Paul Melko - The Walls of the Universe

He could think of just one person.

He set the universe to 7533.

If there was one person who could understand, it was the John who got him into this mess.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered. He powered the machine; then with a ten-foot pole he pressed the trigger.

The same dawn sun filled the same barn through the same barn windows. Only it wasn’t the same. He was back home: Universe 7533. He’d done it!

Something rustled in the dark stalls.

He spun, but it was only a horse. This was Walder’s barn. John remembered that they used it in this universe. His father had never bought it from Walder here.

John crept to the back door and pushed it open slowly. There was no sign of Ernst Walder in his fields. All was quiet. John ran toward the road, pausing at the berm. There was his house. The lights were on. Steam rose from the kitchen vent. Mom was up, cooking breakfast for Dad.

John ached to go inside.

Dare he?

He needed transportation. He needed to know where John Prime was. Perhaps he was in that house right now. Prime had stolen John’s life after all.

John walked across the road and up the drive toward the house. His nose caught the familiar smells: fresh hotcakes, sizzling bacon, coffee. Even the chicken coop smelled good to him: It was home.

He walked around to the back of the house.

The screen door swung open suddenly. His mom had a dustpan of dirt and was about to toss it into the trash can just outside the back door.

“Johnny! You scared the heck out of me.”

“Hi… Mom.”

“What are you doing down here? Where’s Casey? Where’s Abby?”

“Uh.” Casey? Had Prime gotten together with his Casey? Who was Abby? “At… home.”

“You should have brought them,” his mom said. She leaned the broom against the door frame and with her other hand still holding the dustpan hugged him awkwardly. “We hardly get to see you these days. With that Carson business and all.”

“Uh, right.” John felt he had to write everything down to make sense of it. He was disquieted to realize this wasn’t his life after all. Eighteen months had passed.

“Why are you dressed like that? What is that under your shirt? Have you been camping?”

John just shrugged and followed her inside the kitchen. He sat heavily in his seat. Home.

“Bill!” his mom called. “John’s here.” She turned to him. “You just caught him. He’s on his way to the fields to plow.” She poured John a coffee. “You take it black now, don’t you.”

“No, cream is fine,” he said automatically.

“I thought you liked it black.” She set the cup and saucer in front of him and he smelled the aroma. It should have been like any other cup of coffee, but it wasn’t.

“John, where’s your car parked?” his father said. “It’s not in the driveway.”

“Um, well,” John said. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Did that damn Japanese thing break down?” his father said. “A good solid pickup truck is a status symbol too.”

“Yeah, it broke down. Tow truck dropped me off.”

“You should have called,” his mom said. “We would have picked you up.”

“No, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You know we’d be up,” his father said. He took the car keys off the hook and tossed them at John. “Your mom and I can come up to Toledo tomorrow to get it.” Toledo! That’s where Prime lived.

“Thanks.”

“How are Casey and our cutest granddaughter?” he said. Granddaughter! So that was Abby. Casey and Prime were married here and had a daughter.

“Fine.”

“We hardly ever see them these days.”

“That’s what Mom said,” John replied.

“This Carson business.” His father shook his head. “The way people talk about it. You’d think the trial was over already.”

John kept his face straight. Carson? Trial? What the hell had happened while he was gone?

“The papers say the trial has been postponed again,” his father said. “Probably because they don’t have evidence.”

He nodded, but he felt his face flush. He had to find Prime.

John finished his coffee in one gulp that burned his throat. Holding the key tightly, he said, “Thanks. When you come get the car, stay for dinner.”

“Oh, that’d be nice,” his mom said.

John hugged his mother and shook his father’s hand. Then he stiffly walked to the old Ford pickup and started north toward Toledo.

The neighborhood was nice. Prime had done well for himself. At the same time, he’d jeopardized it all, somehow. What trial had John’s parents been talking about?

John had stopped at a gas station on I-75, dialed information for Toledo, and found the home address. He passed the house once, caught the digits on the mailbox, and turned around in the next driveway. Someone opened a curtain in the neighbor’s house, a balding man. He waved at John, as if he saw him every day. The man probably did. John waved back.

He parked in the driveway. There was no sense of familiarity. No sense of home. But the house was exactly what he would have chosen. How odd.

He rang the doorbell, and he felt silly for doing so. If anyone in the neighborhood saw him doing it, he’d look like an idiot. Forgot his keys, he’d say.

The door opened, and he caught his breath.

“Why did you ring the doorbell?” she said. A dozing baby slept on her shoulder. She wore a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off.

John stepped in.

“I-”

Casey handed him the baby.

“Hold her,” Casey said, turning away.

The baby’s eyes fluttered as he held her in front of him. What was he supposed to do with her? She was beginning to wake, so he put her up on his shoulder.

Casey was halfway down the front hall when she stopped. She turned, her eyes sharp.

She ran toward him and took Abby off his shoulder. John backed away, feeling her tension.

“Which one are you?” she said. “Which one?”

“You know?”

“He told me everything,” she said, her voice angry. The baby began to squirm.

John held his hands up. “I’m the one that was here,” John said. “I’m the… original from this universe.”

Casey’s face contorted, and then she burst out crying. She jumped forward and cast her arms around John’s neck, squeezing the baby between them. Now, Abby did wake, crying out at the sudden motion.

“You’re different,” Casey said, her voice muffled in his shoulder. “You smell different. A little, but enough.”

“I’m sorry for…” He didn’t know what he was sorry for.

“It’s okay,” she said. She kissed him a peck on the lips and John was startled at the sudden arousal he felt. This wasn’t his Casey.

“Why are you here?” she said. “John said the device doesn’t work.”

John grinned, stepping back to put distance between them, a little bit at least. “The original is still broken. But I took it apart and built a new one.”

“You built a new one.”

“With the money we made from pinball.”

“Pinball.”

“We invented pinball in the next universe,” John said with a shrug. It sounded rather silly saying it. “Not really invented, I guess. Made something called pinball and based on pinball but really different.”

“Like John’s Cube.”

“John’s Cube,” he said. “Oh, yeah. Rubert’s Cube. Is that what got you all this?”

“Yeah, all this,” she said. John felt a lack of emotion in Casey, or rather a shutting down of emotion.

“You’ve done well with this John,” he said. “Better than I could have done for you.”

Casey frowned, then smiled slightly. “I know when it happened. The day before the church potluck. Before that you never talked to me.”