by Pam Stucky
“Take your life!” said Emma. “He’s trying to kill you? Why would he do that?” She watched him carefully. His labored breathing concerned her, and she could tell he was struggling to stay awake.
“No, he’s not trying to kill me,” said Dr. Waldo. He paused for another drink of water. “He’s literally trying to take my life. He wants it for himself. He wants to be alive again.”
Ben returned to where Emma and Dr. Waldo were sitting and found a place on the floor for himself. “You’re going to have to back up, Dr. Waldo. I’m not understanding.”
“Yes,” said Emma, “I’m curious too, but we should get out of here first. I know you’re weak, but we need to get you home. We brought extra Dark MATTER devices, and the one we used didn’t seem to burn out this time. Looks like your upgrades worked!” She forced a smile and reached into her bag to find the device that would return them to the safety of the Hub.
But Dr. Waldo was shaking his head. “You can try,” he said, “but I don’t think it’ll work here. I’m surprised you were even able to get in. There’s a force field around this building. The man who built it used to be quite a scientist himself.” He laughed softly. “The madness of a mad scientist doesn’t go away after he dies, it seems.”
Emma was distraught. The fact that the Dark MATTER might not work here was one thing, but what disturbed her more was Dr. Waldo’s demeanor. He seemed completely different from the man she’d met before; he’d lost his vigor and his irrepressible joy. Her own confidence waned with Dr. Waldo’s hollowed presence.
“Has the man taken some of your life already?” she asked cautiously.
Dr. Waldo nodded weakly. “He has.”
Emma pulled the Dark MATTER sphere out of her bag. “Well, we’re going to try this anyway,” she said firmly. “Never hurts to try.” She entered the coordinates for the Hub into the black sphere, then linked one arm through Ben’s, and held Dr. Waldo’s hand. Focusing all her energy on taking the trio back where they belonged, with her other hand, she activated the sphere.
The air in the room shimmered ever so slightly. Then, silence.
They had not moved.
“I didn’t think it would work,” said Dr. Waldo, both pleased with the accuracy of his prediction and disappointed.
“Once more,” said Emma, swiping across the sphere’s surface again, not ready to give up after just one try. This time she thought she heard the slightest high-pitched hum, but they remained quite definitely inside the dim room on the ghost planet.
“I am going to get this to work!” she said, mostly to herself. Then, “Ben, did you happen to bring a pigeon? Maybe that will work.”
As Ben searched his own backpack for a pigeon, Dr. Waldo looked on with hopeful resignation; he was more than happy to let Emma try her best, but in his heart he knew her efforts were futile.
With a look of confusion on his face, Ben pulled one of the devices called a pigeon from the depths of his bag. “Didn’t know that was in there,” he said. “Okay, let’s give it a try!” They all linked arms again, and Ben activated the small machine. This time, not even a shimmer or a hum disturbed the air.
“Nothing,” said Emma, the edges of fear starting to grow inside her. She looked at the scientist, weak by her side. The food and water had briefly revived him, but he seemed to be fading again. Would he even survive the trip back? If the Dark MATTER and the pigeon wouldn’t take them home, her own ability to transport herself and others through space and time with her mind might be their only hope. And yet …
She took the third bottle of water from her bag, wishing she’d brought more, and handed it and another protein bar to the scientist. “Dr. Waldo,” she said, “did you … before you left, did you have a chance to look over the results from any of my tests?”
The older man took the sustenance with gratitude, and nodded solemnly. “I did.”
“Do you still think every time I move through the multiverse without a pigeon or a Dark MATTER or something, my life gets shorter? ‘Small but significant’ differences, your notes said?” Emma’s words came out in a rush, as if speaking them quickly could lessen the impact.
The scientist hesitated, blinked. Nodded slowly. “That is what I think, at this point, yes.”
Emma took in a deep breath, letting it out in a long exhale. It seemed unavoidable: she was going to have to make that sacrifice once again, and deal with the consequences later.
“No! There’s got to be another way,” said Ben sharply, following Emma’s train of thought. Emma looked at him in surprise. “I … I know what’s going on. I overheard some scientists talking about your telomeres,” he explained. “I did some research on the telomeres when I first heard about them. It didn’t sound good.” He paused. “Dr. Waldo, I know your notes said there was a ‘small but significant’ difference in Emma’s telomeres, but the scientists were saying it’s not so small.” He looked sternly at Dr. Waldo, waiting for an answer.
Dr. Waldo said nothing for a long time. Emma looked from Ben to the elderly scientist. “Well, Dr. Waldo?” she said. “Is it true?”
“Those scientists should not have been gossiping,” said Dr. Waldo with an uncharacteristic hint of anger. “It’s not necessarily true. We need to do further studies.”
“But it’s possible?” asked Emma.
The older man looked at her kindly. “Everything is possible.”
Emma exhaled deeply.
“Your … skills … are a last resort,” said Ben. “I won’t let you subject yourself to that kind of mind travel any more than necessary.”
Emma raised her eyes to his. “I appreciate your concern, Ben,” she said, “but that’s my choice, not yours.”
Ben looked surprised, then smiled begrudgingly. “You’re right, exactly, of course. I just … don’t want you to get hurt. But it’s your choice, not mine.”
Emma smiled from the inside out. “Still, let’s see if we can think of something else first.”
The young man stood up and started feeling his way around the walls, testing their sturdiness and looking for weaknesses in the gaps. “Next time, remind me to bring a crowbar,” he said. The windows in the room were high on the walls, too high to even see anything but the light-blue-gray sky high above. Ben jumped to try to catch the ledge, but his fingers slipped from the narrow surface every time. “Crowbar and a ladder, that is,” he said.
“Has anyone ever tried to make things out of intention in a ghost universe, like you do in the Hub?” asked Emma.
Ben frowned. “I have no idea,” he said. He paused, quiet in intense concentration, trying to conjure up a crowbar or a ladder like he’d learned to do back at the lab. His face grew red with exertion, but nothing materialized. He shrugged. “I don’t think it works here.”
Emma squinted up at the windows. “Maybe if you boost me up I can reach?” she suggested.
“Worth a try,” said Ben. He interwove his fingers to form a cradle.
Emma gingerly stepped one foot into Ben’s hands, leaning against the rough wall for balance. “Okay,” she said, “ready.” Ben lifted her carefully, but she lost her balance and tumbled to the ground.
“Ouch,” said Emma, holding one elbow. She looked up at the window again, assessing its height. The idea of shortening her telomeres was looking more and more appealing. “Maybe if I stand on your shoulders?” she said, brushing the dirt off her clothes as she picked herself up off the floor.
Ben squatted, enabling Emma to sit on his shoulders. He grasped Emma’s hands, and slowly stood up. “Ha,” he said, smiling as he staggered slightly with the unfamiliar and off-balance weight. “Never done that before. Easier than I thought!”
Emma held her breath and tried to avoid any sudden movements. The window sill was now at her chin level, giving her a view of the strange outside world on which they’d landed. Compared to the first ghost planet she’d been to, this one was lush and almost green, though even the green of the multitudes of trees and plants outside the window was m
uted with a gray translucence. The building they were in was built on a gently sloping hill that led down to a calm, gray-blue lake, surrounded by gray-green trees that looked a bit like pine trees, tall with branches filled out with dark, foot-long needles. As far as Emma could see, there were no other buildings between them and the lake. She pressed her face against the glass to try to see more of the landscape around them, and to look for other buildings or for people—ghosts—in the vicinity, but her view was severely restricted.
Emma took her right hand out of Ben’s, still holding tight with her left. She felt around the edge of the window, searching with both her eyes and her fingers for some way out. There was no way to open the window, she quickly determined; it had no latch she could release to push it out, nor would it slide in any direction.
“It’s closed and sealed tight,” she said. Cautiously, she tapped her knuckles against the glass. “I suppose I could try to break it?” Off in the distance she thought she saw movement. A ghost? A ghost animal in the forest? The trees, blowing in the wind? Was there wind on this ghost planet? On the other ghost planet, a warm, gentle breeze had blown softly but incessantly. Was the weather on all ghost planets alike? Was it even really weather? Or some other force, brought on by the ghostly inhabitants?
“Breaking the window wouldn’t do any good,” said Ben, bringing Emma’s thoughts back to reality. “It’d be dangerous, all that broken glass, and I don’t know how we’d get all of us up there and out the window, anyway.”
Emma nodded. “No, you’re right,” she said. “Turn around so I can see the rest of the room. Maybe I can see something from up here that we missed. Carefully.”
Ben did as Emma asked, turning slowly, but Emma saw nothing.
“Okay, let me down,” she said, once she was satisfied with her search.
Ben lowered to a squat again, and Emma hopped off his shoulders with more grace than she could have hoped. Ben rubbed his neck.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” said Emma.
“No, I just twisted funny when I lifted you, I think. I’m fine.”
The teens sat again by Dr. Waldo, who had watched their efforts in silence.
“Worth a try,” he said. “Always worth a try.”
“Why are you here, Dr. Waldo?” asked Emma, finally broaching the subject she and Ben had been curious about since the moment they arrived. “Why are you on this ghost planet? Did you get here accidentally?” Her own visit to a ghost planet had been unplanned; maybe this one was too.
For a moment, Dr. Waldo seemed not to have heard. He stared off into a distance beyond the walls of the small room, seeing something that was not there. Finally, he said, “My wife is here.”
“Your wife?” Emma said, recalling her conversation with Eve, in which the girl from Lero had told Emma that Dr. Waldo’s wife was dead. “She’s here?”
“She was, anyway,” said Dr. Waldo. His eyes glassed over with memory and the glimmer of oncoming tears. “She’s gone.” He shook his head and looked away, off into the distance, into the past.
Emma shifted her legs on the ground, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard floor. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Waldo. I’m confused, though. She was here but she’s gone? When was she here? Where did she go?” she said.
“My wife,” Dr. Waldo began, “died many years ago. She had a disease unknown on Lero, which she contracted from my lab in the Hub. We didn’t know.…” Memories flooded his thoughts. “It was my fault. It was my fault she got the disease, and it was my fault she died from it. I should have found a cure.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” said Emma. “You can’t cure everything. You didn’t know, right? You can’t solve every problem.” But to herself, she wondered: how did Dr. Waldo’s wife get a disease in the Hub? Were diseases just lying around in there? She might have to be more careful, if they ever got back.
“I was in the Hub,” said Dr. Waldo, shaking his head, unwilling to forgive himself. “Everything is possible in the Hub. I should have found a way beyond my own limitations. I should have found the cure for her. There had to be one. I just didn’t find it in time.” He paused, lost in his shame and his sorrow. He looked up at the light streaming through the high windows, watching the dust motes on their slow dance in the indifferent sunbeam. “I loved her so much,” he continued at last. “She was my soul mate, you see.” He laughed mirthlessly. “In all the universes, she was the one. And that’s a lot of people to pick from. Somehow, we found each other. We always imagined retiring to a little cottage on the lake. A lake just like the one outside this building. Just Lora and me, a little garden, maybe, for fresh produce and for flowers. Fresh air. Peace. After a lifetime of looking to the stars, the idea of seeing the world right before me for once seemed like a nice idea.
“After Lora died, I was distraught. I worked endless hours in the Hub, trying to forget. But of course you never forget. You just push the thoughts aside and hope they don’t push back. But I knew, I knew without knowing but still I was sure, that Lora was somewhere, thinking of me, too. I knew she hadn’t passed to nothingness. My thoughts met with her thoughts and they wouldn’t let each other go.
“One day at work, I found out about the ghost universe. This universe. I was traveling, doing research on another planet, one far more advanced than Lero. Their scientists had been traveling through the universes and doing scientific research far longer than we had. A gentleman there told me about the ghost universe, and the different ghost planets. He said there was a ghost planet for people who, for one reason or another, hadn’t yet moved on; for people who had died but were still emotionally tied to loved ones back at home.
“I knew instantly I would find Lora on that planet. Without telling him why I wanted to know—he’d already warned me of the dangers of traveling to ghost planets while still alive—I asked for more information on this planet, for its coordinates. I went back to our elevator and entered the coordinates into it, holding my breath, hoping. As you may recall, not all elevators stop at the ghost universe; it’s like the thirteenth floor on elevators on your Earth. By some stroke of luck, some miracle, some coincidence—or maybe, no coincidence at all—our elevator did connect to this planet. It took me directly here. I opened the elevator door and saw what you saw from that window up there, Emma, this beautiful, if muted, land. In the distance I could see a lake, the lake you saw, Emma. I started walking toward it, and before long, I saw someone walking toward me.” His face glowed at the memory. “It was my wife, looking like she did before she got sick, so beautiful, more beautiful, even, than I remembered. We reunited and talked for hours, so long, I don’t even remember. I had to go back to the Hub only because I foolishly hadn’t brought any food or water with me, and I wasn’t so sure about drinking from a ghost lake.” He laughed. “Visiting a ghost universe didn’t phase me, but drinking the water, now that’s where I drew the line. But I’d been gone so long that I almost wasn’t able to wrench myself away. In the end, to be honest, my wife had to take me to the elevator and stuff me in. Once the door closed I came back to my senses. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to see her again.
“I came back the next day, and we talked again for hours. She had to force me to go home again. When I came the next day, she told me we could not go on like that.” The scientist sighed deeply. “She wouldn’t move on, but she wouldn’t let me stay. She told me to come back on our anniversary. And so I did. The first year I came, she led me here. You probably couldn’t see it from that window,” he said, “but there’s a little cottage just a few meters behind this building. Lora enlisted the help of some other ghosts, and together they built the house she and I had dreamed of. By the next year, she had started a garden. Of course I couldn’t eat the food from it … it’s ghost food, not food for Leroians. Still, it kept her happy. And we went on like that for years. For eleven years I visited her on our anniversary, and each time I had to devise a way to make sure I didn’t get stuck here. As you are well aware, Emma, it is all to
o easy to get stuck on a ghost planet, to forget that you want to leave. Lucky for me, Lora never forgot.
“Our anniversary was three days ago,” he continued. “I showed up like usual, but something was different. Lora didn’t meet me at the elevator, for one thing. I walked here by myself. When I got here, I saw this building.”
“It wasn’t here before?” asked Ben.
“No, this was new. And the garden, I noticed without thinking about it that the garden was overgrown. It wasn’t until afterward, when I was stuck here, that it dawned on me. My brain saw it but I didn’t think about it; that happens, you know.”
He coughed briefly and drank some water. “When I got here, the door to this room was open. My stupidity, assuming I could come to no harm on a ghost planet,” he laughed wryly. “As I poked my head into the room, someone came up behind me and knocked me out cold. When I came to, I was tied up in here, with a ghost I’d never seen before looking me over. He never told me his name. He explained that shortly after my last visit, he’d arrived on this planet himself and befriended my wife. On hearing that I visited every year, he devised a plan. He convinced my wife to move on, and then built this shed. He’s a scientist, too, from Lero, but not one I’d met before. He’s insane. Perhaps he was in life, as well. He built this shed, created a force field around it, calculated the date I’d arrive next, and waited. Every day I’ve been here he’s come in several times to do a blood transfusion, my blood into him. He thinks if he can take enough of my life, he can jump-start his own.”
Emma sat, mesmerized by Dr. Waldo’s impossible tale. “Do you think it would work?” she asked. “Can the blood from one person revive a ghost? One that’s been dead for almost a year, even?”
Dr. Waldo shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said, “but I don’t know everything. I haven’t seen his lab, his tools, his plans. All I know is that he’s been taking my blood. And a lot of it. I’m feeling a bit dizzy, you see. He has given me water, but not much, and nothing to eat. Do you have any more food in that bag of yours?”