by Chris Troman
of incredulity prompted him to explain further. "It has been postulated that for every decision made all; the alternative decisions are played out in an ever expanding number of alternative realities. In our experience of the world the probability is certain and is therefore one hundred per cent likely to happen, because it already has. But my device creates a level of uncertainty within a limited field of influence, and thus brings into being a portion of the less probable reality in to ours."
Still not impressed I explained to him," All very well sir, but do you have any plans? I can't do a thing without those." He looked a bit taken aback at this turn of events. "Is there anything I can do to start the ball rolling as it were?" I reached under the desk for a DZ27 and placed it before him. "This is a DZ27, fill it in and come back in a week." He scanned through it then scribbled down his name, address and a brief description of the patient. I signed and dated it; and with a received stamp in red across it then I filed it under my teacup.
"Good day sir" I finished as I returned to number three down, a six-letter word meaning an organised massacre. When I felt I had filled in enough for the morning, I laid the paper down and noticed the old man's case still on the desk. Leaning over to make sure he'd not collapsed on the other side, I was relieved to find the floor bare, but now I would have to find an IP56 items left form. "Chiver it" I cursed to myself. So I slid the offending object behind a stack of sheets on the shelf behind me. "He'll not be long, probably on his way back now", but when home time came the case still sat untouched. I had to admit trouble could be brewing. So I moved it to behind a stack of forms in the storeroom, and then I went home.
A few weeks past, and I had quite forgotten the incident. I was locking up for the night. It was a fair system as the three of us took weekly turns to lock up. As I fumbled with the key; having been left by my co-workers. They too were keen to grab a drink on the way home. I heard a scraping walk, and wondering who might be approaching, I turned.
"Jerry" I cried out with genuine affection. There stood my old drinking buddy, definitely the worst for booze, but grinning like a Cheshire cat. "What fine luck. I've been celebrating a good deal I made today, and here you come along to help me toast my brilliance." I could never turn down such an invitation, and so closing time at the closest bar; saw us reel through the door of the Blind ferret and into the night.
We staggered down the street, and then it always happens. The full bladder that paid you no heed in the pub; suddenly screams out to be emptied. Unfortunately there were no alleyways round here, and then it hit me. I still had the office keys, so using each other for support we crab walked our unsteady way back to my place of work. After the third attempt the lock was defeated and we fell inside. I was up in a trice and soon had the latch on in case some snoop caught my night-time micturition. I headed for the toilet, and was soon relieved to be considerable lighter. It was only then that I realised I had forgotten where Jerry had got to, but with a crash he proclaimed his presence in a cupboard.
By the time I had reeled my way across to him, I found the prostrate figure of Jerry on top of a pile of papers. He had a damp patch spreading from his groin, while he emitted a steady hissing noise. Turning away in disgust, I noticed a case lying open next to him. The top half was normal enough just an empty half shell, but the bottom was filled with a panel across the space. Inset in the surface was a golden speaker. Above that was a set of those combination lock dials, the ones you twirl up or down to get the correct digit. There must have been about thirty of them.
I don't know what made me do it, but I reached out and turned the last one; so it didn't read zero like the rest. Immediately I started to choke, and falling back in shock I fell out of the cupboard. It was then that I noticed protruding through the wall there was a sort of bubble. From where it was it had to be sat on top of the case. It cut neatly through the wall and ceiling as if someone had carved out a sphere. Inside the ball a green gas swirled, but remained trapped.
Jerry stirred at the noise of my choking, as I gasped through the sweet air out side of that globe. He raised his head and inadvertently put his own head into the sphere. Jerry immediately turned blue, and diving underneath this strange phenomenon I pulled him free. Finally we both lay sucking in the fresh air until when I had finally recovered; I turned over to have another look. The missing wall and ceiling hadn't disturbed anything. In fact I could see half a chair suspended in the room above. I crawled over to the case and returned the dial back to zero, and was pleasantly surprised by the reappearance of the missing piece of office. As I looked again at the case I noticed to the left of the dials; there was an old digital single digit display now showing a one. Also between the second and third dials was an obvious decimal point. Shutting up the case I took it over to Jerry and checked he was all right. He had sobered up enough to assure me he was, so re-hiding the case and pulling the cupboard door shut, we made our escape to sleep off the nights events.
The next day was a Saturday and I spent it under the covers, reaffirming my vows to never drink again. I knew I would go astray all too soon, but for now it passed the time until I crawled groggily from my sick bed. Then I started to really ponder what had happened in the office. By Monday I had made a plan of action, I tidied the cupboard. Then I re hid the case where no one could chance upon it by mistake.
I met up with Jerry for lunch, and over a big mac and fries explained my master plan. "So you're saying it's a parallel dimension gate, isn't that dangerous?" I took a bite and then regretted my action, having to gulp it down. "No I think it just created the other reality in a confined area. So although we went in and out of that sphere, that's all there was." He frowned and went on, “so what use is it unless you want to gas someone?" I explained. “When I turned the last digit, it was like dialling up a really low probability reality." I explained the meaning of the read out of one and zero and the decimal point. “I called up a zero point thirty odd zeros and then a five per cent chance, of that reality coming into being, We're at one hundred per cent now, in what I call our base reality. Now if I had dialled up say ninety eight per cent; we probably wouldn't have seen much difference. But here my big idea." He leaned in.
"I work in the patent office right, and can get access every third week to the place at night?" Jerry nodded. "So what if inventions not thought up in our reality; were done in others. We could copy them down and use them here." I stabbed the table with a chip in punctuation, and Jerry finished my thought. "We'd be rich, on easy street", we laughed conspiratorially. "Right you still got your key?" I nodded. "Good. Get a copy and we can go any night." So with the scant few minutes remaining. I dropped in at the shoe repairer stand; and obtained a spare set on my way back to work.
That night we met in a local pub for just a pint or two, we wanted clear heads for the work. Then when the streets were clear I fumbled with my new key, while Jerry kept look out; and then we were in. I extracted the case and brought it over to my desk, then carefully set it down under my feet. "What's the reason for that?" asked my friend. “If I turn it on down here my whole desk and", I tapped my computer. "This will be from another reality." I crouched down, so not to get my head inside the bubble at first. Jerry bravely stood on the other side of the room. I flicked the first two dials on the left from zero zero to nine nine. Nothing seemed to happen, but from across the room Jerry let out a "Bravo." Gingerly getting up, I saw my blue bag was now yellow. Then slowly I submerged my head into where I assumed the sphere began; for this time there was little else different. I took a breath, good old air. I turned and did a thumbs up, and then Jerry joined me at the desk. "Now let's start hunting."
I entered my password, nothing happened. "Damn." The alternative reality of me must have a different code. I wracked my brain and tried some old ones I'd used before. On the third attempt we were in. The screen slowly scrolled up as we perused through the various inventions, but after two hours I had to admit. "It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack." "Well why don't we down load the data ba
se, and then compare it with the normal one for any changes. I've got my laptop here with a data analysing program. My company uses it for share analysis, to see who’s good to buy."
I sat dumfounded at the idiot who'd let me search for two hours, when he had this tool all along. "Why the blazes didn't you say that before?" "I only just thought of it” Jerry mumbled; feeling reproached at the poor reception his plan had received. So linking the two computers together, we downloaded the alternative reality’s database. Then with the machine under my feet switched off, we did the same with our ordinary one. "This may take some time,” Jerry informed me, so we packed up for the night. Then I went home to dream about the riches we were in for.
The next day dawned. As I sat doing the cross word with feet up on the desk, my mobile began to ring. "I've got one", came the exuberant tones of Jerry. So at lunchtime I sprang for the door, and was soon ensconced in a booth at the White Lion. I almost drooled over the sheet Jerry had just handed me. "I had to cross reference the descriptions for a hit list, and then when I had eliminated the
