by E. C. Myers
“Thanks, kid. The timeline can differ between some parallel universes—but you need the extra range of the controller to visit those. I suppose technically I'm from one of your possible futures.” Nathaniel chewed another bite of donut. A dab of red jelly stuck to the corner of his mouth.
“Why didn't Nate recognize you?” Ephraim asked.
Nathaniel stuck his tongue out to catch the jelly from his lip. The gesture reminded Ephraim a lot of the friend he'd grown up with.
“Even if he somehow suspected it, his mind would have discounted it and come up with some reasonable explanation,” Nathaniel said. “I think he probably felt a connection, though, which is why he even bothered humoring my claims about a machine that would let him and his friend travel to parallel universes.”
Ephraim weighed the coin in his hand. “So this really is part of some…machine?” He was kind of disappointed that there wasn't anything magical about it, in the fairies and wizards sense, no matter what Jena had said about advanced technology being basically the same thing. No, Zoe had just told him that, he reminded himself.
Nathaniel plucked the coin from Ephraim's palm and examined it all over, like he was checking for damage. “Hmm. It needs a charge, but otherwise it's in good shape.”
Nathaniel held it up between his thumb and forefinger. “This is part of a portable coheron drive,” he said. “What we nicknamed the Charon device, since it—”
“Looks like a coin,” Ephraim said. He remembered that in Greek mythology, Charon was the ferryman who helped dead souls cross the river Styx to the afterlife in exchange for a coin.
Nathaniel grinned. “That's right. Scientists are big on wordplay. At least our scientists are. This piece happens to be the most important component of the drive, both the engine and navigational guide all in one, while the controller is more like a recording instrument.”
“What's it for?” Ephraim asked.
“It could be applied to any number of things, but we used the device to explore and catalog parallel universes. Some of them don't even fully exist until they we observe them ourselves—what we call ‘coherence.’”
Ephraim waved his right hand over his head, showing that the last bit of information had gone right over it.
Nathaniel clicked his tongue. “Don't they teach kids basic quantum mechanics these days?”
“I'm a high school student,” Ephraim said. “I suppose in the future kids learn that stuff in first grade.”
“Of course not. That's when they get into classical physics,” Nathaniel replied.
“Right,” Ephraim said. He couldn't tell if Nathaniel was kidding or not. “But what's coherence?”
Nathaniel passed the coin back to him. “There's only a handful of people who really understand all this stuff back in my universe, or claim they do. Honestly, I just know which buttons to press. But the way it was taught to me is that whenever something's about to happen, there's a probability wave associated with that moment, which includes every potential outcome. When the event occurs, those possibilities become realities—splitting into one or more parallel universes.”
“We figured some of that out already. Well, Jena did, and I mostly got what she said.”
“Jena?” Nathaniel looked at Ephraim sharply. “She's here, too?”
“Yes. Sort of. There's a Jena in your world too?”
Nathaniel hesitated, then nodded.
“Is she…okay? You acted, I don't know. Like you didn't expect her to be here or something.” Or didn't want her to be there? Ephraim's Jena—one of them—had just been killed. Had something similar happened in Nathaniel's universe?
“No no. She's fine. Last I saw her anyway,” Nathaniel said.
“Were she and your Ephraim together?” Ephraim asked.
“We're getting way off topic here. You want to know more about the coin, or what?”
“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” Ephraim flipped the coin a couple of times. Then he thought better of it when he considered he was handling a precision machine. How many times had he dropped it already? “So how does it work? I mean, really work?” he asked.
“The disc functions as a gyro—a gyrocompass for the device. Like the navigational tool used on ships to keep them oriented in relation to north and south. Only this disc orients to the quantum coordinates programmed by the controller.”
“And without the controller?”
Nathaniel sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “It's more…complicated. Risky. You can still use the coin, obviously, but the coordinates become completely random depending on the position of the coin.”
“So heads up would take you in a different direction than tails up.”
“Exactly. Though my partner seemed to be able to subtly influence the outcome and decrease some of that randomness, within the parameters of the coin's orientation. Like he had a kind of intuition for it, or vice versa.”
Then maybe the coin—or gyro thing—had used Ephraim's wishes as a guide to the universes visited, just because his mind was clearly focused on what he wanted. But most of it was still up to chance. No wonder things never turned out exactly the way he had expected; it made no difference whether it landed on heads or tails.
“You've run into the other tricky bit already, I imagine. Alone, the coin conserves energy by swapping you with your analog instead of just transporting you to the universe directly,” Nathaniel said. “Like a powersave mode. I've never done it before, but my Ephraim did. It was always inconvenient at best. You use it too often, and the coin loses its charge completely.”
“The analogs I replaced…are they okay?” Ephraim said.
“They were probably confused by the reality shift, if the universe they ended up in is really different from the one they came from. But the process doesn't harm them at all. Physically.” He scratched his chin.
“That's a huge relief. And once the coin is drained, it can be recharged?”
“Yes, but only by plugging it into the controller. And this is especially important: you have to say the oath,” Nathaniel said.
“What oath?” Ephraim asked.
“You know: ‘In brightest day, in blackest night…’”
That sounded very familiar.
He had it. The Green Lantern recited that whenever he recharged his ring in its power battery. “Really?” Ephraim asked.
“Nah. But we did it anyway.” Nathaniel grinned.
“Oh.” Apparently older Nathaniel was still a huge comic book geek. Ephraim slid the coin back into his pocket. “I don't think Nate's going to let me charge the coin unless it benefits him somehow.”
“No.” Nathaniel grimaced. “And he'll do whatever it takes to get it away from you, and into the hands of someone who he can manipulate.” Ephraim wondered how this guy knew so much about Nate. Was it just a matter of knowing himself? What had Nathaniel been like at Nate's age?
“Why doesn't the coin work for you or him?” Ephraim asked.
Nathan rubbed his elbow distractedly. “It's a security feature. Having a two-person team ensures that one person can't abuse the technology, and each component is configured for the biometrics of a specific operator. That way, if anyone else comes across the device, they won't be able to use it. But it isn't perfect—the device can't distinguish between subtle variations in users, such as the slight genetic drift you might find in different analogs of the same person. All Ephraims are the same, as far as the coin is concerned.”
“What do you think Nate will do next?” Ephraim asked.
“He's stuck here, so he can't find another Ephraim to take your place. So he'll try to convince you to work with him, and wait for his opportunity to ditch you. Or maybe he'll just kill you. He's a little unstable.”
“I noticed.”
“He won't be able to stand the thought of you having something he can't. Once that coin is recharged, you can get out of here without him.”
Ephraim jumped up. “But if we take the controller away from Nate, you could use it! I m
ean…would you help me get home?” Ephraim looked at him hopefully.
Nathaniel laughed. “That's funny. I was going to ask for your help. I've been waiting to go home for ten years. If you can get the controller, I'll set the coordinates for wherever you want, as long as you promise to drop me off in my own universe first. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Nathaniel stood, and they shook hands. It was strange seeing the man his friend might become one day. He'd gotten at least a foot taller than Ephraim.
What had the older Ephraim been like?
Nathaniel tucked his hands into his deep coat pockets. “Good luck, kid.”
“Do I find you…here?” Ephraim looked around the park dubiously. Nathaniel was probably homeless. In more than one sense of the word, he realized.
“I live in one of the old cottages behind the mansion.”
“You're squatting?” Ephraim asked.
“I got a job as a caretaker of the old Greystone property. They're talking about turning the main building into a museum one day, but they can't do that if it's been vandalized. Besides, it helps me keep an eye on things around here,” Nathaniel said, turning to leave. “Try to stay out of trouble.”
“Hey, I almost forgot,” Ephraim called. “Why does the gyro look like a quarter?”
“Ephraim had been carrying that quarter around since high school, doing magic tricks with it. It only seemed appropriate.” Nathaniel walked off down a path to the right of the fountain and soon disappeared among the trees.
Ephraim had learned a lot about the coin, but he had even more questions than before. What kind of freaky future universe had Nathaniel come from? What was the purpose of the Charon device? How had Ephraim's older analog died?
The hardest question to answer was: how could he steal the controller from Nate?
Ephraim didn't know this twisted version of his friend well enough to get close to him—but he knew someone who did. And he was counting on her to be as smart as her counterpart in his home universe.
Summer school was worse than Ephraim had imagined. The building wasn't air-conditioned, so by the time he reached his locker he was already drenched in sweat. He spun the dial, hoping its combination was the same.
Ephraim felt a cool hand on his arm. “What are you doing here?” Zoe's voice hissed behind him.
“I've already missed a lot of school,” Ephraim said. “I don't want to fall even farther behind.”
“Stop fooling around. This is serious. You know you don't belong here.” She pushed her bangs out of her face and glared at him.
Ephraim turned and casually leaned against his locker. He ran his eyes over Zoe. She wore a white short-sleeved blouse and khaki shorts with a pair of green flip-flops. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, and now that he saw her in the daylight he noticed that she was tanner than Jena. “Are you actually worried about me, or do you not want me around because I remind you of him?”
Zoe narrowed her eyes. “I just don't have any interest in giving Nate what he wants. Are you carrying the coin now?”
Ephraim nodded.
“Idiot. That's your only way home. What if he takes it? You'll be stuck here.”
“I'm stuck here anyway until I can recharge it, and I don't have a good place to hide it. Besides, I actually came here because I wanted to see you,” he said.
She tilted her head. Ephraim described what he'd found at his apartment.
“I warned you not to go there,” she said with a sick expression on her face.
“Tell me what happened, Zoe.”
“The papers said it looked like a murder-suicide. They think David Scott did it.”
“I bet Nate framed him. Did they find a gun? Did the papers say?”
Zoe shrugged and avoided eye contact with him. “You don't know what Ephraim's father was like. He could have done it, I think. The cops wanted to talk to Ephraim, but I told them he was with me that night.”
“I suppose it looked suspicious when he disappeared.”
She nodded. “Since Nate was gone, too, I told them they'd left on a trip, that he needed time to deal with their deaths.”
Ephraim twisted the combination lock to the right and popped the latch. It opened. A folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor. For a moment he thought he was experiencing déjá vu.
Ephraim crouched and opened the note. “Welcome home” was written at the top, in Nate's handwriting. Below it was a dark and grainy photo of Jena's body floating in the fountain.
“Bastard,” he said. He couldn't take his eyes away from the grisly image. Jena.
“What is that?” Zoe reached for the paper, and he jerked it away from her grasp.
“You don't want to see this,” Ephraim said. He rose slowly, his eyes fixed on the photo.
Zoe slammed her hand against the locker next to his. “Don't do that to me. Don't try to protect me. Let me help you, okay?” She crossed her arms.
More students were filing sullenly into the hallway. They glanced at him and Zoe curiously as they passed—especially him. The sound of lockers slamming, books shuffling, and voices whispering filled the hall.
Ephraim passed the note to her silently. She didn't say anything while he gathered some textbooks and slipped them into his backpack. He didn't have any idea what he would need.
Zoe crumpled up the note and threw it into his locker. “Fuck,” she said.
“Are you okay?”
“That was me,” she said. “That was me! What a sick, twisted bastard.”
Ephraim leaned into the locker and retrieved the note, struck by a sudden thought. He smoothed out the note and examined the handwriting. It looked like Nathan's. Nate's.
“I know why he did it,” Ephraim said.
“What?” Zoe checked the time on her phone and looked down the hall anxiously.
“I know why Nate left me those instructions the day I found the coin! He wasn't helping me at all. He was trying to help himself.”
“That sounds about right.”
It was just like what had happened with Nathaniel and his partner. Nate had been stranded in Ephraim's universe, the controller useless without the coin to complete it. “He wasn't sure yet that the coin would work for another Ephraim, so he decided to test it out on me.” Maybe Nathaniel had told Nate and the other Ephraim about using the coin apart from the controller, and they'd never mentioned it to Zoe.
She tapped the note. “What are we going to do?”
“I don't know. Maybe I can reason with him.”
She snorted.
The bell rang for homeroom, and Zoe slammed his locker door shut. “Shit, we have to get to class. Get moving.” She propelled him down the hall. The rest of the students had already disappeared, like roaches scuttling away from a bright light.
“Why are you so freaked? Hold on! I don't even know where my first class is,” Ephraim said.
“We share the same schedule until third period. I'll fill you in on the rest. Come on! You don't want to be caught in the halls between classes.”
Zoe stopped in front of a classroom door, where Ephraim used to take Algebra. She pulled him inside as the last bell ended.
The classroom was stifling. The windows were closed, and twenty other students sat at their desks staring at the front of the room, sweat pouring down their faces.
“Where's the teacher?” Ephraim said as they took two seats in the back.
“No teacher for free period.”
“We just…sit here?”
“It's only forty minutes. Be quiet now. If they hear us, we'll get called to the guidance office.”
“Would that be so bad?” He bet they had air conditioning in the office, at least.
“Do they have corporal punishment where you come from?” Zoe asked.
“No fair making fun of the ignorant visitor,” Ephraim said.
“Not so loud,” she whispered. “I wish I were making this up.”
As Ephraim waited for Zoe in the cafeteria at lunch period, so
meone sat down across from him. Ephraim almost didn't recognize him, but it was Michael Gupal: he was thin, at least a hundred pounds lighter than his analog in Ephraim's universe.
“Hey,” Ephraim said hesitantly.
“What are you doing here?” Michael said.
“Say what?”
“He's back too, isn't he?”
“Who?”
Michael looked around nervously. “You said you'd take care of Nate.”
“I did?”
Michael looked terrified.
“What are you so afraid of?” Ephraim asked.
“You know what he's capable of.” Michael said. He hesitated then drew out a folded sheet of paper. He held onto it a little too long when Ephraim tried to take it.
“I found that in my locker this morning,” Michael said. “It's just like the other ones. I never should have believed you.”
The page had four pictures on it, reminiscent of comic book panels. The first showed Michael with a horrified look on his face, starkly lit by a camera flash. The next picture was of Michael lying in a coffin, dressed in a smart suit, his eyes closed and his skin pale and waxy. The third was a funeral, a man and a woman in black standing over a hole in the ground at a cemetery. The fourth image was of a tombstone: MICHAEL AMIR GUPAL, Beloved Son.
Ephraim thrust the paper back at Michael. “It's obviously faked. Nate is very good with Photoshop,” Ephraim said. But he knew the pictures were real—snapshots from a parallel universe, where Nate likely had done unspeakable things to one of Michael's analogs. “I wouldn't worry about it,” he said softly. The sight of Jena in the fountain flashed in his mind again. How many deaths had Ephraim caused?
Michael lowered his voice again. “You promised he was going to disappear.”
This wasn't even Ephraim's universe. Was it up to him to keep the other Ephraim's promises? He just wanted to get the controller away from Nate and get his own life back.
Then again, if Nate no longer had the controller, he would lose access to those other universes completely. He wouldn't be able to terrorize and kill freely, without fear of consequences. Ephraim might be able to protect countless other people, while also helping himself and Nathaniel return to their homes.
