Yvi

Oh man, sorry this is so late! You get a disjointed snippet of this dystopian thing I started a while age:

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It was all much simpler than it sounded. Dream dealing, everyone who could afford it shelling out for line time of their own, plenty of people who couldn't bribing whatever they were able in order to get just one minute on some seedy back-alley PASIV. Lie down, strap in, school via a the PASIV in some areas so kids could work more, as long as they still got educated in their sleep and had a guardian’s permission. Dreaming was supposed to be regulated, but that only made unregulated dreamers all the more determined. Ariadne’s best friend in middle school, she had told Arthur, would only eat full meals while she was under and starved herself otherwise.

Ariadne, as far as Arthur knew, never dreamed on her own.

“Don’t knock,” Dom told him. “Cops knock. Use the doorbell next time.”

Arthur went in.

Mallorie smiled.