You Can't Kill the Multiverse

by Ira Nayman

  Nobody appeared to notice what he said, so Doctor Alhambra amplified: “I AM HUMBLED – HUMBLED, I TELL YOU – BY WHAT CAN BE ACCOMPLISHED BY THE APPLICATION OF SIMPLE SCIENTIFIC PRINCIPLES!”

  Everybody stopped what they were doing and enthusiastically applauded. A girthy woman in grease-stained overalls walked up to Doctor Alhambra and gave him a big hug. “You’re a genius!” she grooned. “I’m so glad you decided to use your brilliance for good instead of evil!”

  “Science,” he modestly responded, “is its own reward.”

  Then, everybody turned their attention back to what they had been doing.

  “Come,” he smugly commanded. “We have much work to do.”

  Crash followed him out of the room just as Noomi and Van der Whall appeared. A couple of techies in overalls put the Home Universe GeneratorTM on a gurney and wheeled it out. After a few moments of touristy gawking, Van der Whall asked, “Where are we?”

  “Transdimensional Authority headquarters,” Noomi informed him. “Earth Prime.”

  “You got your –” Van der Whall started, but they were hustled out of the room so that other investigators could use the Dimensional PortalTMs. In the hallway, Van der Whall tried again: “You got your box back. Why did you bring me here?”

  “Your sentient atoms,” Noomi pointed out, “they don’t function in this universe, do they?”

  Van der Whall listened intently for a few seconds, then responded, “No. No, they do not.”

  “Well, there you go. You’re free. Free to do anything you want. Free to find a co-author for your memoirs – they’ll be science fiction in this universe, but that probably means you’ll sell even more copies. Free to find some nice girl, have a whirlwind romance where you sweep her off her feet and get married, maybe have a couple of kids. Free to grow old together. Free to have a natural lifespan, and then you can die surrounded by the people who love you. Do you see the freedom that being in this universe can bring you?”

  “Yes,” Van der Whall replied, gaining enthusiasm. “YES! I’m free to walk out of here and throw myself off the tallest building I can find!”

  “Well, uhh, yeah. Sure. Freedom is about having choices, I guess.”

  “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Van der Whall gushed. “Now, how do I get out of here?”

  Noomi described the quickest way to leave the building. With one last “Thank you!” Van der Whall ran towards the elevators.

  Once knowledge of their return had circulated throughout the building, Noomi and Crash were called to a meeting of investigators in the bullpen. The head of the unit, Albert Abrachnel, stood at the door of his office; everybody else was seated in a semi-circle around him.

  “Okay,” Abrachnel whispered, and yet could be heard clearly by every other person in the room, “we have four cases of counterfeit Home Universe GeneratorTMs being found in four separate realities. Each of these illegal acts were perpetrated by people with similar names. I currently have a team working on a fifth possible case. Any idea what the hell is going on?”

  “Coincidence?” Bob Blunt asked. Blunt didn’t play well with the other children.

  “We have a suspect in custody,” Abrachnel informed him. “Blunt, you’re our best interrogator – why don’t you go down to holding and see what information you can get out of him?”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice,” Blunt said, jumping out of his seat and rushing out of the room.

  Abrachnel waited a reasonable amount of time to allow everybody to return their attention to him, then asked, “So, again, any ideas about what’s going on?”

  “It’s hard to know,” Biff Buckley squeaked. Then, making an effort to deepen his voice, he repeated, “It’s hard to know. According to the report filed by Begbie and Bowens, nobody was actually using the faux Home Universe GeneratorTM that they found in the war zone. And, Crash has told me that the one he found didn’t appear to have a purpose, either.”

  “I was there, too, you know,” Noomi muttered.

  “So,” Biff Buckley continued, “we know that there’s a lot of money to be made in selling unsanctioned Home Universe GeneratorTMs, but we still don’t know why people would buy them.”

  “Maybe we’re looking at the problem all wrong,” Noomi loudly stated.

  “Well,” Abrachnel ignored her, “why would anybody need a Home Universe GeneratorTM – genuine or fake – in a war zone?”

  “Maybe they were looking for a winning strategy?” Beau Beaumont suggested.

  “I really think we’re taking the wrong approach,” Noomi almost shouted.

  “That might work for a war zone,” Abrachnel mused. “Still, why would anybody in a world of conscious objects want to see into other universes?”

  “They were running out of things to turn themselves into?” Barak Bowens stated. His voice was so deep, so resonant, so…authoritative that everybody nodded their heads in agreement, including Noomi. After a moment, she shook her head free of the authoritativeness.

  “No!” Noomi shouted. “Everybody’s overlooking the obvious!”

  “No,” Crash repeated. “Everybody is overlooking the obvious.”

  Abrachnel looked at him with interest. “And, what would that be?” he asked.

  At a loss, Crash turned to look at Noomi.

  “Whenever you transport something from one universe to another, you have to compensate by sending objects that contain roughly the same amount of information back the other way. Maybe, the fake Home Universe GeneratorTMs aren’t the point – maybe what’s important is what went the other way.”

  Crash nodded to indicate that he understood the importance of what she had said, then repeated it for the other men in the room.

  “Interesting theory, Chumley,” Abrachnel responded. “Still, if the point was to cover the movement of other objects, why use Home Universe GeneratorTMs? Wouldn’t that bring our attention to them?”

  Crash looked at Noomi. “Umm…” she ummed. He didn’t feel the need to share that with the others.

  “Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” Abrachnel stated. “but, until you can answer my question, we’ll just keep brainstorming.”

  Noomi snapped her fingers. “They knew that they would come to our attention sooner or later,” she explained to Crash, apparently the only man in the room capable of hearing her. “They used Home Universe GeneratorTMs as a cover because they knew that when we did notice that something was happening, we would waste a lot of time focussing on that instead of what their goal really was!”

  Crash snapped his fingers and repeated what Noomi had said.

  “Fair dos,” Abrachnel responded. “You have answered my question, so I suppose we should take your theory seriously.”

  “It would be easy enough to have Doctor Alhambra look through lists of the objects going the other way,” Crash stated. “Perhaps he can find something suspicious.”

  “Good work, Chumley,” Abrachnel said. “I’ll get on that right away.” And, with that, he abruptly went back into his office.

  The investigators in the room looked around, not sure what to do, and slowly started drifting back towards their desks.

  2. How to Get a Head in Interrogation…

  TRANSCRIPT

  INTERROGATION OF SUSPECT JEROSHI CORNIFFEROUS

  INTERROGATOR: Bob Blunt, Transdimensional Authority

  The problems of two people don’t amount to a stack of hedgehogs in this crazy world

  00:00:12

  BLUNT: ..ook. It’s a beautiful Monday out. Okay, it’s a little rainy. And, people are cranky because they have to go back to work. And, locusts. What I’m saying is: you don’t want to be stuck in here being interrogated by me. You’re young. You’re…alive. And, young. You want to get back home to your wife and 1.8 children. You don’t –

  CORNIFFEROUS: Wife and children? ARE YOU SERIOUS? I’m now a disembodied, hairless, flat white head in a jar! Even if I had a wife – which I don’t – how long do you think she would stay with a disembodied,
hairless, flat white head in a jar?!

  Blunt slams his palm down on the table.

  BLUNT: WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE, DEAR FERKING ABBY! GET ADVICE ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC LOVE LIFE ON YOUR OWN TIME! YOU ARE IN TROUBLE, MISTER… (looks at file on table) CORNDOG!

  CORNIFFEROUS: W…what?

  BLUNT: YOU HEARD ME, HANGDOG!

  CORNIFFEROUS: My name is Cornifferous.

  BLUNT: Of course it is, Mister Cornifferous. May I call you Jeroshi?

  CORNIFFEROUS: Sh…sure.

  BLUNT: There’s no reason that this has to be difficult. It’s just a matter of you reasonably answering my reasonable questions. In the meantime, can I get you anything? Coffee? Soda? Absinthe?

  CORNIFFEROUS: I…uhh…I – your scientist made this jar that takes energy from light and feeds it directly into my head. I do not need traditional nourishment, even in this dark place.

  BLUNT: GOOD, YOU SIMPERING MAGGOT! WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE – THE MAITRE D’ OF A FOUR STAR RESTAURANT? WELL, MY TIP TODAY IS GOING TO BE THE INFORMATION I NEED, AND IF YOU DON’T COOPERATE, YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE MAIN DISH ON THE MENU!

  CORNIFFEROUS: WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

  BLUNT: I’m sorry – was I being unclear?

  CORNIFFEROUS: What are you doing?

  BLUNT: Umm…in regard to what?

  CORNIFFEROUS: One minute you’re all nice and offering me a soda, the next it’s like you want to bite my head off.

  BLUNT: I GOT NEWS FOR YOU, PAL – SOMEBODY BEAT ME TO IT!

  CORNIFFEROUS: That! What is that?

  BLUNT: Ooooh. Oh. Sorry about that. My partner is off on sick leave, so I have to be both the good cop and the bad cop.

  CORNIFFEROUS: Oh. I see.

  BLUNT: THANKS, ASSROSE, BUT I DON’T NEED YOUR APPROVAL!

  CORNIFFEROUS: (sighs)

  3. Science Will Get You Through Times of no Money Better Than Money Will Get You Through Times of no Science

  Doctor Alhambra didn’t need the adulation of the masses. After all, science was its own reward. That, and he was one of only three people in the world who were known to have an Nth Degree, which made him smarter than 99.99999996 per cent of the population, and he wasn’t entirely sure about Jackrabbit DeVries.10

  10 See Six Degrees of Desperation at the end of this chapter

  No, he just liked to rattle cages because…aah, but perhaps tales of his childhood are better left for another time.

  Doctor Alhambra returned to his lab in Transdimensional Authority headquarters. The way he used his powers was, indeed, a good thing, because his lab was filled with all of the scientific equipment that an evil scientist could ever hope to use. Doctor Alhambra walked past a miniature particle accelerator (which he regretted buying because the ad said that it was ‘a great conversation starter at parties’ – like he was ever invited to parties! – or would waste his time going if he was! – SHEESH!) and sat down at his large, ornate desk.

  Doctor Alhambra had been busy working on the Eigerstone Dimensional Flux Problem when the disembodied head issue arose, and he was eager to get back to it. After all, he had collected the fifteen Tesla coils, Borodium Capacitor and panda necessary for the experiment, and he hated to waste any of it. Especially the panda.

  Doctor Alhambra checked the calculations using the abacus app on his cellphone – he was old-fashioned that way. The equations balanced, as they had the last fifteen times he had checked them – he was anal that way. And, when Doctor Richardson said from behind him, “I’ve printed out those lists of transdimensional transfers The Chief asked me to give you,” Doctor Alhambra threw a handful of papers he kept on his desk for just such occasions into the air in comic confusion – he was a bit of a jerk that way.

  Doctor Alhambra moaned, “Now I’m going to have to reset the abacus and check my calculations again! Give me those!”

  Doctor Alhambra grabbed the printout from Doctor Richardson, who good-naturedly said, “Okey dokey, then.” He scanned the first page with the intent of immediately determining what the material that had been shifted between universes could be used for so that he could once and for all be done with this nonsense and get on to some real science.

  Doctor Alhambra mumbled, “Hmm…a lot of electronics.” Doctor Richardson nodded his head in agreement.

  Doctor Alhambra grumbled, “I’m not so sure about the miniature accelerator – is it good for anything other than starting conversations at parties?” Doctor Richardson shrugged in agreement.

  Doctor Alhambra stumbled on a line item. He frowned. He mouthed the words, as if that would help him better understand them. Finally, in desperation, he asked Doctor Richardson, “Have you ever heard of a Rickard’s red thermal extrusion condenser?”

  Doctor Richardson thought for a moment. “I can’t say as I have,” he answered.

  Doctor Alhambra stroked the air just below his chin where a goatee would be if he hadn’t been allergic to his own facial hair and muttered, “Now, that’s interesting.” After a couple of seconds of contemplation, he looked up and said, “Richardson, uncuff the panda and put it back in its cage – I may be at this for a while!”

  4. “What are the odds?”

  Crash was standing by the coffee maker, watching the slow drip drip drip of caffeinated salvation, when a meaty palm slapped him on the back.

  “Hey, buddy!” Beau Beaumont grinned. “A few of us are going down to The Elliptical Garter Snail to wash away our memories of the day and maybe break a few beer steins over each other’s heads. Coming?”

  “It’s been a long day,” Crash excused.

  “Come on, man,” Beaumont insisted. “Don’t you wanna get the girl stink out of you?”

  “The girl stink?”

  “You know – your partner?”

  “You mean, the person who may have just solved the case?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  “Yeah, Beau, I don’t –”

  Beaumont sniffed Crash’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah. You got a bad girl stink on ya.”

  Crash stiffened. “Girl stink? Really?”

  “It’s scientific.”

  “Oh, this should be good.”

  “Really. When women…you know…”

  Crash did not feel compelled to help him. “When women what?”

  “Have their…monthly visitor. The one with the red hair? And, wide feet? Well, they smell of sulphur and lilacs.”

  “What if it is not my partner’s time of the month?”

  “The smell lingers.”

  “I may catch up with you guys later. Whether or not I do, though, thanks for getting your guy smell all over me.”

  “Hey, buddy – you’re welcome!”

  5. Going Head to Head With a Master Criminal!

  TRANSCRIPT

  INTERROGATION OF SUSPECT JEROSHI CORNIFFEROUS

  INTERROGATOR: Bob Blunt, Transdimensional Authority

  To Victor go the soils

  00:01:47

  BLUNT: …ust as well that you don’t have any hair.

  CORNIFFEROUS: Why?

  BLUNT: Now nobody can ever accuse you of having bed head!

  CORNIFFEROUS: Aww, man!

  BLUNT: “Transdimensional criminal makes no headway in universal destruction.” You know what that is?

  CORNIFFEROUS: No.

  BLUNT: Tomorrow’s headline!

  CORNIFFEROUS: Seriously?

  BLUNT: Tell me something, Jeroshi: are you a fan of the band Teenage Head?

  CORNIFFEROUS: Cut it out.

  BLUNT: What? You don’t like my…head games?

  CORNIFFEROUS: Yeah, yeah, I’ve been reduced to a head in a jar. I get it.

  BLUNT: Congratulations! Go to the head of the class!

  CORNIFFEROUS: You’re not being clever, you’re just being annoying, okay?

  BLUNT: You’re just jealous because I am the headmaster!

  CORNIFFEROUS: (moans)

  BLUNT: Hey, I sure am schooling you!

  CORNIFFEROUS: Really! Just…stop.

  BLU
NT: Stop? I don’t think so. I do have to take a break, though – I’ve really been swigging down the soda. I REALLY GOTTA GO TO THE HEAD!

  CORNIFFEROUS: (moans louder)

  6. Virtue Had Better Be Its Own Reward Because it Does Absolutely Nothing to Help You Climb the Career Ladder!

  After he took a big swig of coffee, Crash walked over to his desk. Noomi was going through her notes at her desk, which was next to his.

  “I would like,” Crash intoned, “to sincerely apologize to you on behalf of the male half of the human race.”

  Noomi looked up at him and blinked in confusion.

  “You’ll thank me later.”

  “How much later?”