《Among You: Watching a World End, Book One of the Shattered Worlds series》


 Prologue

    Wednesday March 11, 2020


    I awoke to shouting in the hall this morning. I got out of bed and went to the front door to see what the commotion was all about, I found a puddle of foul smelling water before my door, the sloshing squishing sound was a sign of a serious problem.


    I opened the door and found a crowd of people shouting at one another. The neighbors across the hall were screaming at the people from upstairs.


    ¡°We have sewage raining from our ceiling!¡± The woman across the hall berated the people from upstairs.


    To accentuate her point she waves at the paper towels that are amid the sewage water.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know that the pipes couldn¡¯t handle¡­¡± the woman from upstairs began but was cut off by the man from across the hall.


    ¡°Are you kidding me? A kid knows not to flush paper towels down the toilet! Jesus lady are you fucking retarded?!¡± the man shouted.


    The entire hall smelled extremely unpleasant, as was the conversation by all parties. The man has a point, he¡¯s just being a real asshole explaining it in the most vulgar way possible.


    I have had enough. I walk back into my apartment to pack a weekend bag to head to a hotel. The university is just going to have to cover the expense because I was not going to be staying in my apartment tonight, with this sewage, the soggy carpet, and the shouting neighbors.


    I pack a bag and reserve a hotel room about two miles from the apartment. I write a note and tape it to the door before packing up my cat and going outside to wait for my Lyft.


    The living conditions here in 16-J were primitive to say the least. They are still on fossil fuels, they have a massive wealth gap, and they are still heavily into deforestation and climate change denial. It is like living among chimps, and I am no Jane Goodall.


    My Lyft arrived shortly after I exited the apartment building.


    ¡°Frederick Alginon?¡± the driver asked as I approached the car.


    ¡°Al-gin-non,¡± I corrected his pronunciation.


    ¡°Alginon. Sorry about that,¡± he replied as I got into the backseat with Angelica.


    ¡°What is that, a dog?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s an Andorian Shih Tzu, very exotic, hard to find even during their mating season,¡± I replied sarcastically, though the driver seemed not to notice.


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    I hate it here.


    Checking into the hotel was another disaster. The card the university gave me has a refillable balance, I¡¯m not allowed to have another card here, nor would the cards I have from back home work in this reality, so I had to use the stash of cash that I have squirreled away, and they let me put my card on file for possible overages.


    I hit the bed and just melted into the scratchy, overused but rarely washed, top blanket.


    This place is disgusting.


    It¡¯s not just the hotel room, which¡­ Yes, this is disgusting too. It¡¯s everything here.


    Angelica calls out for help from the carrier. Her soft shy meow is soothing and sweet. It reminds me of home.


    When I let her out she springs from the carrier and starts familiarizing herself with the single large room I have checked us into.


    She doesn¡¯t approve. I don¡¯t blame her.


    I take up my smartphone and write a quick email to the university to reimburse my expenses, forwarding the receipt and a rational reason for why I need to rent a hotel room for the next two weeks. I am not setting foot into that apartment until they clean everything. I might have to live with these apes, but I don¡¯t have to roll around in their shit with them.


    When I woke up the next morning the news was all abuzz about Covid-19. It is finally being addressed and there is a lockdown that has been ordered.


    ¡°I could not have planned this better,¡±


    I have my streaming device, I have my Chromebook, I have my cat and I am in a hotel that can no longer kick me out onto the street. Life is suddenly pretty damn good.


    I have so many rules that I have to follow just to be on this field assignment. Those rules are extremely strict in about every aspect of my time here. I can only call Kaylin through the university networked phone that I was given when I took up the assignment.


    Being able to cross from one universe to another was the adventure of my lifetime. I think given everything that I am currently dealing with, I might have reconsidered the decision to take the job.


    It isn¡¯t like you sign up for universe 16-J with the backwater priorities of a society probably a good hundred years behind my own world.


    No. When you agree to the job, they send you through a good dozen different scenarios with the same general idea. You are in a society that is alien to you, you need to blend in, and you need to take regular notes about the historical events you witness, but you aren¡¯t allowed to interact in any major event.


    I have to report each day.


    Today, it is Covid-19 day. President Trump finally declared that the plague that has been running through the country like a wildfire, is real. On the last trip home they vaccinated me for an illness that had been discovered about five months ago. They also called it Covid-19 and likely it will keep me safe and sound while these morons fumble the ball.


    The sound of a message alert grabs my attention. When I check my phone I see the expense has been accepted and that there is an additional six hundred dollars added to my flexible assets fund per week until the lockdown passes.


    ¡°Ka¡¯ching!¡± I declared.


    My cheer wakes Angelica up next to me.


    ¡°Let someone else scour around for my toilet paper now.¡±


    The last two months were a pain in the ass. Toilet paper shortage. Alcohol shortage. Hand Sanitizer shortage. Then there were the issues with name brand items for a bit. I swear if someone hints at a shortage, everyone will run out and buy everything they can find just to make sure they have it. I get it. With the current standards, this place is going to have a hard time.


    I¡¯m really grateful to, normally, live in a society that actually takes care of your needs.

 Chapter 01 - An Uneasy Homecoming

    Monday May 25, 2020


    I have been recording everything that I can during my time here obediently. I haven¡¯t been home since the plague broke here. Today I have to return to my apartment as the repairs have been completed. I don¡¯t know what to expect as far as my things are concerned, but it was all cheap self-built crap anyway. Everything with any kind of importance I brought with me to the hotel.


    Most of what I brought are things that are a real bitch to replace. My cell for instance. It has specialized apps that allow me to piggyback on a signal that is sent back home. I personally have no idea how that works, but it does. Same thing with my Chromebook. My reports are filed, encrypted, sent to the homebase, and then removed from the computer. I had my friend compare that to magic and for me he¡¯s pretty much right in this case.


    Kaylin is having trouble dealing with my distance without my trips home. She is not being dramatic about it, she is right. I just really don¡¯t know what to do about that. It¡¯s been months since we have held one-another. I understand how and why she is upset, there is just nothing about all that in my control. I would go home this hour if I could.


    The extra money has been building up. There was a stay in place order and since then, I stopped paying for the room. Screw Hilton. After I get settled back at the apartment, I think I will come back and give Chuck the desk guy and Lillian the cleaner some cookies or banana bread. They have been full blown champs.


    I have built up a little collection of my comforts here, and I have to say, it was a lot of help having the hotel supply my toilet paper for a while.


    I place the two boxes of stuff onto the luggage trolley and make for the lift.


    There are still the familiar sounds of the other occupants to the hotel that I have been hearing for the last couple months. Some frustrated shouting from the lady with three kids that had been living in their car in the parking lot before the hotel was forced to give them a room. I may have been calling local news outlets about it, but honestly the moment they got some hope that it was possible they jumped onto the TikTok and made themselves known.


    The plague really drew a black and white line here. There was a complete fumbling by the administration to get it under control. Then that streak of inaction blossomed into higher death rates that they kept trying to deny, then there was the scandal about sending the nations emergency supplies to China just before they went into lockdown.


    Number denials, mask protests. It¡¯s been a bit of madness.


    By the time I hit the lobby Angelica is already more than over being in her carrier.


    When the doors open I see that Chuck is waiting for the lift himself.


    ¡°Here we are then. I was just about to stop at the desk.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What¡¯s up?¡± He replies, fiddling with his pants.


    ¡°Well, I see your pocket pool practice has paid off. Are you a cinch for the finals?¡±


    ¡°Did you need something?¡± He asked, pulling his hands from his pockets, clearly not enjoying my humor.


    I hand him the envelope I¡¯d prepared as a tip. ¡°Enjoy a month on me. I might have screwed Hilton but you sir were a gem.¡±


    He looked at the present and then he gave me a look of confusion.


    ¡°Have you seen Lillian about?¡± I ask.


    He was opening the package and his jaw went agape.


    ¡°Mate. Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ yeah. She¡¯s in the breakroom.¡± He said in a distant tone.


    I go behind the desk and into the room through the back wall. It was the office and breakroom for the desk crew.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I knocked softly before entering.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Hey, go ahead and come in and I am on the phone,¡± She told me.


    I went into the breakroom, a fluorescent nightmare with the standardized vinyl flooring, loud old fridge, and a microwave that will probably give you cancer faster than heat your burrito.


    I walk over to her seated at the plastic folding table and set down the envelope. I gave her a smile and a little wave. She returns the gestures as I mouth ¡°It¡¯s not important.¡± to her and exit out the door back into the hotel. Angelica is not at all happy with being in a carrier and she is mashing her face against the mesh netting, attempting to find a flaw she could use to escape.


    I take up the luggage trolly and head for the door.


    As I wait for my Lyft, I resume playing text tag with Kaylin. The signal has been so choppy getting back home, that it is taking minutes if not hours for a message to get through back and forth. From what I can tell in this upset, I am not fulfilling my promise of making things work even with the distance. How am I supposed to tell her that I didn¡¯t see this coming? How am I supposed to tell her that I understood the risk, but that the reward was promised to vastly outweigh the risk?


    The Lyft arrives and I just pretend I haven¡¯t read Kaylin¡¯s newest bundle of messages.


    ¡°Ahh Fred Al¡­¡± The driver asks.


    ¡°Alginon. Fred Alginon. Yeah, that¡¯s me,¡± I say while loading up my boxes into the van. He comes around to help me with the rest.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯re okay,¡± I say while waving him off.


    ¡°Is that a cat?¡± He asks me.


    ¡°Yes. She is a cat,¡±


    ¡°Oh. I can¡¯t have a cat in my van. I am allergic,¡± The driver replies.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what. I¡¯ll slip my coat over her carrier, no more fur will escape than what would come off my clothes,¡±


    He nods at me like I¡¯m an asshole but he could use the money so he won¡¯t push it, defeated.


    All loaded up we travel the five miles back to the apartment that they are now telling me is ready for occupancy.


    As I pull up I see that the parking lot is nearly empty, which is bizarre considering how many people live here, who also own cars. I double check the address to make sure this fella didn¡¯t take me to a similar lot in the same complex, but it was right.


    ¡°Pull up to the door there, with the stairs would you buddy?¡±


    I see him in the rearview and he clearly looks annoyed. He is making no effort to hide that he is scratching periodically.


    ¡°Right-o here. I am dreadfully sorry to have imposed upon you this much with Angelica here. Please be assured I plan to tip you well for your soldiering on.¡±


    I empty my things from the van and begin the shuffle of the boxes through the security door mailroom, taking multiple parcels near the door, then into the mailroom, to shuffle from the mailroom to the apartment door, and on and on.


    Angelica was the first thing into the mailroom, to get her out of the weather, which was oppressively humid.


    I pull up the app on my smartphone when the last box clears the van then rate and tip the fellow. As he pulled away it clicked up his tip and I could see him change his entire body language. A smile and a wave was a nice touch. It¡¯s sick how easily money turns an encounter from aggressive and upset, to meek and smiley servant that would like you to call upon them again.


    The entire building smelled of cleanser. There was a fresh coat of paint across the entire common room hallway to the apartments and the carpet looks like it was replaced, at least here on the sublevel where I reside. I take Angelica to the apartment first. My door was freshly painted, the door knocker plaque below the peephole had my name slipped in behind the little plastic shield.


    ¡°Yeah, no.¡± I say while I slip the paper out and pocket it before opening the door.


    I am actually rather surprised that the entire place looks pretty good. The carpet in the apartment had been replaced, I smell fresh paint, cleaner, a hint of smoke, but overall it seems like pretty good work.


    It doesn¡¯t take me long to bring in the boxes and set everything up. The few things that I thought might have been taken, weren¡¯t and overall, it doesn¡¯t seem like anyone rifled my undies drawer, so everything is pretty much okay.


    When I let Angelica out she rushes off to the kitchen in search of her bowl and fountain.


    I check my phone and see there are three new messages. All three of the messages are from Kaylin. It seems she wasn¡¯t buying into me not having read the first couple yet.


    ¡°It¡¯s over.¡± I read her newest message from the lockscreen.


    I don¡¯t bother to unlock the phone. I don¡¯t need to read the rest tonight.


    I walk into my bedroom and throw myself on the bare mattress that is currently sealed in plastic, and my sheets are nowhere to be seen, but there is a box marked ¡°Replacement Bedding.¡±


    ¡°Oh grand. I get to feel like shit and unpack everything, while washing this brand new bedding because I am not sleeping in unwashed anything. Superdooper.¡±


    I turn on the telly and mash the home key on my streaming stick remote. I am going to need something to feel good for the rest of today.

 Chapter 02 - Another Day in Trash World

    Sunday June 28, 2020


    This universe is trash. It¡¯s just pure trash. There isn¡¯t anything I find redeeming anymore. There is no low, the bar is set at the bottom and they are just digging deeper to find something that is shocking.


    I try not to think about Kaylin often. It isn¡¯t something that makes me happy anymore. It¡¯s been weeks since I asked my parents to go over to my apartment, well Kaylin¡¯s apartment, to collect my things and put them in storage. I haven¡¯t heard from them yet. The signal has not gotten any better to relay data. The messages from home are likely harder to get through, at least that is what is keeping my hope alive.


    Opening up my Chromebook I find that the data packs of my observation logs, emails, and anything else that was to be relayed have gone through, but there is nothing new from home for me. I¡¯m not exactly sure what I am expecting. There is almost no one back home that is willing to have a two way conversation that takes weeks to go back and forth. I might as well be using the post.


    I trudge on. There is no alternative. I trudge. I keep moving forward and I trudge.


    I am lying in bed watching the strangest mirror mirror movie I have seen in this universe yet. Ralph Macchio was replaced by Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future. I love the movie and honestly this version isn¡¯t that bad, but it just isn¡¯t the same. The timing is all off. Macchio and Lloyd had issues on the set too and you can feel that in the movie. Here? It feels like these two got along and there isn¡¯t any tension.


    I¡¯m still wearing the same boxers as I put on three days ago. I should shower, but what¡¯s the point? I rarely leave. I¡¯m happy getting everything delivered right now. The anti-mask crowd are bitching about not working and demanding everything open back up. President, looking for something shiney to comment on, has been calling Covid-19 the ¡°Beaner-Fever¡± like the tactless moron he is. How have they not removed this clown yet?


    The loudmouth on Info-Wars is insisting the entire thing is a hoax and there is no reason to lockdown at all. Then there is a trade war with Japan, and there is price gouging left and right.


    I am so lonely. Angelica is a great comfort and a reminder of home, but I haven¡¯t touched another person in months.


    I¡¯m touch starved.


    I check my phone for any new messages and only see that my paycheck has been deposited and my Amazon order is only ten stops away.


    The delivery guy is usually pretty good, but we have porch pirates in the building now. It was so nice when the place was empty for a week. Only me and the cat. No one was stealing my packages, no one was yelling at the other neighbors, or yelling at me.


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    The two idiots over in 2 are walking their dog past my door and it¡¯s barking its head off. There is another door to the parking lot right next to their door but every freaking day these halfwits walk this dumbass dog right by my door.


    I stomp over to the door, grab up my dog whistle and blow as hard as I can.


    The bitch kicks my door and screams, ¡°Enough with the dog whistle, it¡¯s not even my dog!¡±


    ¡°Sure as hell sounds like your goddamn dog!¡± I shout back.


    She kicks my door.


    ¡°I hate this world,¡± I mumble to myself while Angelica rubs herself against my leg.


    I walk back into my room, throw myself on the bed, and go back to watching the movie. I want nothing more to do with these people. These neanderthal offshoots of humanity, somehow forgotten by time to allow them to roll in the mud in an eternal struggle to destroy themselves.


    I hate it here.


    The woman with the dog is just outside my window now, encouraging her dog to crap on the moss there.


    Marty is fading from reality on stage as he is playing his guitar in a choppy off key rhythm waiting for George to take back the girl from the weirdo dancing like a fool.


    The phone in the hall starts ringing. There is a guest at the door. I drag myself from the bed, not bothering to pause this generic knockoff of my favorite childhood film and answer.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Can you let me in? I forgot my key,¡± The woman from 2 with the dog asked.


    ¡°Who is this?¡± I ask to clarify.


    ¡°I live in apartment 2, who is this?¡± She asks.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even bother to check who you called? You just assumed that someone would let you in?¡±


    I hear the line go dead.


    Already standing I head to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream before I head back into my cave.


    As I dish out the first scoop I hear someone hit my door hard and then scream, ¡°Fuck you asshole!¡±


    ¡°Such a charming lady. I really should do something for her,¡± I mumble to myself and I cut up an overripe banana and toss the pieces into the bowl for health.


    As I walk into the room I hear the Doc declare ¡°Roads? Where we¡¯re going, we don¡¯t need roads.¡±


    I plop myself back down on the bed and go back to the menu to play the next in the series. I hope that the others are better than the first. I don¡¯t have a lot of faith in that, but you never know.


    I hesitate to turn on the second movie. There must be something else to watch. I scroll through the various streaming networks that I have access to, turning on YouTube to watch the vulgar displays of power and incompetence that are these United States. The president is talking about shining fucking lights into the body and using bleach. There is a toothless hillbilly that is about to chug bleach because this fool is in charge.


    I turn on Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) again. ¡°Thank God they didn¡¯t cast Leto for anything,¡± I tell Angelica, laying beside me on the bed. She gives me a strange look. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you thought he was good in Fight Club, the man is a terrible Joker!¡±

 Chapter 03 - Making Plans

    Monday July 18, 2020


    I stopped shaving long ago. There was no point. Angelica and I get everything delivered. It stops in the hall. I wipe all the items down with Clorox wipes while wearing gloves. Once sanitized I bring them into the house and move them into the kitchen. I put everything away in the cupboards and shelves and go about my day.


    I tried going outside the other day. I found the streets dead. It is like a ghost town each time I step out.


    I need to get out of the house, but being outside is bittersweet.


    I love the isolation. I can dip back into my Pokemon Go walks. It just feels wrong. There is a strange hollow around me. When a car passes, the driver is about as surprised to see you and as you are to see them.


    I saw another person walking today. They were taking their little noise maker dog for a tug. The dog knows something is off too. I feel that critters pain. It¡¯s getting weird.


    It¡¯s uncomfortable isolation. While I walk around I see children peeking from their windows. It would be a comfort at any other time, but now. Right now it looks like I am walking through a dystopian city where the road warriors may arrive any minute to start pulling the men from homes to force them into their gang or kill them to take over their town.


    I haven¡¯t heard from anyone in weeks. My family, my friends, the university, no one, just no one. I still get my direct deposits, but that¡¯s it. The receipts I turn in get honored, but they don¡¯t write any memos. They don¡¯t even question the expense. I gave them a receipt for a complete fill for my car. I don¡¯t have a car. They must know I don¡¯t have a car. The receipt had someone else¡¯s name and had a footprint on it.


    I think I have lost all connections back home.


    I think I have been marooned here. There should be some contact. There needs to be someone out there listening. They couldn¡¯t have just put me on ¡°ignore.¡± This isn¡¯t a filing mistake. It can¡¯t be.


    I haven¡¯t shaved in days. I hate my facial hair, I don¡¯t enjoy having a beard but I can¡¯t bring myself to go and shower just to shave. By this point it is getting too long to shave anyway. There is going to be this whole ordeal. I¡¯ll need to dig out my clippers, trim it down in stages, then I have to shave. I don¡¯t have the energy for that today.


    I am cooking in my apartment. That¡¯s the other reason I don¡¯t want to go outside. It¡¯s hot and humid. I only run the one room air conditioner from time to time, not because of the bill, but because of the casual deployment of greenhouse gasses that I can¡¯t help feeling terrible about. It¡¯s like adding to the destruction of these people, but also, if I am actually stuck here, maybe I can help steer them away from the destruction that I am here to watch and you know¡­ am currently in the middle of.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    It¡¯s just self preservation at this point. I don¡¯t want their world to burn, because I am one of the assholes stuck here.


    They are still taking my reports and removing them from my Chromebook. That gives me hope that they might be out there trying to reestablish a proper connection to get me home.


    The people upstairs are banging away at one another again. I would have thought it would have gotten old by now, especially considering how much they fight. They fight and they boink. They fight some more and get back to acting like rabbits.


    I thought that the apartment complex would have thrown them out by now. They are the people who forced the remodel. The first few days home I thought they were going to shuffle some of the worst here out, but it turned out that everyone was just moving back in. The people upstairs just took a little longer and the moment they got back they have been making my life more uncomfortable.


    I hate it here. I do not want to be stuck here.


    I look at my bank funds on my mobile and see that I have a healthy safety net to move the hell out of here. I think I may even have enough to put a considerable down upon a house if I start looking in the areas where the Covid-19 casualties have been high.


    I open up Zillow and start shopping the area for a fair priced house for what I have and what my allowance has been for the last weeks.


    There was a three bedroom place up the block for a reasonable price. A few searches show there was an estate sale there, and a bit of digging reveals that the owner recently died. Seems a perfect fit. I create the accounts necessary and I put in a request to see the property.


    I don¡¯t have any right to do this according to the university protocols, but if I am stranded, I better start making the arrangements to stay long term. The uni supplied me with all the documents I would need to exist here. They had entered me into their systems and in theory, those entries should be bulletproof, I could assimilate as a normal citizen without any major upset.


    When I looked myself up here, something that is very much against the rules, I discovered that my line simply isn¡¯t in this reality as far as I can discover. Just as this reality doesn¡¯t have a New Amsterdam, they don¡¯t have anyone of the Alginon line that I can find. It is probably just one of those multiverse oddities that they lecture about before they allow you to take an assignment. They like to use the butterfly effect to explain deviations from our sister realities. This reality, being a much greater deviation than any of the other stable multiverses we¡¯ve started to research, was the oddity that I was sent here to observe.


    In essence, this isn¡¯t about a butterfly flapping its wings and making a small change, this was like someone crapped in the punchbowl and stirred it in. This place is a path to be avoided and my university wanted everything documented until a hair away from collapse to ensure those paths are always avoided.


    My email alert chimes with the classic AOL: ¡°You¡¯ve Got Mail¡± alert for nostalgia''s sake. It was the agent for the house.


    Damn, they must be desperate.

 Chapter 04 - Youve Got Mail

    Wednesday August 26, 2020


    It wasn''t as bad as I had thought. The house was nice. I moved into a house on the corner that was in a neighboring burrow. It has a great big backyard that Angelica enjoys romping about in.


    I decorated my ill gotten home in a style that was familiar to me. My roots were still in the north. It snows here, but snow is a fact up north. I have heavy blankets on the wall, as my grandmother taught my mother, who taught me. It is to keep the cold out. It was a Russian tradition that just passed on. I have the large carpets that I was familiar with as well. I went with the more simple furniture that Kaylin favored. She liked simple, but she also favored bright chairs and tables. Yellows and oranges were something she really was obsessed with.


    It probably wasn¡¯t the best thing to do, purchasing furniture that reminded me of her, but it still feels comforting for the moment. It was helping me deal with the fact that I am stuck here in this primeval pit of doom.


    I have not heard from home yet. The university is still paying me, they are still covering all of my needs, and I am still able to submit work, but there is still radio silence.


    This should be a very happy moment for me. I have collected a little nest for myself. I am feeling more and more at home. I am purchasing things that make me happy that reminded me of back home. Even with all that it doesn¡¯t seem like I can make this place feel like home.


    There are some things that I agree with when it comes to the influence of a person like me, a person from another dimension that has an understanding of life and the events possible can shift things from one social direction or another. Sure. We can. Honestly, here, I could show the people as much proof as I can, but they would likely just deny it.


    Because of such theoretical influence, I¡¯m not supposed to be on social media. I could supposedly shift society here, and maybe that¡¯s true. Maybe. I don¡¯t think that the university really understood where they were sending me. Sure. In theory they did. However, this was no longer theoretical, this is fact.


    The fact is, these are people that have allowed corporate greed to dominate their society so directly, they are born into debt, denial, and an obsession for stuff.


    I hear Angelica outside, spinning the fence topper rolling bars that keep her within the yard. She desperately wants to get out of her confines to explore the neighborhood. Back home? Sure thing. Here? Nope. One of these damn plague monkeys might let their runny nosed brat pet her while she¡¯s on a walkabout.


    I open the sliding glass door and look out over the yard. I have planters set up and I plan to pick up soil when the weather gets better. I have a lot planned for the garden. I enjoy putting my hands in the soil, something I wasn¡¯t really able to do here before. They planned to keep me in that wretched apartment to the day my contract ended. I wasn¡¯t too upset with that when I could visit home from time to time. Kaylin and I had a nice garden back there.


    I choke up a little when I gaze upon the backyard in my mindseye and imagine the plants that she and I would have plotted for each area. She would have had strawberries, blueberries, and several pineapples cut from the tops of the fruit and set to grow a cloned plant in the mossy soil that she would tend until the plant was established.


    I agree with a lot of the rules the university requires us to live by. There are, however, some codes and agreements that I think are outright asinine. The one that I have been shuffling my thumbs over was a code that I normally would agree with, but right now, if I¡¯m marooned? Is it really so bad if I look up Kaylin here?


    I have made myself a flurry of social media profiles to search out tertiary friends, classmates, coworkers, and such. I even looked up a few exes before I started to question whether or not I should look them up.


    I take my smartphone from my pocket and unlock the screen. I have 56 friend requests, and they are all pretty girls that claim to know me from school. I delete all of them. I click the search bar and begin the debate again.


    My notifications pop up again with a chat permission request. This almost always ends up being some troll account that is attempting to gain access to my profile or convince me to send them money. I bring up the profile and they have no friends, no pictures, and a name of John Smith.


    I open the chat and read the message.


    ¡°Frederick Alginon, you are in breach of your contracted limitations on social media for all extra dimensional research staff,¡±


    I was gobstopped. These assholes can ignore all my emails, all my requests for direct contact and not send me a reply, but they have the time to slap my hand in chat?! NO!


    ¡°Are you with NAU?¡± I fire back.


    ¡°I am with NAU. You are in violation of your signed contract that specifically forbids the use of facebook, myspace, and all dating applications,¡± John replies.


    ¡°Why have I not been given a single reply to all my inquiries? Why have I not received a single email from home? Why has no one contacted me about my lockdown here?¡±


    ¡°Frederick. Get off of the red flagged social media applications, delete the accounts, remove the apps from your phone and I will send you an email that will give you an update to our current situation. There are no Alginons here boy. Did you honestly think we weren¡¯t going to check here from time to time? I will send you an email in an hour,¡±


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    I was clenching my jaw. It feels like this jerk is talking down to me, but if I were managing teams of people and one of them went this off-book, I could understand. This is just bad management.


    ¡°I¡¯ll close them up. I expect your email within the hour.¡± I reply and begin my work closing each of the accounts that this John Smith obviously knows about. I can¡¯t believe I used Alginon. Man, that is some basic as shit and I fell for it. This place must be messing with my head.


    ***


    I waited for the chime. It had been over 50 minutes by this point. I check my watch and see that my heart rate was in the 120s. Super.


    ¡°Come on, come on. You¡¯ve got mail. You¡¯ve got mail,¡± I say out loud.


    My speculation begins going wild. I can be sent home as punishment. Screw it. That sounds great at this point. I haven¡¯t done anything to merit criminal charges, I think.


    I head to the kitchen and grab a strawberry fizzy water to help me with my nerves. It doesn¡¯t mean that I am in major trouble, does it? What¡¯s the worst they can do, hit me with a fine? This place is turning into hell, getting out of hell would be worth a year in prison if it came down to it.


    ¡°You¡¯ve Got Mail.¡± The chime rang.


    I took out my phone and checked the inbox to see who it was.


    ¡°NAU Researcher F. Alginon Violation of Terms of Agreement¡±


    NAU Audit Manager <[email protected]</a>> to me:


    Fredrick,


    You have multiple violations of your agreed terms of extra dimensional travel. At this moment, I am not going to report this back to the university, because it is a stressful time and there are a lot of mitigating factors that are on your side.


    Fred. I¡¯m the beancounter who gave you enough money to buy that pretty house on Beaver Dr. I am currently the benefactor of your monthly payment to the mortgage. In short Fred, I am your friend. That boost for the hotel? That was me buddy. So, now that you know you owe me, I am going to give the rest of this as straight up as I can.


    There was an issue with the connection, I am sure you noticed the last month or two that we haven¡¯t been getting mail or reports, etc. I am unsure of the reasons for that beyond that they were discussing an evacuation from 16-J and that the order never came through the network.


    You are not alone here. Stop behaving like you are. I am sorry I didn¡¯t message you all sooner, but I was just as in the dark as you are.


    Right now, funds are still coming in and we aren¡¯t in danger of getting tossed out in the street. Per protocol, we are not supposed to have had this conversation. Your reports are still going somewhere, I assume, so continue your reporting. Sooner or later the connection will be reestablished and when that happens there is going to be an audit of everything that happened, my justification for intervention and expanding fund withdraws. I am going to have to explain everything that we are going through.


    You have reports to write, so do I. You aren¡¯t alone, but you can¡¯t communicate with the other research staff members, yet. I can tell you there are more than a few around and they are likely having similar issues to you. I am emailing each today, seeing as it seems I put it off for too long by now.


    Keep yourself busy. I am sure there is a backlog of emails that are waiting to be delivered on the other end.


    I read the email a few times before I decided it was good news. What the hell is this dude¡¯s name? Audit Agent 023? That¡¯s not a damn name. No. It¡¯s good news. I am not alone. That¡¯s the big win here. Hell, he even thinks the house is a good idea or something.


    Angelica scratched at the back door. I head over and let her in while reading the email a third time.


    How many more researchers are here? I hit reply. I start a rambling draft of basic nonsense and accusation. Then I peppered in a bit of anger at the lack of communication, I even insulted the man''s genitalia a few times.


    I discard the first draft and start a reply with a nice neutral statement of facts.


    Re: NAU Researcher F. Alginon Violation of Terms of Agreement


    NAU Audit Manager,


    Well I suppose that is all nice, well, and good. Thank you for the house. I have a guest room if you are in the area and you need a place to sleep. My cat is a mean cuddler. I suppose business as usual can happen, but you have to admit it is hard to be just cut away and be left to fend for myself.


    I disagree that the no contact declaration which was required while we could get home, should be respected. We may be marooned here. It might be nice to talk to someone that isn¡¯t a barbarian. I hope you come to see as I do and you may actually come and visit. It has been very lonely since the doors slammed shut back home.


    I look forward to your reply, NAU Audit Manager. I appreciate the warning and communication.


    I hit send and hoped for the best. Kaylin has moved on sure. I can accept that. This isn¡¯t me trying to return home to chase after her, this is me missing my family, my friends, my life back home. This is me missing home. This is me wanting to go home, take Angelica with me, my time here is over and there isn¡¯t anything more I can witness, but this planet''s destruction and frankly I don¡¯t want to witness that first hand.


    ¡°Business as usual. Okay. I can do that.¡± I say aloud. The cat is meowing at the door.


    ¡°I just let you in!¡± I shout.


    Okay. This is stressing me out. I look for my medication. My field of vision gets fuzzy and I see stars. I try to calm down with my breathing exercises. They¡¯re not working. I feel dizzy. I feel myself falling. I think I hit the ground, though I¡¯m not sure. I feel euphoria washing over me. Angelica is licking my nose. I think that¡¯s her. My eyes won¡¯t focus.


    When I sit up it¡¯s past dark, that or there¡¯s a storm.


    What time is it?


    I look at the stove clock. It¡¯s now eight. I take out my phone and check for any new emails. I have more than a few, including a reply from NAU Audit Manager. My head went wonky again.


    Oh this isn¡¯t good at all.

 Chapter 05- Avast Ye Swabs!

    Wednesday October 21, 2020


    I read the daily news blip on my phone. Pope Francis says he supports civil unions for same-sex couples.


    ¡°About freaking time.¡± I say to myself.


    Back home this happened during the 90s with Pope John Paul II, of course my world doesn¡¯t have its head buried up its ass to the shoulders.


    I have been attempting to reach out to the Audit Manager since his summary dismissal and instruction to maintain the distance and noncommunication with any other dimensional traveler policy, and apparently that also meant him.


    I have been having anxiety attacks off and on since that day. To have a piece of home so close and then to have it ripped away, it was just a little too much for me to process. I have continued my reports to the uni and they continue to get removed from my Chromebook after, but who knows if that wasn¡¯t just an automated process that is done on this side of the fence, it may not even be getting back home if there are other people here that receive it.


    The euphoria of home ownership didn¡¯t last as long as I had hoped. Angelica has taken to digging up the plants that I have added to the yard and crapping in the hole. I can¡¯t see this as anything but deliberate. She likely feels how off my energy is and she gets a dogpile of anxiety herself from it. Thankfully Instant Cart delivers whatever I need as far as treats for cat bribery and Kraken Rum as a treat for me. This side of the fence has a lot of terrible things we don¡¯t have on my side, but Kraken Rum has been one of the best highlights of this universe. I even brought some home one of the last times I was able to.


    My highschool mate James loved it and asked if I could bring another bottle back for him specifically. I had a bitch of a time sneaking it back, so I told him it might be hard, but I would give it a go. I am buying another bottle to replace the one I bought to smuggle to him that I had drunk. I have done this more than a few times, each time feeling like a jerk because I drank it in the first place.


    There really isn¡¯t much of a hope that I will be getting home anytime soon, but if I need to evacuate when the connection is reestablished, I should have a bottle on hand¡­ that isn¡¯t open. I open the app again and add two more bottles to the cart. The shopper hasn¡¯t gotten to the store yet, so the order is still open. I add a note to get The Kraken Attacks New Jersey bottle if they are there. I have an empty bottle with that label, but I want to bring James a proper limited edition label.


    My home is now nicely adorned with things that caught my interest. I even have two game consoles and a nice sound system, but nothing is helping me forget about the home I left behind and may never see again. There is a hole in my heart. A true longing for home has gripped me and I have no way of filling it, even with material things, security, and wishful thinking. The drink helps. The leaf as well, once I found a provider in the area.


    That¡¯s another thing about this universe. How did they ever outlaw marijuana? I mean, it is medicine that grows wild and thrives under minimal care. Here it¡¯s expensive, illegal, and demonized. I tried to figure out where the deviation took place, but their history is really hard to pick the truth of it out from the trash propaganda they force upon them. This America has completely white washed their history into little highlights that play in their favor with the least amount of poor light on their country as possible.


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    They acknowledge slavery, but only just. They attempt to recast the Confederacy as though it was just about the states wanting to protect their rights, but leave out, ¡°Their right to keep and sell other people, and those people¡¯s children.¡± I mean, how do you conflate an issue like that? They are simply in denial of how terrible their country has been in the past.


    I want to go home.


    My cell phone chimes with a message from the shopper.


    The message is a picture of a full shelf of Kraken Rum limited edition bottles and a nerdy looking gal with a pokemon face mask on, holding one bottle up with a hand covering her left eye. The text below reads, ¡°Arr matey, we found a whole case of booty.¡±


    I let out a genuine laugh for the first time in over a week.


    ¡°Arr lass, up me order to the case and ye take one bottle for yerself,¡± I reply.


    Another picture is sent in reply and it¡¯s the gal now riding the trolley with my case in the cart. She is clearly standing on the trolley¡¯s carriage bar. Her mask is still on, but the smile she has beneath it is clearly ear to ear.


    ¡°Who is taking these pictures?¡± I say to myself while saving each to my phone.


    I head to my fridge and check to see if I have any Real Sugar Pepsi or if they are in the cart. I smile at my luck when I see that I not only have that, but Irn-Bru, Dublin Dr. Pepper, and two glass bottle cokes from Mexico. Crap. With the hostilities at the border it might make these hard to find soon. Damn the luck. Pepsi is okay, but when it comes to Kraken rum, I really like having a knee high Coke to pour from to mix.


    This is another thing I hate about this world. How am I supposed to explore the palette of the world with such inflated prices for import? Back home we have the transcontinental high speed rail. Importation costs were fair. I could get my favorite soda from Scotland without having to pay a 300% markup.


    I hate this place and I want to go home. Hopefully the giant squid will help tame the despair.


    As I am booting up my laptop to begin the log of the day, I hear a knock at the door. As I exit the kitchen I see my delivery was being dropped off. As I stroll toward the door I hear some giggling and there is a shout of ¡°Avast! Yer booty be delivered!¡± Just before I get to the door I can hear the alert on my phone going off. I open the door and only get a glimpse of two girls in a candy apple Kia Rio tearing off down the road toward the cop parked around the bend, hopefully they are doing the speed limit.


    I check the notification and it''s the shopper from the previous pictures, now without a mask and posing with a bottle of the rum in her right hand and her left hand, miming a patch over her eye. When I look down my order is complete, with a note that informs me the case is missing a bottle as was ordered by ¡°The Captain.¡±


    These were the first legitimate laughs I had in a week.

 Chapter 06 - Culture Clash

    Culture Clash


    I sit in my kitchen staring into the fridge looking for something I need to order. I have requested the Pirate Girl as my driver since the day her and her friend brought me such joy while doing my shopping. InstaCart here has a policy not to expose the name of the drivers and Shopper 042021 was too impersonal, so she is Pirate Girl even after I learned her name was Molly and her friend is Lilly. The two are sisters from the same father but different mothers.


    The pair bring a smile to my face each time they drop something by. When I order, I always keep a kind of treat in mind for the two, so they have something to look forward to as well. They too have not accepted my real name since that day. I am now forever and always going to be ¡°The Captain.¡±


    I have tried repeatedly to reach out to the NAU Audit Manager 23 and the son of a bitch never replies back. The messages I send are friendly. I invite him over for a weekend, I ask if he has family back home, I ask him questions about himself and always nothing. Not a peep. I have a doctor''s appointment today and this is the first appointment, the one where you have to show up early. I had been given an onboarding packet with the services I am authorized to use, the NAU supplied us with a pretty much bulletproof identity here, which is of course how I bought a house with 23¡¯s help.


    Before this I would just pop back home for a doctor visit and the powers that be would make a prescription available here. Not this time. My allergy meds have run out and the pharmacy is telling me that they can¡¯t reach my doctor to get refills. This world is so backward. I need to talk to one of these sawbones before I will get the medicine that I need to just feel better. They might not agree with my other doctor and chose not to refill the prescription. There are hundreds of reasons I don¡¯t want to be in the health system here, but the top of that list is that the government in this reality is corrupt and they allow lobbyists to push through policy over the general health and interests of the populace.


    The opioid epidemic in this reality is beyond outrageous. Even when the government here is taking a stance against it, there isn¡¯t much that they can do to reverse the damage that has taken place over greed. There are people out there that are addicted to a substance that was pushed onto them, it is all the governments fault, and they are not at all held accountable.


    I attempt to clear my head and just stay calm. The list of things that worry me has grown by leaps and bounds. My reports are brief and often have questions laced throughout. I want to go home. I now have to go and see a caveman about my physical health and a part of me is terrified that they will want bloodwork and they might see things that cause issues. I have a very different vaccine in my blood, I¡¯m not a medical major in any way, so I have no idea if that may be seen and afterward they want to run tests on me to see why I am so different.


    I do not want to end up a lab rat in this pit.


    I miss home.


    My phone chimes that my Lyft to the doctor is here, my text message alerts are also from AOL. The familiar watery sounding mp3 gives me a sense of stability and of the familiar. Even if I am about to get locked into a car with one of these plague monkeys for something like 20 minutes, and then exposed to sick people in the hospital or clinic, I still have something that will keep me centered and focused on a time that wasn¡¯t as bad.


    When I exit my house I see the driver in an old toyota. She isn¡¯t wearing a mask. She is smoking in the car, with the windows up and she is screwing around on her phone while she waits for me to get in. I start toward the car, affixing my mask as I walk. When she sees me walking down the sidewalk she rolls down all the windows and puts down her phone. There is that at least, I suppose.


    ¡°Are you Fred?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Yup,¡± I reply in a quip and attempt to open the door.


    It¡¯s locked. She and I now play a game of ¡°okay one more time¡± as we attempt to coordinate with one another and the automatic lock. Once the door can finally be opened and I get in for the trip, she starts up with the ¡°nice to meet you¡± routine that thousands of drivers on Lyft and Uber pull all the time.


    ¡°Where are you headed today?¡± She asks, beginning the polite question barrage.


    ¡°The doctor,¡± I reply, knowing the next steps of the dance and just wanting to ride in peace.


    ¡°Oh. I hope it¡¯s nothing serious,"came the obvious reply.


    ¡°Nothing serious. The air here is shit and I can¡¯t really breathe without an inhaler and claritin,¡± I state flatly.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t from here?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m from out of town. I¡¯m just here for a research study,¡±


    ¡°A study? Oh what about?¡± She asks, dodging the reply about the shit air.


    ¡°I am here to watch a primitive culture collapse around a deficient subspecies of humanity, all while they actively ignore the problems that are glaringly obvious and world changing,¡± I try my best to look bored and unapproachable while saying it. She doesn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°Well, I am going back to school myself. I am going into marine biology,¡± She says.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯ll be helpful,¡± I say feigning interest.


    ¡°I really like animals. I always loved the sea while I was going up. My folks would take us to the beach when I was growing up. I have three sisters, all of us get the beach itch. My sister Tori, she lives in California in this city called Ventura, when I go for visits I always make a beach run within the first two days. Tori will call out of work and then we would head over to splash around and bronze up,¡± She says, clearly excited.


    I nod and smile here and there. ¡°I haven¡¯t gone to the beach or eaten seafood since I read about the Fukushima nuclear disaster,¡± I say.


    ¡°But that was all the way in Japan. That shouldn¡¯t impact us here in the states,¡± She said, and I could see her eyes in the rearview, plainly annoyed that I would think otherwise.


    ¡°I can really tell you enjoy the ocean. Perhaps you should read up on tides, currents, and migration, it might be really enlightening,¡± I offer.


    What did I expect in a reality where evolution is still being debated? The rest of the trip was silent, which was a blessing. I didn¡¯t need Tori¡¯s sister here jawing the entire trip. I watched the landscape of New Jersey flash by as the driver took me to my appointment.


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    When we pull up she is still silent and the moment I close the door she takes off. I suppose hearing that your desired life path may be dying isn¡¯t how she wanted to spend her day. I can understand that, but what do they expect when they choose to ignore the issues plaguing their world? The planet is dying around them for fuckssake.


    As I walk up to the hospital the automated doors slide open to allow me entry. The entryway has two sets of doors and an air curtain to keep the weather outside. We have similar back home, making this a good sign in my book.


    Maybe they won¡¯t try leeches and bloodletting.


    As I sit in the waiting room I wonder how many of these people would not be wearing a mask if it wasn¡¯t required. I just counted exposed noses and assumed they would be the same number. That was three.


    The magazines were all from months past and frankly I would rather not touch anything in this office. I flip through my smartphone attempting to find something to take my attention from the situation that I find myself in. That prick 23 reminded me of our restrictions. I was an idiot to use my real name. It¡¯s not like these chimps are going to ID me when I create an account.


    I remade all of my social media accounts and installed them on an unlocked cell that I bought here. This one is completely off book from the university, something I could get into a lot of trouble for, if anyone finds out and if I ever get home. The risk/reward aspects of this situation were basically, ¡°Are they going to break my knees? No? Then fuck ¡®em.¡±


    I had searched out a few friends and family here before I had to close out the accounts. James was one of those I searched out. There was a little bit of a problem on that end, because the high school we attended doesn¡¯t exist here. When I search just his name and his family name, I see no faces that are familiar. This has been the problem with most of my high school friends.


    I scroll through hits for another search, this search being Alfred Eli Newman. The man once told me that the name was inspired by the character in Mad Magazine. This made searching for the fellow a little more frustrating than with most anyone else.


    ¡°Fred Alginon.¡± The woman at the desk calls.


    I raise my hand and start toward the door. The nurse holding my file on a clipboard was standing beside the open door. Her nose is poking out of her mask. She is wearing coke bottle glasses and her hair looks oily. I can tell she is smiling under her mask, I use the mask as an excuse not to smile in return.


    ¡°Hello sir, if you would follow me please,¡± She says in a pleasant tone.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I reply weakly. I cannot help but stare at the ketchup stain on her scrubs top.


    ¡°Now if you would please set down your things and step up onto the scale,¡± She directed me to set down my purse on a nearby empty desk.


    ¡°I¡¯m fourteen stone,¡± I mumble, stepping onto the scale.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s two hundred pounds here. Where are you from?¡± The woman asks.


    ¡°The North,¡± I reply.


    ¡°Canada?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Thereabouts,¡±


    She gives me a strange face.


    ¡°I watch a great deal of Doctor Who,¡± I bluff.


    She straightens up her mask and gives me a smile. ¡°My husband really likes that show. I just can¡¯t get into it. Like, who is The Doctor, the man with the scarf or the guy with the granddaughter?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They both are,¡± I answer. ¡°He is an alien that doesn¡¯t really die, he regenerates into another version of themself when they have a death like event,¡± I explain.


    ¡°Huh. Well that just sounds weird. Stand here please,¡± She directs.


    ¡°And you are five foot nine,¡± She then directs me to step down. ¡°Okay, go ahead and grab your things and follow me,¡±


    I follow her down a short hall and into room four. The room was small, much like those back home. The floors are about the same as any typical examination room. Maybe this wasn¡¯t going to be so bad.


    ¡°If you would go ahead and take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve, I¡¯ll get your blood pressure and pulse,¡± She instructs and wraps a cuff around my arm.


    So far so good. As she pumped the bulb the cuff tightens and she places a stethoscope to my arm. She checks her watch. Back home a machine does that bit. That, or this place has obsolete equipment in a world with archaic¡­


    ¡°Alright. Now, what brings you in today?¡± She asks, breaking my train of thought.


    ¡°I have allergies and the poor air quality from California burning to a cinder is making it hard to breathe,¡± I reply in a deadpan manner.


    ¡°Oh isn¡¯t that terrible? I grew up in California. It breaks my heart to hear that Paradise was burned right off the map.¡± She says, suddenly wanting to connect with me.


    ¡°Yeah it¡¯s terrible,¡± I say monotone.


    ¡°Alright, well I will tell the doctor you are ready and they will be with you in a few minutes.¡± She says after jotting down a quick note.


    I nod and start scrolling through my search hits again.


    As I wait I turn on my chess app and start running through a few games. I miss playing the game in real face to face matches, but a computer is good for a quick fix. I am three games in when there is a knock at the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m decent,¡± I call out.


    In walks my doctor, she looks at me and flashes an obviously practised smile. ¡°Hello there! My name is Dr. Anastasia Wright and you are Fred Alginon?¡±


    ¡°Al-gin-non,¡± I correct.


    ¡°Alginon, sorry. And what brings you in today Mr. Alginon? I see that you are having trouble breathing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have chronic bronchitis but my regular doctor seems to be unreachable at the moment, thus I am sent to your office,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Oh I see. There is a lot of sickness going around, I hope your doctor is alright,¡± She says and sets down the clipboard.


    ¡°Can you hop up on the table for me?¡± She instructs, with a question.


    I jump up and untuck my shirt tails watching her arm herself with the stethoscope, rubbing it against her coat sleeve.


    The probe touches my skin and I twitch at the frosty metal.


    ¡°Breathing in deep,¡± She continues to instruct.


    I do.


    ¡°Again,¡±


    I do.


    ¡°Okay. Well yeah, it sounds like you need an inhaler and probably some Claritin. I¡¯ll write you a prescription for the inhaler and you can get the Claritin over the counter. You might not need the inhaler after allergy season but I¡¯ll give you three refills just in case. I think a check up in three months will be best. Do you have any questions?¡± She says in a flurry. The brevity felt like my doctor back home.


    ¡°Nothing that I can think of,¡± I tell her, picking up my phone.


    ¡°Alright, well I will send in Flo to make that appointment and I will see you in three months.¡± She finishes up and walks out the door as fast as possible. Honestly I think that last word was said through the closed door.


    I keep scrolling through the search results as Flo walks in.


    ¡°Okay, the doctor wants to see you back in¡­¡± She begins and stops while looking at my cell screen.


    I clear my throat and turn off my screen.


    ¡°Yes, she wants to see me in three months. Anything else?¡± I ask curtly.


    She looks ashamed for a moment, blushing.


    ¡°Sorry. I saw one of my ex boyfriends on your screen. It just caught me by surprise. It¡¯s not everyday something like that happens,¡±


    I turn on the screen and let her see it again.


    ¡°Which one?¡± I ask.


    She taps my screen and low and behold, it was him. Al Newman, but I would know that face anywhere. That was Alfred.

 Chapter 07 - Crossing Dimensions

    After the visit with the doctor, I called Lyft and got a ride home. This driver was a stern faced quiet man who said my name ¡°Fred¡± with a thick Russian accent. Thankfully he didn¡¯t want to chat on the ride home, so I stalked Alfred¡¯s Facebook profile the entire trip. This Al is a bit like Alfred back home. He seems to have a similar interest as his parallel reality twin, and while scrolling through his pictures, I see he even knew some of the same people.


    We arrive at my house, then I quietly exit the car and head up the walkway to the door. Halfway there I see a familiar face. It was me. I stop walking and stare at my face. It was eerie. The other face felt like looking in a mirror. He has a different name, Frank Wade. My mother¡¯s maiden name is Wade. I had searched for my mother but clearly she is not in the area around me, instead being on the West Coast in California, so my searches were likely limited by region.


    I continue on, not paying attention to anything on the path. I fish out my keys and robotically open the door, Angelica is there to meet me with a meow and a face rub against my leg to greet me. Looking through the profile and friends list of my doppelganger became my task for the next hour or so. I dig into his pictures and see that he also has no children, my mother was going by her maiden name and her first name was different, as is mine here. At home she is Cynthia Alginon nee Wade, here she is Katherine Rodriguez nee Wade, I assume. Everything in me wants to send messages to them, completely against all protocol of the university.


    This reality is so chaotic, so insane that I don¡¯t even know who I am here. The information I have gained from scrolling his Facebook wall didn¡¯t really inform me much. He enjoys crafts, drawing, writing, and nerdy stuff as I do. He is a Star Trek, Firefly, and Star Wars fan. We share so much that other than his name, we may as well be the same person.


    The thing is, I don¡¯t see anything that I expected to see considering the time and events around us in this reality. There is political insanity, there are catastrophic weather changes, there is suffering and termole all around us and yet, this man has no opinion on any of that. As I scroll through his friends, there are some that seem to have swallowed the red pill and are essentially fanatics, but he also had some that were less radical.


    Hours into my research of those he is associated with and their stances, I see James. He is Raul Gonzalez here. What kind of craziness went on here that he went from James MacAfee to Raul Gonzalez? I was told that things like this will happen from time to time, and it would happen more depending on the deviations of my own reality to the reality I visit. Exactly how far is 16-J from my home world? Apparently the alpha numerical catalog doesn¡¯t mean that the parallel reality was ¡°close¡± to our own, it¡¯s probably that they just found it in that order. I really should have asked more questions before I took this assignment.


    Seeing James, but not James, being here brings a loneliness to heart and a pit in my stomach. I am alone, but not alone. I see more of my old high school friends within their circle of friends and I cannot for the life of me imagine what drew all of our ancestors towards California when we were all in New Amsterdam back home. I really wish I had paid more attention during orientation. They covered the subject of a parallel reality version of yourself, but all that I really remember is, ¡°Don¡¯t search for yourself, your family, or your friends.¡±


    I¡¯ve already broken so many of the guidelines and rules that I am likely in for a trial if I get back home. This is directly interacting with parallel reality friends, or even myself. Regardless, I would like to have someone to talk to that is familiar and truthfully, that outweighs my fear of punishment. Someone that I would have something in common with would be invaluable.


    I open up the InstaCart app and I start looking for things that I need. I hover my thumb over the Kraken icon to order another bottle. I head over to Google and start looking for Raul Gonzalez¡¯s address. He lived in a city outside of San Buenaventura. That could be enough.


    I open some of the background check applications and I input all the information that I could and start searching.


    This is a bad idea.


    Only $30 to see all the information. I take out my wallet.


    This is such a bad idea.


    I input my credit card numbers.


    This. This really could land you in prison, like in a worst case scenario.


    I select the expiration date on my card, then input the three numbers on the back and head to checkout.


    You know, 23 only found me out because I used my own name. After I used another name on social media, he didn¡¯t send me a slap on the wrist or any other manner of punishment or warning. He¡¯s probably another nerd like me. Just a cog in the system, stuck here and trying to hold on to his little fiefdom, he¡¯s got the power of a clerk. He is not going to find out. What¡¯s the harm anyway?


    I should write a note. It would be rude not to. Why would he take a package without a note, right? How would that letter go?


    ¡°Hi there, in another reality you are one of my best friends and I am desperate for a connection that feels familiar. Would you like to be pen pals?¡±


    Yeah, that doesn¡¯t sound too creepy.


    ***


    Days Later


    Raul Gonzalez opened his door.


    ¡°Hello sir. I¡¯ve got a package for a¡­ Raul Gonzalez,¡± The Fedex carrier declared.


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± Raul replied and took the signature pad signing for the parcel.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Thanks. Have a great day.¡± The driver said as he turned and started down the walkway.


    Raul looked at the box and wondered why someone would be sending him something from New Jersey. Heading into the kitchen with the box his daughter stopped and grabbed at it.


    ¡°What have you got there?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Got me. Must be my secret admirer,¡± Raul said and used a knife to slit the tape and open the box.


    Within was a bottle of Kraken Rum with a special label declaring the Kraken Attacks New Jersey and a card.


    ¡°Hey man, I thought you might enjoy this. I¡¯m in New Jersey and when I saw this I thought you would get a kick out of it. I have a wild tale to tell you if you are interested in hearing it.


    Fred Alginon (I am ridiculously easy to find on Facebook Freddie Al).¡±


    The handwriting was Frank¡¯s. He would know that sloppy ass shit anywhere. Dude writes like a fucking doctor.


    ¡°Your uncle sent me a bottle of Kraken from New Jersey,¡± Raul said and pulled out his cell.


    He snapped a picture of the bottle and pulled up the FB instant messenger.


    ¡°He scumbag, I got your box. S¡¯up you forget my birthday?¡± He wrote and attached the picture, sending the message to Frank.


    ¡°Dude that¡¯s fucking rad! Wasn¡¯t me bud. Now I gotta get my hands on one!¡± Frank replied.


    Raul snapped a picture of the card and sent it over.


    ¡°WTF?¡± Came the response from his friend.


    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s the play here? Isn¡¯t Alginon the name of that evil wizard in your game?¡±


    ¡°Dude. This isn¡¯t me doing this,¡± Frank responded in text.


    ¡°Huh,¡±


    A screenshot of this Freddie Al popped up. It was Frank. It was Frank pointing finger guns into the camera, whinking.


    ¡°Dude. What¡¯s the gag?¡± Raul asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s no trick. I have no idea who this guy is,¡± Came the reply from Frank.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bite,¡± Raul said and pulled up his Facebook.


    A search brings up the fellow in the screenshot. Clicking on the profile reveals no surprise, they have a mutual friend, Frank Wade. Raul rolls his eyes and sends the man a friend request that is accepted instantly.


    A group chat sprung up on his phone with the obnoxious ringing for a video chat. He accepted the invite and the screen filled with two Franks.


    ¡°How are you doing this?¡± Raul asked in a clearly annoyed tone.


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing this!¡± Frank shouted in a laugh that was a little half crazy in Raul¡¯s opinion.


    ¡°Yeah. Sorry, this is all me. If you can chill for a second I can fill you both in on the skinny,¡± I said into the smartphone. These two are definitely not James and me.


    They looked really confused. I need to cut them some slack, how often does a parallel universe doppelganger pop up in your inbox?


    ¡°Why the hell do you sound like a Canadian?¡± Raul asked.


    ¡°We can get to that and it¡¯s not a Canadian accent, it¡¯s an east coast accent from my home state of New Amsterdam,¡±


    ¡°Is that in Canada?¡± Frank asked.


    ¡°Nope. Sit down fellas, this is going to take a minute,¡± I say and get ready to spill the tea.


    ¡°Get this. There are parallel realities. I am a researcher from New Amsterdam University and I am here to observe the destruction of your country and likely your entire global civilization as well as the viability of life itself coming to jeopardy.


    I know, bummer right?


    Well anyway. I have been here for about two years now. I have been watching your politics and geopolitical landscape all that time. I have to say, this place is wild! There are no stops on this crazy train. You guys make home seem so pedestrian,¡± I began with the rapid barrage.


    ¡°Wait. You are here to watch our planet die?¡± Frank asked.


    ¡°Frank, how are you doing this?¡± Raul asks, clearly annoyed.


    ¡°I am dead serious buddy. Back home, I went to highschool with you Raul, but your name is James there. You and a bunch of your friends were also my friends, but on the east coast of my United States,¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s talking too fast so we can¡¯t interact. This is prerecorded,¡± Raul said.


    ¡°Raul. My guy. The time right now is 11:48 am on the west coast and it is 2:48 pm here on the east. We are directly interacting right now, ask me anything. This is not a prank,¡± I assure him again.


    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s say this is true. Why the hell are you calling us? Aren''t there rules from the mothership not to call your alternate universe self and your alternate universe friends?¡± Raul asked.


    ¡°Oh yeah. Tons. This is extremely against the rules and legally actionable, but I have been bored out of my mind!¡± I exclaim.


    ¡°Bored? You are a sci-fi protagonist from another universe and you are bored?¡± Frank said incredulously.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. We love Star Trek, I get it. Here¡¯s the thing, you know what they don¡¯t show you in the sci-fi stories? The hours and days between anything actually happening. The majority of the story takes place over a week of the action. You know what the good guys are doing until then? Wanking! And it ain¡¯t easy mate. I have an itch and I need a scratch alright?¡± I pop off.


    ¡°Alright. Tell me how you see this going?¡± Frank asked me outright.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know. I really didn¡¯t expect it to go this well,¡± I confess. I really did think that they would have hung up by now and called the whole thing a prank from an unknown nutbag.


    ¡°What do we do with you back home?¡± Raul asks.


    ¡°Well. James and I play D&D, Battletech, and sometimes Risk or Axis and Allies.¡± I reply.


    ¡°Raul still plays Battletech. We also have a D&D game we play once a week over Zoom,¡± Frank says.


    ¡°Ah. I can play a game or two of Battletech with you. I guess,¡± Raul says thick with indifference, not committing to the possibility that this is real.


    ¡°Who is the DM of the weekly game?¡± I ask.


    Frank waved into the screen. ¡°Me. You aren¡¯t the DM on the other side?¡±


    ¡°No. I never really had the chops. We usually had Newman running as DM,¡±


    ¡°You have a Newman too?¡± Frank asks excitedly.


    ¡°Oh yeah. He is a goofy fucker. His dad¡­¡±


    ¡°...named him after the Mad Magazine character.¡± We all said at once. Raul rolling his eyes and saying it thick with sarcasm.

 Chapter 08 - Worlds Collide

    It is Sunday. Today is game day and my stomach is filled with butterflies. This is a game using Zoom with my own doppelganger. This was going to be weird.


    The session zero with Frank was a little surreal. This reality¡¯s version of me has a great improvisational mind if my guess is right. He didn¡¯t have more than three days between when I met him the day he ran the session zero. He sent me through wondrous strange areas of a game world that he himself designed. The fact that he has been a DM since he was fourteen years old is really impressive.


    In session zero there was an issue with us periodically talking at the same time, sometimes using the same word at the same time, in a completely different sentence construction, we would meet at the beat of one word at the exact moment. It was very strange but we solved the problem by raising our hand on camera before speaking in order to avoid the clash. After that it was an amazing session. He has created a world very well thought out, with its own mythology and extensive history. There are heroes of legend that are characters of his friends from high school who had been playing with him at a Burger King patio area, instead of going to school.


    That is one of the obviously divergent events in our lives. Frank had grown up in a low middle-class home with an abusive stepdad, far more siblings, and unchecked mental health issues only addressed recently. This reality is so corrupt and barbaric that I can barely stand it, but if I was going to find anything like my peers back home, it would have to be someone from home, which I am not allowed to talk to, or the doppelganger of myself and my friends, which I am also not allowed to talk to. It makes me angry that everyone in his childhood failed him to some degree or another, and that those failures would turn a person of great potential into a mentally broken fellow that is currently surviving on charity from others.


    I logged into the session using the link Frank sent to me about fifteen minutes before the game. It was a link he seemed to forward from a previous message further up in the group chat on Facebook. I would have thought Frank was going to be in the chat, considering he has been doing a countdown since last night. The goddamn message woke me up. I didn¡¯t expect an alert at freaking 1am here on the east coast of the nation. Freaking dingbat.


    Raul popped up on my screen, muted.


    ¡°Oye. Raul. You about?¡± I ask.


    The mic icon is unmuted. ¡°About what?¡± Raul asked.


    ¡°I mean, are you here? Sorry, I still have my accent from back home, idioms and such might be wrong from time to time,¡± I answered, knowing that he is likely to call me¡­¡±


    ¡°Fucking Canadian,¡± Raul said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a Canadian damn you!¡± I bark.


    I hear James¡¯ low rumble of a chuckle, coming from Raul. I missed this.


    ¡°Whatever you say scumbag. Far as I am concerned you are an AI program Frank is using to mess with us,¡± He spouted and muted the mic again.


    Another name popped up, none of them are using a web camera and now I feel silly having mine on.


    ¡°Hey guys! What¡¯s up?¡± came the greeting from a man named Jose.


    Frank told me about the other players and their characters during our debrief while he suggested character classes. Jose is playing Jom Gobbler, a roguish bard that has been taken from the past and placed into the current timeline as Raul¡¯s character, Pav¡¯lo, with the rest of his party.


    I wave at the screen and introduce myself. ¡°Hello Jose, I¡¯m Fred, I¡¯m going to be joining the campaign,¡± I say excitedly.


    Jose looks at me closely then looks confused. ¡°Are you Frank¡¯s brother?¡± He asks.


    ¡°Long story mate. Let¡¯s get to know each other first, yeah?¡± I reply and turn off my camera in suit with the others that are joining the session.


    ¡°Oh. Okay,¡± Jose replied.


    ¡°Hey all!¡± Frank said as he entered. ¡°I see our new player has joined us. Welcome to your first full game Fred,¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, waiting for the others to arrive and hoping to dodge the small talk from Frank.


    Xavier entered the chat. He is the wizard Hector the Endowed of Lazerus. Apparently he has an artifact that is powerful and temperamental called The Conduit, Frank has filled me in on some of the past games where The Conduit had really saved the party. ¡°Hey there happy people,¡± Xavier greeted. ¡°I see we have a new player,¡±


    ¡°This is Fred, hey Fred, turn on your camera,¡± Frank said.


    I roll my eyes and turn the video back on.


    ¡°Oh cool, is this your cousin or something?¡± Xavier asked Frank.


    Fred laughed a bit like a kid before saying, ¡°Something like that,¡±


    Kason entered the room which completed the party of character attendees for this game.


    ¡°Kason!¡± Jose said as the last member entered.


    ¡°Hey y¡¯all. Do we have a new guy?¡± Kason says. ¡°Is he Frank¡¯s brother?¡±


    ¡°Nope. He¡¯s me!¡± Frank said excitedly.


    Well there that goes. Now I just have to watch this unfold.


    ¡°Like a video of you from earlier?¡± Jose asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t buy it, but I don¡¯t know how to disprove this dude¡¯s story,¡± Raul said.


    ¡°Turn on your camera,¡± Xavier said, likely to Frank as my camera is on already.


    Frank turned on the camera and started pointing at himself then to me with a huge smile.


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Raul says, it¡¯s basically his theme-song for me at this point.


    ¡°It¡¯s true, but try not to go around telling everyone about it, huh?¡± I verify while clenching my jaw and looking a bit annoyed, but if this is my admission cost, so be it. What is 23 going to do about it at this point anyway?


    ¡°Everyone ready for the game?¡± Frank asks, with a wolfish grin.


    ¡°Wait a second here,¡± Jose said, with obvious confusion.


    ¡°Okay, explain that to me now?¡± Xavier asked with interest.


    ¡°Man, do I have to sit through this again?¡± Raul piped up.


    ¡°Quiet you!¡± Frank said to Raul.


    ¡°I¡¯m confused, is this part of the game?¡± Kason asked.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I say. ¡°Here¡¯s the short gab. My name is Fred, I am from another universe. I am here to study your world¡­¡±


    ¡°As it ends!¡± Frank blurts out.


    ¡°I mean. I don¡¯t really think that you¡¯re wrong about the world ending, but how is it that you are here?¡± Xavier asked, turning on his camera as well.


    ¡°I am part of a research program from NAU, New Amsterdam University. I was sent here to watch your nation collapse and likely watch as life itself becomes impossible to support as humanity poisons the world. I am here to record the events and send them back home so that we can watch for the early signs and counter them before they start to multiply exponentially into a doomsday cascade,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Why do you sound Canadian?¡± Kason asked in a deadpan style.


    ¡°Because I am from the North East coast of the United States in my reality,¡± I answer, looking for Raul to come out and start telling me that I am some kind of actor that Frank had hired to play a trick on everyone.


    ¡°Can we just start the game?¡± Raul asks.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there some kind of code of conduct that you are violating by telling us this?¡± Kason asks, sounding like his interest has finally peaked.


    ¡°Oh yeah, tons. He says they are going to lock him up when he goes home,¡± Raul says sarcastically.


    ¡°Okay, now, I enjoy our games and all, but exactly why would you risk your freedom to play in a game you already run?¡± Xavior asked with a little bit of a chuckle at the end.


    ¡°He¡¯s not a Dungeon Master!¡± Frank said while laughing, far too hard. He has likely hit the pipe and smoked a bowl before the game started.


    ¡°It¡¯s true. I¡¯m not a DM, apparently my life was going so well I didn¡¯t need to go into a dissociated state so deeply,¡± I interject. ¡°I¡¯m with James, can we start the game?¡±


    ¡°James?¡± Jose asked.


    ¡°Raul is named James in his reality,¡± Frank took a break from his hyena laughing to pump in another fact of my life.


    ¡°Oh shit! Wait, do you know us back in your reality?!¡± Jose half shouted into the microphone.


    ¡°Can we just¡­ play the game?¡± Raul asks again, clearly done with the, meet the alien from another reality BS.


    ¡°Hold on. This isn¡¯t exactly a thing you deal with once a week, I mean, this is kind of unreal,¡± Jose said.


    ¡°Look, I am here to relax and attempt to get my mind off all the crazy shit going on. Can we just start the game? I¡¯ll tell you what, if you want to ask me some questions, you can drop me a message in my DMs, I¡¯m easy to find on Facebook, I have the screen name Freddie Al, just friend me there,¡± I say, which then results in three friend requests almost the second I finish the sentence.


    ¡°Are we going to play now?¡± Raul asks.


    ¡°I really hope so,¡± I add. ¡°I will add you to my friends after the game fellas,¡± I say, hoping to get a move on.


    ¡°Getting points here, fake Frank,¡± Raul adds.


    It takes a little more time to get the game going, but it did get going.


    The game was what I needed. I needed to hear my friends'' voices. Even if these weren¡¯t my original cohorts, they were at least really good generic brands. Jose is a wit. He has a humor that is similar to Gil. Raul is cantankerous, especially when his blood sugar is low and although James does not have diabetes, it too is familiar. Xavior has similar mannerisms to Correy, both have a big heart and the ambition and drive of a champ. Kason and Dan are nearly identical. Seriously, they could be twins. Dad jokes are thrown around as gracefully as a swan. Just a bullseye zinger at the right moment.


    Joining the game after they have had years of play together in Frank¡¯s fantasy world was a little intimidating at first. They have stories of great moments in the histories of their characters, Raul having more tales than the others, it seems my doppelganger built the realms while Raul was there every step of the way.


    There were great events that ended up in the realms historical records. Between Raul and Frank they seem to regularly recall things that the two of them chuckle about, Raul gasping at times because he had just seen something that pulled his memory back to an event from ages ago. They also periodically make references of players from their high school years.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    There is a fellow named Liam who plays a character named Poot. That fellow also seems to be an expert master of records. There are others I am sure, but he is the only one who has come up so far. It¡¯s also coming from the other, newer players. There is Father Joe, Cassian¡¯s sister Jinni. An elf that brings a bit of chuckling from them here and there.


    There is some timeline issue in our current adventure, a fellow named Gormachulii keeps popping in at various ages of the character, oftentimes making mischief of one sort or another.


    While we are in the middle of a great reveal about the big bad evil guy my phone starts buzzing with email alerts and chat messages. Being on Zoom made checking the messages while remaining on the call with the players slightly distracting. My camera was off, which was fantastic at the moment, so noone would think I was ignoring the game..


    ¡°NAU Researcher F. Alginon Violation of Terms of Agreement¡±


    NAU Audit Manager <[email protected]</a>> to me:


    OPEN IMMEDIATELY!


    OPEN IMMEDIATELY! THAT MEANS NOW!


    OPEN IMMEDIATELY! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?


    ¡°Fuck,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Frank asked.


    ¡°I¡­ have to go,¡± I say and sign out.


    I had scrolled down to the most recent email.


    NAU Audit Manager 23:


    There is upset in regards to alien exposure and broken silence. First contact is underway. I am having to prioritize relocation of all agents in the field. You are one such agent. I am setting you up at a hotel in the outskirts of New Jersey.


    There is a priority red event coming in and I need to keep you all as far away from the reveal as possible. We cannot have the public or the current residents of this dimension aware of your origins. If you are exposed to your doppelganger there is a high probability of timeline pollution. We must avoid this at all costs.


    I am working on return tickets immediately. I will keep you posted.


    Right when I was starting to get comfortable.


    I put on the news hoping for a little more information than 23 was hinting at. The breaking news is red hot.


    NEWS CASTER: ¡°The country is looking to the sky as alien ships are slowly descending from outer space. If the authorities knew about this event, they had kept tight lipped about it so far.¡±


    This was familiar. This was my own reality¡¯s G¡¯har Landing. The day that we had direct proof that we were not alone in the universe.


    There are camera rolls being shown throughout the world where the shuttles of alien diplomats landing all around the world, into capital cities.


    I switch to a stream with Trump¡¯s waddle neck jiggling and the horrendous orange color of his skin on full display.


    ¡°Do not be alarmed. I have been talking to the aliens for the last few months. They have assured me that they mean no harm. No harm at all. Everything is going to be fine. I don¡¯t think I need to tell you all. I am the very best negotiator in the world. And, let me tell you, there is a lot to negotiate now,¡± Trump said, in that strangely confident manner.


    ¡°As you can see, our mighty nation, this amazing nation, let me tell you. They wanted to come down simultaneously, So I told them. That¡¯s all great. Everything will be fine, but let me tell you, ¡®merica has to be at one in the afternoon. So we get to see them on camera with friendly light. The magic hour. That''s what they call it in Hollywood. I don¡¯t need that magic hour. But, just to be safe. We want the money shot, you know, this is history today.¡± Trump said, in his blustery nonsensical tone.


    The camera shows the ships above the Whitehouse descending. The clouds are breaking as they slowly descend. The cubed black ships are surrounded by energy shields, are monstrously big. Those were not the same ships from the ones I remember. These are bigger. A lot bigger. The color schemes were different too. Back home they were light purple and white. These are black and red, with a lot more escorts.


    The camera on the broadcast returns to the president as the ships are descending from the sky above. The lead ship was the only one to make the full descent to land, but it made it very clear, they were not at all concerned with an attack by this world. G¡¯har are advanced in my universe. If they wanted, they could have easily wiped out a major city within minutes. Back home though. They have laws. Laws that their government enforces with any and all first contact missions. They have diplomatic envoys, and those envoys are more¡­ friendly looking.


    The lead ship¡¯s cargo doors open and two dozen armored and armed guards step out first. The ship¡¯s main door splits open further, and a highly polished government official takes their first steps on American soil, followed by another three lessers, most likely.


    I have never seen G¡¯har in gear like this. They are amphibious aliens, so they have to have environmental suits in our atmosphere. They are white and look more like SCUBA suits. They are completely encased in liquid, there isn¡¯t much known about what that liquid is, but it is theorized by some to be a gas enriched slush that is regulated by the cybernetics in their suits.


    These are deep black with an eerie lack of shine at all. They are such a flat black color that reflects nothing. Looking at them is unnerving. With the contrast of the shine of the official, it makes the entire view hard to focus on without getting a little nauseous.


    Trump seems to have no problem looking at it, or at least., it doesn¡¯t show on his face on camera.


    ¡°Do we have any microphones for our friend here?¡± Trump is heard asking on a hot mic.


    CASTER: We are now getting feeds from other countries and it seems that each delegation is exiting their ships at the very same moment as the one here in D.C. and each of the teams that are exiting the craft are the same number. This is truly a day of firsts here on Earth.


    ¡°Yeah. For me too buddy.¡± I said into the air.


    It wasn¡¯t really even that far from here. Had I been given more warning, I would likely have gone. There was a ring at the door.


    I glanced over my shoulder and saw Molly and her buddy showing me their phones through my window. They were all lit up and laughing excitedly. I cross the room and open the front door. They are both laughing a mile a second.


    ¡°Are you seeing this?¡± Molly asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s happening! Holy shit it is happening!¡± Lilly replied.


    ¡°Do you think they are here to take back each one to their galactic zoo?¡± Molly continues.


    ¡°Do you have any Coke? We have the rum, but the Cokes in the car are warm,¡± Lilly asks me.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that for Mr. McNeil?¡± Molly asks Lilly.


    ¡°Fuck him. He can bill me,¡± Lilly replies.


    I listen for a few moments and just wave them in.


    ¡°Hey, who am I to deny history right? Come on in, yeah there are some Cokes in the fridge,¡± I say and grab the remote to the TV. I put the news on and we went back to watching the landing.


    My cell vibrates on the kitchen table. I cross the room and Molly hands me the Kraken and smiles.


    ¡°Ice?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Only if the Cokes aren¡¯t cold. I don¡¯t plan on too many trips to the kitchen,¡± She says with a smile.


    I pick up the phone and see that I have a mess of texts.


    Frank:  WTF is going on!?


    You said you have aliens in your universe right?


    Dude, how about a little bit of a hint on what is about to happen?


    COME ON! This is insane. Don¡¯t leave me hanging!


    Shit. Are you an alien? I mean, like alien, alien?


    MY DUDE. WHAT IS GOING ON?!


    ARE YOU SEEING THESE TEXTS?


    I roll my eyes and begin a reply.


    Yeah. These are the aliens from back home. Well. Mostly. I have company, you¡¯ll just have to watch it live.


    The second I have the phone nearly in my pocket I get another text. He¡¯s without calm. Kind of like an excited puppy.


    I get to the cupboard and another message comes up, followed by three in rapid succession. I pull out the phone while I am fixing the drinks and check the messages.


    NAU Audit Manager 23:


    Are you kidding me?! Who exactly do you think you are? You have been in contact with yourself in this reality!? Are there people in your house right now? You are instructed to leave immediately and take the car being sent for you to the hotel as instructed. You are not to continue your fraternization with the native populace. Get your records in order before extraction. Do you understand?


    The car has been delayed.


    The car has been canceled.


    A new car is being booked.


    There is no service in your area.


    Fine. Enjoy yourself. Last day kickup. Whatever!


    I chuckle to myself. Seems 23 is having a bad day. Serves him right. Dude suddenly has an escape plan, now that there is a little dustup?


    I see I have other messages as well. The fellas from the Zoom game are blowing me up.


    Raul: Alright. So, maybe you are from another universe.


    ¡°All it took was ET¡¯s landing for him to believe, huh?¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡± Molly asks from the living room.


    ¡°Nothing. Just my friends blowing up my phone,¡± I answer.


    ¡°I stopped checking my phone. I figure to witness this is more important than what other people think about it,¡± Molly adds.


    ¡°You are missing out,¡± Lilly says. ¡°John thinks that we should all get into the storm shelters because they are about to attack,¡±


    ¡°Meh. If they are going to kill us, they wouldn¡¯t have pulled up on the Whitehouse lawn,¡± Molly says.


    I glance at the TV and see 45 shaking hands with the diplomat, news photographers tickling away madly.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that is a mouthful of a name, let me see if I got it,¡± Trump says.


    ¡°Oh god. Please don¡¯t¡­¡± Lilly says.


    ¡°To-mal-E?¡± Trump attempts.


    ¡°Did he just call him a tamale?¡± Molly says.


    ¡°He did,¡± I replied.


    ¡°What was his name?¡± Lilly asks.


    ¡°Th¡¯al-iemi,¡± Mollys replies.


    ¡°He was close I supposed,¡± I say.


    ¡°He is going to start the first war of the worlds isn¡¯t he?¡± Lilly states and takes a gulp of her drink.


    ¡°Very likely,¡± I add to the conversation, feeling my phone pop off again in my pocket. I pull the it out and read.


    NAU Audit Manager 23


    I have gotten a reply from Universe 1-Alpha. We are instructed to maintain the research mission while the native authorities react to the visitors. Be advised, there is a standard protocol now in effect.


    ¡°It is all business with you isn¡¯t it?¡± I mumble.


    ¡°What?¡± Molly asks.


    ¡°My boss. The guy needs to find his chill. I mean, we are in the middle of first contact and this gent is trying to get the red tape in order,¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Molly says dumbfounded by the priorities.


    ¡°Yeah. The guy is a total hard ass,¡± I continue.


    ¡°Are you a remote worker?¡± Lilly asks.


    ¡°Researcher, yeah,¡± I continue, this is the longest conversation we have had so far.


    ¡°What are you researching in New Jersey?¡± Molly asks.


    ¡°Umm. Societal interaction with critical moments of history,¡± I say without thinking.


    ¡°Wait. Did you know this was going to happen?¡± Lilly asks for clarification.


    ¡°No. I think my boss did though,¡±


    ¡°What is he, a prophet?¡± Lilly asks, with true curiosity in her tone.


    ¡°Like Jay and Silent Bob!¡± Molly contributes.


    ¡°Naw. He¡¯s more of an accountant,¡± I answer as I take a sip of the rum and coke that Lilly had brought me.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like this wasn¡¯t hinted at. I mean, didn¡¯t they already release that footage when Donnie tried out that Muslim ban?¡± Lilly continues.


    ¡°Well, that could have been doctored up. There are still people who don¡¯t believe in the moon landing,¡± Molly declares.


    ¡°Ugh. Don¡¯t remind me,¡± I say in exasperation.


    My phone continues to go off and Molly walks over and takes it from me.


    ¡°Remember?¡± She asks me flatly.


    ¡°Remember what?¡± I reply to the question, not having a clue as to what she means.


    ¡°It¡¯s better to witness than to talk about it with someone. Come on. Let the call go to voicemail and let those texts wait,¡± She said and set my phone down on the coffee table.


    I smile and nod.


    ¡°HOLY SHIT!¡± Lilly shrieked.


    The diplomat has Trump held in the air by his neck, his head twists weirdly.


    ¡°See? I fucking knew it!¡± Molly shouts. ¡°WAR OF THE WORLDS BABY!¡±


    She looked overjoyed.


    ¡°Honestly. It was the most likely outcome in this timeline,¡± I say flatly. .


    ¡°Timeline?¡± Lilly asked.


    ¡°Yeah. That whole research project I¡¯m working on,¡±


    ¡°Uh huh,¡± Molly and Lilly say in unison.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to watch your world end,¡± I release the words to the air. I mean. Why hide it, this dumpster fire is about to go nuclear anyway, right?


    ¡°Called it!¡± Molly cried out, jumping back and pointing right at me.


    ¡°Fine. I owe you a twenty,¡± Lilly said, fishing into her pocket.

 Chapter 09 - Awakening

    I stared at the two women in disbelief.


    ¡°You¡­ you knew?¡± I say in the monotone of confusion.


    ¡°Well not directly. We just had a feeling,¡± Molly answers.


    ¡°That¡¯s why we work delivery. We are trying to find ourselves,¡± Lilly explained further.


    ¡°Find yourself? What, in a spiritual sense?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No, well yes. To find the other parts of us,¡± I hear Lilly¡¯s voice in my mind.


    I rock back with a stunned look on my face that I couldn¡¯t control.


    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you okay? Molly asks aloud.


    Lilly lets out a laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll go get those drinks. I think parallel universe boy needs a something stiff,¡±


    ¡°Did you use telepathy on him?¡± Molly scolded Lilly.


    ¡°Telepathy?¡± I repeat quietly.


    ¡°Lilly, make his drink a double. I think we are going to be giving him a bit more than he can handle,¡± Molly continued, putting her hands on my shoulders and keeping me steady.


    This is a bit much to handle. They can talk¡­ in my head. What else can they do? Who are they? They said they were looking for me?


    ¡°Here you go Captain,¡± Lilly says, as she shoves a rum and coke in my hand, no ice.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start at the start,¡± Molly begins.


    ¡°The start?¡± I mumble with confusion.


    ¡°We are a telepathic alien race. Yes, we can say things in your mind. Yes, we can read your thoughts. Yes, we are looking for people who aren¡¯t human, or apparently humans who are alien to this dimension or reality. That should cover most of it,¡± Molly says, taking the second offered drink from Lilly.


    ¡°Are you¡­ with them?¡± I say and point at the TV, which is having a monumental event televised live, that I am missing.


    ¡°Them? No. That¡¯s the G¡¯har Empire. Kinda the big dick in the area,¡± Molly says.


    ¡°Empire?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yeah, they go around and conscript new worlds into their empire. They aren¡¯t really all that bad from what Myna has told us. Well, as long as you aren¡¯t resource hoarding apparently,¡± Molly continues, turning up the television.


    High Chancellor Morak Gytt is now standing at the podium with his guards keeping the secret service at bay, Trump is laying in a bloody heap on the ground.


    ¡°We, the G¡¯har Imperium, have liberated your world from the parasites that have been holding you back for centuries. Under our governance your species will enjoy the wonders of the empire that spans over six-thousand planets. Your hardships are now over,¡± The High Chancellor declares.


    No applause or cheers follow this announcement. Humanity is likely in shock.


    ¡°Honestly,¡± Lilly says as she walks back into the kitchen, ¡°Humanity is likely better off now,¡± She continues.


    ¡°Better off? Their leaders were just murdered live on TV globally,¡± I say confused.


    ¡°Not all of them,¡± Lilly continues, ¡°Hey do you mind if I eat some of your lasagna?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say, monotone distance in my voice I am sure.


    ¡°Molly, tap into his head and try the lasagna, it seems really good from what I caught,¡± Lilly said out loud in the kitchen.


    ¡°Wait, you just tasted my lasagna, in my head?¡± I say, rather in shock at this point. Aliens, and not just one serving of aliens, but two.


    ¡°Oh yeah. Telepathy is a whole lot cooler than TV shows will tell you,¡± Lilly replies, while I hear her pulling the plates out from the cupboards, the ceramic dishes tapping against one another as they move.


    I can feel Molly in my head. It is hard to describe. It was a little like having someone''s hand on your shoulder. It is just still, resting at first, it feels soft, there is no jarring impact there, well not enough to really care about. The moment I feel used to it, it suddenly turns into something like a deep tissue back rub that gently attempts to rub out a knot that you didn¡¯t realize was bothering you. It then just becomes a gently repeating circle, something soothing from someone you are comfortable with.


    I feel her focusing on something in my mind. It feels like a person standing at your dresser and reflecting on something here or there. From time to time that focus narrows, like that person asking you about this knick knack or doodad that they see clearly on that dresser.


    Memories of my Kaylin are pulled from the background at first. The memories turn into a photo album and memory after memory becomes clearer in my mind. Memories of home surface next. My days in college. The scent of Kaylin when I first met her. A hint of vanilla and a McDonalds cheese burger. We were in anthropology at Vondel College. She was wearing her M&Ms hoodie. She had sat on the other side of the room that day, but as we were exiting after class, she approached me to ask if I had notes from the beginning of class that day.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Molly went on digging and I was helpless to the probe. Whoever I was pulled to focus on for a moment, was who Molly was focused on. It was tickling at the back of my eyes. In seconds I start to feel my legs getting rubbery, even sitting on the couch.


    It was ecstasy. It was like being kissed just under the ear, while a hand is running through your hair, their breath tickling  across your skin. The sensations were, ¡­ like the most intimate caress with a closeness that only another naked body could stimulate. The¡­


    ¡°Holy shit. Calm down,¡± I could hear in an echoing din in my brain. My eyes were fluttering open and closed. It was like being in a dark room with a strobe light flickering on and off.


    My face was being struck, but it didn¡¯t register as it should. There was just something more important that my mind couldn¡¯t break away from.


    ¡°Molly what the hell are you doing,¡± That was Lilly¡¯s voice. Was it Lilly?


    My vision starts to return, but it is locked in one place. I was paralyzed staring off into the middle of nowhere.


    I see myself on the couch. I do not look good at all. I look like that woman having a seizure in Pulp Fiction.


    ¡°Uma Thurman. You didn¡¯t know her name?¡± Molly¡¯s voice echoes from somewhere deep.


    ¡°I have a different connection. I always think¡­¡± I announce into the ether, a void where I am looking through the eyes of Molly.


    ¡°...Baron Munchausen when her name is said. She was in that?¡± Her voice says drawing closer.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I begin. ¡°Well back home she is¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Lilly asks me, her voice pulling me back to reality.


    I shake the cobwebs from my mind, blinking heavily. Purposefully. Firmly.


    ¡°I¡¯m. I¡¯m not exactly sure,¡± Is all I could manage. At least, I think I said that.


    ¡°Well you stopped frothing at the mouth, that has to be a good sign,¡± Lilly says.


    ¡°There is that,¡± I reach out. Okay. That is my arm.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Lilly¡¯s voice announced in a really stern and surprised voice. ¡°Did you just unlock?!¡± Lilly shouts in my face between slaps.


    ¡°What the hell are you talking about unlocked?¡± I ask, trying to get my wits about me between wacks from the young woman..


    ¡°I think he just broke through into the journey, the recall,¡± Molly continues softly. I still feel her guiding my thoughts.


    ¡°That would only happen if he were a piece of¡­¡± Lilly starts.


    ¡°Of me. Son of a bitch,¡± Molly finishes the thought, then turns away from the room, grabbing her phone on her way out.


    ¡°Can you please explain what you are talking about, because I have pretty much had my limit on weird shit happening in my life for today?¡±


    ¡°Okay look. There is nothing that I can say that is going to prepare you for what you are about to go through. You are about to feel things from lifetimes ago. You are about to meet who you really are. You are on a journey, you are alien and human.¡± Lilly says as calmly and as quickly as she can.


    My head starts to spin. My vision is fading in and out once more. I am dizzy. I see so much in each strand of focus that I grab at within my head. Dolphins? I was a dolphin?!


    I am swimming behind my father as we are herding the young tuna. The tuna parents were the primary targets. They would satisfy hunger needs for the day in a single kill.  We attacked the young tuna half-heartedly. We rush at them to draw in some of the adults that have come to help strengthen the school.


    The pod is strong enough that their defenses require most of the fish in the area to keep us off them. The oldest, largest fish were at the edges. A guard, or challenge for our meals.


    I blink away the fog.


    ¡°I think you took bits of me with you there, sport,¡± Molly says, clearly annoyed and returns to the room, with her eyes locked on me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it was taken, more like¡­ blurred together?¡± I expand upon her observation.


    Lilly¡¯s telephone began ringing.


    ¡°Molly, it¡¯s Myna,¡± Lilly says urgently.


    Lilly takes the call putting in on speakerphone.


    ¡°We need to get him under a full body neurological system scan with complete mapping,¡± The voice of an older woman declares.


    ¡°What? Why?¡± I ask.


    Molly shushes me sharply.


    ¡°HAL, are there any holes in the Sol-03 G¡¯har defensive net?¡± The woman on the phone asks someone in the room with her.


    ¡°No. The G¡¯har have bundled up Sol-03 tight. Any physical ships passing through will likely trigger a search party of the solar system and may lead them to Emerald City,¡± The voice in the background replies.


    ¡°Anyone on the surface within the area?¡± The woman continues. Lilly is staring at the phone annoyance plain on her face. Noone likes being on the phone listening to other people talking like you aren¡¯t there.


    ¡°Three satellite ships within a hundred mile area, but they are on stand-by while we assess the G¡¯har threat. We have been told¡­¡± HAL begins and is cut off.


    ¡°I am ordering those ships to break stand-by and converge on that house. I want full scans of both subjects. Lilly?¡± Myna commands.


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± Lilly says, snapping back to focus.


    ¡°Do not, under any circumstances, make a psychic connection with either of them until they have been thoroughly taken through the courses. Do you understand?¡± Myna orders the woman.


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Lilly responds.


    ¡°And wipe that look off your face,¡± Myna says, annoyance clear in her voice.


    ¡°Mr. Alginon. I am a good friend of yours that you may have forgotten about,¡± Myna begins.


    ¡°Oh yeah! I know you. Myna!¡± I declare. My head was swimming just before I lost consciousness.


    ¡°He is part of Phi-tonal?¡± Lilly asks.


    ¡°He is,¡± Molly replies, regaining her thoughts. ¡°Have you heard of anything like this before?¡± She asks Myna.


    ¡°There are very few evidence rich occurrences of a parallel universe connection that is safe enough for organic travel. There are too many factors to even give a good guess here.¡± Myna answers.


    There are three snapping sounds, as though a person just set off hand popper toys just outside.


    Three small emerald green ships the size of sparrows float in through the open window.


    Molly walks over to the vessels hanging motionless in the air at eye level.


    ¡°Okie dokie. Scan away. Need me to strip?¡± She says and starts her hands to her collar buttons.


    ¡°Is that normal?¡± One of the ships asks through an external speaker.


    ¡°Kinda?¡± Lilly answers, making a face.