for something. No one saw her hands tremble slightly when someone brushed past her.
Because no one had ever really seen her.
That evening, she went to bed early. Too early. She lay there in the dark, her heart racing faster than it should.
“I won’t go there,” she whispered. “Not today.”
She closed her eyes.
The city appeared instantly.
This time, he was already there. Waiting.
“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said.
“I didn’t want to,” she replied honestly.
He stepped closer. There was something new in his eyes. Something… heavy.
“This isn’t just a dream anymore, Lena.”
She froze.
“How do you know my name?”
He smiled slowly.
“Because you’ve started saying it out loud,” he said.
“While you sleep.”
The world around them trembled.
And Lena understood that the worst was only beginning.CHAPTER 3
She shouldn’t have touched him
Lena stood facing him, and the city around them was different than before. Brighter. As if someone had turned up the saturation. The cobblestones beneath her feet were warm, and the air trembled gently, like the moment before a storm.
“This isn’t possible,” she said, though her voice no longer sounded certain. “Dreams don’t know names.”
“This one does,” he replied calmly. “And it knows you.”
He started walking down the street, and after a moment’s hesitation, she followed. She noticed the city responding to their movements. When she slowed, the world seemed to slow with her. When she quickened her pace, the echo of her footsteps grew louder.
“Who are you?” she asked. “Really.”
He stopped beside a building with large windows. Light was glowing inside.
“If I tell you,” he said, “you’ll wake up.”
“How can you know that?”
He looked at her carefully, as if seeing more than just her face.
“Because you’ve run away once before.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
“I don’t remember that.”
“Exactly.”
He extended his hand. He hadn’t touched her yet, but it was close. Too close. Lena felt tension ripple through her body — familiar and foreign at the same time.
“If you touch me,” she said, “everything will disappear.”
“Or begin to exist,” he answered.
She should have stepped back.
Instead, she placed her hand against his fingers.
CLOSENESS
The sensation was immediate. Complete. Warm.
Not like a dream. Like reality — the kind the body recognizes without asking permission.
Lena sucked in a sharp breath. The streets around them widened, as if the city were making space for them. The lights in the windows flared on all at once.
“Oh God…” she whispered.
“You feel it,” he said. Not asking. Stating a fact.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
His hand slid over her wrist — exactly where she’d seen the red mark that morning. She shuddered.
“You leave marks,” she said softly. “That’s not normal.”
“You do too,” he replied. “You just don’t know it yet.”
He stepped closer. Their foreheads nearly touched. Lena felt his breath — too steady, too aware.
“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly. “If you know mine, I want to know yours.”
He was silent for a long moment.
“I don’t like my name,” he said at last.
“Why?”
“Because it reminds me that I exist outside this place too.”
That should have frightened her.
Instead, she felt a sharp spark of curiosity. And something else. Something that ached like longing for someone she had never had.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
He met her gaze.
“Noah.”
When he spoke his name, the city shuddered.
RULES
“There are rules,” he said suddenly, stepping back a pace. Too abruptly. “You need to know them.”
“What rules?”
“You can’t look for me while you’re awake.”
“You can’t tell anyone about me.”
“And never…” he hesitated, “…never fall asleep thinking about death.”
“Why?” she asked.
His face hardened.
“Because that’s when you get here faster.”
“And deeper.”
Before she could ask anything more, the world around them began to collapse. Sounds stretched thin, colors drained away.
“Wait!” she shouted.
He moved to her once more. Quickly. Desperately.
“Lena,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “If you ever see me while you’re awake —”
“Yes?”
“Run.”
The city vanished.
Lena woke up screaming.
And her lips were still warm, as if someone had almost kissed her.CHAPTER 4
She Wasn’t Allowed to Look for Him
Lena didn’t sleep all night.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, counting cracks and breaths. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face — too clearly for it to be just a dream. Noah. The name weighed heavy on her tongue, as if speaking it might set something in motion.
_You can’t look for me while you’re awake._
She repeated it in her mind like a spell.
Like a warning.
Like a promise she was already beginning to break.
In the morning, at work, she typed his name into the search bar. She didn’t know why. It was irrational. Childish. And yet her fingers arranged the letters on their own.
Noah.
Thousands of results. Faces that had nothing to do with him. She closed the laptop with a sense of relief — and disappointment.
“It was just a dream,” she said to the empty apartment when she got home.
But when she took off her coat, she saw something that made her knees weaken.
On the hallway mirror, someone had left fingerprints.
Not hers.
Too high. Too wide.
Her heart began to race.
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
She wiped the glass with her sleeve. The marks disappeared. But the feeling that she wasn’t alone remained.
SIGNS
The first time it happened was on the bus.
She was standing by the window, staring at her reflection, when she caught a scent. The same one she knew from the dream. Warm. Faintly woody. She froze, holding her breath.
“No…” slipped from her lips.
She turned around abruptly.
No one familiar. Just strangers — tired faces, everyday life. But the scent didn’t fade. It lingered like an echo. Like a memory that refused to leave.
Then there was the sound.
That evening, sitting on her bed with a mug of tea, she heard breathing. The same one it had all started with. Deep. Steady. Too close.
“Noah?” she whispered, before she could stop herself.
Silence.
But the air in the room thickened unmistakably.
She had broken the rule.
And they both knew it.
THE PRICE
That night, sleep came violently.
The city was darker than ever. No lights burned in the windows. Noah stood on the other side of the street, motionless, his face tight with anger — and fear.
“What did you do?” he asked, without greeting her.
“I just —” she began.
“You weren’t allowed,” he cut in sharply. “I warned you.”
“I couldn’t stop,” she said softly. “I started to feel you while I was awake.”
He went pale.
“That means the boundary is breaking.”
He crossed the distance quickly and grabbed her shoulders. This time his touch wasn’t warm. It was desperate.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “If this goes any further, someone will die.”
“Who?”
He didn’t answer right away.
He looked at the city. At the dark windows. At the emptiness.
“I don’t know yet,” he said at last. “But I know one thing.”
He looked straight into her eyes.
“This won’t be just a death in a dream.”
The city began to collapse. The ground beneath her feet cracked, as if the world were being torn apart from the inside.
“Noah!” she cried.
He pulled her to him. Hard. As if trying to memorize her.
“If you wake up tomorrow and don’t remember me,” he whispered, “it means it was already too late.”
Lena screamed.
And woke up, soaked in tears, with one sentence burned into her mind:
SOMETHING HAD ALREADY BEGUN TO DIE.CHAPTER 5
This Was Not an Ordinary Dream
Lena knew it was a dream before she saw anything.
There was no transition.
No city. No streets. No light.
There was silence — thick, clinging to the skin.
She stood in a room that resembled a hospital ward — but too clean, too empty, too white. A bed in the center. Medical equipment that made no sound.
And someone was lying on the bed.
She took a step forward.
“No…” she whispered.
It was her.
Her body lay motionless, too calm, too light, as if it no longer belonged to the world. Her face was pale, lips slightly parted, as if she wanted to say something — but had run out of time.
Lena recoiled sharply.
“That’s not me,” she said. “That can’t be me.”
“It is,” a voice said behind her.
She turned.
Noah stood against the wall, as pale as the walls around him. He looked… different. As if something was peeling away from him. As if the dream was no longer protecting him.
“Why are you showing me this?!” she cried.
“Because it’s already happening,” he answered quietly.
HOW IT HAPPENS
She moved closer to the bed, even though every part of her body screamed to run. She looked at her own hands. They lay limp. Cold.
“How do I die?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Noah was silent for a moment.
“You fall asleep,” he said at last. “And you don’t come back.”
“That’s it?”
“The worst part, Lena,” he added, “is that no one will ever realize it wasn’t an accident.”
She looked at him.
“Is this because of you?”
His face fractured. Literally — for a moment it seemed as if the light split his features like glass.
“Because of us,” he said. “Because we found each other.”
“Then I’ll stop sleeping,” she said quickly. “I won’t come back. I’ll break this.”
He shook his head.
“You can’t anymore.”
“Why?!”
He stepped closer. Knelt by the bed, by her dead body. He touched her hand with a tenderness that tore at her chest.
“Because it’s not the dreams that are killing you,” he said.
“It’s the fact that you’ve started to belong to two worlds at once.”
THE CHOICE
The world trembled.
The machines suddenly came alive. A steady sound. Sharp. Unbearable.
“I don’t want to end like this,” Lena whispered.
Noah stood up. Walked toward her. Looked straight into her eyes — and for the first time, she saw real fear there.
“There’s one more way,” he said.
“What way?”
“But if you choose it…” he hesitated, “…you won’t be able to return to who you were.”
“Tell me.”
He leaned close to her ear.
“I have to die.”
A scream tore from her throat at the exact moment the world collapsed.
Lena woke violently.
She was breathing hard. The room was dark. Silent.
She reached for her phone.
3:33 A.M.
And on the screen, among the notifications, there was one new message.
Unknown number.
One text.
DON’T LET ME FALL ASLEEP.CHAPTER 6
He Shouldn’t Be Here
3:33
Lena sat on the bed with her phone in her hand long after the screen had gone dark.
_Don’t let me fall asleep._
An unknown number.
No signature.
And yet… her body reacted faster than her mind. A shiver ran down her spine, exactly the same as in the dream, when Noah was close.
“This is impossible,” she said aloud.
But her fingers were trembling.
She replied.
_Who are you?_
The answer came almost instantly.
_If I ask you a question and you answer it wrong, I’ll disappear._
Her heart began to pound.
_What’s my name?_
Lena felt the air leave her lungs.
_Noah._
One second passed.
Two.
The phone vibrated.
_Open the door._
THE THRESHOLD
She stood in the hallway in her nightshirt, bare feet on the cold tiles. Her hand hovered over the handle. Every healthy instinct screamed at her not to do this.
“If this is a dream,” she whispered, “I’ll wake up.”
She opened the door.
He was standing in the stairwell.
Not like in the dream.
Not like an image.
Real.
He wore a dark jacket, his hair slightly damp, as if it had been raining. He was breathing hard. His eyes were exactly the same as before — too alert, too aware.
“Lena,” he said.
Her knees weakened slightly.
“No…” She stepped back. “You don’t exist.”
“That’s exactly why you have to let me in,” he replied. “Before I stop.”
She looked at his hands. They were shaking.
“How is this possible?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I only know that if I fall asleep here…” He stopped. “I won’t come back.”
She let him in.
The door closed behind them with a dull click that sounded like a verdict.
THE BODY REMEMBERS
He stood in the middle of her apartment like someone afraid to touch anything, afraid it might vanish.
Lena stared at him, trying to find even one detail that would give him away. Something unreal. Something dreamlike.
Nothing.
“You’re cold,” she said before she could stop herself.
“Because it’s too bright here,” he answered. “Too loud. Too… real.”
She took a step toward him.
“If you’re really here,” she whispered, “then what I saw…”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “That was the future.”
She closed her eyes. Just for a second. When she opened them, he was closer.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
“You already are,” he replied.
Only then did she realize she was holding his hand.
The touch hit her like a wave. Warmth. An impulse. Something that jumped across her skin and lodged deep beneath her ribs. She pulled her hand away sharply.
“It speeds things up,” he said quietly. “Every contact.”
“Then leave,” she said sharply. “Now.”
He looked at her as if he already knew it was impossible.
“Lena…” he began.
“Leave,” she repeated. “Or we’ll both die.”
For a moment she thought he wouldn’t move.
Finally, he nodded.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he said. “No matter what.”
He passed her, his shoulder brushing hers. Just a graze.
It was enough.
The world spun.
Lena came to on the floor.
The light in the apartment pulsed. The clock in the kitchen read 3:34.
One minute.
She got up unsteadily and ran to the door. She flung it open.
The stairwell was empty.
Only one thing lay on the floor.
Wet with rain.
Dark.
Real.
His jacket.CHAPTER 7
The First Night
Lena did not go to bed.
She sat on the couch with the light on, a mug of tea gone cold, and his jacket draped over the back of a chair. It smelled of rain. And of him. Every time she looked at it, her heart sped up, as if her body knew something her mind still refused to accept.
“I won’t fall asleep,” she said to the empty apartment. “It can’t be that hard.”
The first hours were easy.
Too easy.
At four in the morning, her hands began to tremble. By five, sounds felt too loud — the refrigerator roared like an engine, the clock struck like a hammer. By six, a headache set in, pulsing right behind her eyes.
And then… the images came.
Not dreams.
Flashes.
A city. Windows without light. Noah standing at the end of the street, his mouth moving without a sound.
“I’m not asleep,” she whispered. “That doesn’t count.”
But the world didn’t seem convinced.
A DAY COMING APART
At work, she mixed up the names of people she’d known for years. She caught herself staring at the screen, unable to make sense of the letters. When someone asked her something simple, she answered several seconds too late.
“Everything okay?” a coworker asked.
“Yes,” Lena lied.
When she blinked, for a split second she saw dark windows instead of the office wall. She grabbed the edge of her desk to keep from falling.
“I won’t fall asleep,” she repeated in her mind. “I just have to endure.”
In the afternoon, she received a message.
An unknown number.
_Still awake?_
She froze.
_Yes._
_You told me not to sleep._
The reply came a moment later.
_That was a warning._
_Not an instruction._
Her heart clenched painfully.
_Where are you?_
Three dots appeared and disappeared several times.
_Farther and farther away._
THE SECOND NIGHT
The second night was worse.
Her body began to rebel. Her eyes burned, her thoughts tore apart like poorly stitched fabric. Every time her eyelids closed — even for a second — it ended with the same image.
A hospital room.
A bed.
Her own body.
“Stop,” she whispered, digging her nails into the skin of her forearm.
The pain helped. For a moment.
At three in the morning, she heard footsteps in the apartment.
Slow. Careful.
“Noah?” she asked, though her heart told her she shouldn’t.
The footsteps stopped.
The air thickened. Cold slid across the floor like a shadow.
“If it’s not you,” she said, trembling, “then leave.”
The light flickered.
And then she heard a voice. Not his.
“You’ve been awake too long, Lena.”
Her heart lodged in her throat.
“Who’s there?!”
Silence.
But she already knew one thing:
it wasn’t only Noah who could cross between worlds.CHAPTER 8
The One Who Does Not Dream
Lena understood she wasn’t alone before she saw anything.
It wasn’t a smell.
It wasn’t a sound.
It was the sensation that the air in the room had grown heavier — as if someone had extinguished an invisible light she hadn’t known was there.
“Noah?” she asked cautiously.
Silence.
The clock in the kitchen ticked unevenly. As if it were losing its rhythm. As if time itself wasn’t sure whether it should keep moving forward.
“It’s not him,” a voice said.
It didn’t come from one place. It was everywhere. In the walls. In the floor. In her chest.
Lena stood up slowly.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The light went out.
Not suddenly — rather as if someone were pulling it out of the room. Step by step. Leaving her in half-shadow.
“I am what remains,” the voice said, “when the dreamers stop returning.”
Her heart hammered wildly.
“This is my dream,” she said. “Get out.”
A quiet laugh passed through the apartment like a draft.
“If this were your dream,” the voice replied, “you would have woken up already.”
THE TRUTH SHE DIDN’T WANT
A figure emerged from the shadows.
It wasn’t fully defined. As if the world refused to draw it completely. It had a human shape, but something was wrong — arms too long, a face too still.
“He didn’t warn you,” it said. “He never does.”
“Who are you talking about?” she whispered, though she already knew.
“The one who pretends to dream with you.”
“Noah isn’t pretending,” she snapped. “He’s protecting me.”
The figure tilted its head.
“Protecting?” it echoed, with something that might have been amusement. “Lena… he is the reason the boundary is breaking.”
“You’re lying.”
“He is an anchor,” the voice continued calmly. “And you… you are the passage.”
Her knees buckled.
“No.”
“Every dream needs someone who doesn’t return,” it said. “He returned. That is the mistake.”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
The figure stepped closer. The world trembled.
“I am the Guardian of Sleeplessness.”
“And you… have begun to wake me.”
THE ULTIMATUM
“What do you want?” she asked, struggling for breath.
“Balance.”
It took another step. Cold brushed her skin, as if a door to winter had opened.
“One of you must disappear,” it said without emotion. “Forever.”
“No,” she whispered.
“You may choose,” it added. “That is your privilege. And your punishment.”
“If I choose Noah?” she asked, trembling.
“You will wake up,” it replied. “And forget that he ever existed.”
“And if I choose myself?”
The figure studied her carefully.
“Then you will fall asleep,” it said softly. “And the world will be at peace.”
The light flickered.
It was gone.
Lena collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air as if after a long dive.
Her phone vibrated.
One message.
_He was there already, wasn’t he?_
Tears streamed down her face.
_Yes._
The reply came moments later.
_Then…_
_we don’t have much time left._CHAPTER 9
You Can’t Not Fall Asleep
Lena sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, her knees pulled up under her chin. Her phone lay beside her, the screen dark. Her breathing was shallow, uneven. Her heart was beating too fast, as if it were trying to wake her in advance.
“I won’t fall asleep,” she kept repeating. “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.”
Her eyelids burned. Every blink lasted a fraction of a second too long. Her thoughts drifted apart like words written on water.
Her body did not ask for permission.
The numbness began in her fingers. Then in her neck. A weight she couldn’t shake settled onto her shoulders.
“Noah…” she whispered. “If you can hear me…”
Her phone vibrated.
_Lena._
_Fight._
Tears welled in her eyes.
_I’m sorry._
_I can’t anymore._
FALLING
There was no moment of transition.
One second — she was sitting on the floor.
The next — she was falling.
Not through air.
Through silence.
The city appeared beneath her suddenly, violently. The streets were cracked, the buildings leaning, the windows black like empty eye sockets. The world looked as if someone had abandoned it halfway through existence.
“Noah!” she screamed.
The echo returned distorted. Foreign.
“I’m here,” a voice said behind her.
She turned.
He stood several meters away. He looked worse than she had ever seen him. As if the dream was no longer his place. As if the world were trying to spit him out.
“The Guardian…” she began.
“I know,” he interrupted. “He came for you.”
“He said I have to choose.”
Noah nodded.
“It’s always like that.”
He stepped closer. With every step, the ground beneath them cracked.
“If you stay here any longer,” he said, “your body in the waking world will stop responding.”
“I saw it,” she whispered. “I saw myself dead.”
He looked at her with a pain that couldn’t be faked.
“That was one version,” he said. “The gentlest one.”
WHAT HE DIDN’T SAY
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she asked suddenly. “Who are you really?”
He was silent for too long.
“Noah,” she pressed. “If I’m going to die or disappear, I want to know for whom.”
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were different. Older. Heavier.
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