notfaking_it | [Eames]

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eames

[Eames]

With the change of weather, Lily was glad to see her clothes return to normal, her pointe shoes most of all, but she hadn't been expecting anything more than that. It was nice to hear the sound of the surf again, especially at night, it was nice to not have to worry about the cold or dressing herself in some of the more complicated dresses, but that was all she'd been looking for. The gift had come as something of a surprise, despite having heard other people talk about receiving things over the past few days. Somehow, Lily still hadn't been looking for anything to arrive with her name on it, but she'd found a box sitting on her bed after returning home from the studio.

There was an iPod Touch in the box, completely loaded with music that ranged from Tchaikovsky to more contemporary sounds, all of which Lily loved. The best part was the dock, though, which meant she wouldn't have to worry about wearing earbuds while she danced.

She had no idea how long the battery life might last, but the dock had come with a charger, too, so she wasn't particularly worried about that. It was difficult to worry about anything when she had the dock set up on her little front porch, the music just loud enough for her to hear from her position on the beach, a towel spread out on the sand under her. The sun was bright and warm, the music was a nice addition to the morning and although Lily knew her gift would be of more use to her than just this, this was perfect for now.

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"Huh," Lily says softly at first, meeting his gaze, trying to establish whether or not he's lying to her. There's no reason for him to lie, though, and she doesn't see any dishonesty in his expression. She's established by now how different all their worlds are and, slowly, she smiles, thinking about what that means. If she's going to believe it -- which she does -- then she wants to know more.

"Going into their dreams," she repeats. "How did you do that?"

"A machine called a PASIV," Eames answers, his tone light, if still careful. "You hook people up to it, use it to enter their dreams. My job — my specialty, if you will — was called a forger. Often, I would take on the appearance of other people while in a dream, to win someone over or get information from them. It's why it was so important to study them. Part of it, anyway."

"How would you hook them up to it?" she asks, fascinated by this. It's on the same level as Faye, the things she's been able to do in another time and place. If such technology exists in Lily's world, she's never heard of it and likely never would have without coming here. "Do they have to be willing participants?"

But if they were, there was no reason for him to have to get information. There's more to it than that, she thinks, and she's willing to listen to all that Eames will tell her about it.

"Oh no," Eames says, smile turning a little conspiratorial. "Usually you find a way to slip them a sedative, then hook them up to something like an IV — that's the machine. Everyone going under connects to it. I have one with me, in fact, though I haven't been able to get it to work here, I don't know why." Sometimes he suspects that might be because he's dreaming now, but even that wouldn't necessarily explain it. They go deeper in dreams all the time. This is something else entirely.

"And the purpose is just to get information?" Lily asks, finding herself more and more interested in this. She's a little surprised to hear it doesn't work on the island, as it sounds more like a machine than magic. Faye's ship still works and she's aware of other technologies that are still functional.

"Or is it more than that?" she asks.

"Well, the whole concept of sharing dreams was originally developed by the military," Eames explains, pleased by her apparent interest. He wasn't kidding when he said it was what he loved; talking about it now is the closest he comes to getting to do any of it. "So they could practice, you know, killing each other without ever getting hurt. But it was adopted... primarily as a form of corporate espionage, I'd say, which is what I did. We called it extraction. The last job I did, though, was the opposite, trying to plant an idea. Inception."

"Corporate espionage," Lily repeats with a grin and it's only now that she's realized she isn't quite dancing anymore. Her hand is still on his shoulder, her chin tilted up to meet his gaze, but she's only just barely moving now, more interested in what Eames is saying.

"So you were trying to plant an idea in someone's head to... make them do something that would benefit you?" she asks. "Or a client or whoever."

"A client," Eames says, nodding, "but yes. It was the son of a competitor of his in business whose father had just died. We were to give him the idea to break up his father's empire." Put like that, it seems a little sleazy, though no more so than any of their other jobs. Things had changed considerably, though, once they'd been inside Fischer's head. In the end, he thinks it was good for the kid, too. It's the best sort of ending — where everyone wins, even the one who's been fucked over.

Lily isn't against manipulating a situation when it's necessary and sometimes it's definitely necessary. If there's a market for it, she knows someone is going to do it and she finds it fascinating more than anything that Eames has been able to do things like that. Enter a person's dreams and change the way they did something.

"Wow," she says finally, shaking her head in amazement. "What was it like?"

"In this case? Complicated," Eames says with a huff of a laugh, which is an understatement. It was more complicated than he's even quite sure how to explain to someone who wasn't there, especially considering that mess with Cobb and the projection of his dead wife, but there are still a few details he can touch on, encouraged by her interest. "It's a much more difficult job to give someone an idea in the first place, because it has to seem self-generated. This... It was like everything that could go wrong did. It was still incredible."

She laughs softly, not because she has any real idea what it might have been like, but she understands in a way. Sometimes everything can go wrong and the experience itself can still be amazing. But to be in someone's mind, in their dreams... that's more than Lily's able to really imagine. "If you ever find a way to make it work here, you know you'll have to take me, right?" she asks, poking Eames gently in the chest.

She doesn't know if that's even possible, if it's something a person needs to train for, but she has to ask anyway.

"Oh, absolutely, darling," Eames says, and that, he means entirely. There are few people here whom he's trusted with this information, but the ones he has, he's done so for a reason. Anyway, no explanation he could give could ever come close to showing what it's really like. It would only serve him well to show people like Lily and Neil that world. "It's more fun with good company, anyway."

"So is it... you're inside a dream," she says, considering her own dreams, the things she's seen and done. "And dreams can be incredibly strange, so do you have any control over that? Shaping the environment? Or is that all done by the person whose dream it is?"

She wonders, briefly, what it might be like to go into the dreams of someone who's gone mad. There are dark things in dreams.

"Oh, no, we have control over it," Eames says, unable to help looking pleased in saying as much. "Or, rather, one person does. They create the world, and that's what we bring the subject into; their subconscious populates it." The whole thing is more than a bit complicated, easier in practice than to explain, but this way is the best he's got. There's still no other subject he would rather answer questions on, encouraged by her ostensible interest.

"What kinds of worlds have you created?" she asks, eyes lighting up with interest, watching him closely. It's such an unexpected question to be asking, but it's an unexpected opportunity and Lily finds herself more and more interested in both the information and Eames with each answer he gives her. She wonders, too, what sort of place she might create or how she would populate a dream world imagined by someone else.

"Oh, all sorts," Eames says, about as close as he gets to lighting up in turn. He misses it, he expects that will always be the case, but he doesn't even know where to begin to answer that question, which somehow makes him like it all the more. He just wishes he could do it justice. "I mean, the possibilities are literally endless. You can do all sorts of things in dreams that you can't in real life. You can recreate something familiar for a subject, or try to use the landscape to your advantage — the last I did was a hospital of sorts in the middle of some snowy mountains."

Lily's eyes close briefly, imaging that as best she can, shifting slowly to the music. "What about someone who's unstable?" she asks, voicing the question she's been thinking for several minutes now. She isn't even entirely sure why she's been thinking it, but she's curious. "Someone whose dreams are generally terrifying. Have you ever had to deal with anything like that?"

Because although he's talked about shaping the world, he's also said it's filled by the subject. And there's always the possibility of the subject filling it with the things that scare them.

"There can be... complications," Eames says, nodding slowly. "Usually it just makes for a hostile environment. Subjects — they populate the dream, projections of their subconscious, and it just makes those more dangerous." That's not all that can do it, either, but it's a lot of information, and he doesn't want to overload her, no matter how impressively well she's taken to it thus far. He just wishes he could show her all of it firsthand.

"Is there any real danger?" she asks, thinking of some of the dreams she's had over the course of her life. Dreams of falling or being chased, moments when she'd woken up with the feeling of someone's hands around her throat and even if she woke up, heart pounding, there was never any real danger. It's always been just a dream, after all, but it sounds like Eames is talking about something completely different.

She wonders, too, if it's like that urban myth kids always talk about. If you die in your dream, you die in real life.

"Usually, no," Eames says, shaking his head. "You die in a dream, you wake up, it's as simple as that. The only real dangers are... psychological ones." Thinking of Cobb, the threat of limbo, that projection of his dead wife who nearly ruined everything, he draws in a deep breath, thoughtful if ever so slightly amused. "Spend too much time there and you can start to lose the difference between what's real and what's a dream. I've seen it happen before, and it's... not good for anyone."

"No, I guess that wouldn't be," Lily agrees softly, thinking about it. Even without going into dreams in such a way, there are plenty of people who lose touch with reality. She's seen that happen before, too, dancers who can't take the stress, girls who break under pressure and find a way to escape.

"Do you have to screen the people who go in?" she asks. "To make sure you're not getting someone who's going to end up losing that difference?" She laughs, then, and adds, "Sorry, I know I'm probably asking too many questions."

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