by Logan Jacobs
There was a pause in the recording, and I heard Sol yell to someone in the distance.
“That was you,” Sol snickered. “You asked what I wanted on my pizza. I told you I was doing important shit, so of course I wanted everything. We are ninja turtling this shit. Did you know that Eastman owns fucking Heavy Metal? Actually, I guess he sold it or something. Real shit is crazier than fiction, kiddo.”
“Okayyyy,” I sighed.
“Anyway, remember how we read The Time Machine, and we talked about the idea of time as the fourth dimension? That’s half of the math I think you need to make time travel work, but I’m not fucking with time travel. Too much risk of accidentally destroying the universe by shtupping your great-great-grandma or something. And hopefully you remember Flatland, and how I explained the idea of space as the fourth dimension to you. You were so mad when you realized that the fourth dimension couldn’t be both, but I think it can.”
“Shit,” I sighed as my head started to put together all the pieces of the various conversations Sol and I had engaged in since I was old enough to talk.
“See, time and space are linked, but they have their own axis. We move around in three dimensions in space, but we can only perceive one dimension in time, and even then we can’t stop or go back. We just keep moving forward at the rate of one second per second. But time has more dimensions than that. I’m talking about the parallel universes that branch off from every reality at every moment. Every nano-second. Every decision that’s made by anything, creates a split. Even a fucking leaf falling from a tree at a different moment creates a different universe.”
“You did it,” I said. “Holy shit. You made a dimensional gate.”
“I know what you are probably thinking that this is like a ‘dimensional gate’ or something,” Sol continued, “but I think of it more like an expanding cylinder of space that stays consistent. I had to anchor the Dimension Engine, Patent Pending, deep into the ground to ensure that it only picked dimensions that had actual fucking meat under it, or it risked the chance of just appearing in the middle of space or the depths of the ocean. Different dimensional choices but same result. So yeah, this puppy is rooted in the earth. You can’t pick up and move it, or shit will get dicey, but it’ll move the area around in parallel realities like a champ.”
“So, I’m stuck with the car and in this spot?” I asked, even though I knew it was a recording, and my uncle wouldn’t answer.
“So, yeah, you are kind of stuck in this spot, but there is some good-ish news. Everytime my baby jumps you to a new dimension, it gets a better hold, and it brings more of the previous dimension with it, so you’ll have more livable space. I’ll explain that in more detail later, but I want to talk a bit about how it moves: You can’t pick your reality. I’ve tried, believe me. It’s impossible to pinpoint a single universe. I’ve made it a little easier to drive by including some parameters for the environment that should ensure you’re not on fire, or some other bullshit that will kill ya instantly, and I’ve tried to teach it to focus on worlds with humanoids, since there are way too fucking many worlds that are nothing but crabs with no fucking melted butter. Otherwise you’re walking a random walk. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. You might never get home, but sometimes that’s what poking your nose somewhere it really doesn’t belong gets you, don’t it?”
“Way harsh, Uncle Sol,” I muttered.
“Ah, hell, you’re probably having a bad enough day already, I can’t give you crap about that. I’m sorry it had to be this way, kiddo. I hoped if I didn’t tell you what they were after me for, you’d leave it alone, but I knew it was a long shot. You’ve always been a curious kid.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“But look, there are a few things you can do,” Sol continued. “I have some ideas I can give you for survival, and a few warnings, but first you’ll need to know how the thing works. I’ll do you a favor and skip the math for this part. The simple version is, the Dimension Engine, Patent Pending, moves itself through universes by creating its own pocket reality that can slot into these other universes like a puzzle piece in a puzzle, except it changes the edges of the puzzle piece--which is actually its quantum signature--to fit in with whatever universe it shifts into. That’s what the red numbers on top show. You don’t need to pay any attention to that, it’s for my records. You can just ignore it. However, if you run into a version of me in any of these dimensions, I can use it to help you. So yeah.”
“Okay, so there might be other versions of you?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about the power source,” the recording continued despite my question. “It’s secure, it’s buried, it won’t hurt you. Most importantly, it’ll last long beyond your natural lifespan. Just don’t go trying to dig it up or anything unless you want your DNA to melt. What you need to know about the power source is that it recharges itself enough for another shift roughly every 42 hours. I’ve programmed it to shift randomly between every 42 and 72 hours, but you can add time to the shifter countdown if you really want to--that’s the yellow countdown in the middle. You can’t subtract time, just add it.
“The machine adds about 3 meters to its radius every time it jumps dimensions. The green display shows you how many meters across your pocket dimension is. I’d have programmed it to show the total area, but... Pi. You know how it is. You’ll need to be back in your pocket dimension when the shift happens, or else it’ll leave without you.”
“Leave without me?” I gasped.
“Yeah,” Sol confirmed. “It will leave without you. So, don’t fucking miss it. Unless you want to stay in that dimension you are in.”
“Fuck me,” I sighed.
“Don’t touch the switch on the bottom. It’s the power switch. Obviously. If you power the thing off, it resets its pocket dimension to start and all of your shit’s gone. I managed to program it so it lets living organic matter stay where it is, but say goodbye to your clothes if that happens. Plus hair, fingernails, and pretty much anything you didn’t grow yourself. Don’t press it. If you press it, you’re fucked. Well, I mean. You are going to live and go to the next dimension, but you won’t have your fingernails or anything that you’ve built on this plot of land. Also, don’t stay in any world you find for longer than 72 hours.”
“Okay, why?” I asked.
“It makes it easier for them to trace you.”
“Of course,” I sighed. “The Men in Black Cars.”
“I’m not talking about anything as petty as the Deep State lizard-pedos here, although you gotta watch out for those fuckers, too. Honestly, I don’t even know what to call these Cthulhu-face-inside-out shitheads. Monsters, demons, aliens? I know they can move around parallel universes, and I’m pretty sure they’re moving in at least four spatial dimensions, too. They fuck up my quantum sensors like a motherfucker, for one thing, but you’ll understand when you see them. If you see them. Just try to keep the settings under 72 hours, and you’ll be fine.”
“And hopefully you’re about to tell me why,” I muttered.
“The fuckers got some of my DNA,” Sol said. “I don’t know if it’s from hair or skin or one of my old jerk-off tissues, but they’re using it to track me through universes, but only if I jump. It’s kind of like a triangulation. Jumping every 72 hours will keep them from finding you, staying in a place any longer, and the chances go up. You don’t want these things to find you, Dave. Trust me. I’ve suspected they were closing in on me in our dimension for the last few years, but… well...”
Sol paused, and I could hear him take a deep breath before he continued.
“See, your mom and I, we kind of lied to you.” Sol said. “I’m your real father. And your mom loved you, but she wasn’t the woman who gave birth to you. She was my sister.”
“What?” I stared at the watch in shock. “What is this fucking ‘Days of our Lives’ bullshit, Sol?”
“This ain’t a soap opera, kiddo, just life,” Sol continued. “I fell in love with a
woman. She was a genius. So smart. So beautiful. So kind. The love of my life. She made me a bit less crazy. So she worked. You know? She got pregnant with you. We had all these great plans for what our life was going to be like, but she never made it past your birth. Doris. Her name was Doris.”
Sol sniffled, then cleared his throat.
“Fuck, I miss her.” he muttered. “I couldn’t cope for a little while after that. I could barely take care of myself for a while, let alone an infant. My sister Miriam was the only one who didn’t give me shit for not wanting to pay the goddamn state a hundred dollars for a piece of paper before me and Doris had you. She’d always wanted a kid, anyway. It was easier to tell people that you were hers than to explain that I’d gone too off the deep end to take care of my own baby, and by the time I’d gotten my shit a little more together you were already calling me ‘Uncle Sol.’ We were going to sit down and tell you the truth once you turned eighteen, but I couldn’t do it after Miriam died.”
“Wow.” Was all I could say, and the inside of the car started to spin.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, kiddo. I’m sorry we let you hate a man who didn’t even exist because it was easier than telling you the truth. If you’re listening to this, I’m probably dead by now, but I hope you can forgive me someday anyway.”
“Jeezus, Sol…” I slumped against the window and wiped a tear away from my eye. “Wish I wasn’t just learning this now, old man.”
“I love you,” Sol said. “Goddamn, I wish I could see you one last time after you read this. I probably won’t. But you’re probably going to see me.”
“The other yous?” I guessed.
“There are worlds out there where Doris is still alive, and we’re a real family. There are worlds where I never had you. There are probably worlds out there where I kept it together and raised you with a little help from Auntie Miriam. Might even be a few worlds I took over out there, you never know. And there’s got to be a world where they never found me, and at least a few where I managed to make this thing work exactly the way I want to.”
“I don’t want to condemn you to a life of eternal wandering, kiddo. Every man needs a home. If you can look me up in whatever world you land in, do it. One of my counterparts has to know how to get you home, or at least how to break the trace so you can settle down in a world you like and let the Dimension Engine, Patent Pending, keep going without you. Or, he might know how to fight these fuckers that are going to be chasing you. I’m not promising the first Sol you find will be able to solve all your problems, but keep trying. You might find one that is way smarter than me.”
“Man…” I groaned as I struggled to understand all the heavy shit getting laid on me.
“Or you can keep hopping realities forever if you really want to. And why wouldn’t you? Even without all the crab universes, you’ve got a literal infinity of universes to explore. You’ve got a pocket dimension with a starter seed of rich, fertile Great Lakes soil that gets bigger every time you leap into a new possibility. That’s a possibility in itself. It’ll be big enough for you to build a house before too long. Maybe even a farm, if you can pick up the knack. I know you’re not exactly a farm kid, but you’re smart. Both your mom and I were geniuses, and I’ve seen that spark in you several times. I’m pretty sure you can figure out how to put a seed in the dirt and pour water on it until something happens. And fast forward a few years, and you’ll pretty much have a state-sized hunk of land to call your own, and maybe you’ll meet a bunch of women who will want to live with you. It could be like Little House on the Prairie meets the Playboy Mansion, with who knows what kind of crazy and sexy women you can find in all these other dimensions? Hell, kiddo, that’s part of the reason I kind of developed this thing. I did love your mom, but what if I stumbled into a dimension filled with women that all looked like Amber Heard but weren’t fucking crazy psychos? Booyaahhh. You know they scientifically proved that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world? I’d agree, but talk about insane in the membrane.”
“Uhh, fucking off topi--” I started to say.
“But now I’m getting off topic,” he groaned. “Whatever you decide to do, you’re going to need to survive. So, uh, I left some shit for you in the glove box.”
“Like the Glock,” I said.
“You already found the Glock 19 and the three extra 15-round magazines. You’re using the watch. I added a compass to it that always points to the dimensional engine in the car. There’s also a bottle of Universal Translator pills in there. I didn’t make them myself so I’m not really sure how they work, but you take one and you can understand and talk with pretty much every language-using being you’ll ever run into.”
“I didn’t see a bottle of pills,” I said as I lowered my head so I could look deeper into the glove compartment. Sure enough, there was a small mail-envelope-looking package wedged in the back, and I pulled it out as the recording on the watch continued.
“Then you got a high-carbon steel knife, it’s good for a lot more than stabbing. Got a sharpening stone in there, too. There’s a box of energy bars, one of those unbreakable water bottles with a filter that should get out pretty much everything but salt, and a few MREs under the seat. MREs will constipate the fuck outta you, though.”
“Okay,” I said as I tore open the box and saw the contents that Sol had described.
“Oh yeah, there’s some Steely Dan in the tape deck. That’s not there for you specifically. I was listening to “The Royal Scam” and it got stuck. But if the tape deck starts up outta nowhere, it’s usually one of those monster motherfuckers jumping into our dimension. So watch out for that. Shit, what else? There’s gotta be something else. What am I forgetting?”
Sol cleared his throat again, and I could hear papers rustling in the background.
“That’s it,” Sol said finally. His voice sounded thick and tense. “That’s all I got, kiddo. I love you. Don’t ever forget that. Live long and prosper.”
“Live long and prosper,” I whispered back around the lump in my throat as I raised my right hand in the split-fingered Vulcan salute.
I dropped my hands into my lap and slumped back against the car seat as I tried to fit all the pieces of my new reality into my brain.
Multi-dimensional monsters were chasing me through parallel realities because my crazy inventor uncle was secretly my dad.
I’d been living a lie for my entire life, and now I could never go home again. I’d never see anyone I knew again, or make a friend that would last for more than three days. I was quite possibly going to be pursued across universes by eldritch beings from another dimension, I was stuck in a world filled with carnivorous sloths for the next day and a half while I waited for my crazy, genius father’s invention to take me somewhere that might be even worse.
It was time to learn how to survive.
But first, I just needed to sit here for a few minutes and process.
Chapter 3
When I’d gotten that email from Sol, the thought of his death had just made me more determined to carry out his last wishes. The fact that I was never going to see my home again had just bummed me out, but now that I’d heard this final, personal revelation, my heart felt like a water balloon bursting in the middle of a toss.
I had a dad all this time, and I’d had no idea. Now I was never going to get to see the man I’d just found out was my father. I’d never get to hug him, or talk to him about the years he’d spent taking care of me, or ask him about my real mother.
Memories rearranged themselves in my head and slotted into place: Sol’s big rough hand around mine when he’d taught me to use a screwdriver for the first time, Sol waving at me from his ATV as it idled in front of my high school, Sol stomping around his lab and threatening to “blast the fuckers into total oblivion” when I’d told him some jocks had been giving me shit.
Sol had always been there to watch out for me. He’d asked me to do one final thing for him, and then he’d given me a care package to tak
e along into the multiverse just in case I fucked up his last request.
I sniffed up another tear, then turned my attention to the package Sol had left for me. I could let myself wallow in regret later, but I had to figure out how to survive in this world for now. I knew Sol wouldn’t have wanted me to waste time beating myself up over what could have been--he’d want me to focus on what I could do now.
I pulled out the water bottle first. It was a shiny new Nalgene bottle with a thick plastic Epic filter on the top.
“Epic filter for an epic journey, right?” I set the Nalgene on the driver’s seat next to the extra magazines.
Under the Nalgene bottle was a black holster for the Glock, so I grabbed that and set it on top of the pistol.
The next thing my hand landed on was the plastic handle of a survival knife with a fingerprint grip molded into it. The sheath had a hook that would let me clip it onto my pants, so I slipped the hook into my right pocket and pulled out the knife to inspect it. The blade of the knife was about six inches long. One side of the blade was curved and wickedly sharp, and the other side was straight with a serrated edge. There was a flat, rectangular piece of steel welded onto the blade right before it met the handle, but I decided I’d probably figure out what that was for when I used it.
I slid the blade back into the sheath and patted it into place on my jeans, then picked up the flat gray stone that had been sitting under the knife. I figured that was the sharpening stone, and I didn’t need it yet, so I set it next to the box of extra magazines on the seat. I pulled out a colorful cardboard box of energy bars, tossed them onto the passenger seat next to the rest of the stuff, then shoved my hand down into the package and closed my fingers around a little plastic bottle. I held up the orange cylinder, scanned the label, and realized that Sol had filled one of his old Trazadone bottles with shiny little discs that definitely weren’t any Earthly sleeping pill.