by E. C. Myers
“Did you see what happened when we tried to leave?” Zoe asked.
“You sort of went wispy,” Nathan said. “Like the ghosts. Then you were back. I recorded it.”
“I thought I saw Nathaniel's universe for a moment,” Zoe said.
“Me too. We almost made it, but something…blocked us,” Ephraim said. He'd felt some sort of resistance. He wanted to sit down. He wanted to go home.
“What do we do about Mary and Shelley?” Jena asked.
“Whatever's happening is bigger than them, or any of us.” Zoe sighed. “I know it isn't much consolation, but they're fine in another universe. There's a reality right next door to ours where they're both still at prom with you and Ephraim and Nathan. Where I never appeared to…” She looked around. “To cause all this.”
“You don't know your presence had anything to do with this,” Ephraim said.
“But the controller…if I'd destroyed it?”
“You can't blame yourself,” he said.
“I think that's usually my line.” She smiled.
“What do we do about Mary and Shelley?” Ephraim repeated. “We stick to the plan. We find out what's wrong with the multiverse. We try to use the Charon device again.”
“What good will that do if we were blocked the first time?” Jena asked. “Something else might happen to one of us.”
“That's also true if we do nothing,” Zoe snapped.
“Try another set of coordinates?” Ephraim said. “Just to make sure the controller's working. We'll go to your universe, Zoe.”
“Mine?” Zoe said.
“Why there?” Jena asked.
“Because if we make it, I can try to contact Nathaniel.” Zoe grinned. “Smart, Ephraim.”
He glanced at Jena. She nodded. Zoe dialed up her universe's coordinates.
The limo pulled up alongside Mary Shelley. She climbed into the back. The tinted window lowered, and Maurice stuck his head out.
“Hey, you guys ready to go somewhere else?” he called.
“We're working on it,” Ephraim said. “Give us a couple more minutes.”
The driver pulled his head back into the car and drove off.
Ephraim slotted the coin into the controller. Once again, it spun to get a fix—this time on Zoe's universe. When it settled, the three of them linked arms, and Ephraim reached for the coin.
He made eye contact with Nathan. His friend was devastated and afraid, so shaken he didn't even switch on his camera.
“Bye, Eph,” Nathan said.
“Stay frosty,” Ephraim said.
He grabbed the coin. The parking lot rippled around them, then warped back into focus. His stomach seemed to contract into a dense ball and rapidly expand to normal size. He tasted his dinner and swallowed hard to keep the bitterness down.
Ephraim blinked. Nathan was gone. So was the limo.
No, it was Zoe, Jena, and he who had disappeared. They'd made it to Zoe's universe.
“I'm going to—” Jena pivoted and buried her face in the bucket Ephraim had given her. She bent over and retched.
Shifting between universes invariably made people sick their first time, but the effect was brief, and subsequent trips between universes got easier. After all the trips he'd taken, Ephraim shouldn't have felt anything at all. It had been a while since he'd shifted, but the fact that he'd also felt a twinge earlier when Zoe burst into his universe, and that his stomach felt rather unsettled now, might be another sign that something was wonky.
“Welcome back, Eph.” Zoe didn't let go of Ephraim's hand until he pulled away. She preoccupied herself with the controller as he turned to make sure Jena was okay.
He was supposed to hold her hair or something, he thought. But his girlfriend shoved him away.
Jena looked up and got her first look at the shuttered library. Her expression turned even bleaker.
“Now that really makes me sick,” she said.
The dim moonlight revealed that its facade was drab and in disrepair, like most things were here. The glass doors were broken and covered in spray-painted plywood. The lion sculptures on either side of the steps, which Ephraim thought of as Bert and Ernie, were no longer identical—Bert was missing his head. Ephraim looked around, but the broken granite wasn't in sight. Who would steal a stone lion's head?
Jena had volunteered at the library since junior high, and worked there part-time ever since she was legal. She would have spent all of her time there anyway, so it was just gravy to get paid to be around all those books. It was practically a second home for her.
Zoe put a hand on her shoulder. “It's been a rough night, but we should get back to my house.”
Jena shrugged Zoe off. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her arm and took a deep breath.
Ephraim fingered the coin in his hand. He tucked it safely into the front right pocket of his slacks at the same time that Zoe stowed the controller in her own pocket. Just like old times.
Not quite. As awful as the evening had turned out, it could get even worse if he didn't watch himself with Jena and Zoe. He suddenly felt very alone.
I wish I were anywhere but here.
Zoe's bedroom hadn't changed much in the last year, aside from the addition of the massive black radio sitting on her desk and tangles of wire and microchips scattered among the familiar landscape of books.
Ephraim sat next to Zoe and examined the radio while she pulled a pair of old metal headphones around her neck and placed a microphone carefully in front of her. The polished tin plate screwed into the front of the machine read “RCA AR-88 Radio Receiver.”
“This is how you've been communicating with Nathaniel?” Ephraim asked. He glanced at Zoe's reflection in one of the three glass panes covering the large dials on the radio's face.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” she asked, patting the radio's chassis with her right hand. He noticed a tattoo on the inside of her wrist: a barcode with a string of numbers printed beneath it. His gaze traveled along her bare arm, up to her shoulder, then her face.
“Yeah,” he said, finally meeting her eyes.
She tilted her head and smiled. “What is it?”
“Um. I was just wondering, what happened to your nose ring?” he asked.
“The piercing got infected,” she said. “And I guess I never bothered to put the stud back in. I only got it to piss off my father anyway.”
“Too bad. I liked it,” he said. “But the new tattoo's nice. Have they started tagging citizens here?”
She jerked her arm down to her lap and held it against her stomach to hide the tattoo.
“Did you get that to piss off your dad, too?” he asked.
“No. This was for me.”
“Let me guess: A library thing? The barcode from your favorite book?” he asked.
“Something like that. It's private, Ephraim.”
Then it shouldn't be on your wrist. “Okay. I'm sorry,” he said.
He turned back to the radio, the only safe thing to look at when she was sitting this close to him.
“Let me show you how this works,” she said. She sounded relieved.
She twisted the knob in the lower left corner from “Off” to “Rec. C.W.” It clicked into place, and an amber glow lit each of the dials.
“It takes a little time to warm up,” she said.
The large dials on the left and right of the radio panel were labeled “Tuning” and “Tuning Meter.” Their purpose seemed clear enough, but the smaller dial in the center above the round red and white RCA logo was marked for something called “Vernier.”
He counted ten small knobs labeled things like “Tone,” “Noise Limiter,” “Range,” and “Audio Gain.” The big knob in the center was also labeled “Tuning.”
“I can't believe this old radio can contact another universe,” he said.
“It's not old, it's vintage. Respect my ham shack,” Zoe said.
“So how can a vintage radio receive signals from another dimension?” Ephraim said.
>
“I made some custom modifications to the radio and mounted a thirty-foot homebrew antenna on the roof that boosts the range. Turns out, I'm kind of a genius with this stuff.”
“I know you like old TV shows and books, but how did you get interested in antiques?” he asked.
“This is the closest thing the Kims have to a family heirloom. It belonged to my grandfather. I'd forgotten all about it until Nathaniel suggested setting up an emergency channel. I had fun learning all this stuff. I guess it's in my blood.”
A wooden crate next to her bed was stuffed with coiled cable, stacked soldering boards, computer chips, glass tubes, and printed schematics. Ephraim pulled out a worn instruction manual for the “General Purpose Communications Receiver Model AR-88.” He carefully thumbed through its brittle, yellowed pages. He skimmed a diagram filled with technical terms that he couldn't make any sense of.
“What's a, uh, ‘vibrator power supply’?” he asked, reading from a list of parts.
Zoe eyed him suspiciously.
“Hey, Zoe?” Jena said.
Ephraim spun his seat around and saw his girlfriend's head poking from the open bathroom door. He felt guilty for forgetting she was cleaning up and changing clothes while he was talking to Zoe.
“Do you have anything a little less, um…skanky?” Jena asked.
Zoe raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, I just packed my non-skanky clothes away with my winter wardrobe.”
The bathroom door opened the rest of the way, and Jena slunk out with a glum expression. She tossed her prom dress onto Zoe's bed and hugged her arms over her chest.
She was wearing a clingy black tank top, denim shorts, and navy Chucks. Except for the colors, the outfit was identical to Zoe's ensemble of a blue tank and red Chucks. She looked just as stunning as her analog, but showing that much skin clearly made her uncomfortable.
“Here,” Zoe said. She pulled a baby-blue hoodie from the back of Ephraim's chair and tossed it to Jena.
“Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes. Everything fits perfectly.” Jena zipped up the hoodie.
“Good. I was worried they'd be a little snug on you,” Zoe said.
Jena gritted her teeth.
Ephraim coughed. “You guys are so cute in your matching outfits. Just like—” He stopped himself when he saw Jena's expression change as she remembered what had happened to Mary and Shelley.
“Uh, you should check this out, Jena,” Ephraim said. He stood and gestured to his seat in front of the radio.
Her face brightened. “Is that Grumps' radio?” Jena asked. She hurried over and sat next to Zoe.
“‘Grumps’?” Ephraim asked. He perched on the edge of the desk, scooting some books back with his butt to make room.
“That's what I called my grandfather when I was three,” Jena and Zoe said simultaneously. “Stop that,” they said.
Ephraim laughed. They both glared at him in perfect sync.
“Not funny,” they said.
“You're right. It's getting spooky,” he said. “So was he grumpy or something?”
“He was the sweetest, smartest man I've ever known,” Jena said.
“I just called him that because I couldn't say ‘grandpa’ yet. And it stuck,” Zoe said.
“Where did you find this?” Jena asked.
“It's been in the attic since he passed away,” Zoe said.
“Here too?” Jena said. She ran a hand across the radio's chassis. “It looks terrific.”
“Thanks. I refinished it. Everything but this.” Zoe pointed out some letters and numbers scratched into the top corner of the case.
Ephraim stood to get a better look at it. “WB2IXW,” he read. “I don't get it.”
“That was his call sign,” Jena said. She brushed her fingers over the engraved letters. “It actually works?”
“Like new,” Zoe said. “Actually, better than new. I had to replace some parts, and I upgraded a few components with modern technology. There's a bunch of Internet forums that gave me some tips on repairing it, and you can order everything really cheaply.” She fiddled with some wires behind the radio. “The hacker nerds at school were all too happy to help. We even started a ham radio club. There used to be one at Summerside High in the sixties. We figure when we get drafted, we can get into radio operations and engineering. The kind of thing that makes it less likely you'll be shot at.”
“I always meant to try this out,” Jena said. “Grumps loved it so much.”
“It's not that hard. I can teach you the basics. You'll probably pick it up even more quickly than I did.”
“Thanks.”
Jena and Zoe looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed without sniping at each other.
“I'd still like to know how you can reach Nathaniel's universe with this,” Ephraim said.
“I'll show you.” Zoe tugged the plug of the headphones out of its jack, and static hissed over the small speaker beside the radio. She nudged a knob, and the volume increased.
“During the summer, sporadic E propagation in the ionosphere sometimes allows the six-meter wavelength band to pick up transmissions from all over the world, depending on certain conditions,” Zoe said. “With a tall enough antenna and the right amounts of sunspot activity, cloud ionization, and luck, you can experience some amazing and unique radio phenomena and make contact with other countries. It's called DXing. That's why hams—ham radio operators—call the six-meter band the ‘magic band.’”
“Magic, huh?” Ephraim said. “I've heard that before.”
Jena picked up a stack of rumpled schematics. “This receiver isn't rated for the frequency range you'd need.”
Zoe smiled. “It is now. I found a 50 mHz converter online. Imagine: People might be talking to parallel universes all the time through the magic band. But no one ever realizes it. Even if you found someone else who spoke the same language as you, you'd hardly think to confirm you were both in the same dimension.”
“How'd you figure this out?” Jena asked.
“Nathaniel told me what to look for. I found everything online. Ham forums are great resources for beginners.”
“Is that when he told you not to destroy the controller?” Ephraim asked. His question sounded harsher than he'd intended, but she didn't react.
“He instructed me to DX the magic band every Saturday before school for half an hour. As soon as I got back here, I rescued the receiver from the attic and started setting up my shack.” She spun the dial slowly, and snatches of words crackled from the radio. “It's not like I had anything better to do.”
“Are we hearing people in parallel universes right now?” Jena asked.
“Not yet. I need parts from the controller to really boost the signal.” Zoe pulled the controller from her pocket.
“You aren't going to take it apart again,” Ephraim said.
“No need,” she said. She rummaged around behind the radio and grabbed the end of a bare copper wire. She slid a small antenna from the top of the controller and coiled the wire tightly around it.
“I didn't notice that antenna before,” Ephraim said.
“I added it. It's just a conductor. It connects to the controller's motherboard so I can plug it into the radio without cracking the controller open,” Zoe said. “There.”
The speaker went nuts. Dozens of overlapping voices spilled out at once.
“Wow,” Zoe said. “There's a lot of activity tonight. Most of the time I can't pick up anything at all.”
Zoe worked through the dial incrementally. Static hissed, then they heard a series of strange beeps.
“Morse code?” Jena asked.
“Just interference,” Zoe said. She clicked a knob over three settings, and the noise cleared a bit. “None of it ever makes any sense.” She pointed at the dial. “I think this is the frequency where I heard Nathaniel's SOS this morning. It's hard to say. These old radio dials are very imprecise. I should really install a more accurate digital tuner, but I hat
e to spoil the elegance of the original design.”
All Ephraim heard from the speaker was something like Darth Vader breathing.
“This is CHARON2 to CHARON1. Do you read?” The microphone had a squeeze bar that Zoe pressed to transmit while she spoke. She relaxed her grip. “No answer.”
Ephraim crouched beside her chair. “We can't wait until next Saturday.”
“We couldn't get through with the Charon device for a reason, and I'm hoping he'll realize that and will be listening for us,” Zoe said. “Unfortunately the magic band is kind of fickle.”
Ephraim rested his hand on the radio. The casing was warm and hummed gently under his fingers. This machine was older than the three of them combined. It was antiquated tech, but he knew as much about how it worked as he did the coheron drive. It might as well have been magic to him.
A sharp tone blasted from the speaker. He lifted his hand and backed away while Zoe turned down the volume on the speaker.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I don't know. I barely touched it!” he said.
He moved his hand closer to it, but nothing happened until he touched the case. The same loud tone shrilled out of the speaker.
“Ephraim, what's in your pocket?” Jena asked.
“Huh?” He realized his other hand was in his pocket holding the coin: an old habit that had come back way too easily. He pulled the coin out and tapped it against the radio's metal chassis. The sound got sharper when it made contact.
“Interesting,” Zoe said.
“I have an idea,” he said. “Zoe, pick up the controller?”
As soon as she touched it, more static hissed. They heard fragments of words, random syllables. She touched the radio with her other hand, and the machine began to thrum.
“Huh,” Zoe said.
“Open it,” Ephraim said.
She flipped the controller open, and he placed the coin into its slot. The static dropped away to a gentle, steady hiss in the background.
“You did it!” Jena said. “You did something, anyway.”
The coin lifted off an inch and hovered over the controller. Static sizzled and popped on the radio, and the coin trembled in midair.