by Roy C. Booth
As for Chandler, he’d survive. True, Chandler had sent Trudi and him congratulations cards when Noah and Samantha were born, but that wasn’t the important thing now. Jon had to protect his kids and from the financial vicissitudes that sooner or later struck everyone, especially in the current world.
Jon 1
Our universe...
Four faculty walked by Jon and Chandler—Chandler pulled back from Jon and held a finger to his lips. “We shouldn't just be standing here, talking in the open like this,” he said, in a volume so low now that Jon could barely hear.
Jon looked at the hall in which the meeting was about to commence, and thought quickly: No one will miss me at this point if I don't attend this. Jill would say to anyone who asked that she had walked with me to the meeting, and who would be so crazy as to walk all the way to a faculty meeting, only to walk away before the meeting started? Well, maybe not so crazy, for anyone who knew how boring faculty meetings could be, but—
Jon realized that Chandler was waiting for a response, and beginning to edge even further away. “Of course,” Jon answered. “You're right, of course. Let's just take a nice little stroll around the campus—we'll be able to see anyone we're approaching, or approaching us, and we can stop talking if need be.” Jon took Chandler's arm and began escorting him away from the building.
Chandler nodded slowly, reluctantly. “But your meeting?”
“It's okay,” Jon replied. “My colleagues will fill me in.... So, you were about to tell me what Sasha told you, in her Russian accent, when she was a little drunk.”
“A lot drunk,” Chandler said.
Jon nodded.
“And she—” Chandler started and stopped talking in deference to two students who were walking by.
“Hi, Professor!” one of them said brightly to Jon.
“Hey, Angela, how are you doing?” Jon replied. Then, to Chandler, “And?”
“And your student Sasha told me she had written a program that permitted inter-alternate-universal transactions.”
“Come again?”
“Don't play dumb with me,” Chandler replied, suddenly losing all of his trepidation. “You know exactly what I mean—she was your student, if she really wrote such a program she must have learned it from you.”
Jon considered. “She was one of those students who already knew a lot more than I did the first day she stepped into my class, that's why she was my grad assistant,” he said, truthfully. “Did she tell you what she intended to do with such a program?”
“She said she was leaving it and the decision about whether and how to use it in your hands.”
Jon said nothing. He knew where the program likely was, now.
“You going to pretend you know nothing of this?” Chandler pushed.
“Some student spilled sticky soda on my computer before I even had a chance to load Sasha’s program.”
“So you've never used Sasha's program?” Chandler asked, not completely believing what Jon had just told him.
“No,” Jon replied, and his eyes flared with the beginning of understanding. “But that does not mean it has not been used.”
Jon 2
The slightly different universe...
Jon was in his Prius, ignition on, when he realized he had left the transaction he had started in his office incomplete—interrupted by Jill and their apparent need to go to that stupid meeting. But the meeting was no longer an issue. So what was keeping him from his desk and that transaction?
Chandler could come looking for him in the office, after not being able to locate Jon in the meeting, but Jon had no intention living the rest of his life in fear of a conversation with Chandler. And completing the transaction in the office shouldn’t take more than a minute.
Jon grinned as he turned the car off, stepped out, locked it, left it, and made his way back to his office. The nice thing about being so way beyond the cutting edge was no one could see what you were doing, even if you were doing it right before their very eyes.
Well, he supposed one person could. Not a person in this universe, this reality, though. But the Jon in that other universe, the Jon whose card was being charged for his, this Jon's, purchases: He would certainly see the results, he of course would see the charges and would feel their impact.
But a few charges certainly couldn't bankrupt anybody. They might cause a little discomfort, a little concern, but, hey, for all Jon knew, his alternate self was a rich man, a millionaire, who wouldn't feel or mind the little debits at all. Hey, Jon had come close to making it big in this world himself—a better book deal, more high-paying jobs as a consultant to complement his teaching career, any one of a dozen slightly different breaks could have put him in the upper strata right now. For all Jon knew, his alternate self had done all of this and more, and wouldn't notice or care at all about a charge from a hotel he had never slept in.
Jon bounded up the three flights of stairs to his office.
Jon 1
Our universe...
Jon was determined to get a look at Sasha's program and get to the bottom of this insanity. Could the inexplicable charges on his credit card really be the result of his alter-self, in an alternate, parallel universe, having made the charges, but via Sasha's program somehow gotten those charges to show up on Jon's credit card right here in Jon's universe? Jon fingered the card in his wallet inside his jacket pocket, then clenched and unclenched his fist in anger. “I think I know where my computer with the program is right now,” he said. “You want to come with me to our tech repair center?”
It couldn't hurt to have Chandler standing by, in case Jon had trouble using the program—assuming his beleaguered computer was in some sort of working condition now. Jon was good with computers, but Chandler was better, a classic nerd case of clumsy with people smooth with equipment. Conceivably he could get Jon's computer to work, when Jon and the techies could not.
“Sure,” Chandler replied. “Locate the program and destroy it—leaving it out there in the world, especially with techies around, is not a good idea.”
“Exactly,” Jon lied as the two approached the gleaming new tech center. He had no intention of destroying Sasha's little present to him—at least, not before he'd had a chance to use it, and set the universes straight. And maybe make a little profit for himself. He thought for a second about dis-inviting Chandler—no, unless Jon was able to resurrect his computer, he would not be able to even get a look at Sasha's program.
Jon 2
The slightly different universe...
Jon sat at his workstation. Eugene was nowhere to be seen—he was probably out to lunch. Good. Although Jon didn't worry much about doing his special transactions with Eugene around—who would not have known what he was looking at, if he'd happened to have glanced at Jon's screen—Jon still preferred doing this with no possibly prying eyes around.
Jon booted up his computer. He went directly into that miraculous little program Sasha had provided. He clicked the icon that would make it work now in the background, as Jon went to the Fieldstone school web site—Fieldstone was Noah's school—and made the $200 payment for Noah's after school bird identification course. And the sweet, incredible thing was that this charge would never show up on his credit card. Sasha's program would shunt it to the parallel universe, where it would be charged to Jon's alternate self's card.
He finished the transaction and leaned back in his chair, with his hands clasped around the back of his neck. Ethical issues aside, this was indeed one fine piece of business. It thrilled him as much as it had the first time he had attempted it. Trans-universe transactions were positively addicting.
Jon 1
Our universe...
Jon walked into the head-tech's office, with Chandler a little behind him. “Professor Jon Goldman,” Jon announced to the head-tech, and pulled out his faculty ID.
“I know who you are,” the head-tech said, without a trace of a smile.
“Good. Well, I'd—”
�
�You'd like your computer back and working. I know. Your office has called here, what, a dozen times?”
“The computer's been out of commission for nearly two months—all because a little soda was spilled on it?” Jon had long ago realized there was no point matching attitudes with these tech people. They held his equipment in their hands—they held all the cards. Still, it was hard to resist the bait.
“As I know I already told you, it's something more than the ginger ale,” the techie explained, his patience already strained. “We replaced the damaged parts, but we can't get it to keep working for more than a few minutes once we turn it on. We think it's some kind of virus that got in there before the soda, and it's incompatible with the upgrade hardware we put in. We're still trying to identify it. We have an obligation to make sure it doesn't spread to other computers on the campus.”
Chandler spoke up. “Can we—Professor Goldman—see the machine? If that's possible.”
The head-tech shrugged. “Won't do you much good.”
“I know,” Chandler said, soothingly, “but—”
The techie pointed to the other room. “It's against the far wall in there.”
Jon and Chandler proceeded to the room. “Glad I brought you along,” Jon told Chandler. “You have a good way with these people.”
Chandler just nodded. Jon looked at the far wall. “Ah! There it is.”
He and Chandler proceeded to the computer. Jon sat right down and turned it on, Chandler looking over his shoulder. “He said it only works for a few minutes at a time, so you have to do this quickly,” Chandler advised, quietly, urgently.
“Right.” But Jon really had no idea what that “this” was—Sasha had left no instructions in her little note. He supposed he could call or email her—he had her contact info in his online address book. Jon looked at the screen. No, that probably wouldn't be necessary. As the icons popped into place, Jon noticed a shimmering new gift-wrapped box on the screen, named “Sasha's present.”
Jon hesitated for a moment. He wasn't thrilled about doing this in front of Chandler. But he had no choice at this point, and Chandler could still be of help if the program proved balky.
Chandler saw the icon on the screen and pointed to it.
Jon nodded, and clicked.
The screen that came up said: “Pay for anything you like online with any of your credit cards, and let my present do its work for you. You won't notice anything different immediately, but watch for what is on your bill—or not on your bill.” And the words were followed by an animated little smiley icon.
“Good, that seems to be it,” Chandler said nervously but happily. “Now just drag it to trash—”
But Jon went instead to his favorite online wine store. He had a strong feeling he and Trudi would soon have something to celebrate.
Jon 2
The slightly different universe...
Jon moved to shut off his computer, but got a chime from his email that he had a new message. It was a receipt for purchase of a bottle of Black Dirt Red Wine from Warwick. He and Trudi loved it—a great $12 wine they'd discovered at a farmer's market in the Fall—but why would Trudi buy a bottle now? They still had two bottles in their little rack the last time he'd looked—which had been maybe two days ago.
He called Trudi. “Nope, I didn't buy it,” she told him. “I don't mind another bottle, though—maybe some grateful student bought it for you as a present. You really shouldn't accept it, I know. Or maybe some Dean wanted to thank you—”
“I doubt if it's either,” Jon said. “I don't see how either could have gotten my credit card.”
“Yeah, that's right,” Trudi said. “But then—”
“No big deal,” Jon lied. “All right, I'm on my way home—anything I should pick up? We okay with orange juice and milk?”
Jon got off the phone with a grocery order and a thought that rang as painfully clear as day in his brain: This was a very big deal. He got up, paced around, and tried to find some balance on this. A credit card in his name for a bottle of wine he hadn't bought. The price was indeed no problem, but the process surely was. Maybe this was just some sort of credit card error? Jon smiled, ruefully. No, he knew that it wasn't. This was likely just what his alter-self had been going through. And now Jon in that parallel universe, the Jon who had been receiving this Jon's charges, had turned the tables.
Jon hoped his counterpart would continue to be this sparing with the charges. Jon certainly had not been with his. Was there a way this program could be disabled?
Jon 1
Our universe...
“No!“ Chandler cried out, and lunged at Jon's computer. But Jon had already clicked on the wine. He had set this online store for express, one-click purchase, so he could get in a last-minute order when he was late for class.
Jon stood and restrained Chandler.
The techie stuck his head in the door. “It's okay,” Jon said. “We're just rehearsing for a departmental play.”
The techie looked at Jon and Chandler as if they were both crazy, but didn't see enough of a problem to warrant his continued intrusion. He walked back into his room.
Jon's computer promptly went off.
“You used that program to charge something to your alter-self,” Chandler said, still somewhat furious. “That's not right.”
“No, it is,” Jon said. “Here, have a seat. Let me explain what I think is going on.”
Chandler looked at the computer as if to confirm it was off, and could do no further harm, then sat.
“I think I've been a victim of my alter-self's charges for several months now,” Jon explained. “I don't know if there's any way I can undo them, now. But I can rectify this by charging my counterpart back.”
Jon 2
The slightly different universe...
Jon shut his computer off, patted it, almost affectionately, regretfully, and headed for the door.
So this would be it. His computer, Sasha's extraordinary little program, had done well for him. But now that his counterpart in the parallel universe had finally gotten a clue about this, there was really no point in continuing. If each charge that this Jon shunted to the parallel Jon was matched by a charge from the parallel Jon to this Jon, there would be no net gain for either Jon. One Jon of course could make bigger charges, and charge more frequently, than the other Jon. But the other Jon would know this as soon as the trans-universe charges arrived, and could easily retaliate. So the net gain, sooner or later, would be zero. All that escalating charges in both universes could eventually engender would be mutually assured bankruptcy.
Jon got into his Prius and drove out of the university parking lot. This had been one wild ride, no doubt. Financial transactions across alternate universes. Had other pairs of parallel people being doing this? Had they started like Jon, with one doing it to the other, and then the other catching on? He still wondered why it had taken his parallel Jon so long to get going on this. He wondered if there was any way he could yet turn this back around to his own advantage, or at least prevent his alternate from transferring any more charges.
Where did the the program, the technology, come from? Jon had heard rumors, conspiracy theories, about parallel universes, for years. Pathways to alternate realities brought into being by fast-moving quantum particles. Hypothetical informational super-luminary highways...
Sasha was the key to this. Her program made this real. He owed her a call. No point doing this in the car, though. He wanted to concentrate, take notes, if needed. There could be a career-making paper in this, for him as well as Sasha.
Jon 1
Our universe...
Jon turned the computer back on, on impulse. It made some strange noises, but stayed dark. He banged the table hard. “I wanted to see if I could get it to do it again,” he said to Chandler.
The bang brought the dour techie back in. He shook his head. “I told you, it only stays up a few minutes. Banging the table won't change that.”
“I know,” Jon sa
id. “Sorry. Could you see if you could get it working again now, even if for just a few minutes?”
Chandler, who obviously had been struggling with how to react to this, finally spoke. “Yes,” he said to the techie, “if you could do that, it would be very helpful. He has notes for a new paper on that computer, which he doesn't have anyplace else, and lots of people are eager to see it.”
Jon nodded and smiled at Chandler, grateful for the support.
“I'd like to see those notes myself,” Chandler added.
The techie grunted, motioned Jon out of his seat, and got to work on the computer. He put in four different diagnostic and boot disks. None had any effect. The techie frowned. “It may be permanently brain dead,” he said. “I can have someone else look at it, but usually when these things are gone they're gone.”
“But—” Jon started, but realized there was not much more it was safe to tell this techie. Letting him know that this half or completely dead computer contained some extraordinary program was a sure ticket to the techie saying any repair was futile, and keeping the computer for himself. “Okay, thanks for trying,” Jon said. “No need to do anything more about this now. Could you pack it up for me so I can take back to—”