FicWad

The room was large and already buzzing with activity. Far too much, Pete was sure, than was strictly necessary for a simple magazine interview. While people were setting up lighting, microphones and recording equipment nearby, Pete took a seat at the table indicated by the Aide and glanced over the script handed to him.

“So, how is this going to work?” Pete asked, looking up once more.
“They ask the questions and you answer,” the Aide replied with a puzzled tone. “What don’t you understand about that?”

Pete looked up with a frown; he didn’t like the man’s attitude or haughty tone. Pete’s question was a simple enough one, after all, this was for a magazine, they had the replies written, why did he actually have to give the interview? Once the words were in print, did it really matter if he had said them?

“Look,” Pete wanted clarification. “Why do you need me here if you already have the replies?”
“Are you serious?” the Aide stopped organising the ever-growing numbers in the room and turned a suspicious eye to Pete. “Have you never done an interview before?”
“This is for a magazine!” Pete protested. “It’s not as though you’re filming...”

Pete tapered off as he saw large TV cameras being wheeled into the room.

“You’re filming? For a magazine?” Pete asked, incredulous.

The Aide shook his head, a look of disgust clear on his face.

“You Normal-Worlders are so deluded! You think if something doesn’t work in your world that it can’t happen anywhere. Deluded!”
“I don’t like your attitude!” Pete growled angrily.
“The moment I care, I’ll let you know,” the Aide returned with a withering expression.
“I’m trying to help your boss,” Pete reminded him.
“Under duress,” the Aide corrected him. “Now, in answer to your pathetic lack of understanding, yes, we have filmed interviews in our magazines and this will be a Carousel exclusive - an interview with Mr Sandman. Make it convincing! Now, you’ve just got time to get changed.”
“Changed?” Pete’s head snapped up.
“Of course, you can’t convince anyone that you’re Mr Sandman dressed in those ridiculous clothes!”

Pete slammed his hands down onto the table and jumped to his feet.

“The only reason I’m here is because somebody did think I was Mr Sandman! And these clothes are not ridiculous! They’re a damn sight more normal than whatever you’ll have me wearing!”
“You’ll wear whatever I tell you to wear and you’ll say whatever I tell you to say. Do you understand me?”
“Or what?” Pete growled.

The Aide raised his hand almost in a blur of movement and lightly touched Pete on the forehead. Whilst still standing, Pete’s head flopped back, his eyes closed for a few moments. On looking up again, he was severely subdued, almost trance-like.

“Get changed,” the Aide ordered, watching in satisfaction as Pete silently complied. “He told you we could force you.”

*

The path had taken him directly through the forest, but he didn’t remember this route from his last visit. Dr Benzedrine lowered his eyes as he thought about his last visit with sadness. He had been much younger and, he recalled with a tightness in his throat, that he had loved his brother then. The feeling didn’t seem to be mutual even all that time ago and they had both quarrelled bitterly. He knew, to his shame, he had said things, hurtful things that he truly wished he could take back, but it was far too late for that now. In reality, it was probably far too late even at the time.

“So,” Benzedrine looked around with a half-smile forming on his usually stern face. “Are you going to give me the tour of your kingdom?”
“My what?” Mr Sandman asked sourly.
“Your kingdom,” Benzedrine waved his arms lightly to indicate their surroundings. “This is all yours now.”
“For my sins,” Sandman grumbled.
“For your dreams,” Benzedrine corrected.
“What do you know about my dreams?” Sandman snapped, moving towards his younger brother with a distinctly malicious scowl. “What can you possibly know about my dreams? Have you ever asked? Has anyone?”
“What are you talking about?” Benzedrine took a defensive step back. “This is an honour!”
“An honour?” Sandman yelled, ridiculing the idea. “This is a prison!”
“What’s the matter with you? Can’t you see this for what it is?” Benzedrine shouted back, growing angrier with his brother.
“Yes, I can see exactly what this is and very possibly your part in it too!”
“My part?” Benzedrine pointed to himself as he stared in astonishment. “Don’t you realise what…”
“I know exactly what you’ve done and why you’ve done it! The only thing I’m not sure about is how. Got him wrapped around your little finger haven’t you, Silas! Look at you! Quite literally the Golden Child. Well, I have a few tricks up my sleeve too. It may take me longer, but I’ll make you pay for getting me sent here!”
“Getting you sent here?” Benzedrine snapped. “You’re crazy, you know that!”
“Not so crazy that I can’t see that you’ve convinced our father to get rid of me!”
“My mistake! You’re completely insane!”
“Really? And While I’m stuck here, where will you be?”
“Me?” Benzedrine began, his tone edged with sadness. “I’ll be at home, going nowhere, waking people up; dragging them from their fantasy worlds and comfort. Are you jealous yet?”
“You’ll be next to our father, mixing memory drugs so he forgets me entirely!”
“Everything’s got to be about you, hasn’t it? Why can’t you, just for once, even listen to someone else? I mean actually listen and hear them! No, you’re too busy being the selfish, spoiled brat that you are!”
“I had him all to myself for the first few hundred years, then you came along, their pride and joy! All dressed up in gold! That was it then… you were…” Sandman trailed off momentarily before adding miserably. “You want him to yourself now? Sure, why not? Just go.”
“Marcus…”
“Go! Get out! This is my world now and you don’t belong in it!”
“Okay! Okay,” Benzedrine held his hands up defensively and sighed heavily. “I’m going!”

Taking a deep breath, Benzedrine set off with purposeful strides deeper into the forest. Swallowing nervously, he tried hard to ignore the very strong feeling that he was being watched.