Alternative Lives: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream ... Another Life

By Allen Pollens

Life changing events threatening to change everything for everyone, surface in extended sleep study. Subjects installed in specially designed sleep stasis chambers exhibit the astonishing and potentially dangerous effects.

Ph.D Psychologist at Philadelphia’s Jess Hawkins, University, Dr. Harold Treadwell, labored five years to create the unique stasis chambers. The original objective was to find cures for sicknesses not yielding to conventional medical treatments. The extraordinary results are totally unexpected and the military wants to take control of the process.

Treadwell and his team must find a way to undo the jeopardy that they have created.

“ALTERNATIVE LIVES – To Sleep, Perchance to Dream ... Another Life” runs more than 85,000 words and nearly 400 pages.

This is one of five Allen Pollens’ science fiction offerings in less than two years. Pollens' other sci-fi books include: "CONJUROR - Living the Tale," "CREATOR - Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Epic, Earth’s Human Behavior Confronted," "CREATOR II -Human Behavior Explored," and "The Lost Pharaoh - Sobek II."

Retired from careers in software/hardware design, and high tech sales and marketing, Pollens has been telling stories his whole life. The stories he wrote for his grandchildren have become the basis for "BOFFO BUTTERPHANT - Small Creature Adventures," “STARFISH CHRONICLES – Undersea Adventures with Sammy Starfish,” and for “SUPERHERO –Chronicles of Blue Knight Adventures.” He also turned the daily journal he kept on his European vacation into “Al’s London and Dublin Holiday,” published with ninety color photos.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allen Pollens
• Release date: Jun 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476029740

Allen Pollens

"Starfish Chronicles" is my third fiction offering in nine months. It is middle-grade-reader fantasy and follows two adult science fiction books, "Creator, Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Epic, Earth’s Human Behavior Confronted" and "Alternative Lives, To Sleep Perchance to Dream...Another Life." In addition, “Superhero, Chronicles of Blue Knight Adventures,” book length fantasy for young adults, is just days away from publication. "Starfish Chronicles" is currently available in paperback and for Kindle at Amazon.com. My main retirement interests are travel, photography, and writing. My high-tech work life included hardware engineering on the front end, software engineering on the tail end, and 25 years of sales and marketing in between. Future writing projects include adult science fiction, “The Story Teller” (or “Conjurer” ... I have not decided yet). There is much else awaiting my attention: Butterphant stories for younger children; Lorna’s Legacy, adult novel based on true events; Sales – Honing the Craft, non-fiction. I have been telling stories my whole life. My children and grandchildren were ready audiences who assumed I could deliver a new story on demand and generally, I did.

Book preview

Where is the monument proclaiming the creator of the wheel? Did humankind applaud this person? The ability to visualize the unseen, and uncover the unrealized, is extraordinarily valuable. Where would we be without those who venture into the unknown? Perhaps wandering around in the darkness hoping we will stumble on something useful. It is so easy to take for granted those among us who have the need to know and create.

Even when we first observe something decidedly new, we often diminish the source. We are likely to declare the revelation is obvious. Yet, so much is clear once it is there for us to see. We need to recognize the first person who brings it to light.

Human beings are diverse and evolved in this manner because it assures the survival of the species. An important ingredient in our diversity is the existence, always, of some among us who have an innate curiosity… a need to understand the complexities of devices, human behavior, and even the universe. Alternative Lives celebrates this in the flawed, driven nature of Harold Treadwell and others who join him in his quests.

I dedicate this book to the spirit of discovery.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This is an odd acknowledgement… that writing is easy but editing the result is hard. By editing, I am referring to fixing grammar, punctuation, spelling, missing words, extra words, run-on sentences, misplaced pronouns, faulty modifiers etc. I know it’s not true, but these repairs sometimes appear to take more time than composing the story.

I’ll give some credit where credit is due. First, to Word in Microsoft Office 2010… the spelling and grammar checker is far better than in earlier Office versions. Is it enough by itself? Does it fix or point to everything to fix? No, no one checker does.

For Alternative Lives, I initially searched for anything free. That was a bust. I bought RightWriter and subjected my book to its scrutiny. It was useful, but not the hoped for panacea. I won’t tell you about all the programs I tried that didn’t do it for me. I should correct what I said a couple of sentences ago… free was not exactly a bust… many grammar correction programs offer a free trial. That’s how I could test so many of them.

The program I like the best is Grammarly used as an add-in to Word. I found it a bit quirky, and its spell checker needs some work. However, its algorithms are remarkable in what it surfaced in my book. I tested everything with the Word facility, RightWriter, Grammarly, Ginger, and Online Grammar & Spell Checker. I was amazed at how differently these programs perform and in what they identify.

I thought I was done, but was wrong. In the end, after all the software-helped fixes, the human being can still find more. I was happy and sad about this. I was sad I still had a lot of work to do. I was happy because, when the day comes computer software fixes everything, the next step may be for it to write stories. Where would that leave people like me?

On the subject of personal scrutiny of what I have written, I have found something odd. I find many more mistakes when I read printed copy than what I look at the text on a computer monitor.

I must make one last acknowledgement. My wife Ellen is the best at checking my work. She has an uncanny ability to see these nit-picking problems. They just jump up out of the page for her. Her ability is even more remarkable than Grammarly… makes me wonder about the algorithms in her head. S-h-h-h, maybe she’s an alien from another planet. I have to keep her here and see if I can get her to review my book.

PREFACE

The idea for Alternative Lives entered my head while I was preparing to publish my book, Creator. I don’t know how I came on the idea. The story relates to Creator only in the respect they are the same genre, adult science fiction. In addition, while I developed Creator over of a period of years, I produced the basic manuscript for Alternative Lives in only a few months.

The sources of my story ideas are sometimes obvious and sometimes not. Either way, something comes into my mind, and I begin to play out the notion. It relates, in some respects, to problem solving, and, once the plot begins to develop, it takes on a life of its own. Before long, I have a rough sketch of the story, frequently only in my mind. I have to write it down, or risk losing it, which sometimes happens. However, there are always countless more stories waiting. I have notes jotted down on several possible ones that have occurred to me in the past. In addition, many stories I have written remain unfinished, awaiting further attention.

Alternative Lives captivated me early on, and I gave myself over to it. I had some ideas for the ending, but not a definite one for a long time. This is normal for me. Somehow, it never bothers me. I always feel I will fashion something that will work, and I always do. Being the author, I have an advantage. I have the freedom to create whatever makes the most sense to me.

I continued composing Alternative Lives with new thoughts surfacing periodically. Finally, I settled on how I would complete the tale. However, about three quarters of the way into the story, I changed the ending.

The revision resulted, in part, from realization I had holes in the story that needed fixing. The repair led me to a superior resolution. I hope, when you read my book, you will feel it concludes in a proper way. Be sure to let me know.

Yours truly,

Author, Allen Pollens

PROLOGUE

When we began our sleep stasis research, we had no notion of anything having to do with dreams. My idea had to do with finding new medical treatments. I wanted to find new approaches to certain illnesses that do not yield to conventional methods. The notion of extended slumber in a fully isolated environment intrigued me. I reasoned, if enough sleep is essential to decent health, prolonged sleep in a sleep stasis chamber might offer useful new therapies. Along the way, we unexpectedly happened across dreams. The first subject test reports were puzzling, and we decided to investigate further. I don’t want to ruin the story for you, but you’ll find out soon enough it has to do with alternative life dreams. We had no clue about this at the time, and even less reason to suspect there was a second event possible, as well. The key, to everything we learned, was the sleep stasis chamber. It was necessary for my original research, and I labored obsessively over its design for five years. In any case, our first dreams discovery was surprising, but what we uncovered next was astonishing and frightening. It was beyond my wildest imagination and brought with it dangers that tested our mettle as human beings.

Dr. Harold Treadwell, Professor of Psychology

Jess Hawkins University, Philadelphia, PA

CHAPTER 1: JAMES

Monday, October 1, 2018, 6:00PM…

James lingered in the shadows by the We Have It Now convenience store. The night was going badly. His life was going badly. His only relief would be a hit. He was an addict for so long he couldn’t remember anything else. He thought, If only it hadn’t gone so badly at Monk’s place. I tried to get some money before going to him for the buy. Now I have no choice. I have to rob the store. It’s good I have the ski mask I use for muggings with me.

James had been behind the knit covering for most of the evening and into the night. He went back and forth on the deserted streets looking for prey. He often lurked in an alley hoping someone would come by he could grab. He had no luck. The cold, drizzly weather was against him. People were staying in. The whole time, he saw only two. Both times, they were across the street. It‘s life’s little joke, James fretted. As much as I try, I’m always on the wrong side.

Earlier, in mid-afternoon, James went by his mother’s place in hopes she’d lend him some money. He knew she didn’t like doing it. She was always suspicious it was for drugs. He would have lied to her. James would have said he needed the loan for something else. As it turned out, he didn’t have to make up a story. She wasn’t home. He left her a note. He used a broken pencil he carried with him. He wrote it on a torn piece of paper he found nearby. He wrote, Ma, I’ll be around. Hope you're okay, and signed it Love, Jimmy. He left it stuck in the doorjamb.

James hated the idea of going to Monk’s place without enough money. The bastard is glad to take it from me, but never gives me a break for all the business I give him. He is mean as hell too. James was out of options. He went to Monk’s place. He only had a few dollars, not near enough for the buy. Maybe this once Monk will let me have it on credit. He banged on the shack’s door.

"Look who’s here? greeted Monk. What can I do you for, the usual?"

"Yeah," James responded eagerly.

"Okay, but show me the green first. You know the rules."

"Monk, you gotta trust me for it."

"No way baby. That’s a straight way down the tubes for me. Business is business."

"I’m hurting, Monk. Maybe I could do some work for you here, clean up the place."

"Don’t make me laugh, James. You can’t even clean yourself up. Go find somebody you can take it from or go home and ask Mommy."

Before stopping by the apartment that afternoon, James hadn’t been home in days. He had trouble remembering where he’d been. Still, Monk shouldn’t mention my mother that way. His desperate need turned to unbridled anger. You just trust me for it! That’s all!

"Go way baby and come back when you’re flush, Monk said. He withdrew a gun from his waistband. Then, enjoying James suffering, he laughed. Ha, ha, ha, ha …"

It was more than James could bear. He screamed, lowered his head, and dove into Monk’s midsection. The gun went off as it flew out of Monk’s hand and skipped across the floor. James got up. Monk was still down, dazed from hitting his head on the wall as he fell backwards. This is my chance to have at the shit, went through James mind. He kicked Monk in the head once, then, again and again. Laugh at me now Monk, he yelled repeatedly until the shape on the floor stopped twitching. He looked down on the result of his attack. Monk’s face was a bloody mess. I’ve gone too far, and Monk is probably dead. I’m happy I did it. It was good to get back at something!

Where is the gun? It must be here. It flew out of Monk’s hand when I hit him. James found a flashlight on Monk’s desk. He looked all over and finally directed it beneath the couch. The gun was way under. He lay down on his stomach to reach it. He grabbed it and got up. He was just starting to look for the stash when he heard the police siren.

Damn, someone must have called them about the sound of the gun going off. James paused. Maybe they are heading somewhere else. He shivered while he waited. Damn, damn. They are closing in on the shack. James dashed out the door and escaped into the darkness, the gun still in his hand.

Still in the shadows outside the convenience store, James pondered what he had done and was about to do. I’ve killed a man. I should be upset. It was Monk’s fault, not mine. He should have trusted me. He shouldn’t have laughed. Done is done. James pushed the event away. I’ll be okay if I get some cash. There are other dealers besides Monk. He peeked through the window. He wanted to see who was behind the counter. Damn, it’s Evan. Robbing him will be more risky. James thought about it briefly. I have no choice. He pulled on the knit mask and prepared to enter the store. Maybe Evan won’t recognize me. I can’t worry it. I have to get the money. I’ll feel better, and this fog in my head will lift.

James charged through the door. He swaggered up to the counter doing an impression of John Wayne he remembered from an old cowboy movie. Do what I say if you want to live, he commanded in a deepened voice. Open the draw and let me have it all. James tried to stifle the shivering and shaking that extended right down to the hand holding the gun.

Evan realized the danger he was in. However, there was something familiar about the thief. Evan was no hero but decided to stall. He pretended to look confused and nervous.

"Give me the money," James shouted.

"Okay, Evan replied. Don’t get all worked up."

"The money, give me the money, now!"

It’s James, realized Evan. He’s in the same beat out jeans he’s been wearing for weeks.

"What are you looking at? You better open that draw and give me the money, ‘fore I blow off your head."

Evan straightened. He stared directly into the bloodshot eyes peering at him from behind the mask. Don’t do this. It’ll only get you back in the slammer, James, he advised.

"I’m not James, James denied, deepening his voice further. Just hand over the money," he said more weakly. He was losing it with Evan, but his need persisted. I have to get the money, and I may have to shoot Evan. He didn’t know if he could do it.

"I know it’s you, James. Put the gun away and go home. I won’t turn you in."

James’ breathing accelerated. This was his last chance to get the money for a hit. He could feel sweat pouring down his neck underneath the knit mask. His gun hand trembled. He realized he was dangerously close to pulling the trigger. He never shot anyone and didn’t want to shoot Evan. Damn Monk… it was his fault. James was frantic. The shaking was getting worse.

"Getting one more fix isn’t going to help you, James," the counterman said.

James ripped off the mask. Yeah it’s me, and I need the money now, Evan! he shouted. He kept the gun pointed at the clerk but had trouble steadying the weapon. His brain wasn’t working right. What should he do next? I may have to kill Evan. He’s the only one who can finger me for the robbery. They’ll send me back to jail. No, I just need to get the money. Then everything will work out.

"Another fix isn’t going to solve anything, James," Evan said again.

"Maybe it will and maybe it won’t," James yelled. He felt cold. His shaking was getting worse. The fix, the fix, I need the fix.

Evan tried not to show how scared he was. The trembling gun could go off at any moment. He forced himself to appear calm. If James detects I’m feeling under the counter for the alarm button, I’m a dead man. However, Evan watched as James shook his head, trying to clear it.

James blinked. Everything went into slow motion, and the sound of Evan’s voice was a growling murmur in his ears. He was near to a breaking point when the bell over the opening door rang.

Evan yelled, No! We’re not open. Don’t come in!

James whirled around. In the reflexive motion, his finger tightened on the trigger. A bullet exploded out of the gun.

A gray haired woman fell to the floor face down. Blood pooled from under her. James was thunderstruck. It can’t be! He rushed forward, bent down, and turned her over. Gees, Ma. What are you doing here?

She fluttered her eyes and said, I was looking for you, Jimmy. Then she lay loose in his arms.

Evan began dialing 911. Then, he watched in horror as James put the barrel of the pistol in his mouth.

James only knew he wanted his miserable life over, but… it wasn’t.

"Okay, Mr. Conroy, we’re going to bring you slowly out of your sleep, the male aide advised. Just take it slow. He helped James out of Sleep Stasis One. We need to get you washed up and dressed. Dr. Treadwell is waiting to meet with you."

CHAPTER 2: A CHOICE

Nattily dressed, James Conroy looked much the financial consultant he was.

"Why did you decide to participate in our study? Dr. Harold Treadwell began as he started the audio-visual recording. Tell me, for the study record, James."

"I was curious how it would feel to have such a long sleep. In the beginning, I didn’t know it would be a whole week, 168 hours. I also had no idea how unusual it would be."

"Unusual?" questioned Treadwell.

"Well, the sleep-chamber and living another life, Dr. Treadwell."

"James, for the benefit of our research, what in particular about the experience stands out? Start at the beginning," Harold requested.

"Well, it all began with, what did you call it? The intake interview I had with you. You explained what to expect when I went into the sleep-room and told me about the sleep stasis box. You described it as a special environment to isolate me from the outside. You also suggested I should concentrate as I was going to sleep on a point in my life. One, when I decided something significant. Am I telling you too much?"

"No, this is perfect, James. Please continue."

"After our intake conversation, you walked with me to the sleep-room and introduced me to Charles. Then you left, and Charles closed the privacy curtain. He showed me where to put my clothes and directed me to the shower to wash up. When I finished, Charles helped me get into the chamber… naked. I lay back, and Charles closed the lid. The cushion-material closed all around me except my face. I could see Charles looking down at me through the small window. Oh, I forgot. Charles also instructed me on the mouth appliance. He explained the attached tube was for supplying fluids, nutrients, and medications. Charles gave me a thumbs-up through the window. I closed my eyes and concentrated on when I was in high school. I fell asleep. Then I was seventeen again."

"Tell me about it."

"I lived a whole other life."

"Please start at the beginning."

"I was back at the fork in the road, the choice that changed my life. I was in another fight at the school. The principal called me into his office. I want you to meet with our professional counselor. You either agree to do this, or I’ll have to expel you, he told me."

"You can shove it, I told him."

"My mother wanted to know why I was back from school early."

"I’m expelled, and I’m not going back, I answered."

"This is a giant mistake, she told me. I love you. You’re all I have left in the world. We’re going to fix this."

"She called the school and talked with the principal. She didn’t like what she heard, and I didn’t like what I heard."

"Okay, wise guy, she said to me when she got off the phone. We have a date at the school tomorrow morning. Consider yourself grounded until we straighten this out."

"My mother was small and frail, but she could be tough when you got her all fired up. The next morning we were out the door early and headed to school."

"The principal described my behavior of the previous day. My mother shook her head. When he finished, she said, I apologize for James’ behavior. James? she prompted."

"I had no choice. Reluctantly, I said, I apologize."

"I’ll give James one last chance to meet with our therapist, offered the principal."

"I had either to agree to this or to drop out and go my own way, regardless of my mother’s upset. It wasn’t much of a choice. I accepted the principal’s offer."

"The best part of meeting with Dr. Evelyn Hendricks was she was a looker. She knew her stuff, too. I met with her twice a week and tried to give her all the expected right answers. It was all BS. I was in with a crowd that had connections for earning a lot of money. The easy way, they kept telling me. The idea was to steal anything of value from anyone and everyone."

"What about your family, James" Treadwell asked.

"I never knew my Dad. It was just me and Mom."

"What is she like?"

"Salt of the Earth, will give anyone a helping hand, even if she doesn’t have it for herself. I wanted better for her, but, at the time, I also thought I could fool her. When she asked me about the counseling, I lied. The meetings with Doctor Hendricks are going well. She asked me for the particulars, and I came up short."

"My mother met alone with Hendricks. James is playing you. Telling you what he thinks you want to hear, my mother told the therapist. I learned about all this later and went into my next session with Hendricks prepared to feed her more of the same BS."

"She began the meeting by asking me how I thought our meetings were going."

"I am getting a lot out of them, I lied. I once again told her what I thought she most likely wanted to hear."

"Please be more specific, James, she requested."

"I made up a bunch more stuff that would get her off my back. However, she wasn’t pleased. She told me to keep a log of my time during, and after school. I couldn’t tell her how much time I was spending with the gang. I made up a story and presented it to her at our next meeting. She recognized it was all lies and called for a meeting with my mother and the principal."

"It was three against one, and they knew all about my thieving friends. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, I claimed."

"Don’t you even want to know what anyone else thinks? Dr. Hendricks asked."

"Crying, my mother explained, James has had it hard with no father and all …"

"That was too much. Okay, Mom, I said. I’ll listen to what the principal and counselor want me to do. I mean it this time."

"After that, my sessions with Evelyn Hendricks toughened up. She wanted the real scoop from me and gave no ground. She set up career assessment testing for me. The report advised of a correlation with positions in finance. It surprised me, and, in my actual life, I gradually moved in the direction of getting a college education."

"Was it the right decision?" Treadwell wanted to know.

"Yes, the money is good, and I enjoy the work."

"How was it different in your dream life?"

"In my dream life, I broke off meeting with the counselor. The school expelled me. That was the last of high school for me, and I was glad it was over. My mother was not happy with my decision, but she didn’t force me out of our home. I got involved in a lot of petty crime, mostly muggings, handbag grabs, and some break-ins. After a while, our gang got more organized. We called ourselves, The Phantoms. They put me in charge of street operations. This usually involved newer, younger recruits. I trained them. I also took in and valued their acquisitions. My cut was more money than I ever saw before in my life."

"What did you do with the money?"

"I continued to live at home because I didn’t want my mother alone. I tried to spend the money to make life easier for her and even offered to find us a better place to live."

"The money is dirty, James. I’ll have no part of it, she said, not a bit of it."

"I spent less and less time at home. I gave myself over to enjoying time with the gang. They were only too happy to include me in their fun."

"Did you

Reviews for Alternative Lives

[plappen_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This novel is about a journey into a little-known part of the human psyche: what happens when we sleep.Harold Treadwell is a professor at Jess Hawkins University in Philadelphia. He is known as a workaholic, and has spent his entire academic life at JHU, mostly due to a significant emotional heartache. He has spent the previous five years perfecting a sleep stasis chamber, where people will spend several days at a time sleeping (with mild sedative help). After all, eight hours of sleep per night is known to be mentally and physically therapeutic. Maybe more sleep will be more therapeutic.The shadowy Omega Corporation gets him federal grant money for a scientific study, and is otherwise a big help. All they want in return is first chance at anything commercial that comes out of it. Treadwell recruits Vincent, Anne and Charles, all JHU students, as research assistants. They put volunteers under for several days at a time. The results are disappointing. Even with an expanded study, and several chambers occupied at the same time, nothing changes for the volunteers.Everyone has a moment in their lives where they choose Option A over Option B. At 168 hours (1 week) of stasis, the volunteers emerge telling similar stories of living their Option B lives. Omega gets hold of the process, commercializing it, and treats the team very fairly. They want to get back into research. Going past 168 hours of stasis, the reported experiences of the volunteers start getting weird. At 336 hours (2 weeks), something happens to the volunteers which has huge national security implications. The military is Very Interested. Before it can be used, the team decides that the only option is to have Harold go through the experience, and, also, to fix his emotional heartache.This is a very "quiet" and very intriguing book. The second half is more interestinmg than the first half. It belongs in the large gray area of Pretty Good or Worth Reading.

[amandakerr · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Intriguing Psychological Science Fiction StoryAlternative Lives: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream ... Another Life by Allen Pollens is a contemporary science fiction novel with a medical/psychological tilt. This fascinating novel dares readers to answer the questions, "What if you could revisit a decision you made that affected the course of your life?" he asked. "What if you could experience the road not taken and learn whether your decision was the right one?"Astonishing, interesting, and imaginative, this novel takes you into your mind, your dreams and another reality.Highly Recommended!!!