How Oscar Indigo Broke the Universe (And Put It Back Together Again)

by David Teague

  “Eighteen seconds,” said Oscar. “Nineteen, if you add the second when my mom was yelling at me about my socks.”

  “Anything else you want to get off your chest?” asked T. Buffington Smiley.

  “Yes,” said Oscar. “After I used the watch, I put it in the bread box for safekeeping. But it disappeared!”

  “Wow,” said T. Buffington Smiley. “A rapidly escalating catastrophe.”

  “What’s going on, Professor Smiley?” Oscar blurted. “Is there more to the story? I did something terrible, didn’t I? That’s why there was a miniature tsunami at Pickwick Island Seashore. That’s why the trees have tentacles. That’s why there are pterodactyls in the sky.”

  “Yes,” T. Buffington Smiley said slowly, “but don’t panic. We may be able to fix this.” He paused. “Although it won’t be easy.”

  “All I wanted was for the Wildcats to win. It was my fault they were going to lose because I got Lourdes injured. Everyone was counting on me,” moaned Oscar. “That’s why I used the watch. Oh, I can’t believe I did this. Wait. What did I do, exactly?”

  “You broke the universe,” said T. Buffington Smiley. “There’s no other way to put it.”

  “How could I have done something so terrible?” wailed Oscar.

  “Here’s how,” replied T. Buffington Smiley. “Our universe is part of an infinite collection of universes. Some people think of it as the ‘multiverse.’ I think of it as a mind-bendingly large tomato plant. This tomato plant is always growing, expanding, budding and branching, sprouting new shoots every nanosecond. And each one of those branches is a universe, and one of those universes is ours.”

  “Our universe is a branch of a tomato plant?” clarified Oscar.

  “A mind-bendingly large, theoretical one, yes,” said T. Buffington Smiley. “Always growing as time flows by. I like to imagine that it’s planted in the garden of a little old lady who takes very good care of it.”

  “I know a little old lady like that,” blurted out Oscar. “A real one, I mean. With real tomato plants. Sorry I interrupted. Can you tell me more about what I did?”

  “Time is like rain falling on the leaves of the plant,” continued T. Buffington Smiley. “When time flows, the cosmic plant thrives.”

  “What if time doesn’t flow?” asked Oscar.

  “You mean, for instance,” asked T. Buffington Smiley, “what if a certain person who I won’t name were to halt the fundamental processes of our branch to, I don’t know, score a run in a baseball game?”

  “Sure,” said Oscar. “Let’s go with that example.”

  “Just like the branch of a real tomato plant, when there is no water,” said T. Buffington Smiley, “the branch of the cosmic tomato plant shrivels. It droops. It gets a kink in it.”

  “I only stopped time for nineteen seconds,” said Oscar. “How much could that hurt?”

  “Possibly a lot,” said T. Buffington Smiley. “Those nineteen seconds you took are bouncing around the universe right now like a hand clap in an empty stadium. They’re bounding and rebounding and redounding all along the length of our branch, growing more momentous all the time. You took nineteen seconds from yesterday, so yesterday took nineteen seconds from today, and today took nineteen from a day long ago, and that day took nineteen seconds from another day, and so it goes on and on all along the branch.”

  “Redcoats off the shore of Delaware,” said Oscar. “Trees with tentacles. Boston Braves among the ghost runners. And flocks of tiny pterodactyls.”

  “Those glitches in time make snarls in the universe,” T. Buffington Smiley continued.

  “What kind of snarls?” asked Oscar.

  “Snarls in which good people fail. Bad people succeed. In which your friends and loved ones will experience disappointment and defeat. Your adversaries will enjoy triumph. In which everything falls apart. After a while, if the branch gets gnarled enough, the cosmic little old lady in charge of tending the tomato plant will snap it right off and throw it away.”

  “This is terrible,” whispered Oscar. “What you’re saying is awful, even though you did an awesome job explaining it.”

  “Thank you, little brother, thank you. The clarity of my explanations has contributed greatly to my success in the scientific community. But I have to tell you. The situation is bad. It’s getting worse. You have to act fast. You have to fix the disruption you caused.”

  “What do I do?” asked Oscar.

  “Three things,” said T. Buffington Smiley, gazing at the waves as if reading them. “One, find the watch before somebody uses it again. We’ve already lost nineteen seconds. We can’t afford to lose any more. Two, put back the nineteen seconds you already took. And three, beat the Yankees fair and square, to make up for the victory you stole. If you don’t accomplish all three tasks, our universe is done for.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot to accomplish. Could you by any chance help me?” asked Oscar, panicked by the overwhelming tasks.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t,” said T. Buffington Smiley. “I must remain here by the seaside. Someone needs to keep an eye on the condition of the universe, and that someone is me. I am best suited to doing so here on the beach, where I can watch the ocean waves.”

  A fitful breeze began to blow across the sand again.

  Suddenly, Dr. Soul came tearing out of the dunes. On his tail followed a saber-toothed cat, twenty yards behind but gaining. Every second, the big cat got closer to the little housecat.

  “Dr. Soul!” cried Oscar, running toward his pet. But just as the saber-toothed cat prepared to leap, it disappeared in a vortex of windblown sand. Dr. Soul stopped to lick his paws and to shoot Oscar a resentful look.

  “Lucky. That enormous beast’s moment with us ran out just in time,” observed T. Buffington Smiley. “He had to go back where he came from.”

  Oscar knew without counting that nineteen seconds had passed. A perfect example of his time pulling nineteen seconds from another time to make up for lost time. It was just too bad that the nineteen seconds his time chose happened to have an ancient predator in them.

  Just then, Lourdes came running up, with Mr. Llimb and Mr. Skerritt close behind. She scooped Dr. Soul into her arms. “You’re safe! Oh, thank goodness.” She buried her face in his fur, which appeared to annoy him a little but didn’t bother her at all. “Professor Smiley was right,” she said. “I’m not allergic! It was just my fear of cats! I’m over it now. There are much scarier felines in the world—did you see that saber-toothed tiger? Dr. Soul’s a stuffed animal compared to him! I think Dr. Soul is wonderful. And I’m so glad he’s safe!”

  “Awwwwww,” said Mr. Skerritt, patting Dr. Soul affectionately.

  “If the coast is clear, we’d better hit the road,” said Mr. Llimb, scanning the beach for any additional prehistoric predators. “Or people back in Mt. Etna are gonna start wondering where these kids are.”

  “Remember your three tasks, Oscar,” said T. Buffington Smiley.

  “I’ll remember,” responded Oscar. “How could I forget?”

  Silence filled the Cadillac as they drove home.

  Mr. Llimb and Mr. Skerritt seemed to be occupied by thoughts of their own, and Dr. Soul embarked on what would turn out to be a two-hour nap, which was actually kind of short, by his standards. Lourdes and Oscar sat quietly in the backseat.

  “I had an interesting time today,” said Lourdes, breaking the silence. “I’m glad you didn’t get mad when I sneaked into your trunk.”

  “No problem,” said Mr. Llimb, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

  “But I have one thing to ask,” Lourdes continued.

  “What is it?” asked Mr. Skerritt.

  “Can somebody please explain everything that just happened?”

  “Sure,” said Mr. Llimb.

  “Absolutely,” said Mr. Skerritt.

  “Oscar, go right ahead,” said Mr. Llimb.

  “Don’t mind us, not one bit,” said Mr. Skerritt.

  “OK. Well. First o
f all—” began Oscar. And then he stopped. Much like the coffee suspended in the air above his mom’s mug, he dangled, neither here nor there, neither up nor down.

  “First of all, what?” prompted Lourdes. “Oscar?”

  He needed to tell her something. Obviously. But unfortunately, the truth was not an option. For one thing, it involved his cheating at baseball—which he really didn’t want to reveal to Lourdes Mangubat, the best baseball player he’d ever known. The truth also involved Oscar’s breaking the universe, which was just terrible. Maybe he could get away with only part of the truth? Which part, though? He imagined different lines he might deliver. “I fudged?” No. “The multiverse is a cosmic tomato plant, and I broke the limb we live on?” Didn’t exactly have the right ring. “I have to accomplish three impossible tasks?” Sounded like the beginning of a movie with elves in it.

  Oscar looked up, flustered. Lourdes was staring at him. “There’s a watch!” he burst out finally. “It’s missing.”

  “Professor Smiley lost his watch?” asked Lourdes.

  “Yes,” said Oscar slowly, feeling Mr. Llimb’s and Mr. Skerritt’s eyes on him. He knew they knew this wasn’t the whole truth, but Oscar blundered on. “Professor Smiley lost his watch.”

  “Does he need your help to find it or something?” pressed Lourdes.

  Oscar hesitated. If he explained any more, he would reveal too much.

  “Yes,” answered Oscar, simply.

  “I could help you find it,” said Lourdes. “Uncle Nonoy left his metal detector in Mom’s garage. He won’t mind if we use it. He won’t be back from Manila for three years, at least. The only thing is, if Professor Smiley lost his watch, why are we going back to Mt. Etna? That doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t we be looking around Pickwick Island?” When Oscar didn’t respond, she asked, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Actually,” said Oscar, “it’s a little complicated. I think it will take more than just a metal detector to find the watch. Professor Smiley isn’t exactly sure where to start looking. He asked me to help him think it over.”

  “I’m good at thinking,” Lourdes declared. She stared straight ahead, but Oscar could see her watching him out of the corner of her eye, waiting for him to ask her to help find the watch. “Want to come to my house tonight after the game and think it over together? We can have a bonfire. In the backyard. With s’mores.”

  “S’mores always help me think,” tossed in Mr. Skerritt.

  But after that observation, silence fell.

  “So. Do you want to come make s’mores and try to figure out where Professor Smiley’s watch is?” Lourdes pressed.

  If only the problem were as simple as finding a lost watch, Oscar thought, then sure, he’d have said yes. But he’d lied. Cheated. Broken the universe. That was not so simple. And it was not a problem he wanted to—or even could—share with Lourdes. “Thanks,” he replied. “But I can’t.”

  “Oh. OK,” said Lourdes, sounding stung. “Fine.”

  “It’s just that it’s my mission. T. Buffington Smiley gave it to me. For a reason,” said Oscar. He noticed Mr. Llimb watching him in the rearview mirror, but as soon as he met Mr. Llimb’s eyes, Mr. Llimb looked away.

  “Really. It’s OK. I don’t care,” replied Lourdes tartly. The look she gave Oscar before turning to stare silently out the window for the remainder of the trip made him feel like he’d just dropped a fly ball in the bottom of the ninth. And that fly ball was Lourdes Mangubat’s feelings.

  And of all the fly balls he’d dropped so far in his life, this was the one Oscar regretted most.

  Mr. Veeder

  Putting a merciful end to the smothering silence that’d filled the car since the thoughtful but disastrous s’mores invitation, Mr. Llimb and Mr. Skerritt dropped Lourdes off at her house, which had pretty flowers in the yard.

  Then they drove along the edge of Tuscarora Woods to Oscar’s home.

  “We’ll see you around, kid,” said Mr. Skerritt as they rolled to a stop in his driveway.

  “Yeah, we’ll give you regular news updates from Professor Smiley,” added Mr. Llimb.

  “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Llimb and Mr. Skerritt,” said Oscar.

  “I wish everybody we kidnapped was as polite as you,” said Mr. Llimb.

  “And hey, kid, don’t take things so serious-like,” said Mr. Skerritt. “Yeah, sure, you got yourself mixed up in something big, something so colossal it might spell the end of existence as we know it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make s’mores with your friends once in a while.”

  “You guys shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations!” cried Oscar.

  “Sorry,” said Mr. Skerritt. “Old habits die hard. But keep my advice in mind.”

  “I’ll try to do that,” said Oscar, hoisting Dr. Soul, who’d made himself into cat jelly in an attempt to slip out of his grasp.

  “We’re driving down to the headquarters of NASA,” said Mr. Skerritt. “To pick up Professor Smiley’s surfboard from his old office. Just in case he spots the wave that will reveal what he’s looking for and decides to rush into the sea to ride it.”

  “See ya in the funny papers,” added Mr. Llimb.

  And the Cadillac roared away in a cloud of blue smoke.

  An idea popped into Oscar’s mind. In order to find out where the watch was now, he thought it might help to learn about where it had been. He sprinted around to the back of his house, placed Dr. Soul gently inside, and ran to the garage for his bicycle.

  So what if Oscar’s bike was a hand-me-down from his cousin Julia, who’d outgrown it? So what if Julia was only eleven, and the bike was three sizes too small for him? So what if it was pink, with tassels in the handgrips? So what if Julia had left it lying in the driveway and his uncle had backed over the front wheel so it wobbled like it belonged on the last cart in the whole grocery store?

  It had only taken Oscar ten seconds to snip off the tassels, three minutes to bang the wheel almost totally round with a wooden hammer, and six more minutes to paint a black stripe around the crossbar, making it look really fast.

  And even though one pedal was slightly loose, it was fast. Especially going downhill. Riding it, perhaps Oscar might forget for a moment that he’d broken the universe and lost the first real friend he’d made in years and that if he didn’t find the watch, everyone he knew would suffer and pay. Riding his bike, Oscar felt free. He felt confident. Sure, he had his work cut out for him, but he was going to fix things. He just knew it.

  On his way out of the garage, he listened for bees in the bee bush, but they were gone. Another sign that the universe was collapsing. “Don’t worry, bees, wherever you are,” said Oscar. “I’m going to fix everything.”

  He had a plan.

  Oscar pedaled along streets of crumbling asphalt and potholes that would flatten his tires and bend his rims if he wasn’t careful, right to the middle of town. There, straddling the invisible, imaginary line that divided East Mt. Etna from West Mt. Etna, almost in the shadow of Mt. Etna Diamond, stood the Veeder-Klamm Thimble and Handheld Timepiece Museum. Oscar figured if he needed more information on the mysterious watch he’d just used to destroy the universe, he should trace its whereabouts back to the moment when it disappeared from the museum, its rightful home.

  The sign out front read, OPEN 9–5 EVERY DAY. Old Mr. Veeder didn’t have much to do besides run his museum, and even when it was closed, he could usually be found there, because he lived on the second floor.

  Strangely, though, when Oscar tried the door, it was locked. He knocked.

  “We’re closed, Oscar,” cried Mr. Veeder from inside. “Congratulations on your home run! Now go home.”

  “You have to let me in,” insisted Oscar. “And thanks for the congratulations,” he added, although his shoulders sagged a bit, because that home run was really starting to feel like a burden.

  “Why do I have to let you in?” asked Mr. Veeder.

  “I need information,
” said Oscar from the front steps.

  “About what?” asked Mr. Veeder.

  “The watch,” said Oscar.

  “I have a lot of watches,” replied Mr. Veeder. “Thimbles, too. Did you notice the name of the museum?”

  “This is a watch you don’t have,” said Oscar. “This is the watch that disappeared from its vault in your basement. This is the watch that halts—”

  “Shhhh!” hissed Mr. Veeder, hurriedly opening the door. He glanced up and down the street but saw nobody. “Come inside!” he ordered.

  Oscar entered the museum.

  “Now, what kind of nonsense are you talking?” demanded Mr. Veeder, closing the door behind Oscar. He was not the most patient man ever to run a museum, and today he seemed even grumpier than usual. Probably, Oscar noted, another sign of the deteriorating universe.

  “I want to know about the watch that can stop time,” replied Oscar. “The one you used to have locked up for safekeeping?”

  “I’ve been hearing that hogwash for years!” snapped Mr. Veeder. “There never was such a watch. And even if there was, I never heard of it. And even if I’d heard of it, I certainly never had anything like that stored in a secret vault in my museum. And even if I had something like that stored in a secret vault in my museum, it certainly didn’t disappear recently. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s missing. I’m trying to find it,” said Oscar. “I—accidentally—used it.”

  “Oh my goodness,” said Mr. Veeder, and the fight seemed to leak out of him. “You did? I mean, I still claim no such watch exists, but if it did exist, and if it disappeared from my vault, you’re saying you activated it?”

  “Yes,” said Oscar. “I used it last night. And then it disappeared from my bread box this morning.”

  “Very upsetting,” said Mr. Veeder.

  “And Professor T. Buffington Smiley says I need to get it back before somebody uses it again,” said Oscar.

  “Professor Smiley is right. You do need to get that watch back, pronto, before somebody else uses it,” agreed Mr. Veeder, finally admitting he knew what Oscar was talking about.