by Ward Wagher
“Can you explain that?”
“When Edgar pulled Johann across the boundaries between our individual universes, it generated the shock waves I just illustrated for you. We believe a shock wave of sufficient magnitude might cause a universe to dissolve.”
“How is that even possible?” Kimberly breathed.
“The exact causes are beyond our capabilities to understand, Scott. We believe the risks are significant.”
“That’s what I was getting at, Josiah. We don’t dare attempt to send him back.”
“We concur.”
The paladin continued to stare at the image projected in the air above his desk. “I need to shut down the project.”
“We would so recommend,” Josiah said.
“Very well, Josiah. Can you prevent the device from operating again?”
“I can.”
“Okay. First order of business is to change the mission of the lab.”
“What about Johann?” the paladin’s wife asked.
“Have you said anything to him, Josiah?” the paladin asked.
“I have not.”
“All right, Precious. Let’s invite him to lunch. These people are working directly for me. It’s my responsibility. I’ll tell him.”
“That poor man.”
“I guess I can empathize with him.”
His wife looked at him; her eyes were full of unshed tears. “I do not believe I could sit here while you told him.”
“Let’s send a car out for him. After he and I meet, you and I can fly down to Urbana, and pull the plug on the lab.”
“What will you do with the people in the lab?”
“I have some other projects in mind,” the paladin said. “I think we’ll stay away from quantum tunneling for a while.”
“I will arrange for the meal,” she said as she turned to leave the office.
The paladin waited for his wife to leave the room before he spoke again.
“Josiah, we must remove all traces of this project from the global net. It is just incredibly dangerous.”
“We agree, Scott. We will ensure no trace remains.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Herr Paladin, zo kind of you to invite mir.”
“Johann, I have been remiss in not doing this sooner. Your Anglo has improved.”
“Danke... er... thank you, Herr Paladin. Your friend Josiah is helpful. I have worked hard.”
“Josiah is a good teacher. He has helped me out on numerous occasions.”
“I would like to meet him.”
The paladin decided to ignore the request. He inclined his head, then waved an arm towards the table.
“We are using the private dining room, which is not so grandiose as the formal dining room.”
Johann looked puzzled as he silently mouthed the word grandiose.
“I am sorry, Johann. I should not use such words. Do you understand pretentious?”
“Ja. My Anna often makes that remark about our margrave. This room is more... naturlich.”
“Please, be seated. I asked the cook to make something you would enjoy.”
The German eased into the chair, with his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Pardon, Herr Paladin. The height.”
“Oh. I am sorry.” The paladin walked over to the corner and touched a contact. Curtains silently and swiftly slid across the windows. “I wanted to make you comfortable.”
“Thank-you, Herr Paladin.”
He walked back to the table, and stood behind his chair, with his hands on the back.
“Was your trip here pleasant?”
“It vas my first time in your flying carriage. I think I enjoyed it.”
The paladin chuckled. “Good, good. I did not know you had not flown before.”
“Many things about your land I enjoy. Aber, I miss my Anna.”
The paladin looked down at the chair, as he squeezed with his hands. “One of the reasons for this meeting, Johann, was that we need to talk about that.”
A white-jacketed steward wheeled the dinner into the room on a small rolling table. He silently slid a plate in front of each place at the table. The lunch consisted of sausage, potatoes, and boiled cabbage.
“This looks good,” Johann said. “What do we need to speak about?”
The paladin grimaced and twisted his hands underneath the table. He looked up at the German.
“Let me start by telling you a little about myself. Forty years ago I arrived here as a result of an accident. It was through a different mechanism than you experienced. But I left behind a wife and children.”
“Schade,” he said. “Uh... that is very bad. You and I are not so very different.”
“Johann... we have discovered the cause of your trip to our land.”
„Gibt es: Das ist gemütlich?“
“Not really.”
Johann had taken a bite of the potatoes and now sat the fork down again.
“Why not really?”
“You are aware you are about eight hundred years away from your home.”
“Ja, ja. Josiah told me.”
The paladin paused again, before continuing. “Your arrival was an unplanned effect caused by the machine Edgar Forsenn constructed.”
“Unplanned?”
“Yes. He did not intend to bring anyone here. It was an accident.”
“I had wondered if that was so,” Johann said. “Everyone was very surprised when I arrived.”
“That was, perhaps, an understatement, my friend. But, yes. Your trip to our land was an accident.”
“Surely you can send me back.”
“The machine, when it dragged you here, caused... vibrations in...” the paladin shook his head. “I really cannot explain it. I barely understand it myself. Let us say that the machine could well have caused other unintended trips.”
“Mein Gott,” Johann breathed softly. “What will those arme Seelen do?”
“Johann. Sending you back is too dangerous. I cannot allow you to return. I am not sure we even can send you back. But I fear the consequences.”
The German picked up the sterling silver fork and studied it. He set the fork down and studied his plate. Then he slowly rose to his feet.
“I understand, Herr Paladin. I will not dispute you. I do not wish to cause distress to other travelers from a far land.”
“I am glad you understand.”
“I do not understand, Herr Paladin. But I accept your word. You have been honorable.”
The paladin nodded. “Very well. We must talk about what you may do next.”
“We should talk. But not today. Can you have your magic carriage take me to my home?”
“I will do that.”
“Danke, Herr Paladin. We will talk again. Now I must speak with my Father in Heaven.”
With head bowed, the German walked slowly from the room. After the door slid closed, the paladin walked over and touched the contact to open the curtains. He stared at the Chicago skyline and the heavy air traffic which wove its way through the towers of the city. He recognized the crushing sorrow Johann experienced. He had indeed experienced it himself. The paladin was frustrated. He knew not whether he was grieving for the German, or grieving for himself. He turned around and studied the table, and the plate where the steward had set out Bach’s Lunch.
INTERLUDE 1
Edgar Forsenn’s experiment directly stretched the fabric of the multiverse, the collection of parallel universes populated by mankind. Unknowingly he unleashed gigantic forces that swirled and eddied in the interstitial spaces. The waves of change hurled themselves directly at some areas, and ignored others, seemingly at random. The tight whirlpools concentrated themselves on particular geographic locations and milieus.
The greatest force expended itself on Earth and rapidly dissipated as the shock wave spread out of the solar system. The unique structure of the interstitial spaces amplified Forsenn’s experiment across parallel Earths.
An individual person, here and
there, was caught up in the maelstrom, along with his or her analogs in dozens, or even hundreds of parallel Earths.
On January 14, 1974, Sander Harrison went to bed, in his bedroom, in his house, in Putnam, Connecticut. He awoke on January 15, 1974, in his bedroom, in his house, in Putnam, Connecticut. And the entire world had changed while he slept. He was now in a world where there was no United States of America. The land was in the grip of a totalitarian theocracy. And his experience was repeated across dozens of parallel worlds in different ways.
Pooorgy and Bezzz were fulfilling a life's goal. The two Woogies had been joined as nest builders for over one hundred Woogaen years. Bezzz had discovered, in an ancient document, the human habit of creating a bucket list, or a list of things to do before kicking the bucket. Bezzz was not sure of the significance of kicking a bucket, but after sharing the document with Pooorgy, they decided it was a great idea for them to create a bucket list. So, now, here they were, visiting Earth, more specifically preparing to see the Grand Canyon. This was the most important item on their bucket list.
The humans were delighted to have the two xenosophonts as guests. A hotel room was prepared, and after an evening of being feted by the humans, the two Woogies retired to their hotel room during the evening of August 3, 2560, and slept. They were awakened by the early morning summer sun, as it rose over the hills to the east. And particularly they were awakened because there was no longer a hotel around them. They woke up on a sandy expanse of soil, apparently in the middle of nowhere. They spent nearly an hour frantically communicating to each other, and attempting to determine what had happened.
In the distance came the wailing shriek of a whistle. The Woogies stopped gucking at each other and turned to see some kind of machine heading toward them across the arid landscape. A group of six carriages was being towed by some kind of machine that belched black smoke, and gray steam. As it came closer, it began to decelerate. With a prolonged squeal, it rolled to a stop. A human stepped down from a compartment in the tow device and studied them.
“What in tarnation are ye?” He asked. And their experience was repeated across dozens of parallel worlds in different ways.
On May 23, 1982, Heinrich Schloss waited at West Berlin's Tempelhof Airport for the arrival of his wife on a British Airways 737. Trudy and her mother had taken a weekend trip to London's shopping district, and Heinrich had interrupted his Sunday afternoon chess game to retrieve the women. He had stepped outside for some fresh air and a closer view of the runways when he suffered a stabbing pain in his right temple. He closed his eyes and massaged the side of his head, hoping this wasn't the onset of a migraine.
Hearing the sound of a strange aircraft he opened his eyes again. A tri-motored propeller-driven airliner was approaching the field. Strange, he wasn't aware of any Junkers JU-52 aircraft still flying. Then he glanced around in shock. He was no longer at Templehof. Or more exactly, not the Templehof he knew. A collection of vintage Mercedes swept on to the tarmac, blood-red Nazi pennants fluttering from the fenders. The shock settled in on Heinrich, and his mind began casting about for an explanation. As he watched, one wing of the Junkers dipped and dug into the ground. The aircraft cartwheeled across the airport in a ball of flame.
A young man standing near him cried out. “Oh, no! Not the Fuhrer, not now!” Heinrich Schloss's world had changed. And his experience was repeated across dozens of parallel worlds in different ways.
January 18, 1960; 2 AM
Chancellor Bunker
North of Berlin
Greater German Reich
Heinrich Schloss had stepped into the toilet when the pressure from the repeated cups of coffee became unbearable. He had spent the previous thirty hours in the bunker and the combination of fatigue and terror gnawed at him. He felt as though he was eaten up from the inside. After washing his hands, he splashed water on his face. He grabbed the fresh towel from the rack and wiped his face dry. As he lowered the towel he looked into the mirror, then stared in shock. How had he grown so old, so suddenly?
He shook his head. You are fifty-six years old, Hennie. You are not a young man anymore. And the events of the past three weeks have not helped.
He tossed the towel into the sink and left the small room, walking briskly to the control center. General Hans Roettiger turned to him.
“Still very quiet, Herr Reichschancellor.”
Along the left wall was a large world map with the disposition of forces, the magnetic pieces stuck to the map. Along the right wall was a list of German strategic forces and their readiness status. To the front of the room was a large reflective screen. A television projector displayed a view of the Earth from Valkyrie II, the German space station in Geo-stationary orbit above the Atlantic.
“What is your best guess as to what is going to happen, Herr General?”
“The Americans have ceased communicating with us. We have heard nothing since our last exchange of communiques. That is a very bad sign. I believe they will attack.”
Schloss shook his head. “Surely President MacArthur is intelligent enough to recognize he cannot win such a war. No one can.”
“It seems the American Secretary of War LeMay has convinced the president that they can win a war.”
“Have they all gone mad?” Schloss asked, knowing the question could only be rhetorical.
“Herr General,” one of the technicians called to him. “Valkyrie II reports a launch. Many launches, Sir!”
“Refine the data,” Roettiger snapped. “Quickly!”
A few moments later the technician reported. “Herr General, we have counted hundreds of launches from the American missile fields in North Dakota and Montana. The fields in the central part of the continent have not launched. We are getting confirmation from our reconnaissance spacecraft.”
Roettiger turned to Schloss. The man’s face was ashen. “Herr Reichschancellor?”
Schloss felt as though his knees were going to collapse. He forced himself to think clearly. He suddenly felt very old, and without hope.
“Very well, Herr General,” he said heavily. “Execute Case Ludendorf.”
General Roettiger snapped to attention. “At once, Herr Reichschancellor.”
“And may God have mercy on our souls,” Schloss continued.
The Reichschancellor watched as the clerks changed the status of the forces are they were listed on the walls. Under Case Ludendorf the First Strike Force of Luftwaffe bombers pulled away from the accompanying tankers and began their attack runs against the North American continent. Any remaining aircraft on the bases around Europe were frantically taking off and dispersing themselves.
The strategic rocket U-Boats had been submerged shallow enough to pick up the code transmission from the Reich High Command. They immediately dove deep and worked to lose themselves in the depths of the Atlantic and Eastern Pacific oceans. They would form the bulk of the German second strike capability.
In widely spaced locations in the German and French Alps, as well as the Pyrenees, heavy concrete covers rolled away from hundreds of rocket silos. Smoke and flame belched from the ground as the German Reich salvoed her Vengeance-7 rockets. Each rocket carried an atomic warhead with enough power to level a small city.
Schloss thought about his family. Hanalore was here in the bunker. He needed to be with her. The bunker was probably the number one target in Germany and he did not expect to survive the next hour. Hans-Friedrich was in Rome, and Anna-Lisa was in London. Schloss hoped his adult children were able to get to shelter before the bombs fell.
“The anti-rockets should be launching in the next five minutes,” Roettiger said.
“Can you send the crews a message?” Schloss asked.
“There is not a lot of time.”
“Tell them the Reichschancellor says to make every shot count.”
Roettiger looked at his adjutant and nodded. The Colonel braced to attention, and then trotted over to one of the radio operators.
“Thank you, Herr Ge
neral. If you need me, I will be with my wife.”
“Of course, Herr Reichschancellor.”
Seven minutes later the anti-rockets began erupting from their launchers and streaked into dark European skies.
January 18, 1942; 2:30 AM
Reich Chancellery
Berlin, Germany
Heinrich Schloss sat up suddenly. He panted as he struggled to regain a sense of where he was. He slipped out of bed and walked to the window. The stillness of the night seemed to reassure him. Was this a dream he had experienced, or something else. Whatever it was, he experienced the same vividness as when he had landed in Tempelhof seven months previously. Could this have been related? He did not know. He stared across the sleeping city and decided that someone else might know the significance. Or perhaps it really was just a dream.
He pulled on a robe and stepped into his slippers. He decided that sleep was out of the question right now, and so moved towards the kitchen of the Reichschancellor’s apartments. He was confident that the individual he wanted to talk to would meet him there.
The guard posted outside his bedroom door followed him to the kitchen. He turned on the light and looked around the unfamiliar room. He hadn’t been in there a half dozen times since moving into the apartment in the chancellery. At that moment Frau Marsden bustled into the room.
“You would be looking for some coffee, Herr Schloss?”
“Yes, please. And a cup for Eugen, here,” he said pointing to the guard. “He is looking sleepy.”
The guard looked frightened and snapped to attention. “I can assure you I am wide awake, Herr Reichschancellor.”
Schloss touched the guard on the shoulder. “I was merely teasing. I am sorry.”
“We all make allowance for what passes as Herr Schloss’s sense of humor,” Frau Marsden said.
The nonplussed guard looked back and forth between the other two. “Eh… yes. Of course.”
Frau Marsden busied herself with the coffee maker. “Was there something you wished to discuss, Herr Schloss?”
