by Ali Raker
Chapter 3
We arrive in the lobby of the apartment looking like two refugees from a natural disaster. The concierge looks up from his control station and frowns, but then brightens up when I step closer and he recognizes me.
“Miss Andorra, welcome home. You look frightful. Did something happen?”
I wave dismissively. “No Belagio, I’m fine. Me and my friend just had a bad slide down an embankment. We just need to clean up.”
He smiles mildly. “I understand Miss Andorra. Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“Sure thing. Order him a new suit, mid-grade, along with some sushi.”
“Very good. Celebrating tonight, I see.”
I smile and drag the kid into the elevator. Once inside, the giant circular space seems to fascinate him, along with the 3D adverts running along periphery of the wall. He touches his fingers to the extruded forms in wonder, pressing against the polysilicate. He looks like a confused child. We get off on my floor and enter my apartment. Once inside, he seems to deflate.
“What, you don’t like it? Not fancy enough?” I ask him, annoyed.
“After that elevator ride, I was expecting more… I don’t know what’s the word.”
“Futuristic?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Well, what can I say. My apartment is just an apartment. But that whole wall does turn into a giant 3D display.”
He looks at the wall with renewed interest. “Really? Cool. Show me!”
“Are you crazy? A whole wall in 3D?” I shake my head, “You think I’m made of money?”
He deflates again. “Dammit. It would have been so cool.”
I shrug. “Whatever. Listen, the clothes will be here in 20 minutes. Let’s take turns in the shower and get warmed up.”
A few minutes later we’re both clean and warm, sitting in the living room in bathrobes, sipping kif and staring silently out the window. The rain’s started again and the wind is pushing sheets of rain against the thick glass, making crazy whirls and eddies. Since I’d been a child I’d hardly ever seen weather like this. Perhaps the presence of the kid is affecting the weather somehow.
“How’s the kif?” I ask.
He looks up at me with eyes half closed, jaws slack. He’s ready to pass out. “Never had anything like it. It’s like a combination of cinnamon, honey and bourbon. But it’s not alcoholic though. Tastes fantastic, whatever it is.”
I smile but don’t really know what to say. I’d never heard of any of that stuff. Sometimes I think he’s making some of it up. I mean a world without kif… How can people function?
“Kid, what’s your name?” I ask.
“It’s James. James Harris. What’s yours?”
“Siobhan Andorra. My friends just call me Si though.”
“Nice to meet you Si…” He says in a half mumble and his head lolls to the side. Within moments he’s snoring softly.
A little while later his suit and sushi arrive with the bill. I pay the delivery girl two hundred dollars and cringe at the status of my account. Although I have some savings, my monthly budget is in complete disarray. My checking account has seventy bucks left in it, my saving a few thousand. I shrug internally. I survived the freak, saved the kid and got back home without as much as a scratch. I’ll survive a month of freeze dried biscuits and nutri-paste. I sigh as I place the package next to the kid and then shuffle off to the bedroom. I’m asleep by the time my head hits the pillows.
I wake to the sound of Twiggie’s security buzzer going off. My head’s pounding and I’m sore from head to toe, but half a decade of early starts has me trained good. Without thinking I blink the sleep out of my eyes and sit up.
“Siobhan, someone is attempting to override security at the front door.”
“What? Um… Show me.” I say.
The digidura’s screen lights up and it shows the hallway. A blonde woman in a gray two piece suit is standing outside my door, furiously punching away at the control panel. I can’t see her face because she’s bent over her digidura. The device is active, the persona’s avatar talking inaudibly to the frustrated woman. As I watch she continues to punch away at the door for several moments, then throws her hand up in the air in frustration. In doing so, she looks up at the camera.
The blood freezes in my veins. The blonde woman has my face. She is me. I swallow hard and feel my heart begin to thump wildly. Suddenly it dawns on me that I may not have succeeded in making it back home with the kid.
“Twiggy. How long can you keep her out?”
“As she is not a registered resident of this domicile, indefinitely.”
“What if she is a registered resident?”
“If you are trespassing, LE will apprehend you and take you into custody within the next half hour.”
“But what if we’re both residents?”
“The cohabitation clause of the…”
“No Twiggy,” I interrupt, “What if we’re both assigned this domicile by mistake? What then?”
Twiggy is silent for a moment. Then, “In the unlikely event that the Intellect has made such an error, a barrister will be required to intervene. The process may take days and even weeks depending on the particulars of the case.”
“What about now? Can I keep her out right now?”
“Only until LE arrives. They will undoubtedly unlock the security override and gain access to the domicile, although it is unlikely that you will be detained until a barrister has reviewed the case. In the interim LE will interview you, as well as the second party. Once the situation is assessed, temporary quarters will be assigned to both parties until final adjudication.”
I think for a moment. Obviously that woman is me. Which means that I really, irrefutably did travel between dimensions. And while it’s nice to have some concrete evidence that the kid sleeping on my couch is not a psychopath, there are also problems. Sooner or later LE will figure out something weird is going on, seeing as me and my twin are probably exactly the same, right down to our DNA. And we will definitely not want to be around for that round of questioning.
“Hey kid! Kid, get your ass dressed. We’ve got trouble.”
I rush out to the living room just as the kid bolts upright. He looks around in panic but calms down when he sees me. I point to the box next to him. “Put on the suit and shoes and eat as much sushi as you can in the next five minutes. We’ll need to get out of here in a hurry.”
“What happened?” He asks.
“A duplicate of myself just showed up at the front door. She’s trying to get in. It looks like we’re not back in my dimension.”
“Shit.” He says. I agree with him wholeheartedly.
“Twiggy, let me know if anything happens outside.”
“Yes ma’am.” Twiggy replies.
I rush into my walk in closet and survey my clothing. Everything on the hangers is basically the same. Formal wear for work. Suits. Cocktail dresses. Fancy swimming suits. Even a feathered formal dress with angelic wings, for Athena’s sake. My lips curl down in disgust. I can’t believe how useless all this is suddenly. I own nothing practical. Never had to in a city where the biggest danger is getting wired from too much kif or missing a deadline.
Eventually I do dig up something useful from a cubby hole in the corner. It’s some running shoes and a waterproof synthetic jogging suit. I grab my gym bag and throw a second set of clothes in there along with underwear and a thick winter jacket. I then rush into the kitchen and raid my cabinets for freeze dried biscuits and nutri-paste. I also find a few cans of beans which I hate but take anyway. I throw a can opener and safety knife into the bag, along with some matches and a first aid kit.
By the time I’m done, the kid’s dressed. He looks good in the suit. He’s staring at me expectantly as he stuffs sushi into his mouth. After a moment his gaze slides to my shoes. He laughs. “My god, what kind of tennis shoes are those?”
I look down. What’s a tennis shoe? There’s nothing wrong with the
shoes. “They’re normal running shoes.” I say diffidently.
He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen square running shoes.”
“Well, you’re wearing square dress shoes. How do you explain them?”
He looks at his own footwear. “I can’t. Although they’re nowhere as strange as square toed running shoes.”
I shrug. “Let’s talk about this at another time kid. We need to get out of here before LE shows up.”
As if on cue, Twiggy chimes in, “Siobhan, the person attempting to gain access to this apartment has departed.”
“That’s our chance kid. Let’s get out of here while the going’s good.”
He nods and follows me out the door and down to the end of the hall. Instead of the elevator we take the stairs so as to avoid any chance of running into my duplicate. It takes twenty minutes to climb down to the lobby. We open the stair doors just to see the concierge, my duplicate and two LE officers enter the elevator. The door closes on them and the lobby remains empty. I sigh with relief and we make it onto the street without problems. My relief is short lived because as soon as we’re outside, the rain drenches us completely. It’s coming down something fierce.
“So what now?” The kid asks.
I look at him. His suit is dripping wet, completely ruined after just a few seconds in the downpour. “We need to get some better clothes or we’ll both get sick.”
“Know of any good sporting goods stores?” He asks.
That’s it! I think to myself, I’m such an idiot!. “Of course, great idea.” I reply with a big grin. “Follow me.”
We jog down the street for a few minutes in silence. There is a large mall a few blocks away, we should be there in a few minutes. As we run, the kid watches the street intently.
“Hey Si, there’s something I just don’t get. Why don’t you have any cars or traffic. Even during the day, I saw maybe two cars altogether. They were both the size of boats and looked like they’re from the 1950s.”
I nod emphatically. “Yeah, that makes sense. There was a huge fad in automobile manufacturing during the first part of the 20th century, but it quickly ran out of steam. The computer revolution was well on its way by the 1920s and entire factories were being converted from human labor to robotic manufacturing. Cars were too complex for the early generation robots to assemble, so manufacturing became cost prohibitive. After that, even though corporations throughout the world built up their roadways, cars went out of fashion. Only the rich have them today, and even they don’t bother with them much anymore. Like most people, they just get on a train or, for longer trips, a scramjet.”
He seems taken aback by that. “But how do people get around? Go shopping? Vacation?”
I shake my head. “Ever since the latest Journeyman laws were introduced, travel has pretty much dropped to zero. Since all resources are equally available throughout the planet, there is no need to travel anywhere. Vacation, as I’ve mentioned, is done by scramjet or train.”
“So what are these Journeyman laws?” He asks.
I wave dismissively, “That’s a long conversation kid. Basically they’re what replaced the colonial government, over two hundred years ago. The original 13 colonies were united by executive charter and the entire North American continent followed suit.”
“So you’re saying that the world is run by corporations.” He says. “Why?”
“Because,” I reply, “Corporations don’t wage wars.”
The kid seems satisfied by that answer because he doesn’t ask any more questions. Meanwhile, I’m left wondering about where the kid’s from. From his question it seems pretty obvious that he’s from a colonial universe. I repress a shiver, thinking about the horrors of living in a world that knows war on the scales that the French and English fought before the Journeyman laws.
We arrive at the fifty story mall and the kid follows me inside. He gapes in sheer amazement as we file past the electronics section, pointing to things and asking their uses.
“Si, what are those?” He asks me, pointing to a row of high end digiduras.
“Those are very expensive digiduras. They’re for rich people who don’t know what to do with their money.”
“Really? So they’re better than yours?”
I shrug. “They can do more things, work as different kinds of tools. They have a bigger viral load so they can run without a charge for years.”
The kids eyes go wide. “There’s viruses inside that thing?”
“Sure kid. How else could we keep it so small?”
He considers that for a moment, looking thoughtful. “So, those expensive ones, what can they do?”
“Mostly they have a longer charge, but they can also perform more calculations and store more data. This means a more intelligent persona along with an expanded skill set. Some digiduras can even do stock trades and limited probability runs by themselves.”
“Oh.” He says, clearly disappointed. “What about that over there?” He points to a squat ChefMate.
“That’s an automatic kitchen. You buy packets of prime paste and place it inside the machine. When you want food, it prepares the contents into a complete meal within seconds. From what I’m told they taste like the real thing. Chicken, fish, beef; it all tastes good.”
“What about that?” He points to a ten foot tall and forty foot diameter cylinder.
“That’s an indoor diving pool. It can simulate a diving environment of up to 1,000 feet.”
“Who the heck needs that?” He asks perplexed.
“Exactly.” I reply. But before he can point to the next thing, I grab him by his sleeve and pull him out of there. We make it up the third level and find the sporting goods section where we find a veritable sea of hunting, hiking and survival gear.
“Go find yourself some all-weather clothes. I’ll do the same.” It takes a good hour to get everything we need. We end up walking out of the mall with two sets of clothes each, along with a large hiking pack and a week’s supply of passably edible freeze dried food. I also purchase a wrist chronometer with built in compass. I stand in front of the gun cabinets for a long minute, appraising the pros and cons of purchasing an electron gun. While it would be nice to have the stopping power of 50,000 rounds of high kinetic projectiles, I wasn’t so sure how legal these things would be to carry in alternate dimensions. Eventually I decide against it. So far the freak is the worst thing I’d run into, and with him this gun would have made things worse, not better. After everything is said and done, my savings is down to almost nothing. When the kid sees the bill, he frowns.
“Two grand for some clothes and food? That’s ridiculous.”
I find myself in agreement. “Tell me about it. Why, how much would this cost you back home?”
He thinks for a moment. “About four hundred at the most. The pack would probably be the most expensive item, at maybe two hundred bucks. But then again, everything here is very high quality. It probably wouldn’t be nearly as good.”
The new clothes and boots make all the difference in the foul weather. I hardly notice the driving rain or the deepening chill of the night. The kid is walking along next to me as we make our way down Osiris, looking less miserable as well.
“Okay kid, I need to figure out what the heck is going on with us. Tell me the whole story from the beginning.”
“Okay,” He says but then falls quiet. I guess he’s trying to find a good way to begin the story. After a moment he starts. “I guess it happened two days ago on the night of my graduation party.”
“What’s a graduation party?” I interrupt.
He sighs. “It’s not a tradition or anything. I just had a get together to celebrate graduation from NYU.”
“Graduate?” I ask, confused. The word as I know it is used to describe the completion of a cycle. I can’t grasp the context he’s using it in.
“Graduate. As in get my diploma from a university.”
“University…” I roll the foreign word along my tongue, findi
ng it deliciously anachronistic.
He throws his hands up in frustration. “Don’t you have schools here?”
I finally make the connection. “Sure! We call them technicals. Children start out at around six or seven years old and spend five years on fundamentals, five on generals and five on technicals. Once that’s done they go to work for the corporations and continue with what we refer to as the civics. Civics can last the rest of your life or you can move beyond them into areas like law and civility or the sciences.”
“Okay,” He says gesturing with his hands, “Think of it as a celebration of completing technicals.”
“So this NYU…”
“It’s the place where you get your technicals.”
I’m about to ask another question but he holds up a finger. “Let’s not get sidetracked, I was telling you a story.”
I close my mouth and let him continue.
“So anyway, I was celebrating my graduation from NYU when this thing happened. I was with a bunch of friends back at my flat, drinking my ass off and blowing off steam. I remember taking shots of Vodka and Tequila and then blacking out from all of the alcohol. I’m not sure what happened after that. I remember a few flashes here and there, but nothing clear. I’m pretty sure I threw up in the tub and I may or may not have urinated in a potted plant.”
At that point he glances over at me, expecting me to be outraged. I keep my face blank, remembering my own youth. Can’t say I commend him for it, but I get it. I motion him to continue.
“So anyway, I must have gone down the stairs and into the alley at some point. I do that sometimes if I drink too much, the crowds get to be too much and I just kind of wander off. So yeah, I woke up a few hours later with an incredible headache, sleeping next to a bunch of garbage cans and smelling like a bottle of rum.
“I was about to stumble back to the apartment when some crazy guy on a motorcycle blasted past me, knocking me right back into the garbage cans. But instead of slowing down to see if I’m okay, he just kept going. Well, that kind of pissed me off so the next thing I know, I’d hurled an empty beer bottle after him. I didn’t think it’d hit him, just scare him a little. But to my surprise I got him dead center in the back, whacking him so good that he went down with the bike. He must have slid like twenty feet.
“I picked myself out of the garbage and realized that the dude’s not getting up. Now that scared me pretty good, thinking that I’d just killed somebody. I headed right over to see if the dude was bleeding or something. But before I even made it halfway, the creepy bastard jumped to his feet like some kind of damned gymnast. Then he pulled this wicked looking knife from under that trench coat and flashed it in the streetlight, making couple of swipes with it, you know, to scare me. Well, that was more than enough for me. I took off, booking it back to my flat. But the street was no longer there. I kept running down the alley for what seemed like minutes, long past when I should have made it to the road, but I never reached it. After a bit I realized that I was lost. I looked behind me to see if the dude was still chasing me, but he was gone too.
“You can imagine the rest. I spent the next day and a half running from one set of alleyways to another. Sometimes I would find main roads but the buildings would look freaky; either enormous, stretching miles into the sky, or they’d be full of Roman columns and weird statues. Sometimes when people saw me, they’d start yelling and the local police would chase me. Of course they could never catch me, I’d just duck into an alley and get away. By the way, that’s how I learned that little trick with finding alleyways.”
With that the kid goes silent.
“That’s it?” I ask, surprised with the brevity of his explanation.
“Yep, that’s it in a nut shell.” He replies with one of those quirky little turns of the tongue.
“So whenever these people chased you, they didn’t follow you into the ‘paths’ as you call it.”
He shakes his head, “No. Never. You were the first. When I met you, it was the first time I’d ever hit a dead end.”
“So then with all that going on, why the heck did you try to steal my digidura?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.
“Uh… Well, because it was so cool. I mean more than just cool. If I ever managed to get back to my dimension, I could have made a fortune reverse engineering that thing.”
I’m not surprised, I would have done the same. Although corporate would probably have pushed me straight into R&D, which is not the ideal career path, it would have allowed me to end up just as successful as I’d planned but decades ahead of schedule. Rejuv at 25 only happens in movies, but I’m pretty sure that I could have swung it with a major new piece of tech.
“Well James Harris, it’s good that you met me then, because I can get you home.”
He stops dead in his tracks and stares at me. We’re standing on the corner of Osiris and Prometheus, a busy cross section even at midnight. Several pedestrians bump into him, murmuring curses and throwing angry glances his way. He ignores them, eyes narrowing in that strange but not altogether unattractive way.
When I remain silent, he motions with his hands. “Well spill it, how do I get home?”
I give him my best boardroom smile. “If I tell you, what will I get?”
His eyes narrow further and he scans me appraisingly. “What do you want?”
I think for a moment. The idea, it’d just hit me as he was talking. A spark really, nothing concrete. But I like to think that I’m one of the most successful analysts at DIA. And I’m fast on my feet. I could hash out the details later, but for now I had a spark.
“I want to partner with you.” I reply.
“Partner? What for?” He asks.
“Ah!” I assay with my smile broadening into a grin, “Inter-dimensional trade of course.”
