Coin #2 - Quantum Coin

by E. C. Myers

  They all looked around, waiting for something to happen.

  Hugh walked toward the camera. “No, look at it through the camera. And keep rolling.”

  The six of them crowded around the camera as best they could, with Hugh, Nathaniel, and Dr. Kim in front. Jena leaned up on her toes with one hand on Hugh's shoulder. Ephraim and Zoe were able to snatch glimpses of the small screen by craning their necks to peer between the heads of the others.

  Hugh extended the controller to Dr. Kim, and she pressed another button with a smile.

  The shrieking sound of the LCD began again. Ephraim heard something crack and ping, and a gear dropped from somewhere and settled between Atlas's feet. Nathaniel looked at it worriedly.

  “It'll hold,” he said under his breath.

  The disc in the center of the LCD laboriously turned itself over until the Everett Institute logo was facing down instead of up, and the rings began to rotate again, in opposite directions to each other. Soon they were moving quickly enough that Ephraim couldn't tell which way they were going. A breeze picked up, but it didn't seem related to the spinning bands of metal.

  Ephraim smelled water and honeysuckle. It helped to calm the growing queasiness beginning in his stomach, which the others were also experiencing to varying degrees. Hugh was extremely pale, his face beaded with sweat and his shoulders slumping miserably.

  The screen of the camera no longer showed the LCD but a smaller version of Atlas, supporting a basin that spilled water into a fountain. Ephraim looked around the atrium, but he couldn't see any quantum phantoms or images from the other universe with the naked eye.

  “The Memorial Fountain,” Jena said. “It's Greystone Park.”

  A figure wandered into frame.

  “Ephraim…” Jena said.

  Nathaniel and Jena moved aside to give Ephraim a better view of the screen. He leaned forward and saw a man approaching the fountain. At first he thought it was his father, but then the man turned his face, and Ephraim recognized it as an older version of himself.

  Dr. Kim zoomed in the camera. The analog looked about twenty years older, hair thinning, a bit heavier, and with a scraggly beard.

  “It's Ephraim,” Dr. Kim said. She touched his face on the screen, and the display was momentarily obscured by a warped circular rainbow as she pressed her fingernail against it. She drew her hand back quickly as though she had been shocked.

  The older Ephraim turned to look at them. Nathaniel zoomed the picture out again, and they saw that the analog was looking at someone else offscreen. The picture went black for a moment as the lens was obscured by a figure moving through it. Kim shivered as Ephraim was joined by another Jena Kim—the same age as the doctor. She was slimmer, in a pretty yellow sundress, and her long hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. She was laughing.

  “Sound,” Dr. Kim said.

  Nathaniel pressed some buttons, but all they heard was a murky, garbled noise from the camera's small speaker.

  “It's working,” Hugh rasped. Ephraim heard surprise in the man's voice, and he gritted his teeth. Hugh hadn't been certain this was going to happen.

  Hugh took quick, shallow breaths, his right hand clutching his stomach in pain.

  “What are we looking at?” Zoe asked.

  “This is a single universe overlapping with ours. We wait to see if anything changes,” Dr. Kim said. “Here or there.”

  She fiddled with the controller, and the pitch of the spinning LCD changed subtly. Ephraim's stomach untwisted itself, and Hugh straightened, groaning with relief.

  The older Ephraim put an arm around his Jena. Zoe drew a little closer to Ephraim, and he resisted the urge to mimic the motion. His analog reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He flipped it into the fountain.

  “Make a wish,” Zoe said. Her words matched the movement of the older Jena's lips.

  A little boy with a bright-blue balloon appeared onscreen, walking along the edge of the fountain, his arms extended like airplane wings for balance.

  “Oh,” Jena said.

  Ephraim's analog picked up the child, lifted him over his head, and lowered him between him and the other Jena.

  “Shut it off,” Dr. Kim said hastily.

  “What, dear?” Hugh asked.

  She brushed past him and walked toward the LCD. She stood in front of it, exactly where her other self stood. She reached out a hand toward where the other Ephraim's face would be if she could see him.

  “Shut it off,” Dr. Kim said again.

  “Which? The camera or the LCD?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Don't switch off the drive!” Zoe said with alarm.

  Hugh pressed a button, and the rings on the LCD slowed. As the central disc turned over slowly to its original position, the outer ring screeched to a stop, then reversed direction to match the inner ring. Atlas shuddered from the sudden shift in balance and speed. It looked like the golden giant was shaking himself awake.

  “That was interesting,” Hugh said.

  They watched the screen as the image from the other universe faded and the LCD and Dr. Kim took its place. And someone else.

  “Um,” Ephraim said. “I think—”

  He was drowned out by a high-pitched scream. A child's shriek reverberated through the atrium. Ephraim clapped his hands over his ears and looked at the LCD.

  The boy stared at Dr. Kim in terror. His blue balloon drifted up and toward the LCD. Somehow it navigated between the slowly turning rings without getting battered, crushed, or tangled. Its string caught for a moment, but the balloon tugged free again and continued its long, meandering journey up, up, up.

  As the boy continued to scream, Ephraim tilted his head back and followed the balloon's course. It hit the skylight above them and bobbed around lazily until it settled in its exact center. The glass was pointed like a pyramid, Ephraim realized, not a flat square pane like he'd thought it was.

  The boy bawled, backing away from Dr. Kim. “Mommy!” he cried.

  Dr. Kim stood there stiffly, looking at the spot where Ephraim's older analog had been only a universe away. She didn't seem aware of what was going on.

  Jena rushed over to the little boy, and his screams got even louder.

  “Shh,” Jena said. She crouched and opened her arms, making calming sounds. After a moment he allowed himself to be enfolded.

  The boy quieted down, alternately gasping and sobbing. He buried his face in Jena's chest.

  She rocked him gently from side to side, eyes closed. “It's okay. It'll all be okay,” she said.

  “That's a lie,” Nathaniel said.

  “Well, I'd call this a success,” Hugh said.

  “I do not think that word means what you think it means,” Zoe said.

  She joined Jena, and the boy looked between the two of them in wide-eyed wonder, still sniffling.

  “What is this?” Dr. Kim asked, suddenly aware of the little boy standing at her feet.

  The boy looked at her and screamed again.

  “I am not your mother,” she said. She looked up and repeated it more loudly. “I am not his mother.”

  “I think you'd better go,” Zoe said. She crouched on the other side of the boy.

  Dr. Kim nodded and walked toward the entrance to the Institute.

  “What's your name, sweetie?” Jena asked.

  “Doug,” he said. He grabbed for her glasses. “Doug Kim Scott.”

  “Holy shit,” Nathaniel said. His voice echoed loudly in the courtyard, even over the labored helicopter sound of the LCD.

  “Language,” Zoe said.

  Ephraim approached them slowly. Up close, he noticed the boy had dark-brown hair like his and his mother's eyes. He looked about three or four years old. Doug looked up at him and screwed up his face.

  “Daddy?” Doug said.

  “Oh, boy,” Ephraim said. He prepared for the boy to let loose another flood of tears, but Jena and Zoe kept him calm, while looking at Ephraim accusingly.

  “Mazel tov,”
Nathaniel said.

  “You know he isn't really my son,” Ephraim said.

  Zoe smiled. “Right, because you're a vir—”

  “Daddy!” Doug said more confidently.

  “Sort of, kid.” Ephraim smiled.

  “He's your spitting image, Ephraim,” Nathaniel said. “Only smaller, cuter, and a quarter more Korean. He's probably smarter too.”

  “I know you want to see your parents,” Jena said. “But we're going to take care of you for a little while, okay, Doug? We're your…babysitters.”

  Doug broke free of Jena and Zoe and ran toward Nathaniel. He tugged on his jacket.

  “Yes?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Up!” Doug extended his hands upward.

  Nathaniel bent and lifted the boy up on his shoulders. Doug reached his arms higher. “I lost my balloon,” he said.

  “We'll get you another one,” Nathaniel said. “We'll get you a whole bunch of balloons. Just don't cry again. Deal?”

  “I want that one,” Doug said, pointing at the one stuck at the top of the atrium.

  “This is the strangest thing I've ever seen,” Ephraim said.

  “He's adorable,” Jena said.

  “I guess.” Zoe stuffed her fingers into the pockets of her shorts and avoided looking at Ephraim.

  “Can we get him back?” Dr. Kim said to no one in particular. She stood in the open door of the control room, staring up at the balloon bobbing gently at the top of the atrium.

  “I don't know if we can send him back,” Hugh said. “I'll have to study this data extensively.”

  “Not the boy,” Dr. Kim said. “Ephraim. He was right there. Can you bring him back here?”

  Hugh frowned. “We already have an Ephraim,” he said.

  Dr. Kim looked at Ephraim. “Yes, we do. Work on it, Mr. Everett,” she said.

  Hugh was taken aback at her businesslike tone.

  “Let me know if the situation—or anything else—changes. I need to lie down,” she said.

  She shuffled into the building with her head down.

  “So. What do we do with Doug?” Ephraim asked.

  “Well, I have a lot of work to do,” Hugh said, edging toward his lab. “Jena, when you have a moment, I could use your help.”

  “I'll be right there,” she said.

  “What do you think, Eph?” Zoe said.

  “We should take him home. We know which universe he came from.” Ephraim pulled the coin out of the pocket of his jeans and looked at it doubtfully.

  “Keep it in your pants,” Nathaniel said.

  “Too late for that!” Zoe said, pointing to Doug and grinning.

  “No way you're using that coin. After what we just saw, we are not taking any more stupid chances with this universe or any other,” Nathaniel said.

  “He's got your DNA, Eph. You take care of him,” Zoe said.

  “He has your DNA too!” Ephraim said.

  Jena crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at him.

  Nathaniel swung Doug down and dropped him between Ephraim and Zoe. He ruffled the boy's hair, and Doug ducked away, laughing.

  “I have a job for you two,” Nathaniel said.

  Ephraim and Zoe exchanged apprehensive looks over Doug's head.

  “How did we become the most useless people on this team?” Ephraim asked.

  He was pushing a half-full shopping cart around the Stop n' Shop. Doug, seated in the rear basket, was reaching out to grab every brightly colored package they passed. Zoe followed behind with a small tablet displaying Nathaniel's grocery list, grabbing boxes from Doug and placing them back on the shelves.

  It felt like they were playing an all-too-realistic game of house; Doug was an analog of the son Ephraim and Zoe could have together. Ephraim was surprised that he didn't mind the idea that much.

  “We're serving a very important purpose,” Zoe said. “Distraction for the boy.”

  “Keeping him out of everyone's hair, you mean?” Ephraim dropped five boxes of dry pasta in the cart.

  “No. Doug just went through something horrific. I'd be traumatized if I were him. He needs to be doing something normal. And what's more normal than shopping for groceries?”

  “With younger versions of your parents,” Ephraim said. “In another universe. That's so normal.”

  Zoe shrugged. “I used to love shopping with my dad.”

  A happy memory suddenly surfaced: young Ephraim sitting in a shopping basket, his mom and dad laughing together.

  “At least seeing us doesn't make him scream. I think he likes us,” Zoe said. She lowered her face to Doug's, so their noses were almost touching. “You like us, Doug?”

  He grabbed her glasses from her face and hurled them over her head. His peals of laughter made other shoppers look their way.

  She sighed. “Those are antiques, Doug,” she said.

  She went to retrieve her glasses from a bin of GenMod apples. When she came back to the cart, she held two bags of gummy bears, one in each hand.

  “If you want to be useful, you can make a big decision,” she said.

  “What?” Ephraim asked.

  Zoe held up the bags. “Haribo Gold or store brand?” She lifted her left hand and lowered her right, then lifted the right and lowered the left, like she was weighing them on a scale.

  Ephraim studied his choices with his hand on his chin. “Stop n' Shop gummy bears are two dollars cheaper.”

  “Yes, they are. They're very cheap,” she said.

  “Uh-huh. Well, just get them both.”

  “You can't have both, Ephraim! You have to pick one.”

  “Okay, okay. But I don't even want gummy bears.”

  “Pretend that you do.”

  “Fine. It isn't our money, so get the more expensive ones.”

  “Price isn't the point.”

  Doug reached out to grab the Haribo bag, but Zoe held it over his head, just out of reach.

  “Don't taunt him,” Ephraim said. “Put them both in the cart and we'll figure it out later. Sheesh.”

  Zoe tossed the bags into the cart, pouting.

  “Okay,” Ephraim said. “Good. I don't even remember seeing those on the list.”

  “Oh. I'm sure someone wanted them.” Zoe put the tablet in her back pocket.

  “‘Someone,’ huh?”

  She smiled. “I love gummy bears. They make everything better.”

  “In that case…” Ephraim added another bag of them to the cart. “How many gummy bears do we have to throw at the multiverse to fix it?”

  Zoe stared at the extra bag. “You do prefer store brand,” she said in a wounded voice.

  He sighed and pushed the cart down the aisle. Doug twisted around and grabbed for more candy.

  “Doug, stop wiggling,” Ephraim said. One of the wheels of the cart got jammed, and he yanked it loose. “You'd think they'd have hover carts or something in the future.”

  “This place hasn't changed much,” Zoe said.

  It was almost indistinguishable from the store his mother worked in—a tiny piece of Summerside frozen in time while skyscrapers, condos, subways, and strip malls had sprouted around it. This was the only time he hadn't felt completely out of place in this universe, but he couldn't tell if it was because he was shopping, or because he was shopping with Zoe.

  Maybe he'd needed to do something completely normal too; he often picked up groceries for him and his mother. She'd said she didn't want to bring her work home with her.

  Was Madeline Scott still in this future? His analog's mother would be in her seventies by now. What did she think her son was doing? Did she know he was dead? Maybe she'd like to meet her grandson-who-might-have-been, and a strangely young version of her own son.

  Zoe picked up a jar of peanut butter and tilted her head. “Does Jena have any food allergies?”

  “You'd know better than I would,” Ephraim said. “I think she doesn't like some fruits. Wait, why?”

  “No reason,” she said quickly. “Hey, do you rea
lize how much power we have right now? Whatever we buy, they have to eat. We could chuck the list and just bring back fifty boxes of Twinkies.” Zoe tossed three boxes of Twinkies into the cart.

  “You're going to be an awesome mom one day,” Ephraim said.

  She opened one of the boxes and gave a Twinkie to Doug. He bit into it happily, smearing white cream all over his nose and chin. Ephraim grimaced.

  As they moved down the frozen food section, a middle-aged woman with a red shopping basket followed Ephraim with her eyes.

  Zoe rummaged in one of the freezers and dumped five boxes of fish sticks into the cart.

  “Who are these for?” Ephraim said.

  “Who do you think?” Zoe asked.

  “Doug?” Ephraim asked.

  Doug stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. Bits of Twinkie sprayed everywhere.

  “Nice.” Ephraim brushed the crumbs off his T-shirt.

  “Nathaniel likes them,” Zoe said. She tapped the screen of the tablet to cross fish sticks off the list. “Now we just need a box of wine.”

  “Aisle Seven,” he said. He guided the cart around a corner, narrowly missing a cart with a little girl sitting in the back. Doug and the girl smiled at each other as Ephraim headed for the beer and wine section.

  “Did you see that?” Zoe asked. “They start young.”

  “Speaking of young: Will they sell alcohol to us?” he asked.

  “I saw a sign. The drinking age in this universe is eighteen,” Zoe said. “And marijuana's legal. Somehow it's less appealing when you aren't breaking any laws.”

  “That reminds me: belated happy birthday.” Jena had turned eighteen two weeks before prom.

  Zoe picked up a six-pack of Summerside Special beer and raised it to him. “Cheers.”

  “Put it back, Zoe,” Ephraim said.

  “My ID, my beer,” she said.

  “Didn't your license expire like seventeen years ago?”

  Zoe fixed her eyes on him for a long, terrible moment. She put the beer back on the refrigerator shelf.

  “I should have borrowed Dr. Kim's,” she said. “No wine, then.” She deleted it from the list.

  A camera flash went off. Ephraim saw an elderly man aiming his wristcom at them, about to take another picture. The man quickly lowered his arm and pushed his cart in the opposite direction.