The Journal of Curious Letters

by James Dashner

  Tick glanced at Sofia, who made a pig face, pushing her nose up with her index finger and sticking out her tongue. Tick had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Well,” Master George struggled for words, “that’s . . . splendid.” He rubbed his hands together again. “I believe we all know my trusted friends Mothball and Rutger quite well by now, so Mister Higginbottom, please—tell us a bit about yourself before we begin our very long discussion.”

  Tick shifted in his seat. “Uh, yeah, I’m Atticus Higginbottom, but everyone calls me Tick. I’m from the east side of Washington state, I’m thirteen years old, I like science and chess”—he winced inside at how nerdy that made him sound—“and I’m excited to find out why we’ve been . . . brought here.”

  “Amen,” Paul chimed in.

  “You better talk fast,” Sato said. “I want to know right now why you kidnapped me and brought me here.”

  “Kidnap?” Mothball asked, almost spitting. “What, left yer brain in Japan, ’ave you?”

  “I only followed the instructions out of curiosity. Then you kidnapped me. I demand to be taken home.”

  What a jerk. He’s going to ruin everything, Tick thought. He looked at Sofia and rolled his eyes. She nodded, frowning in Sato’s direction.

  “Well, then,” Master George said, his enthusiasm dampened. “Jolly good beginning this is.”

  “Just ignore the kid,” Rutger said to Master George. He turned toward the disgruntled Japanese boy. “Sato, hear him out. If you don’t like it, we’ll send you right back where you came from. Now stick a sock in it.”

  Sato’s face reddened, but he didn’t say anything, huffing as he leaned back in his seat.

  “And on that note,” Master George said, trying his best to regain his composure, smiling broadly. “We shall begin. Rutger, would you please bring some victuals from the pantry? These good people must be famished.”

  Paul clapped loudly and whistled. Sofia, then Tick, joined him.

  Master George waited until Rutger had scuttled out a side door. “Let me begin by saying how proud each of you should be of your accomplishment of simply being here today. I sent letters to hundreds of young people, and you four are the only ones who made it this far. Quite an accomplishment indeed. Especially considering the dreadful things I sent to test your mettle.”

  Tick perked up at this, remembering his conversation with Mothball and Rutger about how sorry Master George had been about the Alaska incident, which made it seem like he wasn’t as sorry about the other scary things that had happened—like the Gnat Rat and the Tingle Wraith. “You mean . . .” Tick began, but then stopped, wondering if he was out of line.

  “Yes, Mister Higginbottom,” Master George answered, seemingly not bothered by the interruption. “It was I, er, we who sent some of the things that must’ve scared you greatly. Objects like the Gnat Rat and Tingle Wraith are much easier to wink to and fro than humans, fortunately. But none of them could or would have hurt you beyond any easy repair, mind you. But the man in Alaska—the one sent by Mistress Jane—now that was an entirely different affair, I assure you. I do apologize for that bit of trouble.”

  “Wait a minute,” Paul said. “Mothball here told me my brain would turn to mush if I heard the Tingle Wraith’s Death Siren for more than thirty seconds.”

  “A slight exaggeration on her part,” Master George answered with a look of chagrin. “Because of your still-developing brains, you would’ve recovered in no more than three or four weeks—albeit with a lingering headache and blurred vision. And a certain bodily odor we can’t quite figure out . . .”

  “You sent those awful things to attack us?” Sofia asked. “But why?”

  “Yeah, man,” Paul chimed in. “That’s just not right.”

  “Finally,” Sato said. “You people are starting to see why I am so angry.”

  “Why would you want to hurt us?” Tick asked, glaring at Master George, sudden confusion and hurt constricting his chest.

  Paul’s face looked like someone had just kicked him in both shins. “Dude, how can we trust you now?”

  “Now please,” Master George pleaded, holding up both hands in front of him. “We haven’t even been about our business yet, and already we lose our focus!” His voice rose with every word. “Must I treat you like children? Are you

  no different from the hundreds who didn’t make it nearly as far as you? If so, you may all leave this instant! If you can’t handle a couple of cheap tricks like the Gnat Rat, then you’ve no place being here!”

  Tick stared at Master George, surprised he could change from a nice old Englishman to an angry ogre so quickly. The others seemed as dead silent and awestruck as he felt.

  “This is no game,” Master George continued, his face more flushed than before, though Tick would’ve thought it impossible. “Everything I’ve done was meant to bring to me the strongest, the bravest, the cleverest. I let no excuses lie on the table—none at all. If you couldn’t persuade your mum and dad to let you come, then you’d be off. If you couldn’t bring yourself to follow such silly instructions, then you’d be off. If you let a little thing like two days of horrendous bee stings bother you, then you’d be off. Now, you’re here and I’m ready to begin instruction. Have I made a mistake?”

  Master George shouted the last word, folding his arms and staring around the room, daring someone to respond. A full minute passed, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. Even Sato seemed impressed. Tick felt scared to swallow or breathe, afraid of how Master George would take it.

  “All right, then,” the Englishman finally said. “If from this point forward you’d be so kind as to act like the brave souls I meant to gather, we can move on.” He paused, pretending to brush unseen dust off his suit jacket. “Now, you may be wondering why I sent letters only to young people such as yourself. Am I correct?”

  No one said a word, afraid to rock the boat again.

  “Come on, now,” Master George said. “Only children would be afraid to speak up.”

  Everyone spoke at once at this remark, but Paul drowned out the others. “Never thought about it, actually. But now you mention it, that’s a good question that I think I’d like to know the answer to very much. Uh, sir. Master.” He cleared his throat. “Master George.”

  “Much better, much better. I knew you blokes from America were smart. Now—”

  He was interrupted by a loud noise from the side. Rutger shuffled through the door balancing two silver trays stacked with enormous plates of steaming hot food in his arms.

  “Who’s hungry?” he announced loudly. “I’ve prepared generous portions for everyone.” Wonderful smells wafted across the room.

  He started handing out plates and utensils, almost dropping the entire load with every step. “We’ve got roasted duck, thrice-baked potatoes, succulent legs of lamb with basil and—my favorite—roast beef. Plus a slice of cherry cheesecake.” Panting, he put down a plate for himself then handed the last one to Tick. “Eat up!”

  Tick needed no urging. After a quickly muttered thank you, he dug in as he balanced the plate on his lap. The food was tender and hot, juicy and rich. It may have been his hunger, but everything on the plate seemed the most delicious stuff he’d ever put in his mouth. By the sounds of smacking lips and slurping fingers from around the room, he wasn’t alone in that regard.

  “Well,” Master George said, “I’m glad to see we still have our appetites. Now, if I may, I will continue our discussion. About the letters—the reason I wrote only to youngsters is because what you’re about to hear would never be believed by a cantankerous old grown-up. They’re far too set in their ways, thinking they’re all smart and such. No, I needed to bring in a new batch of recruits, and I knew they must be young and spry, ready to take on the world, as it were.”

  “Uh, Master George?” Rutger said through a large mouthful of food.

  “Yes, Rutger?”

  “Don’t you think we should, uh, move on and
tell them why they’re here? Time’s a wasting.”

  Master George snapped his fingers and waved his hands in the air. “Yes, yes, you’re right, of course. Thank you, on we go.” He folded his hands in front of him and looked down at the floor. “I shall now tell you everything, from beginning to end.”

  And so Master George began his story, the craziest, wackiest, most bizarre thing Tick had ever heard. And he loved every minute of it.

  Chapter

  41

  ~

  The Tale of the Realities

  What each of you considers the world in which you have always lived and breathed,” Master George began, “is not exactly what you may think. It is in fact much, much more. Your world, the place where you were born, is what we call Reality Prime. It is the first and greatest version of the universe with which you are familiar. However, several decades ago, a group of scientists discovered great mysteries in the field of study we affectionately call the kyoopy.”

  Kyoopy! Tick thought. The Q.P.! Quantum physics.

  “Now,” Master George continued, “we haven’t the time or need to explore the deep scientific mumbo-jumbo, but suffice it to say the scientists discovered that alternate versions of the universe exist in harmony and congruity with the world in which we grew up. The reality we all know so well is not alone—there are other Realities. Parallel universes that have evolved and developed differently from Reality Prime because of vastly significant events that literally broke them apart from ours.”

  “Master George,” Paul interrupted. “I consider myself one smart dude, but this seems crazy.”

  Just let him talk, Tick thought as he took his last bite. He set the empty plate on the floor at his feet.

  “Don’t worry, Mister Rogers. Give me time, and all will become as clear as my mum’s fine crystal.”

  “Sounds like a bunch of lies so far,” Sato said, almost under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Master George ignored him. “There is an energy force in the universe that binds and controls all the Realities, a greater force than any the laws of physics have ever attempted to define. This power is the lifeblood of the kyoopy, and only a handful of scientists even knows it exists. We call this power the Chi’karda, and everything we’ll be about depends on it. Everything.”

  “What is it?” Tick asked, remembering that Mothball had once said the word to him.

  “Rutger?” Master George asked. “What do I always say about the Chi’karda?”

  Everyone turned to look at the short man, lounging on his pillows. “You always say, ‘When it comes to individual destiny, there is no power greater in the universe than the conviction of the human soul to make a choice.’” He rolled his eyes as if he didn’t want to be bothered anymore.

  “Precisely,” Master George said in a loud whisper, holding up his index finger. “Choice. Conviction. Determination. Belief. That is the true power within us, and its name is Chi’karda. It is the immeasurable force that controls what most scientists of the world do not yet understand. Quantum physics.”

  “So what does this . . . Chi’karda thing have to do with the alternate universes?” Sofia asked.

  “It’s what creates them, my dear girl,” Master George answered. “It’s happened throughout history, when choices have been made of such magnitude they literally shake the world and split apart the fabric of space and time, creating two worlds where there used to be only one, running parallel to each other within the complex intricacies of the kyoopy. What do you think causes earthquakes?”

  “Wow,” Paul breathed. “Serious?”

  “Quite right, sir, quite right. The creation and destruction of alternate worlds through the power of the Chi’karda has been known to trigger great and terrible quakes. Wow, indeed. Allow me to give you an example that will explain it much better, so you can throw out the hard words and difficult phrases. Everyone, close your eyes, please.” He motioned with his hands, urging Tick and the others to obey.

  Tick closed his eyes.

  “I want you to picture in your mind an enormous tree,” Master George said. “Its trunk is ten feet wide, with twelve thick branches, er, branching off, breaking up into tinier and tinier limbs until they are barely measurable. Can you picture it?”

  A scatter of mumbled yeses sounded across the room, even from Mothball and Rutger.

  “The trunk of that tree is Reality Prime, the version of the world in which you were born and have lived your whole lives. The main branches of the tree are very established alternate Realities that have stood the test of time and survived, each one different from Reality Prime in significant ways. From there, the smaller and smaller branches are weak and crumbling Realities, fragmented Realities, most of them heading for the day when they will vanish altogether or be absorbed into another Reality. We had each of you visit one of those fragmented Realities before you came here, to give you a bit of understanding at what they can be like.

  “The Realitants are a group of explorers devoted to charting and documenting the main branches of this tree for the sake of science and in hopes that one day we can better understand the makeup of the universe and how it works. And to, er, protect Reality Prime from potential, er, unforeseen dangers.”

  Master George cleared his throat loudly, and Tick’s eyes flew open. Master George’s hands gave the slightest twitch at his sides. “Until recently, we had fully charted twelve main Realities, and everything was going just splendid—there’d even been talk that perhaps someday we’d discover the perfect Reality—a utopia if you will. But the reason you are here today is because quite the opposite has occurred. One of our own, a traitor like the world has never known, has discovered a Thirteenth Reality, and very bad things are about to happen. Very bad things indeed.”

  “I knew it,” Sato grumbled.

  “What’s in the Thirteenth Reality?” Tick asked. “What’s so bad about it?”

  “Oh, Mister Higginbottom, it is quite a hard thing to talk about. With every other Reality, we’ve had mostly positive, fascinating experiences. For example, there’s the Fifth Reality, home of our dearest Mothball. There, circumstances somehow led to a drastic change in the gene pool, where everyone became taller and stronger, evolving into a much different society than the one you know so well. Then, of course, there’s the Eleventh, where Rutger was born. As you can see, they, er, had quite the, er, opposite effect in their Reality.”

  Everyone looked at Rutger, who patted his big belly as if it were his most prized possession.

  Master George cleared his throat again and moved on quickly. “There’s the Fourth, perhaps the most fascinating Reality of them all. Their world is much more advanced than ours, the technology revolution occurring much sooner there than it did in Reality Prime. Going there is much like traveling to the future—quite fascinating indeed. It’s where I acquired the Gnat Rat and the Tingle Wraiths.”

  Tick’s jaw dropped open.

  The Gnat Rat. Manufactured by Chu Industries.

  That explains it, he thought. No wonder I couldn’t find anything on them. Mr. Chu couldn’t have had anything to do with the company after all—it was in another Reality.

  “But I haven’t answered your question, have I?” Master George said, looking uncomfortable. “You most clearly asked me about the Thirteenth Reality, and here I am, doing everything in my power to avoid answering you.”

  “Well?” Sofia asked.

  “What? Ah, yes, the question. The Thirteenth Reality. I’m afraid this new place is . . . quite extraordinary. You see, for the first time, a Reality has been discovered in which . . . oh, poppycock, this is difficult to say.”

  “Go ahead and say it,” Mothball urged from the back. “These kids can take it, they can.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re quite right, Mothball.” Master George straightened his shoulders. “The Thirteenth Reality has a mutated and frightening version of the Chi’karda that simply chills my bones to think about. It is most certainly the source of ever
y frightening myth, dangerous legend, or terrifying nightmare that has ever leaked into the stories and tales of the human race.”

  “A . . . mutated version of the Chi’karda?” Paul repeated. “What in the world does that mean?”

  Master George’s brow creased as he frowned. “Remember what Rutger told all of you about the sheer power of the Chi’karda? The Thirteenth has somehow turned that power of pure creation into something completely different. Something frightening.”

  “But why?” Paul pushed. “What does that mean?”

  Master George’s face paled. “It means that we have discovered a Reality that contains the closest thing to—oh, I hate to even utter the word—but it contains the closest thing to magic we have ever seen. And not the good kind of magic like in your storybooks. No, this is a very real, very dark power. And if it isn’t contained, if it somehow escapes from the Thirteenth Reality, everything will be lost.”

  Chapter

  42

  ~

  The Doohickey

  Magic?” Sofia said. “That sounds fun.”

  “You’re talking, like, abracadabra and all that stuff?” Paul chimed in. “Wizards and broomsticks?”

  “No, no, no, nothing of the sort,” Master George replied, his face scrunched up in annoyance. “This is real—perfectly real—and it’s all explained by the laws of science, particularly the kyoopy, quantum physics. It’s all a matter of unique Chi’karda manipulation. In the Thirteenth Reality, though, it’s been mutated into something far more powerful and horrific. And it can be controlled by someone who understands the nature of it.”

  “What can it do?” Tick asked.

  “Well, it can make things fly, create horrible beasts, the like. What all of you would consider magic, which is why I used the word—though any scientist would despise such ridiculous nomenclature. This is real, this is science. And while it’s not unique to the Thirteenth, it is there that they’ve learned how to twist it, how to use it much more powerfully.”