The Universes Inside the Lighthouse

by Stucky, Pam

  She opened her eyes.

  “What? What the—? What?” mumbled Charlie, scrambling in panic under his covers. Emma was standing next to his bed in his bedroom in the cabin, lit only by the glow of the full moon streaming through the window in the dark of night. The sound of movement in his bedroom had awakened him.

  Emma dropped the rock and fell to the floor, weak and drained. Her breathing was shallow; her skin was pale.

  “Emma! Emma, are you okay? What happened? How did you get here?” Charlie flashed out of bed, turned on the light, and kneeled next to his sister. “Emma! Is that you? Are you okay?”

  His shouts awoke the others in the house. Parallel Amy Renee was the first to come running to the room, followed closely by Parallel Glen and Parallel Emma.

  Emma’s strength returned quickly. She looked around her at the concerned faces on the clones of the family she loved. And Charlie. Her Charlie. This was the right one. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, as though she were trying to hug him into herself.

  “Oh my gosh, Charlie, I can’t believe it. I did it. I found you.” Emma pulled out of the hug and punched Charlie in the shoulder. “Do not ever, ever, ever do something like that again! I might have lost you forever!” She started crying and collapsed into Charlie’s chest.

  An enormous smile broke out on Charlie’s face. “It’s you! It’s my Emma!” He wrapped her in a hug again, swaying as he held her, tears threatening to overflow his green eyes.

  “What is going on?” said Parallel Amy Renee. “Emma, how did you get back here? Where is everyone else?”

  Emma explained in great brevity, leaving out all but the most important facts. The family would have questions, she knew, but she would have to leave them unsatisfied.

  “A ghost universe?” said Charlie, when she’d finished. “And you got here on your own? But …”

  “I know, I know,” said Emma. “There’s no time to explain. I don’t know what’s happened to the others but we have to get back to Earth—our Earth—and see if we can find everyone. With the elevators not working, and I don’t even know what happened to Dr. Waldo and the Hub … we need to get back, Charlie. And we need to find the other Charlie, and bring him home.”

  Emma looked at her parallel family, at her parallel self. She envied Charlie the chance to get to know these people and spend time here. She was sad to leave again so quickly. Maybe I can come back one day, she thought, but she didn’t have much hope.

  “Thank you for taking care of Charlie for me,” she said. “Last I saw your Charlie, he was in perfect health, don’t worry. We will find him and get him back to you, I promise.” As the words fell out of her mouth, Emma knew she was making an enormous promise that she had no right to make, and no idea how she would keep. Still, hearing the words aloud gave her resolve. She would find this family’s Charlie, and she would return him to his home.

  The goodbyes were different from regular goodbyes. These were goodbyes filled with longing and wonder and no small amount of confusion. They’d all gotten to more or less the same point in their lives: a family of four, a cabin, an island. Would their lives continue on the same path or would they diverge? Their parting was weighed down by the fullness of knowing they might never know.

  “All right,” said Emma to Charlie, when they were ready to leave, “hold my hand. Hold it tight. I don’t know if this will work again.”

  “You don’t … but maybe we should try the elevator?” Charlie could see that Emma had, in fact, managed to travel through space and time herself, but he was skeptical as to whether he wanted to risk his own molecules.

  “Do you know how to operate the elevator?” Emma said. “If it’s even working, that is.”

  Charlie let out a heavy sigh. “I guess not. Beam us out, Emmy. And if you’re about to kill us, please make it quick and painless.” Resolved to whatever would come next, if anything, he closed his eyes, holding Emma’s left hand with both of his.

  “I’m not going to kill us,” said Emma. I hope, she thought.

  Emma narrowed her focus to one thing: home. For a fleeting moment her imagination took her back to her family’s house, but she shifted the image in her mind to hone in again on Dogwinkle Island—this time, on her own planet Earth. She thought of her mother, her father; she thought of the camping spot where she and Charlie had scanned the skies for UFOs or northern lights—hoping for the latter, never in a million years expecting the former. She took her mind back to the lighthouse, the trail down to the beach where she’d found the energy rock that was now tucked safely in her backpack. She imagined the pictures on the walls, the ones where Eve appeared over and over again, through time. She thought of the storage closet, of discovering the Hub for the first time. She focused her mind and body and being on holding tight to Charlie, on making sure he was as much a part of her as her own limbs, and then she put forth her request to the multiverse: Take us back where we belong. Take us back to the lighthouse at Balky Point, on our own dear planet Earth, our own world, our own home.

  Their bodies glowed from the inside out, hummed in time with the secret pulse of the universes. They felt the air sucked out of them, then felt their bodies infused with the lightness of infinity. From within the everythingness, Emma sought and found her target: the lighthouse on their Earth.

  But something got in the way.

  Suddenly, as Emma was concentrating, she felt the emptiness rush in with a great force. “Charlie!” she yelled out; whether in her mind or with some actual voice, she had no idea. “Charlie, hang on!” She could no longer feel his hand, much less anything physical; she was just mind and molecules and space. Vast, open space. She felt herself reassembling into a being again, but falling, tumbling, through the universes, lost …

  Thump!

  She hit ground, hard, landing face down, like a belly flop.

  “Ouch,” said a voice next to her.

  “Charlie!” mumbled Emma into the dirt, a statement of relief. He was here with her … wherever “here” was.

  “You’re bleeding,” said Charlie from her side.

  With great effort, Emma pushed herself up from the ground and into a sitting position, her body radiating pain to her core. Her chest felt as though she had been hit with, well, a planet. A planet that got in the way of their getting home.

  She looked around. They could have been on Earth, almost, in a dry, hard desert, somewhere, but somehow she knew they weren’t. A look at the sky confirmed this: two suns. Emma squinted, wiped her eyes.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  Charlie gave her a small smile. “I was really hoping you’d know that, Em.”

  Emma felt a wave of anger at herself for having brought them to this place. How arrogant, she thought, how arrogant of me to believe I had a clue what I was doing!

  “I’m so sorry,” she said to her brother.

  He pulled up his sleeve to cover his hand, and brought the cloth to Emma’s forehead. He gently dabbed at the blood trickling from a small wound. “Forgot my first aid kit,” he said, with a dry laugh.

  Emma pushed his hand away and stood up. Immediately her legs buckled under her, and she fell back to the ground.

  “Maybe I should have waited a bit before trying this again,” she said, ruefully.

  Charlie just nodded. “Well,” he said. “So, now what?”

  Emma was exhausted. For a moment she begrudged her brother the restful time he’d had down on the parallel Earth—no dinosaur planet, no ghost planet, no Vik …

  “Vik,” she said. The thought hadn’t occurred to her before, but saying it, she knew: somehow, they were here because of Vik.

  And, sure enough, as though he’d been waiting for her cue, a man came walking toward them from the distance. The two suns made the air shimmer. Just like in a western, thought Emma as the figure grew nearer, except I’m defenseless.

  Charlie looked from Emma to the man and back. “It’s Vik?” he asked.

  The young man with the je
t-black hair was dressed all in black, dark like the night, just like in the picture Eve had showed them what seemed like ages ago.

  He stopped in front of them. “It’s Vik,” the man said. “Emma and I have met. So glad you came here. Saved me a trip.”

  Emma stared him directly in the eyes. She could see a conflict in his face, as though he was of two minds. Quickly, one of those minds took control. His look hardened.

  “Why are we here?” Emma demanded. She struggled to breathe regularly. Regardless of whether the air on this planet was breathable or the amber rock on her bracelet was protecting her, Emma’s lungs felt as though they could never get enough air again. She tried to hide her efforts, but Vik saw.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal soon enough. Until, I suppose, we get rid of you. Small detail.”

  Charlie turned his head at Vik’s choice of pronoun. “We? Who is we? What do you want with Emma?” He looked around, but saw no one else.

  “Vik,” said Emma, “and The Void.” Her eyes never left Vik’s.

  “Vik and The Void,” said Vik. “Very good! Clever one, you are. But,” he went on, tossing his hands in the air, “that won’t help you. You made a very big mistake, young lady. Learning to travel like that, without the elevators. Shouldn’t have done that. Now everyone will want to, and we can’t have that.”

  The suns were beating down on this dusty planet. It’s so hot, thought Emma. So hot, just like …

  “Wait,” she said. “I’ve been here before.” The dry planet where she’d landed with Eve, Ben, and Parallel Charlie, just before they’d ended up on the planet with the plassensnares. This was the same planet. The realization came to her, quick and certain. Those thoughts she’d had, the thoughts that told her the others would never notice if she stayed there without her, had that been …?

  “Clever! Clever indeed! You have been here before,” said Vik. “You’re right, we were with you, in your mind. We almost got you that time.”

  “Doethine told me about you,” said Emma, “and Eve told me, too. I know all about you.” I am not alone. I am not alone. Emma chanted the words in her mind, trying desperately to keep The Void from infiltrating again.

  Vik sneered. “You know nothing. They know nothing, and you know nothing. And Eve, Doethine, where are they now? What good are they to you? You are alone. You’re alone here. Alone in the multiverse, and all you have is this one.” He looked at Charlie and sneered. “We’ll do away with him quickly enough. Give up, Emma, before I have to hurt you both.”

  Charlie stood there, helpless and bewildered. Emma hadn’t gotten to the point of telling him about Doethine, or Vik, or any of this. He had no idea what they were facing.

  But Emma did.

  “I’m not alone,” Emma said, reaching for Charlie’s hand. He grasped it and held tight. “I’m never alone.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Vik, “twins, always have someone there with you, do you? Where was Charlie when you were on the ghost planet? No one but you. Even your grandfather walked away from you. And why wouldn’t he? What do you have to offer, Emma? And Eve and the other Charlie, they left you all by yourself to die. Really, what do you matter?”

  Emma flinched. It was true, her grandfather had walked away, but that was the ghost planet. Things were different there. And they’d already talked. And Eve and the other Charlie’s leaving without her wasn’t their fault. She had sneezed.

  Vik went on. “And even if you are a twin, that means nothing. You’re still separate people. You still get lonely. You know I’m right.” Vik paused, got a thoughtful look on his face, as though he was listening. “Charlie leaves you sometimes, doesn’t he? He goes off all the time without you. Oh, I know, you think he’s your protector, but you know better, deep down you know he’s only there for you because he feels he has to be.” Vik’s false empathy dripped from his words. “He’s more of a social butterfly, isn’t he? Goes to parties without you sometimes? You’d like to be out, too, out having fun with the other kids? Out with Ben, maybe? Ben, who so clearly prefers Eve, who’s not even human. That must sting, Emma. Don’t you want to get away from all that pain? It’s easy, you know. You can just stay here, stay with us.”

  Emma gripped her brother’s hand tighter. “Don’t listen to him, Charlie. He just wants to get into our minds. Don’t let him get to you.”

  “Don’t worry about Charlie, Emma,” said Vik. “Charlie is the life of the party! Charlie always comes through just fine. But you, you’ve felt it, haven’t you? That fear, knowing you’re not good enough for those other kids. You let them see the real you once, a couple times, didn’t you, and now you know you’ve revealed too much. Now they know you for who you are. They know you’re a fraud, Emma. They know you don’t belong. They know you’re not one of them. You never could be, never will be. You’re outside. You’ll always be outside. Don’t be sad. It’s easier to be alone, if you just give in to it. Stop trying to fit in, Emma. Because you know you never will, don’t you? Nothing you do will ever be good enough. Nothing you say. Who you are, Emma, is just not enough.”

  Emma’s breathing was shallow again, not from the impact of falling on the planet, but from the humiliation and shame. She knew what he was saying was true. Her eyes started to fill up with tears. All the times she was home alone, wanting to be part of a group, wanting to be included, wanting some proof that she was somehow wanted. She felt the pain of it filling her chest, as real as if it were happening again. The voices in her head started chanting loudly. You’re not good enough. You’ll never fit in. You don’t belong.

  At her side, Charlie felt Emma slipping away from him. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew Vik’s words were affecting his sister. “Don’t listen to him, Emma. You know people love you. You’re just quieter. I’m more of an extrovert. But you have friends. You have me. You are not alone.”

  You are not alone. Charlie’s words rang in Emma’s head. You are not alone. What had Doethine told her? The most powerful words in the multiverse. The things that make people feel vulnerable are the very things that will save them. You are not alone. Sometimes you have to be the one to reach out and let people know that you need them, but you are never alone …

  “Charlie, help me!” said Emma, grabbing both his hands. “Think of Eve, and Ben, and Dr. Waldo, and Milo. And the other Charlie! Bring him too. Help me bring them here!”

  “Bring them here? What do you mean? I don’t know how!”

  “Just think of them! Think of them as hard as you can! Imagine them here with us!” Emma imagined Eve, and Ben, and Dr. Waldo, and Milo, and Parallel Charlie. She imagined them as hard as she could, imagined them entering the emptiness and having their breath taken away only to be replaced by being a part of the everythingness. She imagined them glowing from within and dispersing into infinity, and then with all her might she imagined them reassembling here, on this dry, dusty planet, wherever “here” might be. “Please,” she whispered to the universes. “Please, I need them.”

  She opened her eyes.

  There, looking rather bewildered, standing before them, were Eve, Ben, Dr. Waldo, Milo, and Parallel Charlie. And Ed.

  “Ed!” she said. “You too?”

  “Charlie told me to come!” He held up his phone and some portable speakers. “He said to bring these?”

  Emma looked at the phone and the speakers, puzzled, then burst into a smile. “Yes! Charlie told you to bring those? Charlie, you’re brilliant! Turn on some music, Ed! We are having ourselves a dance.”

  “We are what?” said Ben.

  “We are dancing,” said Emma.

  “We are what?” echoed Parallel Charlie.

  A peppy song poured out from Ed’s speakers. “Glad I charged this thing earlier,” he joked nervously, “Didn’t know I’d be bringing it on a trip!”

  “Trust me!” said Emma firmly to the gathered crowd, who remained standing quite still. “Just dance!”

  Eve, quickly understanding the situation and E
mma’s intentions, grabbed both Charlies, one by each hand, and led them in a jumping, swaying, arm-waving, bouncing sort of dance. Milo reached out to Ed and spun him into a gregarious swing dance. Dr. Waldo, ever a jig man, danced his own joyful jig.

  Emma looked at Ben and held out her hand. “Dance with me?” she said. Her heart fluttered as she said it, but she didn’t look away from his dark eyes.

  “But …” Ben protested. “I don’t dance.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You may not dance well,” she said, “but that doesn’t matter, so long as you’re dancing.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, and Ben automatically responded by putting his hands around her waist. They swayed in time with the music, their moves more awkward than award-winning, but both were smiling. Emma’s heart surged with joy. She could feel her brain unclouding; The Void, she knew, was making its escape. Her smile grew.

  Before too long, everyone was lost in the joy of movement, their inhibitions left behind. When Emma turned her head to put it on Ben’s shoulder, she saw Vik, standing off to the side, alone.

  “Ben,” she said, “keep dancing. I need to …” She released herself from his hold and walked over to Vik.

  “Vik,” she said, “may I have this dance?”

  A struggle washed over Vik’s face. Again Emma could see two minds working behind his eyes, and this time she knew: one was Vik; the other was The Void.

  Rather than wait to see which mind would win Emma reached out and placed Vik’s right hand on her waist, then held his left hand with her right. In ninth grade gym class students had had an option of taking a quarter of dance or a quarter of kickboxing. Emma had wanted to take kickboxing, but had psyched herself out of it, thinking she couldn’t handle the intensity. Ever since then she’d regretted her choice, but today she was glad for it. She led Vik in a gentle waltz, counting out the steps for him and completely ignoring his weakening sounds of protest.