Insomniapp

The carpet was like a fancy dinner table. Frilly swirls of red and purple, strewn as never ending paths across the surface.

'What are you staring at?' she said.

Corey looked up. 'The carpet. Look at the carpet.'

'When did you last sleep?'

'I didn't. Not properly since the crash.'

He necked the shot of sambuca and felt the blood form under his eyelids; the sting brought a tiny droplet towards the tear duct.

She took his face in her cool, slender hands and held it like a painting that had fallen too far to one side.

'I can see it,' she said. 'Flashing. In your eyes. I can see the flashing.'

Her hands slid away and he swiveled his chair to the front of the bar. Behind the stacks of bottles was a large mirror which stretched across the room. He looked at himself from a distance and saw the blinking red light from the corner.

'I am like a sentinel,' he joked.

'You need help, Corey.'

'There's nothing they can do,' he said dismissively. 'They've tried.' He snapped up another shot and tipped it down his throat. He looked at the lights from the ceiling and the lights looked back at him.

'Stop it Corey, you're being weird.'

He levelled his eyes back to the door and recalled the past; when his mind had not wandered so needlessly.

'I'm going home, Janet.'

'You're walking, right?'

'No,' he drolled sarcastically. 'I'm going to start driving again.'

He breathed. 'I'm walking.'

'Let me walk with you.'

It was cold outside. Their feet crunched under the blanket of frost beneath them; the night sky was hazy with a dusty sprinkle of snow. They folded their arms, shivered from the bones and blew smoky air from their puckered lips.

'Tell me again,' she said, 'how it happened.'

He nodded; keen to help her understand. 'I was working very long hours with the taxi business,' he explained. 'We were short on drivers so I was running the business and picking up passengers whenever I could.'

'Always a workaholic.'

'You know me.. The problem was that I couldn't stay awake at the wheel. I was tired. So, I had the chip inserted into my brain.'

He traced his fingers over the incision at the back of his head.

'Simple procedure,' he said. 'And very effective. They give you a remote once the chip has been installed and you can tell the chip to keep your brain awake for days.'

'Was it healthy?'

'With moderate usage,' he reflected. 'Then you can press another button and you fall asleep instantly. It modernized my sleeping patterns. It made me a machine, in a good way.'

'And then the crash?'

'Then there was the car accident, on the motorway. It wasn't my fault. The impact dislodged the chip and it ruptured in my brain. It lodged itself into a place where no one can take it out. And now it keeps me awake constantly.'

'You miss driving?' she said after a while.

'It was my life,' he shivered. He placed his hand over the temples of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. 'I wish I could just cut myself open and take it out, you know?'

'There's nothing they can do?'

'No, removing it is too risky. It could kill me.'

He felt like the sleep deprivation was killing him anyway. His brain was slowly shutting down with exhaustion.

'It's like..' he said, looking for the right words. 'It's like realising that the world is a very complex simulation. And the brain needs to rest every day because it can't handle the mind boggling velocity of it. And suddenly now I can't sleep and rest from it. And now I can't handle it.'

'Corey, I..'

'There's nothing anyone can do,' he said bluntly.

He stopped and looked at the building to his side. It took him a few seconds to acknowledge. 'This is my house.'

'Stay with your parents tonight,' she instructed. 'They miss you. You can stay over at mine tomorrow.'

He watched her disappear into the distance; it reminded him of when his customers used to get out of the taxi, arriving at their destination; but he never stopped, always ready for the next task. Now it was him being looked after; driven about; arriving at his final stop. He fumbled for his keys. He walked through the door and looked at his reflection at the mirror on the wall. His face was looking at him, breathing and blinking like somebody else. There it was in the corner; the mechanical light.

'Is that you?' called his Mother.

He walked into the living room where his parents were sat watching television.

'Have you been drinking again?' she said.

'A few beers, a few shots.' He slurred.

'You know that's not good for the condition.'

'What good will no drinking make?' he said, slouching onto the sofa away from them. 'I won't sleep anyway.'

She looked at his Father. 'Let the boy be,' he said, waving his hand dismissively.

He lay cradled in that sofa and it carved a shape for him as he stared into the wall.

'Corey, you look terrible.' she said.

'It's the lack of sleep, Mother.'

'You're seeing the doctor tomorrow. Maybe he has some good news.' 

The hours trickled by and his parents went upstairs to sleep; the light stayed on for him. He fell into a weak dream which was nothing more than a flashback of memories.

He could suddenly see the road ahead of him, streaming past like a slick treadmill of tar; the sharp nudge of another vehicle behind him and the spinning of his steering wheel as it broke free from his grip; the motorway barriers thrusting into the front bonnet; his face colliding with the dashboard.

'That must have been my last proper moment of sleep,' he blinked, recalling his immediate surrounding in the living room. 'Being knocked out for a few minutes. That was my last proper sleep. How sad.'

He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a hot drink. The kettle whirred as he went back to the mirror. The light was still flashing behind the eyeball; somewhere deep in his brain like the root of a plant. He pulled back his black hair and observed the hairline. 'Am I losing my hair now or is this the paranoia?' He felt his face and held onto the sensation of his own cheeks. 'Who needs drugs when you don't sleep?'

-

Corey sat uneasily in front of the consultant.

'We've looked at the scans,' said the middle-aged man. 'It's still too deep. Any attempt to remove it would be a death warrant for you.'

Corey felt his own eyelids and massaged the eyeballs. 'I just want to sleep. What can I do?'

'At this present stage, nothing.'

'I regret having the device fitted.'

'You agreed to test it. If it were not for the crash this wouldn't have happened.'

'It was all going so well,'

'Of course. With responsible use, the device is effective. Your case has caused a problem for the company. The device may never see the light of day.'

'Eventually, neither will I,' he muttered bitterly.

Corey's mind drifted again. He thought about the day before the crash: he could see himself again, fresh faced with eyes free from black rings. Energy was seeping out of him like a bucket of water covered in holes.

'Did you hear me?'

'I-I don't know. My mind was somewhere else.'

'You're not sleeping but you're certainly not awake at times, are you?'

'I wouldn't know.' 

'Corey,' said the consultant. 'My worry is that if you don't get enough rest, the final effects could be fatal.'

He nodded. 'It's happening already. I've lost weight. My parents look after me. I had to give up a lot.' He felt at the eye. 'Is it still flashing? I hate the damn flashing. I'm like a broken signal.'

The tears built up under his eyes and streamed down his cheeks.

'I don't know why that happened,' he said after a few seconds, rubbing the tears. 'I feel emotional sometimes.'

The doctor sat up. 'If we lose just a few hours of sleep a day, our emotional wellbeing suffers. Just like everything else. You're dealing with months here.'

-

On the train home he felt the motion of the carriage rocking him into a light slumber. At every moment he felt that he would sleep; the broken device in his brain would wake him up again. It was just like an injection of unwanted adrenaline. 

There was a girl sitting next to him with mousey hair and freckles. 'Janet?'

The girl looked at him and screwed up her face. 'I'm not Janet.'

Corey looked away, embarrassed, and proceeded to rest his eyelids. The rush of the carriage in the dark tunnel resonated with his own sense of disorientation. Each day was bound seamlessly to the next. There were no nightly intervals to draw a line under the finished day; and so he plunged endlessly through the week; tumbling through it like a man in freefall.

-

The pub lights hung above Corey and he rolled the empty shot glass in his palm.

'Funny thing, I thought I saw you on the train today.'

'Did you?' said Janet. She downed the shot.

'I even approached the girl. It was really embarassing when I realised it wasn't you.'

'You're getting that bad, are you?'

'It's like my blood is constantly contaminated with this stuff.' He reached from the line of shots and swallowed the drink.

'The compensation money is good though,' she grinned. 'How else would we afford these nights out?'

'I'm dying, Janet.'

They walked out into the snowy back yard and she thrust her icy tongue down his throat. Her cold hands moved up his chest and he gasped under the hot breath. He gripped her hips and pulled her in; he felt her chest pressed up against his.

They both gasped as she pulled back. 'That's the most awake I've felt in days,' smiled Corey.

'Anything I can do to help.'

They went back into the warm pub and got more alcohol. Janet was starting to dizzy under the heavy onslaught of drink; the room shuddered in circles like a fair ground ride. Corey remained still like a statue.

'Let's go home,' she said. 'You can stay at mine. You can look after me.'

He smiled weakly.

'We both know it is you looking after me.'

She said nothing as she staggered off from the bar stool. 'Hurry up hurry up.'

They trudged through the snow again. Flakes fell gently and tingled on their faces.

'Are you really dying?' she asked nervously.

'I'm getting weaker every day. We need to sleep. I can't get it.'

The village was silent; deadly quiet as the dark houses stacked against them on an empty road.

'Everyone sleeps here,' he said, pointing at the houses. 'They have the right idea.'

Janet looked at the ground and listened as their shoes paced across the white, glistening snow.

'Everyone is always in such a hurry to stay awake. Get as much work crammed into the day. More hours, more work, more money, more fun. That's the idea, isn't it?'

Corey stopped and picked the snow up. He held a handful of it and examined it closely. 'Why else is cocaine so popular? Energy, I presume.'

He rubbed it in his hands and it scattered across his coat like a cloud of chalk. 'And then we're all dust.'

Janet said nothing.

'I had a good life before I had the device fitted into my brain. I got greedy, Janet. Stay awake for longer. Sleep whenever I wanted.'

'It's still a good idea,' she hesitated.

He turned to her and pointed at his eye. The red light bleeped in the darkness with the strength of a lighthouse.

'Only when it's working.'

When they got into Janet's house he lay across her bed. He spread out and felt the covers swallow him up. Reality was dismantling itself around him. She got into bed and put her arms over his chest. Her eyes were heavy and she breathed a muffled mess of words. 'I feel so guilty, falling asleep in front of you.'

'Don't worry,' he uttered.

When she had fallen asleep, he got up and went downstairs to look into one of her mirrors. The bleeping light on his face felt like an eyelash fluttering in the corner. His skin was pale and drawn; his cheek bones were jutting out like hollow branches. He put a finger to the eyeball and imagined ripping it out, digging into the hole and pulling out the chip. For a few seconds it was as if fantasy had turned to reality and he saw himself pulling at strands of red string; a black, empty socket; the sleep chip tumbling out of his face. 

Janet shuffled and he opened his eyes. It was still dark.

'I don't know if I am sleeping or hallucinating,' he said to himself. 'All I know is that this is awful.'

When the faint rays of morning arrived, he stepped outside and looked at the bright sky. He felt the wind bite at his face. He opened up his arms and imagined that he was flying.

Janet appeared from the doorway in a pink dressing gown. She stood beside him and held him by the arm.

'How does the light keep blinking?' she pondered. 'Does it not run out of energy?'

'My brain gives it energy. It fuels the chip and the chip fuels it. Never ending circle.'

They both looked aimlessly at the bleak, grey sky. 

-

'Look,' said the doctor. 'What we know is that you may never sleep again.'

Corey felt dread churn in the pit of his stomach. Janet squeezed his hand.

'But we can keep you alive.'

'How?'

The doctor hesitated. He pulled out a small, plastic black box from his desk drawer and placed it gently on the table in front of them. 'This is just a prototype.'

'Not another chip..' hesitated Corey.

The box was opened and a silver square the size of a crumb was pulled out of it.

'This chip will trick your brain into thinking you've slept. It provides massive bursts of energy that will repair your organs and your mind. It will give you 10 hours of sleep in 1 simple second.'

'You want to install another chip in him?' breathed Janet.

'Corey, you haven't slept properly in months,' he explained. 'You will die if this continues.'

The doctor closed the box and put it back into the drawer. 'This chip is worth millions. It will only be used in ultra-rare scenarios and there's a limited number of these being produced. The company is giving this to you as final compensation for your trouble.'

'I don't want it.'

Janet looked away, she pulled her fingers away from Corey. He felt her warmth fall away. She leant close to his ear and cupped her hands around it.

'Maybe this is not such a bad idea,' she whispered.

'What?'

'I don't want to lose you, Corey.'

He straightened up and looked at the doctor. He looked at Janet. He looked at the desk containing the chip.  

'At what point,' said Corey, 'does this all become too much? Putting all of these electronic things inside of me?'

'This is nothing abnormal,' replied the doctor. 'When people can't hear we give them hearing aides. When their hearts are weak, they have a pacemaker. Hip replacements. Metal bones. Even for leisure, music playing in your ears when you want to hear music. We have been modifying the body for decades. Take the chip, Corey.'

Corey sighed and Janet held his hand again.

-

The next week Janet woke up. She turned to the empty side of her bed and saw Corey on his laptop.

'How do you feel?' she said in a dazed, sleepless manner.

He closed the laptop lid and kissed her gently on the cheek. 'Like a new man,' he smiled.

'Has the chip been working?'

'I feel like I have slept for weeks,' he grinned. 'I can't explain how happy I am.'

She rolled out of bed and embraced him in her arms.

'What do you do all night?'

'Anything I want to. I've started repairing the taxi business. Maybe I will start driving again.'

She looked at his face and slid her fingers across the back of his head. Two lumpy scars from two operations: one from the first ruptured chip and now the second chip to keep him alive.

'I can't believe you have two chips in your brain now,' she muttered. 'And I can't believe you never have to sleep again.'

He nodded pensively. The damaged chip was still blinking from his eye.

'You're right,' he said lightly. 'I guess I really am like a sentinel now.'  

She kissed him gently on the lips.

'It's my turn to make breakfast,' she chirped. She padded out of the room and left Corey by his laptop. When she had gone, he took a deep breath and stared emptily at the walls. His eyes fell into a mechanical gaze at the paint. It was true that he didn't need to sleep. But now he felt an emptiness swelling on the inside of him. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to feel.