The Broken Universe

by Melko, Paul

  * * *

  John wasn’t sure when he went from believing the man was a loon, to believing with all his heart that what he said was true. The handful of Civil War gold coins hadn’t been it. Nor had the detailed story he had told. The identical facial features, and the same jagged scar on his calf had gotten him part of the way. But it was the calm passion, the intensity of purpose that this foreign John Rayburn—this John Home—exuded that finally brought John to believe.

  “I’m really glad you’re going to Case Western,” he was saying. They had wandered back to the barn and were sitting among the hay bales. John Home had brought two bags of cheeseburgers; ketchup, pickle, tomato, just like he always ordered them. John took another bite. “If you could take some cosmology courses, that would be awesome. Quantum physics too. No way there’ll be a class on what we need to know, but that’s the foundation we need.”

  “Do you have the plans for the … uh … transfer gate?” John asked.

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” he said. He pulled out a plastic binder from his backpack. “This is the original diagram of the device as we mapped it out. We’ve annotated what we think we know. This mass of connections is the state machine that controls the destination. I’ve marked the controls that we’ve figured out.” He turned to another sheet of paper. “This is the step-by-step instructions for building a transfer gate. You’ll notice there are huge parts of the original design that aren’t in here.”

  “Why?”

  “I was in a hurry,” John Home said. “I cut anything that I couldn’t understand or get to work. Our design is pared down to the basics. Understanding what else is in the original design is something we need to do.”

  “Right.”

  “Here’s the parts list,” John Home said. “Here’s the part list by universe. Sometimes the integrated circuits we need go by different names in different places. It may go by a totally different name here. If it does, note it.”

  “Note it.”

  “It’s just like freshman physics lab, but more intense and more important than that. We’re trying to figure out the nature of the universe, and I need you—and all the Johns we recruit—to help.” He smiled wryly. “I’d like to do it by myself, as you know, but that just won’t happen.”

  John smiled. “Yeah, I guess you would want to do it yourself.”

  “Yeah, you understand,” John Home said. “Here’s your checklist.”

  John took the sheet of paper. It was an enumerated list:

  1. Convert gold coins. Need plausible story for discovery.

  2. Purchase quarry lot. Often owned by holding company named Sultan Rock and Gravel in Toledo. Negotiate a price of 17,500 in 7650E$ (7650 Equivalent Dollars).

  3. Build a structure over the exact location of the 7651 transfer point.

  4. Purchase the parts for a transfer gate in this universe.

  5. Purchase an Encyclopaedia Britannica. Review summary sheets from 7651.

  6. Recruit Grace and Henry.

  “What’s a 7650 equivalent dollar worth?” John asked, the most inane of all the questions in his mind.

  “Probably very close to what a 7601 dollar is worth,” John Home said. “Things aren’t that different between our universes.”

  John looked back to the list, his mind boggling.

  “Who are Grace and Henry?” he asked.

  “Uh, well, their addresses are in there in the front,” John said. “You’ll like them. I promise.”

  “Okay,” John Ten said. “But what is the 7651 transfer point?”

  “Oh, yeah,” John Home said. “There’s a diagram.” He flipped pages in the binder to a diagram marked with precise latitude and longitude. “This is every universe we’ve settled, and how it maps to 7651, which is our station universe.”

  John counted the numbers. “Ten, you’ve recruited ten of … me?”

  “You’re number ten,” John Home said with a laugh. “We couldn’t find a better name for this universe, so you’re John Ten.”

  “You’ve done this nine times, already?” John asked.

  “Yeah. I’m pretty convincing, aren’t I?”

  “You’ve got it down.”

  “I know what sounds good for John Rayburn,” John said.

  “Does this plan work?”

  “Seems to,” John said. “You’re not that far behind the first.”

  John nodded. Suddenly his suspicions rose. “Why me? Why did you pick me?”

  John Home shrugged. “It was random in many respects. You exist in a universe close to mine. You’ve had similar experiences to me, up to a point. You’ll understand what I want to do, after you work through your suspicion.”

  John was suddenly angry, and then he laughed. “You’ve done this before.”

  “Couple times.”

  “My dad…” John stopped.

  “He’s had a stroke,” John Home said. “Yeah, I know. A couple other Johns have experienced the same thing.”

  “Will he be all right?”

  John Home shrugged. “None of these other universes is the future. But money isn’t going to be a problem. Use anything from the sale of the coins to pay for whatever procedures he needs.”

  John looked away. He wasn’t used to anonymous help.

  “Listen,” John Home said. “I’ll be back in a week or so. You try selling the coins. Tell people you found them in the fields in an old box or something. Or in the attic. It’ll take a while for experts to verify the coins.”

  “A week?”

  “A week or so,” John Home said. “It’s okay to doubt me. You’ll see proof in the results. You can back out any time, you know. It’s not a binding contract we have here.”

  “What if I run to the police?”

  John Home shrugged. “And what will you tell them? What law am I breaking?”

  “I’m sure the U.S. government would want to know.”

  “Which U.S. government? Which president? Nationalism suddenly seems a little hard to maintain when you know there are tens of thousands of United States of America out there.”

  John shook his head. “It’s a lot to comprehend.”

  “That’s why I’m gonna let you think about it for a week.” He stood up. “Okay. Time for me to go. Wanna watch this?”

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  “I’m going to do it over here by the quarry.” John Home opened his backpack. “I think I gave you everything. Let’s go.”

  They walked over to the quarry. John Home searched the quarry surface for something, finally finding a spray-painted marker on the ground.

  “Here,” John Home said, handing John the flashlight. “You’ll need this.”

  “Where … where are you going?” John asked. Being on his own with that daunting list of things to do suddenly seemed impossible.

  “Back to Universe 7650, the home office,” John Home said. He opened his shirt, exposing the strange device again. He dialed it until the front showed the number 7650. “You’ll be all right, John. Even if you decide you don’t want to do anything else, you can keep the coins. We have more than we know what to do with.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And it looks like you could use the money … for your dad.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back in a week or so. So long, John.” He disappeared.

  John Rayburn had had doubts up until that very moment. Until John Home disappeared before his very eyes. He walked slowly around the spot, waving the flashlight back and forth. He was gone.

  John sighed. If this wasn’t the strangest thing that ever had happened to him, he had no idea what was.

  But to let it go, to ignore it, as John Home suggested? Keeping the gold coins and doing none of the things John Home had listed for him? No, there was no doubt what he would be doing for the next week. John found himself grinning with pleasure as he walked back to the farmhouse.

  CHAPTER 16

  John appeared inside the quarry warehouse in 7650, in a zone marked as the 7601 tr
ansfer site. With ten settled universes in action, making sure each had its own zone was crucial. But 7650 was pretty simple compared to 7651. Grace Top ran the universe depot with precision, since she maintained connections—or would when their gates were complete—with every settled universe. Only one settled universe—Universe Gold: 7458—had a gate online so far, though nine John Rayburns had been recruited. Ten, if John counted John Ten. But that John seemed ready to sign on. They’d finally decided to build a gate in 7650 too, even with the chance that the Alarians might get hold of it. That meant they had three transfer gates—in 7458, 7650, and 7651—as well as John’s transfer device.

  Ten universes visited in three weeks; ten John Rayburns convinced to join the company. It had been a busy end to their summer. Though, when had he not been busy since he had received the device?

  “Hey, John. How’d it go?”

  Henry Home was manning the desk. He reached up and dialed a number next to the label JOHN HOME, changing it from 7601 to 7650. John was back in 7650, so the big board showed it. The next satchel to 7651 would have that information, and when Grace Top sent her satchels out to the settled universes, they would know too where John was, all within two hours.

  Also in the satchels were any deviations between the universes that anyone had found. Anything that differed in price or availability between any two universes was something they’d arbitrage.

  “Pretty well. One conversation,” John said.

  “Case Western? Stroke? Summer at the farm?” Henry asked.

  “Yep.” Those simple characteristics were enough to know it had been an easy recruitment. Those John Rayburns were the ones most likely to jump at the offer to join the company. Those were the Johns who were ready to build.

  “I’ll add a reminder to visit in seven days,” Henry said.

  “What’s new here?”

  “Crazy Rubber Bands.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a fad in 7510, not so much here. We’re shipping through twenty crates with a markup of three hundred percent. We buy a pack of twenty-four for two dollars and sell for six.” Universe 7510 was home to John, Henry, and Grace Quayle, a universe where Dan Quayle had become president after the assassination of Bush I. The United States had avoided the Second Depression and experienced a renaissance of science, education, and arts.

  “But what are they?”

  Henry handed him a colorful circle of rubber. It was shaped like a mouse.

  “This is it?”

  “Yeah, kids trade them.”

  “Aren’t we going to saturate the market?” John asked, thinking of the gold.

  “Naw. The thing is, all our designs are unknown in 7510. They’re unlisted, making them super rare,” Henry said. “We’re gonna make close to one million dollars in 7510.”

  “For rubber bands?”

  “Fad items, John. Fad items.”

  John opened the outgoing satchel and leafed through the contents. Administrivia. Who was where, reminders for tasks, lists of arbitrage numbers on the items they were tracking. All of them like the rubber bands. Knickknacks, novelties, untraceable, cheap. Casey was especially good at spotting a fad they could exploit.

  “What’s this?”

  John read the newspaper clipping. It was the court report for the Toledo Sword. One listing in particular was marked and starred.

  Findlay resident Palmer Helmon was arrested Tuesday on charges of aggravated sexual assault. He is being held at the Findlay county jail on bail of $450,000. He was arrested for the July 15th rape of a Findlay teenager, a minor and attendee of Findlay High School. Her name is being withheld. Speculation of Helmon’s involvement in three other rapes last year prompted the high bail amount. Additional charges are expected.

  “What universe is this from?” John asked, and then he saw the 7458—Universe Gold. “Grace has this going to 7510?”

  “All the settled universes, actually,” Henry said.

  “What if this guy is innocent? What if the police in 7458 are wrong?” John said. It was the same argument he’d had with Casey a year before, based on the fact that he and Prime were such different people. Though he had come to believe it was wishful thinking alone that differentiated him from Prime. Casey was convinced they were anything but similar.

  “What if they’re not?” Henry replied quickly. “If the rapes happened in any other universe on the same days, then this guy did it in those other universes.”

  “Fine!” John said. “Damn! What’s she going to do with this? Tip off the police?”

  “Yes.”

  “But if we cause trouble for some innocent guy…”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure, sure.” An alarm chimed from the desk. Henry checked the clock. It was nearly eleven. “Time for the last shipment of the day.” They wheeled a new platform into place and put the satchels in the center of it. With a minute to spare, the last shipment was ready. The two stepped back and waited. At precisely eleven, there was a snap.

  The satchels disappeared and in their place was a woman. Grace hopped down from the platform.

  “Hey, John,” she said, and by the tone alone, John knew she was Grace Top.

  “Grace, how are you? You have business over here tonight?”

  “More like fun,” she said, hugging him. She turned toward Henry and planted a solid kiss on his lips. Henry returned the kiss with vigor, one of his hands squeezing her butt. John had been certain that this had been Henry Home, but perhaps it was Henry Top. It would explain their familiarity. The Henry and Grace of 7651 had formed some sort of relationship, John was certain. Henry tossed the new satchel to John, who rifled through the contents.

  “Oh, Grace says to tell you the restraining order has been filed,” Henry said.

  “Not that it’ll matter,” John said. Twice they’d seen cars lurking in their parking lot, filled with blond-haired hulks who they could only assume were Alarians or Alarian agents. Grace had called the police the second time, and the police had arrested them before they could flee. The two brutes turned out to be full-time employees of Grauptham House. They’d decided to file a restraining order against the two as well as anyone else associated with Grauptham House.

  “Grace was sure no judge would go for it,” Henry said. “But those two assholes wouldn’t even speak. The judge found them in contempt and passed the order.”

  “They’ve got nothing left to do but skulk and lay in wait,” John said. “But a court ruling won’t stop them.”

  “Okay,” Henry said, looking around at the room. He’d powered down the transfer gate, and everything of value was locked in the safe, a common item in all settled universes. Often shipments were gold or other precious valuables. “Looks like we’re good to go.”

  “I’ll drive you over to your house,” John said. His was the only car parked outside the building.

  Grace got in the back of the Trans-Am, and Henry took the passenger seat. Pulling onto McMaster Road, John saw a car sitting by the road.

  “Kids making out,” John said. “My dad used to chase them off every night.” He sighed, remembering the Rayburns’ deaths in this universe.

  Grace reached up and touched his shoulder.

  In his rearview mirror, he caught the brake lights of the dark car flaring red. The lights pulled into the driveway to the quarry. John assumed they were turning around. But the headlights didn’t appear after a few moments.

  “They turned into the quarry driveway and didn’t come back out.”

  “Damn it,” Henry said.

  John spun the car around in a three-point turn. He doused his own headlights as he pulled into the driveway. There next to the warehouse was the car.

  “Grace, go across the street to my parents’ house and call the police,” John said.

  “No way,” she said. “I’m coming.” She pushed Henry out of the way. “Pop the trunk.”

  John climbed out, hitting the trunk release. Through the window of the building, a flashlight bounced around inside.


  Grace took the tire iron out.

  Henry picked up a rock.

  John wished he had listened to Casey and bought a gun too.

  “Fine, let’s go,” he said.

  They ran to the door.

  With a shout, they pushed it open and slammed on the lights.

  Two black-clad thieves stood next to the transfer gate. One held a camera, the other a flashlight.

  Grace ran for them, wielding the tire iron. Henry and John had to run after her.

  The two men froze for a second, and then ran.

  Grace launched herself at the camera-toting thug, and he fell, tilting at the neck from the weight of a woman dragging him down by the camera strap.

  Henry landed on him with his knees first, smashing his nose.

  That left the first for John. He ran for the back room, John after him.

  He pushed the back fire door open and disappeared into the night. John followed, but stopped short. There were gaping open pits out there, and though he had a good idea where they were, he wasn’t going to run blindly based on that good idea.

  He heard feet pounding in the dark, heading directly toward the pit just sixty meters away.

  “Look out!” He followed slowly. “There’s quarry pits out there!”

  The sound of footsteps ended abruptly, followed by a scream. John followed slowly, and then turned back to the building to fetch a flashlight. He found Henry tying the camera toter with a rope. The camera lay at his side, smashed, the film exposed.

  “Grace is on the phone with the police,” Henry said.

  “Sure, after she tackles someone she’s willing to call the police, but not before,” John said. He found a flashlight on the hip of the lassoed thug. “I think the other one may be in worse shape.”

  John’s light crisscrossed the bare rock. Suddenly, the ground gaped open. The quarry hole was so deep and dark that the flashlight barely illuminated the floor of it. John finally found the mangled body of the thug. His arm moved weakly as he tried to get upright. He’d missed the water, whether for good or bad, and lay in the gravel just a meter away from it, and ten meters down. He’d clearly broken some bones; no normal leg had an angle like that.