by Andy Coffey
***
‘So, let’s see if I’ve got this straight,’ Aiden said to Tom. ‘Because the QC operating system on the phone works on the uncertainty principle related to quantum mechanics, it does all its computations in parallel universes. So, instead of the Navigation app navigating me to Llangollen in my reality, it navigated me to another Llangollen in an alternative reality, where cats are telepathic and sheep serve rather good lager.’
‘You’re getting there now,’ said Tom.
‘And all this happened because the app selected the most appropriate Llangollen in the Multiverse for me by analysing my subconscious, which, like everything else in the Multiverse, is intrinsically connected consciously on a quantum level. So, to allow me to be navigated to this other Llangollen, the energy frequencies of my physical body and car were readjusted and aligned to this reality.’
‘Yep, that’s about the top and bottom of it.’
‘And you seriously expect me to believe you?’
‘Why would I lie to you? I’m not some smartarse, little demonic prankster, infiltrating your mind and tempting you to stuff your face with another slice of pizza. I’m your higher self for god’s sake.’
‘Demonic possession, oh come on, I suppose that happens a lot does it?’ Aiden scoffed.
‘All the bloody time, to varying degrees. Sometimes it’s murder chasing the little monsters off; your drunken visit to the Pizza Plaza last night being a good example. How many slices did you have in the end?’
‘Well, I was only going to have one, but… I felt tempted to have more… so I ended up having three. And I was going to go for a fourth but then changed my mind.’
‘That was me after I smacked the little sod’s metaphorical butt!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘Pesky little blighter.’
‘You make it sound like I’m not in control of my own mind!’
‘Well, there’s a good element of truth in that. You have to understand that the human mind is a big mish-mash of things. There’s you, that’s your conscious mind, and then there’s a whole host of other elements and hangers on, all vying for control at certain points in time, dependent upon the circumstances. Like your emotions, for example. They’re a right bunch of whining beggars, I can tell you.’
‘But,’ Tom continued, ‘and this is the key, you’re living in a free will universe; so the choices you make are still down to you, your conscious self. The other elements of your mind and the infiltrators can only influence, although sometimes those influences can be pretty potent. It’s my job to guide you and try to ensure that you do what’s best. So, whenever you’ve followed your gut feeling or instinct, that’s generally me nudging you to take the best path at that time. Remember, always listen to me.’
‘Right,’ Aiden said, scratching his chin. ‘So when I felt the urge to chat up Rebecca Clark at the work’s party, as I really felt she fancied me, that was you pointing me in the right direction?’
‘No, that was your ego, Roger. He’s a complete prat. You should never trust that pillock. Now me, I was screaming at you not to go anywhere near her because I knew she was a bloody fruit loop. Do you remember what happened the following week?’
‘Er, yes, she chained herself to the old elm tree in my garden and claimed that she’d been sent by the wood nymphs to save it from satanic hair conditioner and inappropriate hieroglyphics. I had to get the police to move her after a couple of days.’
‘See, there you go,’ replied Tom.
‘Excuse me my good man, but do you happen to have the time, please?’
Aiden pulled the phone from his ear and turned to look at a well-dressed sheep, wearing small, rounded spectacles and carrying a trumpet. ‘Pardon,’ he replied.
‘Do you happen to have the time? I fear I may be late for the concert. I get a bit absent-minded these days, and I was so engrossed in a conversation about waistcoats with Mr Ruffle, the sheep tailor, that I’ve lost track of time completely.’
‘Oh, it’s half past two,’ Aiden said, looking at his watch.
‘Thank goodness and bless my clacky hooves,’ the sheep said. ‘The concert doesn’t begin until three, so I have plenty of time. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Oh, I’m forgetting my manners. I’m Charles Corriedale, trumpet player with the Oswestry Sheep Orchestra,’ Charles said, extending a hoof.
‘Aiden Peersey,’ Aiden said, swapping the phone to his other hand and shaking the extended hoof.
‘Have you ever seen the OSO play?’ Charles asked.
‘No, I don’t believe so.’
‘Well, if you have time, why not pop along to the park by the river later. We’re playing a sterling set today, including one of my favourites, “Where Sheep Safely Graze” by Baach. That always gets a great reception, and it’s a really lovely tune.’
‘I’ll try my best to,’ Aiden said, politely.
‘Please do,’ an enthusiastic Charles said. ‘Anyhow, I must be on my way. It was very nice to meet you, Aiden, but I’ll bid you adieu, good sir.’
‘Nice to meet you too, Charles.’
And with that Charles Corriedale turned and headed over the bridge, trumpet in hand and with a spring in his stride. Aiden swapped the phone back to his right hand and placed it against his ear. ‘So this isn’t simply a bizarre dream?’ he said to Tom.
‘No.’
‘And I’m not hallucinating because I’m having a reaction to something Stoner Steve from the Hefty Swingers may have put into my drink last night?’
‘No.’
‘And it’s not some genetic experiment?’
‘No.’
‘And we’ve not been invaded by alien sheep landlords?’
‘No.’
‘And I’m not having a breakdown.’
‘No’
‘And in this reality, the composer Bach is actually Baach and is a sheep?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you really are my intuition/higher self?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, Everett’s Many Worlds interpretation of the universe, which states that every choice that is made creates a copy of the universe where the actions resulting from that choice are then perpetuated, is actually correct?’
‘Pretty much, yes.’
‘I think I need to sit down.’
‘You do that, then.’
Aiden grabbed one of the solid, wooden chairs at the front of the pub and slowly eased himself into it, keeping the phone pressed against his ear. He gazed blankly over the bridge into Llangollen town centre. ‘How do I get back?’ he said.
‘I’m not sure, yet. This is a very unusual event, you know, not everyone goes dimension hopping. You’re going to have to hold up for a time while I do a bit of investigative work. Look, I’ve got a conference call in a couple of days with the Higher Self Union, so I’ll have a chat with a few well-versed souls and see what I can find out.’
‘A couple of days! But what am I supposed to do? Where the hell am I going to stay? Can I drive back to my house?’ Aiden asked, slightly exasperated.
‘Well, you could. But I’m afraid it’s not quite as you remember it.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Well, the building is there… but it’s used as a nursing home for senile bingo callers.’
‘Great. Do you have any suggestions, then?’
‘Why not get a room in the pub here. It looks quite nice.’
‘Well, for a start I haven’t got any money on me and I doubt very much that they’ll accept my credit card.’
‘But you do have your wallet and bank card, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but how on earth is that going to help me here. Do you suggest I just wander to the nearest ATM and make a withdrawal?’ Aiden said, with a touch of sarcasm.
‘Actually, yes,’ Tom replied. ‘Look, you know the theory that the force of gravity is much weaker than it should be because it permeates all dimensions?’
‘Yes…’
‘Well, believe it or not
, it’s the same with banks. Trust me on this. Find a bank, use your normal pin number and you’ll be fine.’
‘That’s scary,’ Aiden said. ‘But somehow I’m not that surprised.’