by E. C. Myers
“So I went to the Memorial Fountain in Greystone Park and the library. I went by your old apartment, thinking you might keep the coin at home, but nothing. I biked all over town, all afternoon. Then I remembered what day it was.”
“You were planning to skip prom?” Jena asked.
“The whole school was skipping prom. Summerside hasn't had one in three years.”
“You don't have prom in your universe?” Shelley asked.
“We don't have a lot of things,” Zoe said. “Not since the Soviet Union shot down that commercial jet. But some of the other kids were talking about it in school today, how we would have had a prom tonight if we weren't in the middle of a war. It always used to be on the first Saturday after May Day—”
“You were in school today?” Mary asked.
Zoe stared at her. “Yeah. So?”
“It's Saturday!” Mary was triumphant, as if Zoe's entire story were invalidated by that one small detail.
“They have classes on Saturday,” Ephraim said. “And all summer long.”
“No!” Shelley said.
“Yes, I know, it's a horrible place,” Ephraim said. “But, Zoe, how did you know where we were?”
“The Hudson Club is closed in our universe, but it's the only place where you can have an event like this.”
“And that's how you found the signal from the coin?” Jena asked.
Zoe shook her head. “I still didn't pick it up. I decided to try inside. I climbed through a broken window around back, and as soon as I entered the ballroom, I shifted—before I even took the controller out of my pocket.” She put a hand on her stomach. “It felt different from before.”
“Maybe you accidentally triggered the controller,” Ephraim said.
“I didn't butt-dial your universe, Ephraim. Remember, it's touch-sensitive.” Zoe tapped the face of the controller with her index finger thoughtfully. “It was like I was drawn to you,” she said.
“Oh, please,” Jena said.
Zoe held up the controller. “I mean, I think this was drawn back to the coin as soon as they were near each other, almost overlapping spatially, in adjacent universes. It pulled me here. And if that happened spontaneously, something really strange must be going on.”
“Nathaniel didn't tell you why he needs us?” Ephraim asked.
“I didn't actually talk to him this time. He was broadcasting a message on repeat. He probably wanted to be sure he wouldn't miss me,” Zoe said.
“What did it say?” Nathan asked.
“‘We have trouble, Z. We need you and your better half. Bring Charon home,’” Zoe said.
“That's it?” Ephraim asked.
“‘Your better half’?” Jena frowned.
“He means the coin,” Ephraim said.
Zoe brushed her hair behind her ear. “I know it isn't much, but the message was pretty clear. Something is happening, and he needs us to bring the coin and the controller back to him as soon as possible.”
Ephraim leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Even if there were some problem Nathaniel needs help with, why not just send another team with another device?” Ephraim asked. “Why does he need us?”
“It's Nathaniel asking, Ephraim,” Zoe said. “Isn't that enough?”
“I know that look, Ephraim. You don't have to do this,” Jena said.
Ephraim glanced between Jena and Zoe. He didn't want to disappoint either of them. But he didn't even know for certain that anything was wrong, or that he could trust Zoe anymore. Or Nathaniel for that matter. A lot could happen in a year.
He spread his hands helplessly. “I never agreed to be on call, Zoe. I'm done with universe-hopping.”
“If it's nothing, we can get you back home right away,” Zoe said.
“It's not like he's popping off to the grocery store for milk,” Jena said. “It's another universe. And you just said the controller or the multiverse or whatever isn't behaving the way it should. What if he can't get back?”
“That's why we have to check in,” Zoe said. “We owe Nathaniel that much. He saved my life and got you home, Eph. He wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.”
“He shouldn't have asked at all,” Ephraim said.
Nathan's camera beeped loudly. Everyone turned to stare at him.
He fiddled with it. “Oops. Out of storage space,” he said.
“Thank God,” Jena said. She uncrossed her arms.
“Don't worry, I brought plenty of memory cards with me. I just hope I got all that.” He pressed “Play” on the camera and watched the footage on its tiny screen. A hyper pop song played through the speaker.
“Zoe, can't this at least keep until tomorrow morning?” Ephraim asked.
Zoe glared at Ephraim. “This from the guy who made us backtrack through like a dozen multiple universes just to put his analogs where they came from? The guy who insisted on protecting Nate, because killing him would make us as bad as he is?”
“Good on you, bro,” Nathan said. He held his palm out for Ephraim to slap in solidarity. Ephraim ignored him.
“This is your responsibility, Ephraim,” Zoe said. “I shouldn't have to remind you of that.”
“I have responsibilities here, too,” he said. “This is where I belong.”
“Eph?” Nathan said. “You should see this. It's kind of…I don't know. Wrong.” He shook the camera for a second and went back to watching the video, chewing on his upper lip.
“The bottom line is: If anything's wrong, we have to help fix it,” Zoe said.
“Guys, you have to look at this,” Nathan said. “Seriously.”
Nathan pulled the memory card out of the camera and inserted it into a slot on the monitor above his seat. He turned the screen on, hands shaking.
“Why us, Zoe?” Ephraim asked. Why me?
“Because we can. Because we have these.” Zoe held out the controller with the coin mounted in it.
He placed his first two fingers on the coin and rested his hand on hers for a moment. He felt a warm buzzing sensation at her touch, as though she were closing a circuit between them. He told himself it was from the contact with the device.
“Guys! Everyone, look at this!” Nathan pointed at the screen. All Ephraim saw was static.
“What, Nathan?” Ephraim asked.
“Shhh,” Zoe said. “We're in the middle of something.”
“Oh, we're in the middle of something, all right,” Nathan said. “Something bizarro. And I have it on video.”
Ephraim moved to the other side of the limo to get a better view of the screen. After a moment of hesitation, he wedged into the seat on Jena's right, keeping her between him and Zoe.
Onscreen, the camera zoomed in and focused on Ephraim and Zoe kissing. The image was shaky, but Ephraim saw the surprised look on his face then watched his earlier self close his eyes and lean into it blissfully. He still felt her warm lips against his mouth. Jena tensed beside him.
“Could we skip past this part?” Ephraim asked, his voice strained.
Nathan pressed a button on the remote, and the video played in double-time. It focused on Jena and Mary and Shelley, then jumped to show couples dancing. Nathan slowed the picture down to normal speed.
“Wait for it,” Nathan said.
Something flickered in the corner of the screen. Static burst over the image, and when the picture stabilized, a blurry ghost trail followed everyone's movements on the floor.
“Did you break the camera?” Jena asked.
Nathan shook his head. “Watch.”
The image zoomed in on a couple, Michael Gupal and Katrina Allen slow dancing in the corner, their transparent doubles superimposed over them. As the camera focused, it caught them clearly for a moment. The hazy ghost Michael grabbed the ghost Katrina's ass. She jerked upright, smacked him, and stalked off. The ghost Michael stared after her, then stumbled away in the other direction, while the real Michael and Katrina continued dancing, completely unaware of the paths their other selves had taken.<
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“What the holy hell?” Jena said.
“What was that?” Mary squeaked. “Their souls?” She made the sign of the cross.
“Couldn't be. Michael doesn't have a soul,” Nathan said.
“Quantum branching,” Ephraim said. “The moment a parallel universe—”
“Splits off from its original one,” Shelley chimed in. “In theory, it happens every time we make a choice.”
Mary gaped at her.
“But it's not supposed to happen in a universe when the coin and controller are in it,” Zoe said. “Otherwise there'd be tons of other Ephraims and Zoes and Nathaniels running around with their own Charon devices.”
“Can you be sure there aren't?” Jena asked.
“Play that back, Nathan,” Zoe said.
“Can you slow it down?” Ephraim asked.
Nathan rewound it and played it again at half speed.
Ephraim pointed at the screen. “See? That transparent Michael and Kat didn't peel off from our universe,” Ephraim said. “They were already in a different universe. Michael just made a different decision in that one.”
“And faced the consequences,” Jena said.
Zoe moved next to Nathan and grabbed the remote from him. She advanced the footage, her brow knit with worry. “So the camera's picking up other parallel universes bleeding into this one, overlapping like a double-exposed photograph. And we're seeing people's other selves, like…”
“Ghosts of a chance?” Nathan suggested.
Shelley groaned.
“How can a camera pick up quantum…phantoms?” Ephraim asked. “Where'd you get that thing, Nathan?” He looked at it skeptically.
“I bought it used online,” Nathan said.
“Maybe the Charon device is causing interference? It looks like it started recording other realities just after I appeared with the controller,” Zoe said.
She rewound the recording once more, taking it back before she had kissed Ephraim. She pressed “Play.”
The screen showed the mirror behind the bar, reflecting the camera on the counter and Ephraim and Nathan. They were out of focus, but their conversation was loud and clear.
“When are you going to grow up?” said the Ephraim of thirty minutes before.
Hard to believe that only half an hour ago, his life had been so normal. Relatively speaking.
“Toilet humor never gets old,” Nathan said.
“But it always stinks.”
Mary sighed.
“Nice.”
The image flickered and broke apart into colorful pixels, like an old video game that was malfunctioning. The picture snapped back, and for a moment, the distorted image showed a long line of Ephraims and Nathans reflected in the mirror. The recursion effect was accompanied by the loud whine of audio feedback. The Ephraim at the front doubled over and pressed his hand to his stomach. When he straightened, all the other reflections collapsed into him, and the picture cleared up.
Jena drew in a sharp breath. She, Mary, and Shelley were literally on the edge of their seats, pressing closer to the small video monitor. Ephraim realized he was clenching his right hand into a tight fist. He relaxed his fingers.
“What were we just talking about?”
“We were engaging in some scatological repartee. Seriously. What's wrong? You don't look so hot. Or actually, you look a little too hot. In the literal, not colloquial, sense, though objectively speaking, as a guy, I recognize that your appearance is not entirely unappealing. No doubt thanks to exceptional genes from your mother, who also looks exceptional in jeans.”
Shelley crossed her arms, her lower lip protruding.
“I'm okay now.”
“Oh, there she is.”
The camera picture tilted and swung around to face the bathrooms. Half of Ephraim's face stayed in frame in the foreground. It blurred as Zoe came into focus in the background. In the picture, Ephraim turned slowly.
“We don't need to see that again,” Jena said.
Zoe paused the video.
“The recording went screwy at the precise moment that I popped into this universe,” Zoe said.
“So, the camera isn't broken?” Nathan asked.
“No, but I'm afraid something else is,” Zoe said. “Or maybe I am causing interference.”
She picked up Nathan's camera. “Give me another memory card.”
Nathan pulled a small blue memory card from his coat pocket and handed it to her. Zoe slid the chip into the camera, popped the lens cap off, and rolled the window down. She angled it out at the parking lot and tapped the round red icon on the touchscreen with a red fingernail to start recording. Her nails were longer than Jena's, another small difference Ephraim had failed to pick up on.
“Hold up,” Nathan said. He pulled a thin cable from another pocket and plugged one end into the camera and the other into the side of the monitor. He pressed a button on the remote, and the screen displayed everything the camera saw.
“Look at that,” Zoe said.
Ghostly images of people moved in the empty parking lot. The image zoomed in, and Ephraim saw two transparent people making out in the back seat of a Hyundai.
“Looks cramped,” Mary said.
Jena squinted. “I think that's Leah Donner and…Serena Renfield? What are they…oh.” Her cheeks flushed.
“That's hot,” Nathan said.
“Down, boy,” Shelley said.
“You're getting all this, right?” Nathan asked.
Zoe closed the camera, and the screen turned black. “I think we've seen enough.”
Nathan grabbed for the camera, but she held it just out of his reach.
“This is bad news, isn't it?” Jena said.
“This is news,” Zoe said. “Considering Nathaniel's call for help, it probably isn't good news.”
“I bet the Old Ones are busting into our universe!” Nathan said.
“What is it with you wanting giant creatures to attack Summerside?” Ephraim asked. “If it has anything to do with virgins, I don't want to hear it.”
Nathan pursed his lips and remained silent.
“I thought so.” Ephraim sighed.
“Like I've been saying. We need to get to Nathaniel as soon as possible.” Zoe looked at Ephraim.
“Okay,” Ephraim said. He tried to keep his voice steady. “I'm in.”
“At last.” Zoe held up Nathan's camera. “Can we borrow this? It could come in handy.”
Nathan looked stricken.
“Let me rephrase that. I'm going to take this.” She wrapped the strap around her wrist definitively.
“It took me six months to save up for that,” Nathan said.
“We'll get it back to you, buddy,” Ephraim said. He hoped he'd be able to keep that promise.
“We should send these clips to a scientist. Or Eyewitness News,” Shelley said.
“That could cause a panic,” Jena said.
“If this is real, we have to tell someone,” Mary said.
“We will. The only person qualified to explain what's happening and do something about it,” Zoe said. “Nathaniel.”
“We'd better get going then,” Jena said.
“You are not coming with us,” Zoe said.
“That isn't your decision,” Jena said.
“Jena, maybe it's better for you to stay here,” Ephraim said.
Jena crossed her arms. “You gave the coin to me, darling. If you want to use it, I'm coming along. I don't like losing things that belong to me.” She smiled sweetly at Zoe.
“I can be so damn stubborn sometimes,” Zoe said.
“Most of the time,” Ephraim said. Jena and Zoe glared at him.
Zoe knocked on the partition.
“We're driving to this other universe?” Mary asked.
Ephraim smiled. “The Charon device can move us across dimensions, but not over distances. Unless you're swapping quantum positions with your analog, you appear in the same geographic location you started from. The limo will just
get us to a better place to shift.”
The partition slid down with a mechanical whir. Hip hop music blared into the passenger cabin.
The driver twisted around to face them. “Where to?” he asked. He had a gentle voice with a Russian accent. Zoe started when she heard it. Ephraim remembered that back in her reality, the country was at war with the USSR, along with almost everyone else.
“Take us to Greystone Park,” Ephraim said. He looked at Zoe questioningly, and she nodded her approval. In Nathaniel's universe, it was the site of an institute devoted to studying parallel universes.
“Park's closed,” the driver said.
“We aren't going inside.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Hang on,” Ephraim said. “Do you two want to get out here?” he asked Mary and Shelley.
The twins exchanged a look.
“We're coming with you,” Shelley said.
“At least as far as the park,” Mary said.
“What about your dates?” Ephraim asked. “I forget their names.”
“Exactly,” Mary said. “I never thought I'd say this, but I'd rather hang out with you.”
“This is much more interesting.” Shelley smiled at Nathan.
“Someone has to document this,” Nathan said. He pulled a pocket-sized video camera from his back pocket and grinned.
“You're kidding,” Ephraim said.
“I always carry a backup,” Nathan said.
“You can ride with us to the park too and drop us off.” Ephraim leaned toward the front of the cabin and raised his voice over the music. “Hey, what's your name?”
“Maurice,” the driver said.
“Okay, Maurice. Step on it.”
“You bet.” Maurice tipped his hat.
The partition rose, and the cabin was silent again. The car engine rumbled under them, and they were moving.
The car slowed, then stopped. The partition lowered, and Russian rap with a pounding bass invaded the passenger compartment.
