Re: [Dream Training]
Eames hadn't spent much time playing video games. Which was astonishing, but there you were. He hadn't much experience with computers either; Eames's skillset in life was limited to people, and he mined the asset for as much as it was worth, which was rather a lot, darling, for an illiterate thug like Eames. He didn't follow that the things that walked sputtered like programming and circuitry, he just understood they weren't sourced from an absolute of people - an aunt, say, or a sister, or brother Hannah hadn't mentioned.
She answered her own question, as Eames squinted at person after person. Science, dancer, marionette. "You'll know when you wake. You need a totem," he said, distracted by watching the way in which the dancer moved, the way the dream dragged in their wake like paper getting wadded, folded by motion instead of spreading out nicely underneath. Arthur would explain totems. Arthur could explain everything neatly, with precision Eames didn't or couldn't deliver. She was right; that man wouldn't leave.
"They're supposed to," he said, now, without looking in her direction. Distracted. They were the oddest projections Eames had ever encountered. They didn't approach, they didn't notice, and the way they moved wasn't fluid.
He glanced toward Hannah. "Who are they, darling?" It was worth asking.