by Rachel Ford
The city of shimmering glass lay ahead of them, so Alfred and Nancy kept going straight on the moss road; and the road sang to them as they went. The taxman couldn’t say why, exactly, but the moss sounded exactly as he would have imagined moss might, had he ever put his mind to dreaming up voices for moss: low and gentle and, somehow, earthy.
Twice as they approached the city, a strange phenomena appeared overhead. GJ 273, the reddish orange star that hung in the day sky, flashed. Alfred nearly missed it the first time as a trick of his eyes, but Nance drew up short. “What was that?”
“What?”
“The flash. Didn’t you see it?”
“Kind of.”
She frowned up at the sky, and they watched for a long while. But when nothing happened, they moved on.
Alfred didn’t mistake the second flash, though. A flare of light seemed to burst from the sun’s surface and arc a little way across the sky before it vanished. “Sugar cookies.”
“It must be the rift, the rift Roger was telling us about. It has to be.”
He nodded. It seemed the only solution, and the idea rather worried him. He remembered what Winthrop had said about the timestream breaking down and being inaccessible the nearer the event they got. Which meant, they were very much in a race against time.
Chapter Five
They reached the glass city shortly after the second flash of light. Here, Alfred marveled at the architecture that allowed them to construct great buildings seemingly out of little more than glass. And he cringed at the idea of living one’s entire life on display to one’s fellow beings.
But the taxman had little time to indulge either his interest or his horror. They stepped into a world of tall, graceful Geejays; and immediately stuck out like a pair of sore thumbs. Nance’s long, dark curls differentiated her from anyone on the planet; even Alfred’s own short hair set him apart, for the Geejays had no hair at all – not short, and definitely not long. Their two differing shades of pale skin called attention to them, too. Nance’s was pinker than Alfred’s olive hues; but both looked wholly alien next to the mottled blues of the native race. Then there was their gait. Geejays walked with a fluid, graceful kind of movement, seeming almost to sway and glide as they went. Alfred wouldn’t even attempt it sober, and figured he’d faceplant any other way.
But even their style of dress called them out. Both had chosen comfortable, casual clothes. But these people wore jumpsuits. The style seemed uniform across everyone they met, although the patterns of said jumpsuits varied wildly. Paisleys and checker prints, bright colors and dull ones, floral medleys and tartans covered the tall figures around them.
The people of GJ 273b shared one other commonality, as far as the taxman could tell: everyone they passed, however old, however mildly or flashily dressed, however tall or short, all stared with wonder and mild alarm.
“Uh…hello,” Nance had tried. “We’re Nancy Abbot and Alfred Favero. We’re looking for Ambassador Li Muldan.”
But the Geejays they encountered only scurried away, speaking in a soft, musical language the humans could not understand. So she shorted her speech. “We’re looking for Li Muldan.”
It proved no more successful than the longer version. Alfred tried. “We need to speak to the Premier.”
But as before, everyone just scurried away. A few would stop once they’d put some distance between themselves and watch with wonder. Others would drop a word or two in English. He caught earthling and human. Once or twice, he thought he caught his name, or Nance’s. But of course, that was ridiculous; and no one tried to engage them in conversation.
“Well,” Nancy decided after a few, fruitless minutes of this, “I suppose we’re going to have to find the premier on our own.”
Alfred nodded, feeling a little confused. He remembered Li’s astonishment and delight at being on Earth, and his insatiable curiosity about humans. He’d supposed it might be a little more universal than it seemed to be in the moment.
She pointed to a great, towering building in the center of the city, standing well above the others. “I suppose we should start with the giant glass palace?”
He smiled. “Couldn’t hurt.”
So they set out toward the center of the city, a little bit like Moses parting the Red Sea: everywhere they went, people drew away and opened up a path for them. A few Geejays skimmed past on hoverboards, doing doubletakes at the sight. One poor alien was so startled they fell off the board. But in an instant, they scrambled back up again and raced off.
In truth, the whole business was a little unsettling to the taxman. He’d expected to feel alien, of course. To the Geejays, he was an alien. But he hadn’t counted on being treated like an old-fashioned leper, either. He could half imagine these strange people calling out in their musical voices in that alien language, “Unclean. Unclean. Unclean.”
He knew he was being a little dramatic. Still, it unsettled him. Now Nance took his hand. “Most of them have probably never seen a human before,” she reasoned.
They kept walking. The great glass palace seemed to grow in size, stretching up higher and more impressive. Sunlight glinted off every curve and spire. That must be, Alfred decided, where the premier lived. It was easily the grandest building in the city.
Then a voice in accented but intelligible English asked, “Alfred Favero? Nancy Abbot?”
They spun in unison to face the speaker, and the motion seemed to startle the alien. They were a tall Geejay, even among their tall race, with bright violet eyes – and wearing a far brighter lime green jumpsuit.
“That’s right,” Nancy said excitedly. “How do you know our names?”
The other being rolled their shoulders in a fluid, undulating way – a shrug, Alfred thought. “Any school child knows your names. But – surely, you cannot still be alive?”
Their new acquaintance, they learned, was called Skri Kudar, and they worked in the area. Skri had been returning home, but now devoted themselves to being as obliging as possible. The building they sought, the alien told them, was not the great glass palace. “That is the university and ministry of science building. The premier lives just west of it. I can show you the way.”
Which they did, peppering the pair with questions as they went. Alfred tried to strike a balance between obliging their guide, and figuring out what in tarnation was going on. What he managed to glean surprised him rather a good deal.
Though Alfred had only parted ways with the alien a year or so ago in his own timeline, Li Muldan’s return had happened some decades earlier in the Geejayan timeline. Their report on the earth governments had been celebrated, but not so much as his research and findings on human social norms. And here, the alien’s time with Alfred and Nancy had been commemorated. “Every school child knows your names,” the alien repeated. “And your stories.
“I still do not understand how you can be alive. Is not your life span limited to about a hundred years?”
Here, Alfred had the unpleasant duty of relaying something of their circumstance. He wasn’t sure this clarified matters for Skri, or only confused the other being further. Still, they nodded. “I have heard theories of such things. And I suppose there can be no other explanation.”
He hadn’t anticipated such an easy reception of the news of time travel. His own struggle to accept it had been considerably more difficult than that. But, he recalled his impressions of Li Muldan’s trusting and guileless nature, and it made sense. The Geejays seemed, if not unacquainted with the concept of deception, at least unused to being deceived.
So rather than assuming Alfred was lying or mad, Skri just bobbed their head and accepted that however strange it seemed, it was still true.
“I suppose you will have come to see Li?”
“Yes,” the taxman admitted. “And the premier. But we do need to speak to Li first. I don’t suppose you know where we can find them?”
“On the contrary, we are headed to them already.”
“But…I thought we w
ere going to see the premier?”
“Indeed. But Li Muldan is advisor on alien affairs to the premier, and a relative besides. They live in the palace.”
“Oh.” The taxman had to appreciate the simplicity of such a neat solution. “Well, that’s perfect.”
“Indeed.” They drew up before a modest building. It was big for a house, with several distinct wings; but decidedly small for a palace. “Here we are. It has been my pleasure and honor to escort you, Alfred Favero and Nancy Abbot.” The alien smiled until the violets of their eyes completely disappeared under blue skin.
“You’re…you’re certain this is the right place?”
“Of course. This is the home of the premier, and of Li Muldan.”
“Ah.”
Nancy thanked Skri, and told them it had been a pleasure to make their acquaintance. The alien beamed again, assuring them, “The pleasure is mine.”
Then, bobbing their head in a final gesture of farewell, they ambled off down the mossy street. Nancy turned to Alfred. “Well…should we knock?”
Alfred didn’t know. Did you knock on Geejayan doors? Was there some manner of doorbell, or comm system? Or could you only approach with an invitation? He said in a moment, “I don’t know. Let’s…let’s see if we see anyone inside.”
Nance nodded, and the pair headed to the door. Like the rest of the building, it was made entirely of glass. Alfred didn’t even see a door handle. Indeed, the only reason they knew it was a door at all, and not just another glass panel, was that the moss path ended at it; and it made no sense to build a walk into a wall. He wondered, vaguely, as they approached about fingerprints on a building made entirely out of glass, and what a nightmare that would be for the custodians.
They reached the door, and Nancy leaned forward to peer inside, past the glare of the sun’s reflection. But the door swished open before them.
They exchanged glances. “Do we…go in?”
The taxman shrugged. “I guess.” He figured the automatic door probably solved the fingerprint problem. Nobody had to put their greasy mitts on the glass if it opened automatically. But, more importantly, it meant that the palace’s doors were open to the public, figuratively as well as literally. At least, he hoped so. He hoped they wouldn’t be carted off for trespassing the instant they stepped foot into the building.
His hopes proved accurate. No one swarmed them. On the contrary, no one seemed to notice them at all for a good minute. So they stood awkwardly in a large, glass vestibule, unsure of what to do next. Did they seek someone out? Did they stay put? Was someone already on their way to greet them?
The approach of a purple jumpsuit clad figure put their questions to rest. The Geejay carried a potted plant and was talking to it. Alfred couldn’t understand the words, but he did recognize the tones: low and comforting. Their attention was wholly focused on the plant, and oblivious to Alfred and Nancy until they were a few steps away. Then, catching sight of the pair, the alien drew up suddenly and gasped. “Goodness gracious,” they said in passably good English. “Humans? How curious.”
“We’re…we’re here to see Li Muldan,” Alfred ventured.
“Oh, of course.” Then, the Geejay seemed to take his meaning. “Oh! I suppose you need someone to tell them you’re here? Well, I’m not a member of the household. I’m the plant doctor. But I will call someone for you. Wait right there, will you?”
The taxman nodded. He really didn’t have any intention of doing anything else, until someone gave him the go ahead.
The Geejay, meanwhile, ambled over to a wall panel – a little bit of metal, fastened to the glass. They tapped a button and spoke in the same alien language. Then, turning, they asked, “What were your names? I’m so sorry, I missed that.”
“Alfred Favero and Nancy Abbot.”
The alien turned back and started to repeat the names, then stopped short. “The Alfred and Nancy?”
“I…guess?”
“I say, how remarkable. I thought you looked familiar. But how is that possible?” Then, a voice on the other end of the panel asked something, and the plant doctor flushed a purplish blue and turned their attention back to the speaker.
In a moment, they wrapped up, expressing again how remarkable the business was, and assuring the pair that someone would be down directly. “Do have a wonderful day. It’s been a pleasure.”
The plant doctor hurried off with the patient in tow, and Alfred and Nancy waited another minute. Then, footsteps sounded from the far hall. A Geejayan elder stepped into view, a little stooped with age. The mottled blues of their skin had started to fade, and they walked with a cane.
But Alfred would have recognized that smiling face anywhere. “Ambassador Muldan.”
Chapter Six
The alien ambled over to the pair, beaming with such joy that their eyes all but vanished into narrow slits. “My dear, dear friends. Oh my word, I do not know how such a miracle is possible. But what a joy; what an absolute delight it is to see you after so many years.”
Li embraced Alfred and then Nancy. Then, came the questions. “But how is this possible? When last I visited your earth, you had been dead – oh, some fifty years. I spoke with your granddaughter.”
“Wait, we have grandkids?” Nance asked.
“Of course. Many grandchildren, and children too. I had the pleasure of meeting them all.”
“Them all? You mean, we had more than one kid?”
Li regarded them both curiously. “Of course. How can you not know this?”
“It’s complicated,” Alfred said. “But kids, you say?” He and Nance had talked about it, of course, but they’d never made any firm plans.
“Indeed. I met your daughter Francesca on my first return to Earth, and then your –”
“Don’t tell us,” Nancy interrupted. “We haven’t got that far, Li. That’s – that’s our future still.”
“I do not understand.”
Alfred probably should have focused on explanations. But in the moment, his attention had been drawn by something else entirely. He scrunched up his nose. “Francesca? Are you sure?”
Li regarded him curiously. “Of course.”
“Why?” He didn’t expect the alien to know, of course. But, still, he couldn’t imagine naming a child of his that. To judge by the way Nancy was nodding along, he guessed it wasn’t on her top ten list either. It sounded like something straight out of a history book. It sounded like something his mom would pick. Which he remarked.
“Oh no,” Nancy said. “She’s not going to be that kind of mother-in-law, is she?”
“Of course not.” Then, he considered. “I mean, not for lack of trying. But there’s a reason I live in a different state.”
Li, meanwhile, seemed to be stuck at the question of why. “Well, I…I suppose I don’t know, really. I believe, though, it was to honor your grandmother after she passed away.”
Alfred felt his jaw drop. “Nana’s dead?”
“Well, you’re all dead, Alfred. Which – and I hope you will pardon me for my curtness – compels me to insist on some manner of explanation. When last I was on Earth, you and Nancy both had passed away. I visited your graves. So – though I am delighted to see you – I must know how you are still alive.”
Which, of course, meant that Alfred could put off explanations no longer. So he dove straight into the tale – all of it, including Winthrop and the IBTI and the clumsy Robert who started the entire mess.
Li listened with obvious consternation, saying, once Alfred had concluded, “I do not understand why you are involved with such fools, my friend.”
“Believe me,” the taxman said, “I’ve asked myself the same question.”
“Their crimes of negligence are unforgiveable. The premier has banished them from our world.”
“I know. Well, I didn’t about the banishment.” That had been a detail the Englishman had only hinted at. “But I did know your premier doesn’t want to work with them. But if we don’t work together, Li
, all life across all universes in the multiverse will cease to be.”
Li’s brow puckered. “Are you certain?”
“As certain as we can be,” Nancy said. “We would never lie to you, Li. You know that.”
“I do,” the alien confirmed. “And your intelligence is troubling indeed. We know something about this rift of which you speak, about its composition and a little about its origin. But we do not – could not – know the impact on the multiverse. You say we are the last in all the multiverse to remain free?”
Alfred nodded, adding, “Although, I’m not sure how there can be an end to infinity. If there’s an infinite number of universes, how can we be down to just one?”
“An infinity of universes has been corrupted,” Li said. “If this theory is accurate, at least.”
“But how can infinity ever end?”
“It doesn’t.”
Alfred didn’t follow. As near as he could tell, infinite meant without end; but saying there was only one left meant that at some point, infinity had ended.
Li seemed to sense his confusion. “Infinity is – well, not an easy concept for the human brain to comprehend. Your species is very…how do you say it? Black and white on such matters. It is or isn’t. Zero or one, yes or no, true or false.” Now, both the taxman and Nancy nodded. “The universe – the multiverse – is more complex than that.
“There are infinite worlds, and infinite experiences. And yet, you exist, do you not?”
“Of course.”
“Exactly. You are but one of an infinite number. Your existence does not invalidate the existence of an infinity of others. And yet, you continue to function as a unique individual. So it is with our universe.
“There is an infinity already consumed. And yet, we continue to exist as one. Distinct, and not; alone, but among many.”
Alfred felt more confused than he’d started, so he decided to let the point drop. “As long as it makes sense to you, Ambassador.”
