by Paul Melko
“No one’s gonna ask.” John pulled Prime’s jacket on after struggling to get his arms through the right holes. Why were there no sleeves? he wondered. He used his binoculars to gaze out at the sun-filled orchard. “I’ll watch from here. If anything goes wrong, you pretend to be sick and come back to the barn. You’ll brief me and then we switch back.”
Prime smiled. “Nothing’s gonna happen. Relax.” He pulled on gloves and climbed down the ladder. “See ya at lunch.”
John’s hands shook as he watched Prime walk across the barnyard toward the orchard. What had he gotten himself into? And yet the mystery of it was a magnet and he was the iron filings. He had to understand what this John was about. It was a conundrum.
Prime cast a glance over his shoulder and smiled, while John watched with his binoculars. He raised his hand and waved at John’s father.
John’s father barely glanced at Prime, and said something.
Prime nodded, then gripped a branch and pulled himself into the tree. His foot missed a hold, and he slipped.
“Careful there,” John heard himself say.
Prime made it into the tree and began pulling apples. He said something and John’s father laughed in reply. John felt a twinge of jealousy as he watched his father laugh. He wondered what Prime had said. Then John realized that if his father was laughing at Prime’s jokes, there was no danger of being found out.
The precarious nature of John’s situation bothered him. Effectively, Prime was him. And he was… nobody. Would it be that hard for someone to slip into his life? He realized that it wouldn’t. He had a few immediate relationships, interactions that had happened within the last few weeks that were unique to him, but in a month those would all be absorbed into the past. He had no girlfriend. No real friends, except for Erik, and that stopped at the edge of the court. The hardest part would be for someone to pick up John’s studies, but even that wouldn’t be too hard. All his classes were a breeze, except for Advanced Physics, and they were starting a new module on Monday. It was a clear breaking point.
John wondered what he would find in another universe. Would there be different advances in science? Could he photocopy a scientific journal and bring it back? Maybe someone had discovered a unified theory in the other universe. Or a simple solution to Fermat’s last theorem. Or… But what could he really do with someone else’s ideas? Publish them under his own name? Was that any different from Prime’s scheme to get rich with Rubik’s Square, whatever that was? He laughed and picked up his physics book. He needed to stay caught up in this universe. They were starting quantum mechanics on Monday after all.
“Here’s lunch.”
John looked up from the physics book, startled.
Prime handed John a sandwich.
“You went inside?” John asked, alarmed. “You weren’t supposed to go inside.”
Prime shrugged. “Your mom didn’t notice either.”
John took the sandwich. Prime looked different. He was covered in sap, there was a scratch on his cheek, and his clothes were grimy. “You look happy,” John said.
Prime started. He looked down at himself, then smiled. “It felt good. I haven’t done that in a while.”
Around a bite of sandwich, John said, “You’ve been gone a long time.”
“Yeah,” Prime said. “You don’t know what you have here. Why do you even want to go to college?”
John laughed. “It’s great here for the first fifteen years; then it really begins to drag.”
“I hear you.”
John handed Prime his jacket. “What will I see in the next universe?”
Prime caught his eye. “So you’re gonna take me up on the offer?” he asked.
John thought about it for a moment longer. He had to know whether Prime was a crackpot or the giver of a fabulous gift. If Prime was nuts, John had lost nothing and could go about getting rid of him. If Prime’s device worked, the whole universe was open to him.
“Yeah, I think so. Tell me what I’ll see.”
“It’s pretty much like this one, you know. I don’t know the exact differences.”
“So we’re-one of us, I mean-in the next universe?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t try to meet him or anything. He doesn’t know about us.”
“Why’d you pick me to talk to? Why not some other me? Or why not all of us?”
“This is the most like home,” Prime said. “This feels like I remember.”
“In one hundred universes this is the one that is most like yours? How different are we from one to the next? It can’t be too different.”
“Do you really want to hear this?”
John nodded.
“Well, there are a couple types of us. There’s the farm boy us, like you and me. Then there’s the dirtbag us.”
“Dirtbag?”
“Yeah. We smoke and hang out under the bleachers.”
“What the hell happened there?”
“And sometimes we’ve knocked up Casey Nicholson and we live in the low-income houses on Stuart. Then there’s the places where we’ve died.”
“Died?”
“Yeah. Car accidents. Tractor accidents. Gun accidents. We’re pretty lucky to be here, really.”
John looked away, remembering something. It was the time he and his father had been tossing hay bales and the pitchfork had fallen. Then John recalled the time he had walked out on Old Mrs. Jones’ frozen pond and the ice had cracked and he’d kept going. And the time the quarry truck had run him off the road. It was a fluke really that he was alive.
“I think I’m ready. What’s the plan?”
Prime lifted up his shirt and began unbuckling the harness. “You leave from the pumpkin field. Select the universe one forward. Press the toggle. Spend the day exploring. Go to the library. Figure out what’s different. If you want, write down any moneymaking ideas you come across.”
“I don’t think so,” John said. It seemed too much like cheating.
“Fine. Then don’t. Tomorrow, flip the counter back to this universe and pull the lever. You’ll be back for school on Monday.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Don’t lose the device! Don’t get busted by the police! Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”
“Right.”
“Don’t flash your money either. If anyone recognizes you, go with it and then duck out. You don’t want to make it hot for our guy over there.”
“Right.” John swallowed. What if it did work? What if…?
“Johnny, you look a little nervous. Calm down. I’ll keep you covered on this end.” Prime slapped him on the back, then handed him the harness.
John pulled off his shirt and shivered. He passed the two bands of the harness over his shoulders, then connected the center belt behind his back. The disk was cold against his belly. The straps looked like a synthetic material.
“It fits.”
“It should,” Prime said. “I copied some of my materials for you in case you need them.” He pulled a binder from his own bag, opened it to show John pages of clippings and notes. “You never know. You might need something. And here’s a backpack to hold it all in.”
Prime paused as he handed it over.
“What’s wrong?” John asked.
“I haven’t been away from the device in a long time. It’s my talisman, my escape. I feel naked without it. You gotta be careful with it.”
John realized how much trust Prime was placing in him. “Hey,” he said. “I’m leaving my life in your hands. How about a little two-way trust?”
Prime smiled grimly. “Okay. Are you ready? I’ve got twelve thirty on my watch. Which means you can return half an hour past midnight. Okay?”
John checked his watch. “Okay.”
“Toggle the universe.”
John lifted the shirt and switched the number forward to 7534. “Check.”
“Okay. I’ll watch from the loft.” Prime climbed the ladder, then turned. “Make sure no one sees y
ou.”
“Right,” John said. What would someone think if he or she saw John disappear into thin air? He stopped himself; he was acting like the device would actually work. He’d find out soon enough.
John’s foot landed awkwardly on a clump of dirt. The backpack shifted on his shoulders. He felt silly, suddenly. He’d look the putz when the device failed to send him across universes. Prime would laugh at him. Still he had to know.
He found his spot. His heart raced. This was it. He looked up at the barn window. Prime was there, watching. He waved.
John waved back; then he lifted up his shirt. Sunlight caught the brushed metal of the device.
John hesitated. Soon enough.
He pulled the switch and the world lurched.
John’s ears popped and his feet caught in the dirt. He stumbled and fell forward, catching himself on his gloved hands. He wasn’t in a pumpkin patch anymore. Noting the smell of manure, he realized he was in a cow pasture.
He worked his feet free. His shoes were embedded in the earth. He wondered if there was dirt lodged in his feet now. It looked like the dirt in the current universe was a couple centimeters higher here than in the old one. Where did that extra dirt go? He shook his feet and the dirt fell free.
It worked! He felt a thrill. He’d doubted to the last second. He’d expected the other John to suddenly yell, Tricked ya! but here he was, in a new universe.
He paused. Prime had said there was a John in this universe. He spun around. Cows grazed contentedly a few hundred yards away, but otherwise the fields were empty, the trees gone. There was no farmhouse.
McMaster Road was there and so was Gurney Road. John walked from the field, hopped the fence, and stood at the corner of the roads. Looking to the north toward town, he saw nothing but a farmhouse maybe a mile up the road. To the east, where the stacks of the GE plant should have been, he saw nothing but forest. To the south, more fields.
Prime had said there was a John Rayburn in this universe. He’d said that the farm was here. He’d told John he’d been to this universe.
John pawed up his jacket and shirt and tried to read the number on the device. He cupped his hand to shield the sun and read 7534. He was where he expected to be, according to the device. There was nothing here.
The panic settled into his gut. Something was wrong. Something had gone wrong. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. But that’s okay, he thought, calming himself. It’s okay. He walked to the edge of road and sat on the small berm there.
Maybe Prime had it wrong; there were a lot of universes and if all of them were different that was a lot of facts to keep straight.
John stood, determined to assume the best. He’d spend the next twelve hours working according to the plan. Then he’d go back home. He set off for town, a black mood nipping at his heels.
CHAPTER 4
John Prime watched his other self disappear from the pumpkin field and felt his body relax. Now he wouldn’t have to kill him. This way was so much better. A body could always be found, unless it was in some other universe. He didn’t have the device, of course, but then he’d never need it again. In fact, he was glad to be rid of it. John had something more important than the device; he had his life back.
It had taken him three days of arguing and cajoling, but finally Johnny Farm Boy had taken the bait. Good riddance and good-bye. John had been that naive once. He’d once had that wide-eyed gullibility, ready to explore new worlds. There was nothing out there but pain. He was alive again. He had parents again. He had money-$125,000. And he had his notebook. That was the most important part. The notebook was worth a billion dollars right there.
John looked around the loft. This would be a good place for some of his money. If he remembered right, there was a small cubbyhole in the rafters on the south side of the loft. He found it and pulled out the bubble gum cards and slingshot that were hidden there.
“Damn farm boy.”
John placed about a third of his money in the hiding place. Another third he’d hide in his room. The last third he’d bury. He wouldn’t deposit it like he’d done in 7489. Or had that been 7490? The cops had been on his ass so fast. So Franklin had been looking the wrong way on all those bills. John had lost eighty thousand dollars.
No, he’d be careful this time. He’d show legitimate sources for all his cash. He’d be the talk of Findlay, Ohio, as his inventions started panning out. No one would suspect the young physics genius. They’d be jealous, sure, but everybody knew Johnny Rayburn was a brain. The Rubik’s Cube-no, the Rayburn’s Cube-would be John’s road to fame and riches.
He climbed down from the loft. Stan whinnied at him, tossing his head to get his attention and maybe an apple.
“Of course you can have one, Stan,” John said.
John took an apple from the basket and reached out to the horse. Suddenly John’s eyes were filled with tears.
“Hold yourself together, man,” he whispered as he let Stan gingerly chomp the apple from his hand. His own horse was dead, at his own hand.
He’d taken Dan riding and had tried the fence beyond the back field. They’d galloped through the grass, throwing mud behind them. John had felt Dan leap, felt the muscles twist and clench. They had flown. But Dan’s hind left hadn’t cleared it. The bone had broken, and John ran sobbing to his farm.
His father met him halfway, a rifle in his hand, his face grim. He’d seen the whole thing.
“Dan’s down!” John cried.
His father nodded and handed the rifle to him.
John took it blankly, then tried to hand it back to his father.
“No!”
“If the leg’s broken, you must.”
“Maybe…” But he stopped. Dan was whinnying shrilly; John could hear it from where they stood. The leg had been horribly twisted. There was no doubt.
“Couldn’t Dr. Kimble look at him?”
“How will you pay for that?”
“Will you?”
His father snorted and walked away.
John watched him tread back to the house until Dan’s cries became too much for him. He turned then, tears raining down his cheeks.
Dan’s eyes were wide. He shook his head heavily at John; then he settled when John placed the barrel against his skull. Perhaps he knew. John fished an apple from his pocket and slipped it between Dan’s teeth.
The horse held it there, not biting, waiting. He seemed to nod at John. Then John had pulled the trigger.
The horse had shuddered and fallen still. John sank to the ground and cried for Dan for an hour.
But here he was. Alive. John rubbed Dan’s muzzle.
“Hello, Dan. Back from the dead,” John said. “Just like me.”
His mother called him to dinner, and for a moment he froze with fear. They’ll know, he thought. They’ll know I’m not their son.
Breathing slowly, he hid the money back under his comic book collection in the closet.
“Coming!” he called.
During dinner he kept quiet, focusing on what his parents mentioned, filing key facts away for later use. There was too much he didn’t know. He couldn’t volunteer anything until he had all his facts right.
Cousin Paul was still in jail. They were staying after church tomorrow for a spaghetti lunch. John’s mother would be canning and making vinegar that week. His father was buying a turkey from Sam Riley, who had a flock of twenty or so. The dinner finished with homemade apple pie that made the cuts on John’s hands and the soreness in his back worth it.
After dinner he excused himself. In his room he rooted through Johnny Farm Boy’s book bag. John had missed a year of school; he had a lot of makeup to do. And, crap, an essay on Gerard Manley Hopkins, whoever the heck that was.
John managed to get through church without falling asleep. Luckily the communion ritual was the same. If there was one thing that didn’t change from one universe to the next, it was church.
He expected the spaghetti lunch afterwards to be just as b
oring, but across the gymnasium John saw Casey Nicholson sitting with her family. That was one person he knew where Johnny Farm Boy stood with. She liked him, it was clear, but Johnny Farm Boy had been too clean-cut to make a move. Not so for John. He excused himself and walked over to her.
“Hi, Casey,” he said.
She blushed at him, perhaps because her parents were there.
Her father said, “Oh, hello, John. How’s the basketball team going to do this year?”
John wanted to yell at him that he didn’t give a rat’s ass. But instead he smiled and said, “We’ll go all the way if Casey is there to cheer for us.”
Casey looked away, her face flush again. She was dressed in a white Sunday dress that covered her breasts, waist, and hips with enough material to hide the fact that she had any of those features. But he knew what was there. He’d seduced Casey Nicholson in a dozen universes at least.
“I’m only cheering fall sports, John,” she said softly. “I play field hockey in the spring.”
John looked at her mother and asked, “Can I walk with Casey around the church grounds, Mrs. Nicholson?”
She smiled at him, glanced at her husband, and said, “I don’t see why not.”
“That’s a great idea,” Mr. Nicholson said.
John had to race after Casey. She stopped after she had gotten out of sight of the gymnasium, hidden in the alcove where the restrooms were. When John caught up to her, she said, “My parents are so embarrassing.”
“No shit,” John said.
Her eyes went wide at his cursing; then she smiled.
“I’m glad you’re finally talking to me,” she said.
John smiled and said, “Let’s walk.” He slipped his arm around her waist, and she didn’t protest.
CHAPTER 5
John reached the outskirts of town in an hour, passing a green sign that said: “ Findlay, Ohio. Population 6232.” His Findlay had a population in the twenty thousand range. As he stood there, he heard a high-pitched whine grow behind him. He stepped off the berm as a truck flew by him, at about forty-five miles per hour. It was in fact two trucks in tandem pulling a large trailer filled with gravel. The fronts of the trucks were flat, probably to aid in stacking several together for larger loads, like a train with more than one locomotive. The trailer was smaller than a typical dump truck in his universe. A driver sat in each truck. Expecting to be enveloped in a cloud of exhaust, John found nothing fouler than moist air.