by Wendy Devore
The pickup sped past the last of the commuters and Amir took the sharp turn onto the unmarked dirt road, and we were headed at last into the hills.
Amir took a sharp right onto a dirt road and fishtailed as he abruptly slowed the truck to a crawl.
As we bumped over the potholes, Amir expertly guided the wheel but gave me a long, hard look. He broke into a wry grin and shrugged. “Where else can I do work that literally changes the world?”
I thought back to the déjà vu, the tiny differences that impacted our world when a slice collapsed. “It doesn’t seem like much of a change to me.”
Amir cast a sidelong glance my way. “You’d be surprised.”
My stomach dropped as Amir deftly wedged the pickup between six other identical vehicles in the garage. I was sure it wasn’t Amir’s breakneck driving that was the cause. I was silent as he badged us into the hallway.
Amir whirled around, walking backward. “Hey, you wanna see something?” His expression was conspiratorial.
“Uh, sure,” I reluctantly agreed. The thought of confronting Andrew filled me with dread, and I was eager to do anything that would help me avoid the lab.
“Follow me,” Amir instructed, leading the way through a series of unfamiliar corridors. Another series of turns down similarly indistinct and dimly lit hallways led to a wide, heavy, windowless door. Amir badged in and motioned for me to follow.
We walked into an expansive room, about twenty-five feet by fifteen feet. The ceiling was high, at least ten feet tall. Several of the sections of the wall were missing on one side, and on the opposite side, I could see the glass panels of a control room. A team of at least ten contractors was busy at work, installing huge sheets of galvanized steel.
“Welcome to your shiny new fMRI suite,” Amir revealed, throwing his arms wide.
I furrowed my brow. “Already? It usually takes months of planning to get an fMRI installed.”
“The contractors are making record time installing the RF shielding, which is convenient because your machine will arrive in three days. Breckinridge may be a slave driver, but he’s an even bigger pain in the ass to his vendors than he is to his employees.”
I glanced around the room again, feeling both giddy anticipation and lingering dread. We’d have the best tool there is for brain imaging, short of probes wired directly into my skull. I might finally be able to get some answers. The foreman, perched on top of a tall ladder, lowered his power drill, nodded toward Amir, and tapped his watch impatiently.
“We should let these guys finish,” Amir suggested, motioning to the door. “You have a freakin’ gnarly project to tackle, too. Time’s a-wasting!”
I reluctantly followed Amir to the Bug lab but was relieved when I discovered that Andrew was nowhere to be seen.
“Time to suit up,” Amir prompted, heading toward the sensor rack and dropping a single electrode cap into a bucket of saline solution to soak.
“Where is he?” I asked nervously.
Amir shrugged. “Andrew? I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. But that hardly matters. What we need from you are sustained, accurate, intentional exits. So let’s get you back on that horse,” he suggested cheerfully, unlocking the cabinet where the Bug was stored and extracting it from its drawer.
“I’m going by myself?” I asked hopefully. The longer I could avoid my boss, the better.
“Well, I’m not going,” Amir replied with a sidelong glance toward the Bug. “The one time I let that thing touch me, the entire left side of my body was paralyzed for a week. You’re not freaked out, are you?”
I vigorously shook my head, but then a series of troubling thoughts tumbled through my mind. Should I be freaked out? What if I landed someplace horrible? What if I found myself in some grisly hellscape, like one of my nightmares? Without knowing whether I could escape?
Amir took one look at me and grinned. “You’re freaked. No worries, Kate. I’m not going to send you to the Twilight Zone. You’ll hit another version of this room, guaranteed. Nothing to worry about.”
With a sigh, I found the bottle of anti-nausea meds and popped one. I glanced at the back of my left hand, where the welt from previous Bug experiences was just beginning to heal. I suspected that my time at Albaion would leave me scarred for life, both literally and figuratively.
I yanked the elastic from my hair and shook out the messy bun. Amir helped me position the electrodes of the EEG cap, and I snapped it firmly under my chin.
“I’m going to configure this baby to put you slightly farther out. Not much farther; it should give you about an hour to work with. You’ll still collapse naturally if your bail doesn’t fly. You think that’ll be enough time?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
Amir positioned the bug and I closed my eyes. The painful stab and lurching in my gut was actually starting to feel familiar, which in itself was disturbing. I opened my eyes to a lab that was painted robin’s-egg blue. Amir was tapping away at his keyboard.
“Uh, hey, Amir….”
“Oh, hi, Kate,” he responded, without raising his eyes from his screen. Apparently it wasn’t unusual for people to randomly appear in his workspace in this slice, either. “Did you just badge in or did you come through the back door?”
I looked around, searching for another entrance. “Uh, the back door?”
“So literal. I know you. You know the Bug. We’re all good here.” He chuckled. He swiveled around in his chair, and his impish grin was familiar and comforting, though his T-shirt was a new one: “Eat. Sleep. Code.”
“How many ironic programming shirts do you have, anyway?”
Amir snorted. “Dude, there are an infinite number of universes.”
I spent the next hour meditating in an attempt to generate an intentional exit, but the slice collapsed without any success.
“Are you ready to go again?” Amir asked.
I could tell he was trying hard to contain his disappointment. I took a pained breath and closed my eyes. I knew that I was the reason that the project was on hold. My whole body was tense; I reminded myself to try to relax.
“Any chance you would make me a coffee? I could use a break.”
“Sure.” He stretched and left the lab, his flip-flops echoing against the concrete floor of the hall.
I unlatched the chin strap on the EEG cap and untangled the probes from my hair. I was trying to rub out the tight knots in my shoulders when I experienced the truly bizarre sensation of hearing my own voice ask, “Kate?” I looked up and came face-to-face with myself. Same long, auburn hair; same eyes. Same sneakers. My eyes as big as saucers, I waited for the migraine to kick in, and to find myself snapped back. Then I remembered I already was back.
“Uh, hi,” she said warily. She kept her distance. “I figured this would happen eventually, but this is weird. I mean, really weird.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely loony bin material,” I agreed, purposefully looking away. It was extremely unnerving to look at her; as cringe-worthy as watching videos of myself, but ten times worse. “Are you all right? The first time this happened to me, the headache was pretty extreme.” I glanced nervously around the room, wondering what would happen if Amir returned to two of me.
“I’m fine, but I’m just going to sit…”
She lowered herself carefully into Andrew’s usual leather chair.
“Is there some protocol for talking to yourself? Are we going to cause the collapse of the space-time continuum or anything?” I asked, eying the doorway again. Now I was almost hoping for an interruption. Anything to make this less weird.
She laughed nervously, averting her eyes. Clearly this was as disconcerting for her as it was for me. “I don’t think so. The guys tell me it has happened to Andrew a few times, with no ill effects.”
“That’s a relief.” I snuck a look at her. Why was it so unbelievably strange to have a conversation with myself? Even the sound of my own voice seemed foreign.
She caught my eye and l
ooked away, too. “Andrew says this freaks us out because human features are not exactly symmetrical, and we’re finely attuned to our mirror image. The change in perspective is slight, but our brains have an extremely hard time dealing with the difference, however small.”
My breath caught in my throat. Could she read my mind, too? She was right, though. She was exactly like me, but…not.
“So…I guess you know about the Bug?”
“Obviously,” she replied, grimacing.
“You don’t happen to know how to intentionally exit one of these little trips, do you?” Would I find I was envious of myself if she had already managed to solve the problem?
“Damn, I was going to ask you the same thing. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but nothing works. Have you ever actually managed it?”
“Once. Completely by accident,” I said.
“Really? How did you do it?”
I scowled and clenched my fist; but the phantom twinge of pain I felt was nothing more than a memory of yesterday’s assault. “Well, Andrew stabbed me. With a pair of scissors.”
She gasped and covered her mouth. “Are you serious? He did that?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Thankfully the injury didn’t carry back over to my native slice, but basically I never want to see that asshole again.”
She looked troubled. “I can’t believe he actually hurt you.”
“Well, he did. Damned thing, though, is that it worked. I keep trying to meditate my way out of this, but nothing works. I’m so frustrated.”
“Do you think it’s the trauma that got you out? That’s how it works with the dreams, right?”
“You make a good point,” I agreed, still finding it disorienting to look at her as we spoke.
“Do you think you should…”
“Oh, come on!” I protested. “Please don’t ask me to stab you. That can’t be the right answer. I can’t do this if I have to intentionally injure myself every time I need to get back to reality.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be assault,” she suggested, “at least not per se. Did you know there’s a workout room in this place? Maybe you just really need some other kind of pain?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, there is a prototype for a virtual reality rig there that you really should try. The graphics are actually pretty realistic, and I’m guessing you also share my fear of heights?”
I tilted my head thoughtfully, about to ask another question, when she disappeared. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes; it was incredibly unsettling to blink and find that a person you’d just been speaking to had vanished.
Amir badged in carrying a steaming cappuccino.
“Kate, you look pasty. Everything okay?”
I reached for the coffee and inhaled its comforting, bitter aroma. “Yeah,” I said, closing my eyes and sipping the strong brew. “I’m fine. I’ll finish this and then I can go again.”
When I opened my eyes for my second reality-bending experience of the day, I awoke to an empty room. This time I was ready. I ditched the lab, headed down the hall, and rounded the corner. I found it just beyond to the dormitory wing. The gym was minimalist but well appointed, just like the rest of the facility. Several treadmills, elliptical machines, and spin bikes lined one wall but sat completely unused, which was not surprising considering this enterprise was staffed by workaholics. Free weights sat in one corner, and the opposite corner housed a man-size punching bag suspended over a padded floor. In the far corner sat a pretty basic-looking exercise bike next to an imposing-looking headset wired to a state-of-the-art computer tower. With a shrug, I mounted the bike, pulled on the headset, and prepared to feel the burn.
It wasn’t difficult to get the simulation started, and the faster I pedaled the bike, the more rapidly I flew across the virtual countryside. I was panting and soaked in sweat, but I finally finished my level and was presented with some options for round two. Of all the choices, the simulation that looked the most intimidating involved riding the bike as if it were a zip line course. I gulped, selected the route, and pedaled with all my might.
I spent a terrifying and vertigo-inducing forty-five minutes fearing I would plunge to my death at any moment. Then, one minute I was pedaling for my life, and the next I was sitting in the black leather chair, panting, still strapped into the uncomfortable EEG cap.
“You okay?” Amir called as he tapped a few final keystrokes and sauntered over.
I noticed that I wasn’t at all sweaty, and that the panting I’d been doing seemed much more like a mental appendage than a physical need. And while I was quite tired, I was not, in fact, winded at all.
“How long was I gone?”
“An hour and seven minutes,” Amir confirmed.
My shoulders hunched over as exhaled. I hadn’t been frightened out of the slice at all—I had simply timed out.
“Kate, why are you breathing so hard?” Amir asked, looking concerned.
“I tried to trigger my fear of heights using the VR in the gym.”
“VR workout rig.” He nodded thoughtfully. “That is a rad idea.”
“Too bad it didn’t work. Can you help me out of these electrodes? I think I need a giant glass of water. Or three…”
The slice shifts were really starting to take it out of me, and a break was long overdue. An hour later, fortified by massive hydration and a meal of incredibly tasty butter chicken over rice, I headed back to the lab for another round of alternate reality torture courtesy of the Bug.
“Third time’s the charm,” I grumbled to myself, grimacing through the Bug’s agonizing stab and the accompanying lurch of nausea. I opened my eyes to the familiar white lab. Amir was still perched in his chair, coding away. I cleared my throat and he turned toward me. This reality’s black shirt read “Declare Variables—Not War.”
“Oh, hi, it’s you,” he said, all business. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” I sighed. “Well, maybe I do need a little change of scenery. Do you think that since I don’t really belong here, it’s okay if I break out of jail?”
Amir grinned. “That’s thinking outside the box. Can’t let you take the truck. Don’t want to have to go find it when you poof outta here. But if you just want a hike, then why not?”
It was a short walk from the lab to the heavy, windowless double doors of the entryway, and I encountered no one along the way.
The unexpected wave of dry heat that struck me as I stepped across the threshold gave me pause; the temperature differential from the air-conditioned lab felt like thirty degrees, but the evening light was golden, even through the thick, polluted haze. As usual for late in the day, a light wind had picked up out of the northwest, which helped alleviate the unnatural heat.
The gusts whipped my hair into my face; I cursed the fact that my hair elastic was on a table in an alternate reality. Impatiently gathering the tangled strands with my hand, I headed out toward a rise, walking briskly until I could no longer see the building below. I stomped down a small circle of knee-high vegetation and sat down in a half-lotus position, facing the setting sun in the west. I was far from the trails, and the only sound was the whisper of the wind in the dry grass and the cheerful chirping of grasshoppers, making it easier to push the Albaion Corporation and all it stood for far from my mind.
My practice was interrupted by a rustling in the grass. Startled, I stumbled to my feet. I anticipated a deer or possibly a dog off-leash, but instead it was Andrew. My shoulders immediately tensed and I dropped gracelessly into a crouch.
“Do not come near me!” I shouted, backing into the shelter of the wind-whipped grass. I scanned the field, but with a sinking feeling of dismay, I confirmed that I was otherwise alone. I considered a mad dash back to the building but quickly abandoned the idea—he was directly in my path.
My eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare. “Which Andrew are you?”
“I’m from your slice.” Of course he was the psychopathic, intern-assaulting lu
natic from my slice. Just my luck.
He took another tentative step closer. “Kathryn, I’m really sorry,” he shouted into the wind. A strong rogue gust whipped my hair into my eyes and I retreated another step.
“That is not going to cut it!” I yelled. “And how did you know I was even out here?”
“Amir told me,” he replied, still moving in my direction, albeit slowly.
I silently cursed myself—of course Amir would squeal. It was naive to think I could sneak out unnoticed.
“Listen,” I yelled, “I’m only going to be here for another thirty minutes before this slice collapses; why don’t you just go away and let me work?”
He had reached the edge of my clearing and stopped. I retreated another step.
“Look, I really am sorry,” he repeated, sweeping my face with those intense blue eyes. “I betrayed your trust. That was wrong, and really damaging.”
“Damn straight!”
I bent my knees and shifted my weight farther back onto my heels, ready to spring past him if he came at me with any sharp objects.
“You were never in any danger.”
I eyed him warily as he held up two empty hands.
“Not at any time. A day before your you arrived, an alternate Kathryn sliced into the lab. It was obvious you’d be able to withstand the Bug without side effects. And I was totally wrong to attack you. That was never the plan; that man knows exactly how to push my buttons. But that’s no excuse,” he corrected quickly, never breaking contact with my eyes. “I also knew that injuries sustained in a slice don’t propagate back when the slice collapses. The trauma was never supposed to be permanent.”
“Well, what about the emotional trauma?”
He grimaced. “That’s fair. If I could take it back, I would, in a heartbeat. But here we are. I know you’ve been trying to get out of a slice all afternoon, and I know that nothing has worked.”
I looked at him, startled. “I came in alone; how’d you get here?”
