Paul Melko: The Walls of the Universe

“Yeah. I wouldn’t try to meet him or anything. He doesn’t know about us.”

“Why’d you pick me to talk to? Why not some other me? Or why not all of us?”

“This is the most like home,” Prime said. “This feels like I remember.”

“In one hundred universes this is the one that is most like yours? How different are we from one to the next? It can’t be too different.”

“Do you really want to hear this?”

John nodded.

“Well, there are a couple types of us. There’s the farm boy us, like you and me. Then there’s the dirtbag us.”

“Dirtbag?”

“Yeah. We smoke and hang out under the bleachers.”

“What the hell happened there?”

“And sometimes we’ve knocked up Casey Nicholson and we live in the low-income houses on Stuart. Then there’s the places where we’ve died.”

“Died?”

“Yeah. Car accidents. Tractor accidents. Gun accidents. We’re pretty lucky to be here, really.”

John looked away, remembering something. It was the time he and his father had been tossing hay bales and the pitchfork had fallen. Then John recalled the time he had walked out on Old Mrs. Jones’ frozen pond and the ice had cracked and he’d kept going. And the time the quarry truck had run him off the road. It was a fluke really that he was alive.

“I think I’m ready. What’s the plan?”

Prime lifted up his shirt and began unbuckling the harness. “You leave from the pumpkin field. Select the universe one forward. Press the toggle. Spend the day exploring. Go to the library. Figure out what’s different. If you want, write down any moneymaking ideas you come across.”

“I don’t think so,” John said. It seemed too much like cheating.

“Fine. Then don’t. Tomorrow, flip the counter back to this universe and pull the lever. You’ll be back for school on Monday.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Don’t lose the device! Don’t get busted by the police! Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t flash your money either. If anyone recognizes you, go with it and then duck out. You don’t want to make it hot for our guy over there.”

“Right.” John swallowed. What if it did work? What if…?

“Johnny, you look a little nervous. Calm down. I’ll keep you covered on this end.” Prime slapped him on the back, then handed him the harness.

John pulled off his shirt and shivered. He passed the two bands of the harness over his shoulders, then connected the center belt behind his back. The disk was cold against his belly. The straps looked like a synthetic material.

“It fits.”

“It should,” Prime said. “I copied some of my materials for you in case you need them.” He pulled a binder from his own bag, opened it to show John pages of clippings and notes. “You never know. You might need something. And here’s a backpack to hold it all in.”

Prime paused as he handed it over.

“What’s wrong?” John asked.

“I haven’t been away from the device in a long time. It’s my talisman, my escape. I feel naked without it. You gotta be careful with it.”

John realized how much trust Prime was placing in him. “Hey,” he said. “I’m leaving my life in your hands. How about a little two-way trust?”

Prime smiled grimly. “Okay. Are you ready? I’ve got twelve thirty on my watch. Which means you can return half an hour past midnight. Okay?”

John checked his watch. “Okay.”

“Toggle the universe.”

John lifted the shirt and switched the number forward to 7534. “Check.”

“Okay. I’ll watch from the loft.” Prime climbed the ladder, then turned. “Make sure no one sees you.”

“Right,” John said. What would someone think if he or she saw John disappear into thin air? He stopped himself; he was acting like the device would actually work. He’d find out soon enough.

John’s foot landed awkwardly on a clump of dirt. The backpack shifted on his shoulders. He felt silly, suddenly. He’d look the putz when the device failed to send him across universes. Prime would laugh at him. Still he had to know.

He found his spot. His heart raced. This was it. He looked up at the barn window. Prime was there, watching. He waved.

John waved back; then he lifted up his shirt. Sunlight caught the brushed metal of the device.

John hesitated. Soon enough.

He pulled the switch and the world lurched.

John’s ears popped and his feet caught in the dirt. He stumbled and fell forward, catching himself on his gloved hands. He wasn’t in a pumpkin patch anymore. Noting the smell of manure, he realized he was in a cow pasture.

He worked his feet free. His shoes were embedded in the earth. He wondered if there was dirt lodged in his feet now. It looked like the dirt in the current universe was a couple centimeters higher here than in the old one. Where did that extra dirt go? He shook his feet and the dirt fell free.

It worked! He felt a thrill. He’d doubted to the last second. He’d expected the other John to suddenly yell, Tricked ya! but here he was, in a new universe.

He paused. Prime had said there was a John in this universe. He spun around. Cows grazed contentedly a few hundred yards away, but otherwise the fields were empty, the trees gone. There was no farmhouse.

McMaster Road was there and so was Gurney Road. John walked from the field, hopped the fence, and stood at the corner of the roads. Looking to the north toward town, he saw nothing but a farmhouse maybe a mile up the road. To the east, where the stacks of the GE plant should have been, he saw nothing but forest. To the south, more fields.

Prime had said there was a John Rayburn in this universe. He’d said that the farm was here. He’d told John he’d been to this universe.

John pawed up his jacket and shirt and tried to read the number on the device. He cupped his hand to shield the sun and read 7534. He was where he expected to be, according to the device. There was nothing here.

The panic settled into his gut. Something was wrong. Something had gone wrong. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. But that’s okay, he thought, calming himself. It’s okay. He walked to the edge of road and sat on the small berm there.

Maybe Prime had it wrong; there were a lot of universes and if all of them were different that was a lot of facts to keep straight.

John stood, determined to assume the best. He’d spend the next twelve hours working according to the plan. Then he’d go back home. He set off for town, a black mood nipping at his heels.

John Prime watched his other self disappear from the pumpkin field and felt his body relax. Now he wouldn’t have to kill him. This way was so much better. A body could always be found, unless it was in some other universe. He didn’t have the device, of course, but then he’d never need it again. In fact, he was glad to be rid of it. John had something more important than the device; he had his life back.

It had taken him three days of arguing and cajoling, but finally Johnny Farm Boy had taken the bait. Good riddance and good-bye. John had been that naive once. He’d once had that wide-eyed gullibility, ready to explore new worlds. There was nothing out there but pain. He was alive again. He had parents again. He had money-$125,000. And he had his notebook. That was the most important part. The notebook was worth a billion dollars right there.

John looked around the loft. This would be a good place for some of his money. If he remembered right, there was a small cubbyhole in the rafters on the south side of the loft. He found it and pulled out the bubble gum cards and slingshot that were hidden there.

“Damn farm boy.”