- for real true amazing sleep.

It’s a new type of sleeping pill, he tells me, are you interested in being part of the trials?

Yeah. Well. Yeah. Does he not see the bags under my eyes?

Here, he hands me a blister. The pills are red.

It’s the blue pill that keeps Neo asleep, I say. He doesn’t get it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, scrunching my toes in the carpet, I read the pamphlet. Miracles and wonders. They make it sound like the second coming, for all possible meanings of the word coming. A sleep to revitalise you. A sleep to recharge you to full capacity. A sleep to make you Superman.

Yeah. Right.

A sleep to give me sleep. That’d be enough. I have low standards.

The pill smells faintly of crushed grass and lemonade. I swallow it, and hope it isn’t one of those pills that provokes an opposite reaction in me.

I sleep.

I sleep until I am rested. I sleep until all the little wears and aches in my body are rested. I sleep until my mind no longer twitches and is quiet. It is a good sleep.

I dream of cool grass and a faded sky.

I wake.

Miracles and wonders. I am rested. I am rested! I AM RESTED! Better than sex chocolate mountains! Is this what normal people feel like in the morning? Do they daily experience this feeling of amazing freshness and grand potential?

Is this what allows them to move through life with such apparent ease?

Is this the only thing I’ve ever needed?

Melbourne has become a mega-city of skyscrapers that cut trails in the clouds, and lights that out shine the stars, flying cars, holographic billboards in the sky, terrible fashion, expensive beer, lousy public transport, half-flooded riverside properties, smog storms, walking net connections, implanted mobile phones, night markets and street stalls, all asian faces, barcodes and glowing tattooed brandnames, visible wireless streamers of colour from one head to a tower to a head to computer, shuttles past the stratosphere, robot slaves, constant surveillance, millions and millions of voices telling you want to do buy think wear, and appears to have put on weight while I was dreaming.

Miracles and wonders.

No, wait. Melbourne’s always had lousy public transport.

Oh my, a voice behind me says, you're awake at last.

Am I, I wonder.

She reads from what looks like a prepared speech. I've slept for nearly a century, the last of those trialing the new sleeping pill to wake. The pills really do perform miracles, except in my case, it took some time. Apparently, it takes a century of sleep to smooth out my mind. This doesn't surprise me.

They learned from this, and no one gets a full dose anymore.

This must be a shock to you, she says.

I suppose I've lost my job. My apartment. My family. My world.

I'll get the doctor, she says.

Maybe next time I should set my alarm.