The Walls of the Universe

by Paul Melko

  They spoke not at all over dinner, and when they climbed into bed they lay as far apart as possible.

  He was just nearly asleep when she spoke.

  “So, we’ve only killed one of an infinite number of Ted Carsons,” she said.

  “Just the one,” Prime said. “And he deserved it-”

  “Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t justify it.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  In the darkness, he felt her lift her arm to her face and rub at it. She was crying.

  “It had to be done,” she said. “Didn’t it. If we hadn’t, Abby would have had no father.”

  “He wasn’t coming to talk,” Prime said. “He was coming to attack. We just did what had to be done. It had to be done.”

  Casey sighed. She rolled over, hooking her legs around his.

  “Why did you pick me, of all the Caseys?” she whispered.

  “I always pick you,” Prime said.

  “Why me? Why this me?”

  Prime shrugged. “You’re… you. I mean, you’re beautiful, and interesting, and really hot.”

  “Just because you think I’m sexy?”

  “No! We were meant to be!”

  “Why me and not some other me? Maybe you were meant to be with her.”

  “This is where I ended up. It must have been fated.”

  “What about that other John? What if he and I were fated to be together and you ruined it?” Casey asked.

  “He never even talked with you!”

  “No, he never did. Not more than a dozen words,” she said. “Even though I gave him a lot of chances.”

  “I talked to you the first day,” Prime said.

  “At the church dinner,” Casey said. “You were suddenly different.”

  “I was.”

  “It was the first thing you did?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And then you got expelled.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you started your big Cube idea.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I was first,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “What if you went to some other universe, and some other Casey was there, would you want her?”

  “Casey, don’t-”

  She rolled over on top of him, and he felt how hot her sex was near his.

  “I deserve some answers! Would you date any Casey you came across?”

  “No, some are… better than others.”

  “Better?”

  “Sometimes you’re not… you. You’ve dropped out of school, or gotten pregnant-”

  “Like here?”

  “-or you’ve run away from home. There you’re not as beautiful, or as… interesting.”

  “How many Caseys have there been for you?”

  Prime didn’t answer.

  “Tell me,” she said, thrusting her hips against him. He groaned.

  “Ten,” he said.

  “Ten? You fucked ten of me?” She nipped at his neck. “What do they have that I haven’t?”

  “Nothing,” Prime said, responding, “You’re the best.”

  She bit him. “Now I know you’re lying.”

  He yelped, and their lovemaking turned silent, angry, and desperate.

  The next Monday, a group of workers combed the plant and assembly area. Prime couldn’t help but hear the rumors: Missing boy. Hadn’t been seen in thirty-six hours. Car missing.

  Prime focused on his work, assembling his parts without regard for the person in front of him.

  “Slow down, Rayburn!” Sid whispered. “You’re making me look bad.”

  Prime glanced at the six partially assembled washing machines hanging on straps between him and Sid. There should have been one.

  “Sorry.”

  “Hey! You hear about this Ted Carson kid?”

  Prime shook his head, though he had.

  “Missing for a week now.” Prime bit on his tongue at the incorrect information. “They think he was crushed under a crane. Didn’t have any of his safety quals, but his dad is some union muckety-muck and got him a floor job. Big mess.”

  A shop warden came by and asked if anyone wanted to help search the warehouse after shift. Prime grunted noncommittally.

  “What, Rayburn? You too good to help look?”

  “I’ve got plans after work.”

  “More of that Cube business?” the shop warden said with a laugh.

  Prime should never have bragged about it. He shook his head.

  “We searching on the clock?” Sid asked.

  The warden laughed. Sid didn’t volunteer either.

  That evening, Casey and Prime almost acted like normal. He caught her glancing at him more than once, but he ignored it. It was easy to lose themselves in caring for Abby, in the mundanity of married life. Without the time he’d spent on the Cube, his evenings were more free than ever, and he had no interest in the novel anymore.

  It was as if he had lost everything that he had held sacred up to a week ago, but when it was possible he might lose Casey and Abby what he really valued became clear.

  The next day at work, a police officer was questioning the people who had worked with Ted Carson. They led each of Carson’s posse of friends into a small office, one at a time. After fifteen or twenty minutes the next one was led in. Prime had a good view of the office from his position on the line, but they never called him.

  He caught one of Ted’s comrades staring at him twice during the day, but he looked away when Prime focused on him.

  Was it his imagination?

  In the locker room, he found himself standing next to Ted Carson’s father. The room was suddenly empty.

  Prime turned and faced him squarely.

  “Yeah?”

  “I hear there was something between you and my son.”

  “So what?”

  “In case you haven’t heard, he’s gone missing. If you know something, you need to tell the police.”

  Prime barked down a laugh. “I have nothing to say.”

  “If you know something-”

  “Nothing!”

  Carson’s face turned a blotchy purple. Prime wouldn’t have survived a punch if he’d thrown one. The man was squat and muscular, twice the width of Prime.

  “I’ll remember that when you need someone to help you,” Carson said. He turned and stalked off.

  There was a police car out front of their apartment when Prime got home. For a second, he considered driving on, but he pulled the Trans Am into a street spot.

  A uniformed officer and a plain-clothed detective stood in the kitchen. Casey, Abby in her arms, glanced up as Prime entered.

  “John, these officers are here to ask about the guy that disappeared.”

  “Detective,” the plain-clothed detective said. “Not officer. Detective Duderstadt.” He didn’t offer his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Casey said.

  “Ted Carson,” Prime said. “You’re here about Ted Carson.”

  “Yes, you know him?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Enough to have at least one fight with him,” the detective said. The officer stood with arms on his hips, glaring at Prime. The detective was shorter, with a pencil-thin mustache.

  “That was a long time ago,” Prime said, and another John entirely.

  “You were expelled because of it.”

  “I was expelled for not writing a letter to his mother. It was a matter of principle.”

  “Motive could be a matter of principle.”

  “Motive for what?” Prime asked. “Didn’t he run off?”

  “Could have,” the detective said. “You two had words at the plant too, I hear.”

  “He said rude things about Casey,” Prime said. “I didn’t let him get away with it.”

  “I see.”

  “Carson is a punk. He’s a bully. I learned last year he’s not worth messing with,” Prime said.

  “Did he stop by on Thursday night?” the detectiv
e asked.

  “No,” Prime said. He paused. “Why would he?”

  “Seems he was bragging to some comrades how he was going to teach you a lesson. He’d have to stop by to do that.”

  “Or he was just flapping his gums,” Prime said.

  “Or he was writing a check he couldn’t cash,” the detective said.

  “He did-does-that a lot.”

  Prime changed his reply in mid-sentence. He had used the past tense. The cop was using the present tense. Had he given himself away?

  “He seems that sorta fellow.” The detective glanced around the apartment. “So, you haven’t seen Carson since…?”

  “I dunno,” Prime said. “Work on Thursday, I guess.”

  “Where you had words in the locker room.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “I guess.”

  “And you haven’t seen him either?” the detective asked Casey.

  “Why would I?”

  “If he came around, you’d’ve seen him, right? You here alone taking care of the baby. You’d have seen him if he came by.”

  “I would have,” Casey said. “But I didn’t.”

  Prime looked for some sign, some tic on her face to give away a shred of guilt. She looked like a bored housewife, uninterested and cool. Prime felt himself relax in reaction.

  “Anything else you want?” Prime asked, motioning toward the door.

  The detective gave him a pointed stare. “No, I guess that’s it.” He glanced at the other officer. “We’ll be going then. If you happen to suddenly remember seeing Ted Carson on Thursday, you let me know.”

  Prime showed them to the door and watched them clomp down the stairs. A sudden squawk from Abby made him jump. He shut the door too quickly and it slammed.

  Casey looked at him, her face pale. “We’re going to have to move the body,” she said. “They’re on to us.”

  Prime shook his head. “No way. Someone will notice if we have to dig up that ground again.”

  “I need to sow some wildflowers then,” she said. “Something to cover up the dirt.”

  “It’s too late in the season for flowers.”

  “Something!”

  “Calm down!” Prime said. “They were here to see what we did under pressure. If we run now, it’ll be apparent!”

  “But-”

  “They haven’t found the car, and they haven’t found the body,” Prime said. “He’s just a runaway kid.”

  She nodded. Prime took Abby and bounced her on his hip. She gurgled and cooed. She had no idea her parents were murderers.

  He found himself reassigned to overflow the next day, which meant he sat in the overflow room with six other workers waiting for the assembly line to back up. It meant idle time, nearly all day long. The workers in the overflow room were union advocates, since it was considered a cushy job. The six just stared at him, and he guessed that Ted Carson’s father had something to do with his reassignment.

  It drove Prime crazy to sit idle. He was getting paid for doing nothing, but under the scrutiny of grizzled old workers.

  He didn’t even try opening a conversation with any of them. He ate his bagged lunch in silence, watching the six play euchre with rules that were a little different than he remembered.

  At the end of his shift, he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  When he got home, Casey was in the shower while Abby slept.

  Dirty clothes hung over the chair backs: overalls, plaid shirt. Dirty sneakers sat by the door, covered in mud.

  “Where have you been?” Prime demanded as Casey stepped from the shower. “Where have you been?”

  Casey gave him a cold look. “You wake the baby, you put her back to sleep.”

  “ ‘Where have you been?’ I said!”

  “Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

  “Well?”

  “With your mother, planting bulbs and shrubs.”

  “You didn’t-” Prime had been sure she had moved the body.

  “No, of course not. But our friend has a spruce sticking out of his chest, as well as a new blanket of mulch.”

  “You… mulched him?”

  “I bought a few extra trees, and when we ran out of room around the house, I suggested one by the road. You can’t even tell the dirt was dug up now.”

  “Will it take? I mean a dead tree is like a spotlight.”

  Casey shrugged. “The guy at the tree nursery said it would.”

  Prime sighed.

  “Can I dry my hair now?”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  Prime sat on the couch and stared at the wall. It scared him that he needed Casey so much. It terrified him that he was relying on her competence. He hadn’t relied on anyone but himself since… since he couldn’t remember.

  He found himself shaking. All the fear and frustration seethed within him. He forced himself to breathe.

  “Let it go,” he whispered. “Let it go.”

  He exhaled again, slowly, staring at the wall.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Casey stood wrapped in a towel, rubbing her hair dry.

  “What?”

  “You’re crying.”

  “I’m crying?” He felt his face. It was wet with tears. “I didn’t realize-”

  Casey slid into his lap.

  “What is it?”

  Prime looked at her incredulously. “We’ve killed a man, is what. I’ve killed a man. And I was wrong.”

  She squeezed him. “Yes. That’s all true.”

  “I’m so sorry, Casey. I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. And what I’ve done to others,” Prime said. He felt a sharp pain for what he had done to the Johnny Farm Boy from this universe, sending him alone into the unknown, never to return.

  Prime looked into Casey’s face. She was staring at him.

  “What now?” he cried.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that.”

  “What?”

  “That you’re sorry.”

  Prime was silent. “I am sorry.”

  “Because you’re suffering?”

  “No!”

  “Then why?”

  “I’ve-I’ve done bad things to people. Murder aside. I’ve hurt a lot of people.”

  Casey nodded. “That’s true. A lot of different Caseys.”

  “Yes.”

  …

  The next day at work, there was a rush job and everyone in overflow was called to the floor, except for him. He’d brought a book, however, so opened it to read. If they were going to pay him to sit, he’d at least entertain himself.

  But an hour later, Ted Carson’s father came by, glared at him, and said, “We’re not paying you to read, Rayburn!”

  “You’re paying me to do nothing!” Prime replied.

  “And you’ll do just that!”

  “Why can’t I be on the shop floor?”

  Carson stared at him. “I don’t think I like your attitude, Rayburn!”

  “Good!”

  “You mouthing me, boy?” Carson said. “Because if you are, we can go out back and finish this off.”

  Prime’s chest thudded. How had he gotten so far over his head again? If he could have returned Carson’s son, he would have.

  “Forget it!” he said. Prime grabbed his book, his lunch pail, and his jacket.

  “You walk out this door, Rayburn, and you’re done here!”

  “Good.”

  Prime pushed past him onto the floor. It seemed the entire factory was watching him as he walked down the aisle. His heart thudded. What was he doing? But he couldn’t stay. He’d find another job. Casey could find a job, and he’d watch Abby.

  He didn’t bother to change, just clocked out and went to his car. The parking lot was alien, with all the cars motionless and empty. Usually the lanes were packed with cars heading for the bars and home. At mid-morning, the place reflected the fall sun off a thousand windshields.

  The apartment was empty when he got there. He sat in the ch
air in the dining room, feeling at ease yet hyper-aware, wondering how Casey would take it all. She’d understand, he knew. He was suddenly proud of how strong she would be. The phone rang. He ignored it, letting it go to the machine.

  He listened to Casey’s voice on the tape, asking the caller to leave a message.

  “Hello, Mr. Rayburn. This is Yolanda Kemp. We met at your lawyer’s offices last week. I realize it wasn’t the best of circumstances. Something’s come up, and frankly, we’d like you to help us. The sum of it is, the firm we’ve hired to build the Cube doesn’t understand it. We’ve had some issues over your actions, but we’ve never doubted your enthusiasm. We need you as a part of the organization. An integral part. Call me when you get this message. You have my card. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “Is this what you were talking about?”

  John looked at the hulking black box, sitting in the corner of the Student Union basement, next to the eight-lane bowling alley. He peered into the hooded display. A square ball moved slowly across the screen. Grace spun a dial to move her line to hit it, bouncing it against a stack of blocks that disappeared when hit.

  “It’s Breakout,” John said.

  “No, it’s Electrux,” Grace said. “It’s got a ball, like you said, and a flipper, paddle thing like you said. So I figured this is what you were talking about.”

  In his universe, this type of video game would have been laughed out of any arcade. It seemed to have come from the seventies. An arcade and any decent bar would have a bunch of complex video games and pinball machines.

  “Nope, this is definitely not pinball. Pinball is mechanical, not electronic.”

  Henry grunted. He reached out as the ball went past Grace’s flipper. She jumped out of the way.

  “You play it then!” she cried.

  Henry did, racking up a high score. John wasn’t too impressed.

  “So,” Grace said. “It’s mechanical. Henry can’t find it in the literature.”

  “Yeah,” Henry said.

  “It’s not like we don’t believe you,” Grace began.

  “I don’t care if you believe me,” John said, suddenly hot.

  “Right,” Grace said. “But we want to see one. How it works.”

  “So, it was some one-of-a-kind thing,” John said.

  “I think we should do it,” Henry said.

  “Do what?” John cried.