You Can't Kill the Multiverse

by Ira Nayman

  “Gary is very popular with the other atoms in the field. How about a nice shrimp kebab?”

  “No.”

  “Shrimp tart?”

  “No!

  “Spicy shrimp?”

  “I don’t like shrimp!”

  “How about a red dragon sushi roll?”

  “Does it have shrimp in it?”

  “It has a lot of other ingredients…”

  “Why are you trying to get me to eat shrimp?”

  “House specialty,” Jeroshi puffed out his chest with pride.

  “Can you make anything that doesn’t have shrimp in it?”

  “Mmmm…” Jeroshi looked dubious. “How about…baked beans and toast?”

  “Okay.”

  “I, uhh, haven’t really made it in years.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “I can’t guarantee you’ll like it…”

  “How can you go wrong with baked beans and toast?”

  “I really can’t guarantee you’ll like it.”

  “Let’s try it and see, okay?”

  “Ooookay…” Jeroshi closed his eyes. When he opened them a few seconds later, he said, “Baked beans are off.”

  Noomi snorted, unimpressed. “I’m going to have to wait until I get back to Earth Prime to eat, aren’t I?” she accused.

  “Given your…aversion to shrimp,” Jeroshi sniffed in his best imitation of a French waiter, “I think that would probably be for the best.”

  Fuming, Noomi stomped through the grass back to the airpl…icle. And, when I say stomping through the grass, I mean she had to look around and find Crash, sleeping soundly five feet off the ground, before she could properly stomp towards the airplicle, a pause which pretty much ruined the whole ‘stomping off’ effect.

  Jeroshi graciously helped her back onto the vehicle, and they were off again.

  On the next leg of their journey, they shimmied, shook and otherwise navigated over, under, sideways or down: a stand of twenty foot tall circus clowns swaying in the breeze; a forest fire in the shape of a raccoon foraging in the garbage can you thought was securely fastened in your garage; a swarm of lawyers in the form of locusts; a stairway that seemed to disappear into the clouds above them (which Noomi somehow knew was a ‘Stairway to Bob’); a field of wheat lightly sprayed with crude oil, and; a forty foot tall baby’s arm holding an apple (they do everything bigger on the Prairies).

  Two and a half hours later, the invisible hovercraftish vehicle which in no way resembled a plane touched down (because hovercrafts can be said to do that, too, so nothing suspicious about the nature of the vehicle there) on a road next to a group of very tall trees. “Where are we?” Crash asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

  “Just outside Stanley Park,” Jeroshi informed them. “The object that you seek is in there.”

  “Lead on, Duff Beer!” Crash perked up.

  Ten minutes later, Jeroshi led Crash and Noomi into a small clearing in the forest. Well, small relative to a city block. It would actually be considered large if compared to a jellyfish. But, of course, an average-sized jellyfish, not one of those monstrously large jellyfish that you sometimes see on the Nature Channel. Okay, bad example. The clearing was small relative to the size of Donald Trump’s ego, but it was large when compared to the average toaster. Does that – okay, you know what? Screw unhelpful comparators. The clearing was a circle roughly…twenty feet in diameter. Use your own damn descriptors if you like!

  In the middle of the clearing stood the stray Home Universe GeneratorTM.

  “What’s it doing here?” Noomi asked.

  “What do you mean?” Jeroshi asked back.

  Noomi pointed to the cord running out of the back of the machine that appeared to be plugged into nothing.

  “How does it get power to run?” Noomi reasked.

  “I would imagine that a stream of appropriately electrified ions could be convinced to enter the cord,” Jeroshi responded.

  “Would the person who runs the machine have to live nearby?” Crash asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Jeroshi told him. “I imagine that it could be used remotely from anywhere in the world – anywhere in the universe, in fact.”

  “How?” Crash continued with the asking. “The Home Universe GeneratorTM came from our universe – it is not, itself, sentient. So, it’s not like somebody could ask it to turn itself on and work.”

  “Watch and learn,” Jeroshi crowed. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Within seconds, the Home Universe GeneratorTM hummed to life. Soon after, a pair of white gloves appeared above the keyboard of the console. Above the gloves, two eyeballs appeared. “Strictly speaking,” Jeroshi explained, “I don’t need the gloves or the eyeballs – I could accomplish everything that I’m using them for by simply manipulating the air and creating a pinpoint point of view. Still, visual aids are often very helpful to the understanding of complex phenomena, so…”

  The gloves typed in a search query and, before they could say, “The stain in Bahrain falls mainly on the insane,” Noomi and Crash watched Noomi and Crash in a clearing in a forest, asking Jeroshi questions about the Home Universe GeneratorTM they were all standing around.

  “Great!” Noomi complained. “So, our list of suspects could be anything, from the smallest sub-atomic particle to the universe itself!”

  The gloves and eyes disappeared and the Home Universe GeneratorTM stopped working. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” Jeroshi said, opening his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Crash said. “We’ll just have to find a way to narrow the list of suspects do –”

  “Uhh, this is Transdimensional Traffic Control to Gender Neutral Smurf and Emotionally Fragile Smurf,” a male voice sounded in Noomi and Crash’s heads. “Do you copy? Over.”

  “We have just reached the objective,” Emotionally Fragile Smurf (aka: Crash) told him. “Can this wait?”

  “I have an urgent message from Albert Abrachnel,” the voice informed him. “You know – your boss? Over.”

  “What’s the bullet point?” Gender Neutral Smurf (aka: Noomi – hey, they didn’t choose their mission names, folks) asked.

  “If you come across somebody with a name that sounds like Jerzak Carnakhian or JairCorn2201b or Jeroen Kardashanus,” the voice stated, “be careful! So far, all of the perps have had names that were variations of each other – we now believe that they are transdimensional cognates of each other. Over.”

  “Somebody just noticed that now?” Noomi scoffed.

  “Okay, okay, I have a response for that,” the voice responded. They could hear the sound of shuffling paper in the background. Then, the voice cleared its throat. “Ahem. Two similar names could be a coincidence. Three similar names is probably a conspiracy!”

  “Aah, Jeroshi?” Crash gently asked out loud.

  “Yes?”

  “Hey! I didn’t say, ‘Over!’ Over.”

  “I have a…question for you.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Besides, I had one other thing to say. Over.”

  “Umm, could you hold on a second?”

  “Sure, Crash.”

  “I know,” the voice continued, “that you put a large premium on banter, and it speaks well for you, both as Transdimensional Authority investigators and as human beings. But, the truth of the matter is that you aren’t Nick and Nora Charles, you are your own characters, with kinks and quirks all your own. A straight one to one correspondence between you and them, therefore, is meaningless.”

  “Aha!” Noomi interjected.

  “Did I say, ‘Over?’” the voice shouted in their heads. “I didn’t say, ‘Over,’ did I? That means I wasn’t over! Don’t you people have any patience?” The voice took a moment to calm down. “Okay. Alright, then. Having said that, I have to add that cross-gender fantasy casting will tend to confuse people without adding anything to the narrative, so I would suggest that you avoid it at all costs. Over.”

  “Oh,” Noomi deje
cted.

  “Thanks, Traffic Control,” Crash added. Then, out loud, he asked, “Jeroshi, do you have a last name?”

  “Of course,” Jeroshi answered.

  “What is it?”

  “Cornifferous.”

  What followed happened so quickly, it should read “JeroshiturnedandtwoenergyboltsflewfromhisfingertipstowardsNoomiandCrash.BeforeCrasheandNoomicouldevenflinch,asteelgateflewupoutofthegroundinfrontofthem.Wherethebigyellowandorangefireyballthingieshitit,thegatemelted,leavingtwoholesthroughwhichthepaircouldseetheirattacker,” but I’ll slow it down in the interest of your comprehension. And, my word count.

  Jeroshi turned and two energy bolts flew from his fingertips towards Noomi and Crash. When she was writing her report on the incident, Noomi would be tempted to describe them as being similar to Blistering Balls of Blanckenshriff, something a level 77 gummy bear mage would use in World of Wowcraft. Unfortunately, having mastered the game at the age of 12 would be held against her by the male hierarchy of the Transdimensional Authority, so, instead, she described them as ‘big yellow and orange firey ball thingies’.

  Before Crash and Noomi could even flinch, a steel gate flew up out of the ground in front of them. Where the big yellow and orange fiery ball thingies (it’s as good a description as any) hit it, the gate melted, leaving two holes through which the pair could see their attacker. Later, Doctor Alhambra would explain that the fireball-like objects probably contained logic bombs that would convince whatever matter they touched to disincorporate. Since Noomi and Crash were not native to the universe, the odds are good that they wouldn’t have been affected. Probably. What? You want certainty? That’s not how science works!

  Jeroshi was thwapped in the back of the head by a tree branch. * THWAP! *

  “Hey!” he loudly complained.

  Another tree branch bwoomphed Jeroshi in the stomach. * BWOOMPH! *

  “Oof!” he exhaled.

  A third tree branch, the biggest one yet, knocked Jeroshi in the side, nearly causing him to fall over. * KNOCK! *

  “That’s enough of that!” he exclaimed. A chainsaw quickly grew out of his left arm, which he used to lop off any tree branches that came near him. Clearly, somebody had seen one too many Bruce Campbell movies!

  Meanwhile, Noomi and Crash started gasping.

  “Can’t…breath…” Crash gasped.

  “What…happening…?” Noomi gasped.

  A voice in their ears whispered, “Actually, there’s nothing wrong with your bodies. Jeroshi has convinced the molecules in front of your mouths to form filters that won’t allow oxygen through. Fortunately, I have some friends in the atmosphere, and they should be breaking through the filters right about…wait for it…NOW!”

  Crash and Noomi panted like dogs to try to get their oxygen levels back to normal. Meanwhile, Jeroshi was frantically staving off the attack of the branches.

  Van der Whall stepped out from behind a tree. “Give it up Jeroshi,” he commanded. “You can’t destroy all of nature!”

  Jeroshi smirked. The chainsaw on his arm turned into a flamethrower, which he used to burn everything around him.

  “Hey!” Van der Whall shouted. “Those are friends of mine!” He waved a hand and Jeroshi was encased in a block of ice.

  Noomi and Crash ran to Van der Whall’s side. “Do you think that will hold him?” Noomi asked.

  “Some people never learn,” Crash muttered.

  A six foot tall hair dryer appeared next to Jeroshi and quickly melted the ice around him.

  “Give up, Jeroshi!” Van der Whall shouted. “We could do this all day, but, in the end, you know that I will win – I have far more experience than you do!”

  Jeroshi grinned a Cheshire Cat grin. “You think capturing me is going to change anything?” he asked, as his feet and hands slowly started to disappear. “This changes nothing. Do you hear me? NOTHING! The plan is much bigger than me, much bigger than this one universe, and it’s already been set in motion!”

  As he continued to speak, Noomi turned to Crash and asked, “Is this an evil genius rant?”

  “Yes,” Crash replied, “Yes, I do believe that this is an evil genius rant.”

  “It’s my first,” she said. Then, after a few seconds, she added, “Are evil genius rants usually this predictable?”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” Crash told her.

  “Well, that’s disappointing,” Noomi commented.

  Jeroshi’s limbs were gone; he was just a torso and a head floating above the ground, and his body was slowly fading away. “…eath and destruction on a scale so massive it cannot be conceived by mortal minds!” he was saying. “Entire universes swept away in the carnage!” As his body completely disappeared, Jeroshi stopped talking.

  Several awkward seconds passed. Jeroshi looked down at what was left of himself and scrunched up his eyes. “What happened to my Cheshire Cat grin?” he complained. “I’m supposed to disappear entirely, leaving only a Cheshire Cat grin!”

  “Uhh, yeah,” Van der Whall told him. “About that. I made your head a better offer.” 9

  9 Although, strictly speaking, not all of the atoms in Jeroshi Cornifferous’ body took Van der Whall up on the offer. A few of the atoms in the lid of his right eye, one fifteenth of the drum of his left ear and twelve neurons spread throughout his frontal lobe left his body. As a result, Cornifferous would lose three per cent of his hearing and he would be unable to recognize the word ‘miasmal’ when he read it; fortunately, this would not impair the functioning of his head.

  “Oh, ferk!”

  Charlemagne walked over to Jeroshi’s no longer Cheshire Grinning head, laid a hand on it and, in the time-honoured tradition of police officers everywhere, said, “You’re nicked, son.” Then, the world shimmered out around them.

  Noomi was about to walk over to the Home Universe GeneratorTM when two men popped into existence nearby. One was a small Asian man with unnaturally yellow hair who looked pissed off. The other was a tall, older man, definitely creaky, but hopefully stronger than he looked. Both men wore the uniforms of senior Transdimensional Authority investigators.

  “That was a dirty trick you pulled on me!” the young man complained.

  “We got bigger fish to filet, son,” the older man informed him. The pair turned their attention towards Noomi.

  “Hey, guys,” Noomi, who knew the two men – not so much as friends, more like passing acquaintances – I mean, they had met each other in the hallways at Transdimensional Authority headquarters and had been on the same team at the company foosball tournament, but it’s not like they gossiped about who the cutest boy in the chess club was dating or anything like that – greeted them. “What are you doing here?”

  “We…umm…” the young man started.

  “We…got kicked out of the universe where we were supposed to go,” the older man reasoned.

  “Do you…do you need any help?” the younger man asked.

  “Just cleaning up, here,” Noomi assured them. “Shouldn’t you get back to your own mission?”

  “Good idea,” the older man agreed. He touched two fingers to his (highly non-regulation) Stetson, and he and his partner shimmered out.

  “What was that?” Van der Whall asked.

  “Official Transdimensional Authority business,” Noomi replied as brusquely as she could muster under the circumstances.

  Van der Whall shrugged. “Will you be needing anything else?” he asked as she walked over to the Home Universe GeneratorTM and started to inspect it.

  “Umm…what is this?” she asked.

  “What?” he said, walking over to her side.

  “Oh, nothing,” Noomi said, putting one hand on the console and the other on his shoulder. The world shimmered out around them.

  Meanwhile, in the Pollack, Jeroshi’s head looked around in wonder. This is trippy, he thought. And, boy, do I know from trippy!

  Meanwhile, Crash communicated, “Transdimensional Traffic Control, this is Crash Chumley. Please patch
me in to the research lab.”

  “You mean Emotionally Fragile Smurf? Over.” Transdimensional Traffic Control responded.

  Crash sighed. “You know I don’t like that designation.”

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot acknowledge transmission from an unauthorized source. Over.”

  “Fine,” Crash muttered. He tried to make his voice as low as he could, which isn’t easy when you’re thinking. “This is…Emotionally Fragile Smurf. I need to talk to Doctor Alhambra.”

  “Patching you into the research lab now, Emotionally Fragile Smurf,” Transdimensional Traffic Control smirked.

  “Crash?”

  “Doc?”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you have the capacity to keep a disembodied head alive?”

  “Not at present, no.”

  “How long would it take you to develop the capacity?”

  “Hmm…interesting question. With the right research grants and equipment that is currently only at the thought experiment stage, seventeen years, three months, four days and six hours.”

  “You’ve got three and a half minutes.”

  “Science thrives on challenges.”

  Crash noticed that Noomi had joined him in the Pollack with the fake Home Universe GeneratorTM and…a decidedly unhappy Antonio Van der Whall. He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “He saved our lives,” Noomi explained. “I thought I would return the favour.”

  They spent the rest of the journey in silence.

  When he emerged in the cavernous room with the Dimensional PortalTMs, Crash was greeted by Doctor Alhambra, who stood next to a ten foot tall freezer.

  “That’s your bright idea?” Crash goggled. “Freeze the head?”

  “Hey! I’m here, you know,” Jeroshi protested.

  “Oh, no,” Doctor Alhambra told him. “This is just the power unit. And, where I keep the Häagen-Dazs. Science does not travel on an empty stomach, you know. Come with me.”

  On the other side of the freezer was a small metal latticework in which a head could fit very nicely. Crash handed the head over and Doctor Alhambra placed it in the centre of the latticework. “I am humbled,” Doctor Alhambra stated, “by what can be accomplished by the application of simple scientific principles.”