Max and the Multiverse, #1

by Zachry Wheeler

  “You’re solar powered?”

  “No, I’m wind-powered. Do you even science?”

  Max sighed and turned to Kenneth. “So he doesn’t need food or water anymore?”

  “Yes and no. He has a synthetic digestive system in place that performs the exact same functions as a natural one. He can still eat, drink, and excrete, as well as derive energy from the activity. However, it is only supplemental, not critical.”

  “In other words, I can still force you to scoop the litter box,” Ross said.

  Max sneered in response.

  “He also has an internal battery storage that can last for several months when fully charged,” Kenneth said. “Plus, the photovoltaic material used for his exterior is resistant to the elements. He can get wet and lie in the sun for as long as he wants without any ill effects.”

  “Not that I would ever yearn for a swim,” Ross said.

  They all shared a polite chuckle.

  “So, one final order of business and you can be on your way,” Kenneth said. “Have you prepared three questions for Ross?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very good. In that case, please proceed.”

  Ross jumped onto an adjacent chair and took a seat facing Max.

  “Okay, question one. What is the name of our neighbor’s cat?”

  “Gerald. Good lad, that one.”

  “Good. Next question. Who do you hate most in this world?”

  “Your mum,” Ross said with a straight face. “Ha, just taking the piss. That would be Megan, your chore of an ex-girlfriend.”

  “Good.” Max rolled his eyes. “Last question. Who gives you those little foam soccer balls for Christmas every year?”

  “Your mum.” Ross ruffled his brow. “That one I meant.”

  “Good job, buddy.” Max scratched his head and lifted his gaze to Kenneth. “Nailed them all.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Kenneth said with a satisfied smile. “It’s exceedingly rare for a transfer to fail. The technology these days is as reliable as it is sophisticated.”

  Max nodded and turned to Ross. “Well if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

  “Are you kidding? This is the dog’s bollocks. Or the cat’s meow, if you prefer. Stupid expression to be honest. What intrinsic value can be placed on the generic vocalization of a cat? We don’t even meow at each other, so why is it so important? It’s the humans who value the cat’s meow, not the cats. Bunch of wankers you are.”

  Max sighed. “Doesn’t get more Ross than that.”

  “Heather has a release form for you to sign and then you’re free to go. Ross, you be good.”

  “Can’t promise anything, Kenny,” Ross said with a sly wink.

  Kenneth snort-laughed and adjusted his glasses.

  Max lifted from the chair and slung his backpack over a shoulder.

  “Thank you very much, sir,” Max said, giving Kenneth a firm handshake.

  “My pleasure, and you two have a safe trip.”

  Kenneth nodded goodbye and disappeared down the hallway. Max approached the reception desk and signed a digital release form that Heather had prepared. A ping of acceptance concluded the visit. She plucked a business card from the desktop and handed it to Max.

  “A transaction receipt and transfer report have been linked to your travel account. Please feel free to contact us at any time should Ross experience any issues.”

  “I will, thank you.” Max turned to leave, but caught himself. “Oh, my carrier.”

  “We store that for you until you return, unless you need it for another purpose. Now that Ross has sentient speech, he can walk on his own in public. However, you are his legal guardian and must govern him accordingly.”

  “Well bully for me,” Ross said, jumping down from the chair.

  “Understood,” Max said, then turned to Ross. “Are you ready to roll, buddy?”

  “Indeed, my friend. Off to Europa!”

  * * *

  Zoey and Perra stormed into their suite. “You have to talk to me, Zoey,” Perra said as the door closed behind them. “I knew you had a history with Jai, but that sounded way too serious for a courier quarrel.” Zoey nabbed her bag from the entrance table and tossed it onto the bed. “What was Jai talking about? Do you know something about the cargo that I don’t?” A laser-focused Zoey unzipped the bag and began to assemble bits of composite. “And who is this Lord Essien? She sounds like one serious twat.”

  With a final click of a completed plasma gun, Zoey spun around to Perra and lifted a stiff hand into the air. “Perra, you have to stop. Yes, this is serious, more than you could ever imagine. I do not have time to explain, but I will later, I promise. Right now, we have one and only one priority: get the hell off this moon before Essien arrives.”

  “But how?” Perra swung her arms open. “You heard Jai. They have assault ships right above us.”

  “That’s why I need you.” Zoey handed Perra the plasma gun. Its elliptical body and iridescent guts twisted light like a prism. PCDS couriers favored the deconstructible models for obvious reasons. As high-profile targets, their preparation was paramount.

  Perra accepted the weapon with a cautious hand. “How the hell did you get this through security?”

  “Military-grade composite, no metal or registry chips, invisible to scanners.” Zoey started to assemble a second weapon.

  Perra took a deep breath and lowered the weapon to her side. “Okay, so what do you need me to do?”

  “Like I said, we need to get off this rock. So, we need an exit strategy. The rules are simple. One, we can’t leave the cargo. Two, we can’t die.” With a final click of the completed second weapon, Zoey returned her attention to Perra and gave her a thumbs-up. “And, go.”

  Perra smacked her forehead with her non-weaponized hand and slid it down her face, ending with a scornful gaze. After a heavy sigh, she began pacing around the room. Nervous fingers brushed along swanky furnishings, derailing her concentration for brief moments. She strolled past enormous windowpanes that overlooked Europa’s icy surface, pausing to trace the stark horizon as it sliced through Jupiter’s massive visage. The corner of her mouth pursed with a partial smile as she glanced into a luxurious bathroom decked out with posh Italian tile. Burnished nickel fixtures gleamed in the soft light of intricate wall sconces. She eyed several pieces of fine art adorning the stone-faced interior, inscribed with the looping signatures of renowned artists. Her gaze lifted to the vaulted ceiling, painted with the greens and blues of a massive abstract mural. “Sweet mercy this room is nice.”

  “Perra, focus,” Zoey said with a curt tone.

  “Sorry, sorry.” Perra groaned and plopped onto the bed. Her body sank into the soft and luscious memory material. “Ooo, very nice.”

  “Perra!”

  “Bah, sorry.”

  Zoey started pacing around the room as well, racking her brain for a solution to their perilous predicament. Her wandering eyes also caught the elegant furnishings and upper mural before coming to a stop in front of the giant windows. “Wow.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Ugh.” Zoey shook her head and pulled her hair in an effort to refocus. She fished the comdev from her pocket and placed it face-up on the nearest table. After a few taps of input, the device pinged for voice command. “Europa atmo traffic. Color IDs.” A small holographic image of the moon appeared over the device, complete with an array of colored dots hovering around it; yellow for satellites, green for civilian ships, blue for service vessels, red for weaponized ships. “There.” Zoey pointed at a small cluster of three red dots. “Jai isn’t lying.” With a quick tap and finger spread, she zoomed into the vicinity, bringing the assault ships into gridded detail. She huffed and lowered her chin. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” Perra said, now sprawled out on the bed.

  “Those aren’t assault ships.” Zoey closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “We may have been able to handle assault ships. Those are Black
Razor ships.”

  Perra gasped and yanked herself up. “Rippers?!”

  Zoey lifted a tormented gaze to the ceiling and ran both hands through her choppy black hair. “Oh Jai, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  * * *

  Max sipped on his third cup of coffee as Ross groomed his artificial fur in the seat beside him. The terminal of the Houston Spaceport reminded him of the crude airports he already knew. He surveyed the open air of the multi-level complex before lifting his eyes to the ceiling. Large panes of acrylic glass formed a massive arch far above, illuminating the terminal with warm natural light. The occasional shuttle punched through the cloudline, drawing the attention of waiting passengers. Max lowered his gaze to the second-floor railings that secured numerous shops and diners. A variety of gadget kiosks and coffee bars peppered the first-floor corridor.

  Max took another sip of coffee and glanced down each end of the terminal. He leaned back in his seat and marveled at the distinct lack of human traffic. He and Ross found themselves all but alone in a crop of cozy waiting chairs. A handful of bored travelers ducked in and out of shops or stopped for coffee. Max counted a few dozen heads rising above an open field of seating. A quiet calmness seemed to engulf the great hall, like riding an elevator on a much grander scale. Spaceports came with an unspoken rule of civility that no one dared to challenge. Max found it quite refreshing; no crying babies with indifferent mothers, no tactless pricks yelling into cell phones, no entitled tourists barking at service personnel, no beeping carts hauling obese gluttons to their gates. A peculiar new thought popped into his mind. Max crossed his arms and nodded with approval. Hassle-free travel. What a truly wonderful world.

  “Attention, traveler,” said a breathy feminine voice into his ears, jolting him from thought. He spun to address the source, but found nobody there. “We are about to commence boarding for the 3:10 shuttle to Europa. Please proceed to gate 4A.”

  Max twisted from side to side in confusion. “Ross, did you hear that?”

  Ross continued his grooming session unabated.

  “Hey, Ross.” Max reached over and poked the top of his companion’s head.

  “What?” Ross jerked his head out of his crotch and glared at Max.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Yeah, I heard it. Time to go.”

  “Then why didn’t you answer me?”

  “I tune you out when addressing important things.”

  “Like licking yourself?”

  “Precisely. Any more questions?”

  “Yeah, who the hell whispered into my ear?”

  “I did,” the voice said.

  Max jerked his arms into a karate stance.

  “My name is Helena. I am the Houston Spaceport management system. I use localized audio transmissions to keep you informed no matter where you are inside the terminal.”

  “Um ... thanks?” Max said, still ready for battle.

  “You are most welcome, kind traveler. Now please proceed to gate 4A. Your shuttle will board shortly.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Max stood from his seat and eyed the open air like a paranoid schizophrenic. While maintaining eye contact with nothing in particular, he nabbed his backpack from the adjoining seat and slung it over his shoulder. Ross jumped down from his own seat and trotted towards the gate. Max launched into a light jog to keep up with his furry friend, but paused in confusion once they arrived at the gate.

  Ross stopped and turned around. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Where’s the ticket person? There’s nobody here. There’s no security or anything.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Who’s to stop someone from wandering onto the shuttle?”

  “That’s impossible. The spaceport AI monitors everyone at all times. It knows who has access to what and governs them accordingly. It can assess all sorts of things, like if you have any diseases that can’t leave the planet. It can even determine if you’re psychologically fit to fly. To be honest, I’m shocked it hadn’t stopped you yet.”

  “Oh.” Max thought for a second. “That’s a much better system than before.”

  Ross tilted his head. “What?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Garfield.”

  “That’s racist.”

  Max chuckled to himself as they joined a handful of other travelers walking down a covered gangway to the steaming side of a space shuttle. Deciding to roll with the punches, Max tried to blend in by mimicking his fellow passengers. For the most part, travelers remained calm and indifferent, as if dropping by the corner store to pick up a carton of milk. Max struggled to contain his mounting excitement. He battled a potent urge to shake his nearest neighbor and howl with glee. Each step brought him closer to a seamless white shuttle resting on its belly. No boosters or launch pad, just a regular plane-like stance that allowed occupants to settle into their seats upright. Nearing the hatch, he studied the retractable landing gear protruding from the hull, giant metal claws that gripped the smooth pavement like a gecko. The vehicle resembled a polished, corporatized version of an old NASA space shuttle with red wing tips and logoed siding. Max’s inner child screamed with elation as he neared the end of the gangway.

  Stepping through the hatch, Max scanned the shuttle’s interior with the bulging eyes of a giddy schoolgirl. The moderate-sized vehicle housed many familiar features of the planes he knew; rows of seats with window ports, overhead bins for portable luggage, a small panel of boxy control buttons, even strips of safety lights running the length of the center aisle. The shuttle also offered notable improvements. The horror cages of claustrophobic torture, also known as airline seats, had been replaced by plush lounging chairs; plush to the point of ridiculousness even by the first-class standards he knew. Seats numbered about 20 in total with two rows on either side of the cabin.

  His eight fellow passengers selected their preferred seats, secured bags overhead, and settled into form-fitting leathery cushions. Max opted for a front seat after a few moments of unnecessary contemplation. With his backpack secured overhead, he sank into the doughy cushions and let out a grunt of satisfaction. Limp hands stroked the synthetic fabric like a garish villain with a hairless pet. The seat auto-adjusted its external temperature to a cozy degree, eliciting a moan of contentment. Ross jumped onto his lap and began kneading his thigh.

  “I’m in an actual space shuttle,” Max said before letting out a snorting chuckle.

  “You say that like you’ve never done this before.”

  “I haven’t.”

  Ross paused and scrunched his brow. “Should I ask or do I care?”

  “You didn’t seem to care before.”

  “You’re right, I don’t care.” He unclenched his face and returned to the kneading.

  A hard thump echoed through the cabin as the flight attendant sealed the hatch. She straightened her pressed blue uniform before turning to face the passengers. A quick tap of her jacket collar activated the intercom system.

  “Good afternoon, passengers,” she said, sending her pleasant voice through the cabin. “My name is Eleanor and I will be your flight attendant for your short trip to Europa. We are almost ready for liftoff, so at this time we request that you secure your seat belts. If you need any assistance, please press the call button overhead.”

  Max raised his hand.

  Eleanor glanced at him, but did not move or respond.

  “Press the call button, goober,” Ross said.

  “But she’s literally five feet in front of me.” Max gestured with an open palm.

  “Protocol, you idiot.”

  Max sighed and pressed the yellow call button above his head.

  “Yes sir, how may I be of assistance?” Eleanor broke out of her statue-like stance to offer a forced smile.

  “Do I just hold my cat in my lap?”

  “That would be advised, yes.”

  “And how do I go about that?”

  “I would use your hands.�
�� Eleanor blinked several times, showing impatience through her cemented expression.

  Max huffed. “No, I mean, do you have a strap I should use or something?”

  “You can request a pet harness if you would like.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ross said, still kneading.

  “But what if I lose my grip and you bounce around all over the cabin?”

  Ross glared up at Max. “This is a shuttle, nimrod. Not the Apollo mission.”

  “Fine.” Max slap-gripped the armrests and returned his gaze to Eleanor. “No harness, I’m good, thank you.”

  “Very good, sir. Now if you would fasten your seat belt, we can get underway.”

  Max glanced behind him for sympathy and noticed that all eyes had fixated hateful stares upon him.

  “Ah, so I’m the asshole,” he said under his breath as he buckled his seat belt.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we have been cleared for departure. Our flight time will be approximately five and a half hours. Once we have exited the atmosphere, I will be serving a variety of refreshments. For now, just sit back, relax, and enjoy liftoff.”

  With a ping of conclusion, Eleanor took her seat at the front of the vehicle and buried her nose into an ebook. The gangway retracted itself as a muted rumble snaked its way across the cabin. The Houston Spaceport sank away from the windows as hull thrusters lifted the shuttle from its perch. The vessel rotated skyward, pressing Max into the back of his seat and Ross into his stomach. The main engines ignited, sending a gentle jolt down the fuselage. A giant, toothy grin filled Max’s face as the craft climbed into the atmosphere.

  “Woooo!” Max shot his arms into the air as if riding a rollercoaster. He glanced back at his fellow spacefarers, hoping to share his excitement. Annoyed stares from atop ebooks and hologram feeds returned no such sentiment. A few passengers had already fallen asleep.

  “Rein it in, jackass,” Ross said from a curled pile in his lap.

  Max’s elated expression faded from his face, but a giddy smirk remained. He turned his attention to the window, which faded to black after a few seconds. Countless stars appeared and shimmered with a crystal clarity he had never experienced on Earth. His eyes glued themselves to the glass as his jaw lowered at a snail’s pace.