by J Boyd Long
“How did you get an inside guy?” he asked. “Was he like a spy, or something? What did he do?” He tried to imagine getting recruited by Bob to be a spy inside IBZ Energy. Before the Zimmerman email, the idea would have been preposterous, but now? Maybe not so much. The hard part about being a spy is that you would have to know about the bad stuff, but keep working there. He remembered the copy of Zimmerman’s hard drive on Richard’s computer. Was it possible that Richard was a spy? Was he gathering evidence for something? Blackmail? Was he planning to go to the FBI, too? It was hard to think of him as a possible good guy.
Tocho cleared his throat, drawing Quentin’s attention back to the moment. Tocho stretched his hands out towards the fire, and looked up into the darkening sky, collecting his thoughts.
“We were running,” he said after a moment. “We were trying to escape a particularly violent uprising that we had started. We didn’t have our own door back then. We ran through a DimGate, but it wasn’t the same one that we had come through to get there. This one took us to what we later learned was the main control center in the Genesis Dimension. We were in a huge room with about a hundred DimGates in it, all lined up in rows. We needed to regroup and figure out what to do with this discovery, because we both knew we had stumbled onto something serious. We found a doorway out of the room, and that led us down a hall with a bunch of other doors. We picked one that looked like an empty office, except that when we got into the back room, there was this guy there, working on a computer.”
“Ah, the look on his face,” Bob laughed. “He knew who we were right away. He was screaming, ‘Don’t kill me, I’m a friendly, I can help you,’ and Tocho was hissing at him to shut up before he brought the cavalry, and I was trying to get us all on the floor behind the desk, so we could hide and get our shit together.”
“That was a day,” Tocho agreed.
“Wait a minute,” Eissa interrupted. “This guy just joined your team the second you walked in the room?”
“Not everyone that works for an evil empire is evil,” Tocho said. “As a matter of fact, I’d say that most people who work for DimCorp are regular people, just like Quentin, at least until you get to the upper ranks.”
“Yeah,” Quentin said, tossing a pebble at Eissa. “Like me. Awesome, incredible, normal, rock star people like me.”
Eissa snorted, and tossed the pebble back at him.
“Rupert was a good guy,” Tocho said. “And he had enough insight to realize that the company he worked for was doing some bad shit. Like most people who find themselves in a similar position, he made a good paycheck that took care of his family, and there weren’t any other places to work in the area he lived in, so he was sort of stuck. Then we came crashing into his office one day.”
That was a position that Quentin could relate to. He had spent hours and hours agonizing over it. He could go work other places in town that had a better quality of life, but he’d have to take a serious pay cut to do it. IBZ paid way better than anyone else in town, but you had to put up with Richard’s micromanagement bullshit and a high-stress workload. Some days it didn’t seem worth it, but he was already sharing expenses with Denise just to get by. He was stuck, and he knew it, just like Rupert.
“Rupert was a high-level programming engineer,” Bob said, picking up the story. “He did a lot of work on the DimGate system. He didn’t have anything to do with what DimCorp did with the DimGates, but he loved the science that went into building and improving the system.
“He’s the guy that got us our own door. He took one of the scout doors and decommissioned it in the system; made it look like it got scrapped for parts. He taught us how to program it so we could go where we wanted to go. That changed everything, because up until then, we could only go through the doors we found, and we could only go wherever they were set to go. All of the sudden, we could travel at will.”
Quentin immediately recognized the value of having someone like Rupert on your team. They could use him right now, actually. He could probably have their DimGate up and running properly in two minutes. “What’s the difference between a scout door and the other doors?” he asked.
“There’re several different kinds of doors,” Bob said. “There’s the industrial door, like the one I told you about in the logging operation. Those are big, and they stay open for long periods of time, and they can facilitate the movement of a lot of material between dimensions. A scout door is a lot different. It’s made for one or two people to walk through, and maybe move a small amount of stuff. It doesn’t require near the resources to operate that the big gates do.”
“Scout doors have some other features, too,” Tocho said. “Scout doors have the ability to change the structural layout of inanimate objects based on the dimension you are traveling to. That way scouts could go into an unknown dimension and scout it out without sticking out like a sore thumb. The door would automatically clothe them in something appropriate, and transform whatever tools and weapons they carried into something that existed in that dimension.”
“So how come your scout door didn’t do that?” Quentin asked. “We’re all in the same stuff we were in when we left your house.”
“We can turn that feature on and off,” Bob answered. “It’s an ingenious invention, really, but there are times when you want the bomb you build on your side to still be a bomb on the other side. We used it both ways all the time back then. Scout doors can also reproduce the imagery around them, like a chameleon. It doesn’t make them invisible, but it does make them a lot harder to see, so that most people won’t notice them.”
Quentin found the elasticity of his brain being tested once again. Moving through space he could accept, at least marginally, but matter transformation? Rearranging things on a cellular level? That didn’t even begin to seem possible. How many hundreds of years earlier had the people in DimCorp’s dimension started developing computers? It had to be a lot, if they were this far ahead with their technology.
“Okay,” Eissa said. “So essentially, we need to get a hold of Rupert, and have him get us back where we belong, and then have him blow up the computer or something, right?”
“Well,” Bob said, “Part of the problem with that is that we don’t have Rupert anymore.”
“Remember when you asked if we had ever left someone in another dimension?” Tocho asked. Eissa nodded. “Rupert couldn’t outrun the stun charge, and he got captured.”
“I thought he was a computer geek,” Eissa said. “Why was he on a mission with you?”
“That’s the biggest mistake we ever made,” Tocho said. The waver in his voice caused Quentin to glance at him. “We let him talk us into taking him along, since he had done so much to help us. We never, ever should have done it, but we made an exception, and he paid the price.”
Everyone fell silent for a moment, and Quentin stared into the fire. It was one thing to hear about nameless, faceless strangers dying for a cause, but when it was someone connected to you, it made it much more real. He shifted in his sand recliner and looked up at the sky. It was fully dark by then, and the soft roll of the surf created a comforting background noise to the crackling fire.
“That’s pretty much the dilemma,” Bob said. “We don’t have anyone to help us get you home. Tocho and I have decided that we need to shut down the DimGate system again, and figure out a way to do it better than we did last time. If we can get to the main control center in the Genesis Dimension, we can probably find a way to do it, but we’ll be running the risk of possibly getting stuck there, or in some other dimension. We really don’t have any way to know how that will go down, and we don’t know what to do with you two.”
It was a crazy predicament to be in. Quentin’s first impulse was to hide out in Vegas in Dimension 443. Then, if Bob and Tocho did get stuck somewhere else, at least he and Eissa would have an exciting place to live, with flying cars and bullet trains. His IT skills might not be very marketable there, though. That could be a problem. He glanced up as Ei
ssa blew out a breath. It was a sound that meant she was about to make a speech, and he cringed, not knowing what to expect.
“So, what you’re telling us is that you’re going to fight DimCorp, and we can either stay here on this island, or go with you and help you kick their ass?” Eissa stood up, brushing the sand off her pants. “I’m going with you. I’m a combat veteran, and even if I look like an aging, overweight man-hating lesbian, I still know how to kick ass and fuck things up. Also, in case I didn’t mention it before, I’m pretty cool with the idea of living here. If I change my mind later, I’ll build a goddamn raft and go somewhere else.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at them, daring someone to refute her.
Quentin raised his eyebrows, impressed with her tenacity. They had talked about all the ways that greed had torn the world apart, talked it to death for years. Now, some random event had brought them nose to nose with an opportunity to do something besides talk about it. It irked him a bit that Eissa had recognized this before he had, and that she had volunteered to act before he could even put all the pieces together. At the same time, he was inspired, and he didn’t want to let the moment pass by without seizing it. He climbed to his feet, and stepped over beside Eissa.
“Well, that pretty much sums it up for me, too,” he said. “I’m in. I’m smart, I’m pretty good with computers, and I took karate when I was in fourth grade, so I bring a lot to the table. Also, it’s personal for me. I’ve been helping DimCorp do this stuff without even knowing it, and I’m not okay with that. I’m going to have to fight them somehow, even if we do get back to our dimension, and I’d rather fight them with your help. You have better tactics than we had, which was pretty much just exposing them and notifying the FBI, and I can see now that that wouldn’t do much. So, yeah, I’m in.”
Tocho and Bob looked at one another in silence, weighing things out and contemplating the situation. Tocho took a deep breath, and stood up.
“And the two became four,” he said. “I can’t remember if that came from Jesus, or King Arthur. Either way.”
Chapter 14
The hair on Quentin’s arms was standing up. He looked at the others, and then back at the fire. Electricity was in the air; a current of exhilaration charged with fear, excitement, and apprehension.
“I feel like I just jumped in way over my head,” Quentin said. He giggled and looked around, embarrassed by his admission. “It’s probably just the excitement of the moment.”
“Oh, you’re in over your head,” Bob said. “Way over. That’s okay, though. Life happens outside of your comfort zone.”
“If you have to fight somebody with your fourth-grade karate skills, you’re really going to be out of your comfort zone,” Eissa said, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.
“Yeah, yeah.” Quentin’s legs shook, and he sat back down. He was a nervous wreck, and he berated himself to calm down. After all, they were all alone, sitting by the fire on a deserted island. There was no reason to get worked up into a panic, at least not yet.
“If we’re going to do this, then we’re going to do it smart.” Bob stood up and began pacing. “We’re going to have to teach you two a lot. We’re going to have to make plans, and contingency plans, and escape plans in case the first two go to hell. We’ve been hiding out and taking it easy for several years, but DimCorp has been busting their ass the whole time. It’s going to be a lot harder than it was before, and a lot more dangerous. We might all end up dead in a week. Everybody needs to realize that.”
He stopped pacing and glared at each of them in turn. Eissa met his gaze fiercely, and Quentin drew a certain amount of comfort from her confidence.
“I’m guessing Holt’s got my sister in custody,” Quentin said. “They know that I know about all this. There’s probably a warrant out for my arrest by now. I’m already in danger up to my neck.”
Bob nodded. “Yeah, in truth, you’re probably better off not trying to go home at this point.”
For once, Quentin wished that Bob had told him he was wrong, that Denise was probably just fine. The last thing he needed was a guilt complex, or to sit around imagining Carl Holt duct taping her to a chair and cutting off her fingers and toes, while some flunky destroyed the house. He shook his head. Don’t create negative imagery, Quentin, his therapist would say. You are in charge of creating your experience in life. Don’t make it a bad one. She was right, as usual. He returned his focus to the task at hand.
“I need something to write on,” Quentin said. “We need to make some lists.”
Bob pulled a small notebook and a pen from his pocket and tossed them over.
“Alright,” he said, opening the notebook to a blank page. “First off, let’s make a list of all the lists we need to make.” He leaned forward, angling the notepad toward the fire so he could see what he was writing. It felt good to make a decision, and to be doing something other than reacting to problems. For the first time in days, he didn’t feel like a victim.
“This is the first time I can truly appreciate your OCD,” Eissa said. “Finally, your uber-preparedness for everything can be useful.”
“My preparedness is always useful,” he replied, jotting down the first list. “Now then. We need to inventory our supplies, tools, and food. We need to know what we’ve got on hand to sustain us, and what we’re going to need to do to make sure we can keep eating and drinking proper amounts. Next, we need to make a list of all the ways we might be able to disable the DimGate system, and what resources we might need to do that. Oh, and we need a list of what the two of us need to learn, and figure out how we’re going to make that happen.”
“Bob, I think we’ve found you a protégé,” Tocho said, a wide grin splitting his face. “The two of you are going to have this whole operation so organized that we’ll just go down the checklist and make it all happen.”
“That’s the whole point,” Quentin said. “How else would you do it?” He looked up, his eyebrows raised.
“Tocho’s somewhat less scripted in his approach than you might be accustomed to,” Bob said. “He’s a visionary, whereas you and I are process and procedures kind of guys. We’ll make a good team.”
“I’m definitely a visionary,” Eissa said. “I don’t waste near as much time thinking about the best way to do things as Quentin does, I just get it done.”
“You also end up re-doing a lot of things, which brings up another list,” Quentin said. Being proactive was lightening his mood, and he took her jab in stride. “We need to know everyone’s strengths and weaknesses; what skills each of us has, and what potential liabilities.”
“That’s a good idea,” Eissa said. “You can write down on my liabilities list that I’m not going to run a six-minute mile, in case we need someone to do that. I’m also not going to seduce a guard and sleep with him to get a key to the special door or something, either.”
“Your penis aversion is already becoming a liability to the future of the Universe,” Quentin said with a grin. “Maybe we can get you some counseling for that.”
“Haha, very funny,” Eissa said. “Do you want to suck some dude’s dick?”
“Whoa, point taken.” Quentin laughed, throwing up his hands in surrender.
“I might,” Tocho said, waving his hand. “You can put that on my strengths list.”
They all laughed. A certain camaraderie was forming. His therapist would be proud if she could see him now, bonding with people and preparing to act on his beliefs. This was real progress. You’re finally leaving the sidelines and getting in the game, Quentin. This is where you are supposed to be.
He wrote down a quick assessment of the group members, leaving space after each one so that he could add more information later.
Bob was in his seventies, he was very bright, mechanically-oriented, and a take-action kind of guy. Tocho was also nearing his seventies, a philosopher, and clearly an adventurer. Age was probably the biggest liability to worry about with either of them. Eissa was in her forties, a former medi
c and combat veteran, and was solid and resourceful when the situation demanded it. She wasn’t in great shape, but her never-die attitude would probably compensate for that.
Considering what he brought to the table, Quentin felt largely inadequate. He was smart and logical in his approach to things, and he was fairly well-rounded, especially for a computer programmer. The problem was that he hated conflict, and this task was the very definition of conflict.
“What other lists do we need to make?” he asked, trying to get them focused.
“We should probably start with what we’ve got down so far,” Tocho said. “It’s going to take us a day or two just to get through the inventory of what we’ve got here.”
“A day or two?” Eissa asked. “There were about five cans of outdated soup on the shelf in the cabin. It’s not going to take long to inventory that.”
