The Paramount Dimension

by Joseph Calev

  He started to ask how she was accomplishing all this, but she shushed him while still admiring the menu. “You seem in a rather good mood considering your world is falling apart,” she said.

  Jason just stood there with his mouth open so wide an owl could fly in. How could he respond to that?

  “Listen.” She didn’t look up. “We need to start with a few ground rules.” She folded her hands together and put them on the table, then leaned forward. “First, don’t get attached. There’s no happy ending here. Someday, likely quite soon, I’ll be gone and you’ll never see me again. I’m here for information, and you’re here to provide it. Accept that.”

  He nodded, but when he started to ask what information she needed, she cut him off again.

  “Second. I’m sure you have tons of questions. However, you’re a turnip. You won’t understand the answers, so I’m not going to bother. You want to know where I’m from, and as far as you should know I’m from somewhere not as far away as you’d think.

  “Third. No touching unless I say so. I’m made from a different kind of stuff than you. If I don’t expect it, your touchy-feely will be the last thing you do. I’m being serious. You try to grab me and chances are you’ll die.”

  “Are you a witch?” he blurted out.

  Her head moved backward. “A witch? Fuck no. That’s kind of an insult, actually. There’s no such thing as magic. That’s just what people call science they don’t understand.”

  “And what you did in the classroom?”

  “Bits and electrons, Turnip.

  “But these were people,” Jason muttered. “Flemence?”

  “What? You think your brains are special? They’re just neurons and synapses. It’s easy to mess with them.”

  She leaned forward and brushed her fingers against the side of his head. A strange static seemed to caress him as she did.

  “But don’t worry. I’ll leave your head alone, Turnip.”

  “Could you please call me Jason?” he nearly shouted until stares reached him from the other candlelit tables.

  She laughed. “Let’s see, Jason Bourne, Jason Statham, Jason and the Argonauts . . . Jason Voorhees. Nope, you’re not a Jason. Relax.”

  He remembered back to her initial question concerning the lightning storm. “Was that you? In the air? Did you kill all those people?”

  She waited a beat. “No,” she replied in a soft tone. “But now you’re asking the right questions.” She gently grabbed his hand, though he tried to hold it back given her earlier warning. “I just put everything back. Something did kill them, and has caused everything else gone bad in this world, and I need you to . . . help me . . . find out what.”

  She had to force out the last words. Jason considered leaving right then. How could he possibly help? As far as he remembered, that night he was a lowly yeoman defending Seattle against the lizards.

  “But why me?” he asked.

  She smiled. “You’re concerned that your world is disintegrating?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re the only one,” she answered. “Everyone else is a happy little turnip, but not you. Don’t ask me why, because if I knew then we wouldn’t be here.”

  Jason breathed in. “So, what you’re saying is last night really happened, and that all these people didn’t die from lightning. They died in the attack.”

  She moved forward and that intoxicating scent returned. It wasn’t just heavenly. It awakened senses he never knew.

  “Not bad for a turnip.”

  “Why doesn’t anyone else remember it? And how did you just wave your arms and everything disappeared?”

  He wanted to ask if that was her intention with him, but held back. Something told him if she didn’t want him around, he would already cease to exist.

  “Because you’re turnips,” she answered plainly. “For the same reason you still had school today, and no one mourned, and they still assigned homework, and there’s no concern about how lightning could kill so many. You simply aren’t capable of understanding.”

  “Well that’s a bit harsh. If we’re just turnips, why are you here? Why do you care?”

  For the first time, she hesitated. Then she sighed. “Because I have to know. There’s . . . there’s something evil out there, and I need to know if it was behind this.”

  Of course there had to be something evil in all of this. Jason thought back to all the movies he had watched. His odds of survival weren’t high.

  Raynee shook her head as if reading his thoughts. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” she said. “But what you imagine to be bad, to be evil—you have no idea.” She looked toward the window at their own reflections. “You have no idea how dark and twisted this thing is, how it feels to face true evil.”

  “His name is Mordriss, isn’t it?” Jason asked, remembering her questions on the airship.

  A tear formed by her eye, then she recollected herself. “That’s not a name for turnips.”

  The thought suddenly occurred that upsetting someone who could disintegrate him so easily wasn’t wise, so he moved to change the subject. “What do you need me to do?”

  She wiped away the tear. “Do? Just follow along. Don’t worry. I’ll get what I need from you.”

  That was the least reassuring thing he’d ever heard. “So, have you interviewed other turnips?”

  “No,” she replied with a flutter of her hair and a perturbed look. “You’re the first turnip I’ve talked to. They’re not very interesting. Pretty stupid actually. But you . . . .” She leaned back and examined him briefly. “There’s something different about you. You’re not as stupid.”

  Jason also leaned back, slightly impressed with himself, when a waiter stopped by. He ordered a spaghetti Bolognese, while she asked for only an ice cream.

  “Ice cream?” he asked incredulously.

  “I can’t eat your food,” she answered. “If you start boring me, I’ll just watch it melt.”

  “You keep kosher?” he said mockingly.

  “No.” She smiled. “It’s just—”

  “I wouldn’t understand because I’m a turnip.”

  “Yeah.” She grinned, wide. “You’re getting it now.”

  “I don’t think I’m getting anything.”

  She shook her head. “Just accept that you’re a moron, and everything will be fine.”

  His spaghetti arrived, and he hesitated to dip his fork in it, seeing she really did only have a melting plate of ice cream in front of her. Outside, the sun was setting, casting the entire sky in a fiery red.

  “That’s a nice sunset out there.” She eyed his unmoving hand, still holding the fork. “Okay, noodle boy. If this ice cream melts before you’ve finished, you won’t be happy. We’re wasting time now.”

  Jason devoured the Bolognese so fast that he unexpectedly burped after swallowing a large clump of noodles. Several restaurant patrons shook their heads.

  “If I could smell, I’d probably be running for cover.” She held her hand toward his mouth. “Now give the waiter some of those money thingies and let’s get out of here.”

  “You can’t smell?” he asked.

  “Not here. Haven’t learned yet. Garçon!” She waved her hand at the waiter, who approached with a sigh and handed him the bill.

  Jason half expected her to have some trick to handle the check, but she only admired the transaction with bright eyes. With no transportation, he hadn’t been able to procure a part-time job, so what little money he had came from mowing a few neighbors’ yards. Regretfully, he handed over a fair portion of his life’s savings.

  “Now, to get started,” she exclaimed upon exiting. The sun had finished setting, leaving a quickly darkening cloud line. Jason stood transfixed by her figure cut across the evening light. A single slit provided a hint of her entire leg, while the tight fit of her dress showed every curve. Then he remembered his bicycle. This would be a disaster.

  “There’s something I want to do. But how to get there?”
She glanced at his transportation and shook her head. “The things a girl has to do around here. Fine.”

  She turned the other way, stuck out her thumb, and instantly a city bus arrived.

  While Jason was quite sure there was no stop here, nor could one hail a bus that way, he asked no questions as they boarded. To his surprise, it was nearly full.

  He paused as she scooted to the window while her hair glistened from the remnants of the sunset. When her glance caught his admiring her legs along the contour of the seat, he winced in fear of disintegration. She gave him half a smirk, then patted the next seat.

  “Sit down. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

  He sat while evaluating that statement. “Where are we going?”

  “To experiment,” she answered in a cheerful tone.

  He briefly considered jumping off the bus for fear of becoming a lab rat, but after he found himself again studying the intricacies of her face until she blushed, he no longer minded.

  The bus left them on a dead-end street at the foot of the mountains. They had climbed far enough that a thin coat of snow covered the grass, and Jason was very cold. Ahead was a steep incline through the evergreens that disappeared into the dark.

  Raynee handed him a heavy fur coat and pair of boots; he had no idea where she found them. She remained in her thin black dress and stiletto heels.

  “What about you?” He tightened the cozy hood over his head.

  “Your temperatures don’t affect me,” she remarked, then calmly traipsed up the hill, heels and all.

  Only minutes after they started up the hill he was already lagging behind her. It was difficult climbing, and he was exhausted.

  Multiple times she ran back down to check on him, then encouraged him to speed up. After two hours of unending incline, she finally let him rest by a stump. The stars were now in their full glory, providing a light outline of the twisted forest that surrounded them. Her back was still completely exposed, but the dress didn’t even flutter from the roaring winds that made him huddle even deeper into his thick coat.

  She produced a flask of water and some crackers, but he was no longer surprised. Raynee checked a watch he hadn’t seen before.

  “We’re making good time. Just another seven or eight miles.”

  Jason groaned. “How many have we done?”

  “Three.”

  She sat next to him, and instantly a wave of warmth overcame him. Yet just when he felt comfortable, something stirred from the darkness.

  Raynee herself paid no heed. Her attention was on her new watch. A twig broke and an unseen bird fluttered away. Then came the unmistakable sound of snow crunching; something was approaching. Raynee now was paying attention and turned on a flashlight to reveal two twinkling eyes only thirty feet from them: A cougar.

  Raynee sighed in relief. “For a minute I thought it was something dangerous.” She turned her back to it as she took Jason’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

  “But that’s a cougar!” he exclaimed, then frantically looked around in the dark, since Raynee had extinguished the light.

  “Relax.” She started forward. “It’s just here to scare any wandering turnips. You should be more concerned about what’s ahead.”

  That provided little confidence. The cougar kept its distance as they ascended, but it didn’t go away. He heard the occasional snap or footstep from the shadows. Twice the moonlight illuminated more than one pair of eyes. It had friends.

  Yet after another two hours, their companions lost interest and the forest became far too quiet. The wind stopped completely, but the air grew colder. Jason’s muscles now ached with each step, and Raynee had to help him up the steepest parts.

  His eyesight had slowly adapted to the starry night. The snow before them was pristine, without even the trace of wildlife. As they ascended the trees grew sinister with their barren branches grasping at them, as if preparing for a strangling. Through the trees’ winding limbs, the Milky Way never appeared brighter. More than once he paused to admire it, and wondered what other worlds were out there. Was Raynee from one of them?

  The farther they went, the more the limbs began to brush his throat. There was still no wind, but every mouth of these burned-out trees was aimed directly at him. He wasn’’t welcome in this place. He stopped his quick pauses to admire the stars and trudged on. The trees would not tolerate him long.

  Raynee stopped. Though every bit of Jason now ached and sweat poured across his chest, her skin reflected perfection from the myriad galaxies. Her long hair flowed undisturbed, and her stiletto heels had suffered not even a scratch.

  “Now, I need to warn you about—” she started, but to Jason’s horror the branch above her snapped.

  “Look out!” he shouted and shoved her away. They landed in the clean snow beyond, Jason entangled in the branches’ long snares. No sooner did he pull himself out than a dozen creatures emerged from the forest.

  Jason’s terror subsided upon recognizing they were just rabbits. They hopped with such softness that not even a track was visible. He wiped his forehead and was searching for Raynee when they struck.

  His body was flung back into the snow from their combined assault, and he cried in pain as their teeth bit into him. As he wallowed in the snow a pair of whiskers grazed his cheek, and he knew it was over.

  Then there was nothing. The forest was again silent. The branch had disappeared, as had the rabbits.

  Raynee loomed over him. “Very stupid. Brave, but stupid.” She lifted him so hard to his feet that he flew several feet into the air.

  “You’re very lucky I saw you coming,” she said. “Otherwise, there wouldn’t be anymore of you.”

  Jason glanced around for more rabbits. Only the indentation in the snow where the branch had fallen remained.

  “As I was about to tell you, they’re here to get rid of random turnips, just in case one of you wanders too far. Stay close from now on.”

  As she instructed, he took several steps forward until their eyes locked under the stars.

  “Nothing can harm me here,” she said softly. “But that was very nice of you.” She looked away. “I like you, Turnip. You’re a quality vegetable.”

  Neither the rabbits nor the trees bothered them the rest of the way up. At even the hint of a stir or paw, Raynee held out her hand and the shadows disappeared. After a distance, the forest gave up and they walked in peace as the sky turned to a deep red.

  They had walked so long that the sun was teasing an appearance. Jason himself was so exhausted he considered just making a bed in the snow despite whatever Raynee would say. Just when he was about to collapse, the trees ended and Raynee stopped.

  “I need you to see this,” she said, and he walked forward.

  The sky was now a brilliant yellow with the sun in full promanance. Jason was so entranced with its beauty that he nearly stepped off the edge.

  Raynee pulled him back as his foot dangled in midair thousands of feet high. Yet in that brief moment of terror, Jason noticed something odd. At its very edge, the cliff didn’t seem to exist. It was as if he had stepped into a sea of blue air.

  Raynee pointed, and far away was the unmistakable gray bustle of human habitation. From nowhere she produced a large telescope, then invited him to look.

  Whatever this city was, it was huge. As far as Jason looked there was urban sprawl: shopping malls, office buildings, traffic, and billboards. He couldn’t recall any such city anywhere in Washington. He had learned in school, that Seattle was their largest city, but this one appeared much grander.

  “Look farther,” Raynee said, with a smile.

  Then he noticed the smoke. Past the sections where business appeared as usual, vast piles of dust permeated the air. She increased the magnification, and he clearly saw a swath of destruction. What once must have been massive buildings were now an indecipherable jumble of beams and debris. A river ran alongside that pile, and farther out he glimpsed a vast sea.

  Jason s
hook his head, not sure what he was looking at.

  “It’s New York City.”

  That couldn’t be. From every map he’d seen, New York was nearly three thousand miles away. It was not possible to walk there overnight.

  “Not where you expected it to be, is it?” she said.

  Jason backed a few feet from the edge, then sat. “So, Beijing . . . Moscow . . . Australia?”

  “A day’s trip by boat,” she said.

  “But why?” This made no sense. Why had he grown up expecting these places to be farther apart?

  She sat next to him, and he so desperately wanted to hold her.

  “Your planet here, your entire universe, is changing, but I’m not sure why. I know this must be warping your little mind, but some of this makes no sense to me, either. Who would do this?”

  “Mordriss?” asked Jason, remembering their earlier conversation.

  She turned to him with fierce eyes. “That’s a name I never want to hear from you again. You have no idea the danger. You need to wipe that from your mind.”

  Jason nodded. He wanted the friendly Raynee again.

  “If he did this, then things are worse than you can ever imagine,” she continued. “But from your side, pretty soon you won’t care.”

  Jason frowned at the suggestion.

  “You’re going to die very soon,” she added, then pointed to her watch. “This world’s time correlation is changing. It used to be one-to-one but is now much faster.”

  He just stared at her with empty eyes. He had no idea what she meant.

  “Forgot that you’re a turnip,” she said with a laugh. “As you’ve probably noticed, your world is collapsing. Everything’s heading somewhere. Soon it will all stop.”

  “And then?” Jason asked sheepishly, though he already knew the answer.

  “Then you and everything else here will cease to exist.”

  4

  Well, that sucked.

  Jason was rather fond of living, and though his parents were robots and his school was oppressive, he preferred them not to be destroyed.