A Rift in Space and Crime

by R E McLean

  “Stop it. I need to keep you where I know you won’t die.”

  “Meow.” He scratched her skin through her T shirt and pushed against her chest.

  “Ow! Stop it, right now.”

  But it was too late. He’d wriggled free and was scampering off, leaping over piles of rubble and limboing under gaps in the walls. She tried to chase him but he was smaller and more flexible.

  “Shrew! Come back, Shrew! I can’t leave you here.”

  But if he’d found his way here, maybe he could find a way back. Maybe this wasn’t Shrew at all, but his Point Zero doppelgänger.

  Could cats have doppelgängers? Were they subject to the same rules about meeting their opposite number as humans?

  She wondered if there was an Alex Strand in this universe, or if there ever had been. No way of finding out here.

  She stroked the surface of the bitbox. It glowed back at her, pulsing pink light from its edges. The map and dots stayed where they were, the dots still heading her way.

  Maybe if she stayed put, they’d find her. Maybe she could use the time to…

  There was no Hive here. No virtual reality into which she could step and ask an AI to get information for her. She never thought she’d miss Doris.

  “Hiya, honeybun. How can I help you?”

  She jumped out of her skin.

  “Doris?”

  “The very same, my darlin’. How are you today?”

  “Oh, never better. Never better.”

  “Well I am glad to hear it.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “Oh I’m so sorry. I don’t do sarcasm. It’s outside the limits of my processing power. Light irony I can just about handle. Give me a Jane Austen novel and I’m in pieces. But sarcasm, that’s tricky. Try saying what you mean, honey.”

  “Do you know where Schrödinger is?”

  “Schrödinger? Now, let me see.”

  Doris closed her eyes for a moment as if searching her memory banks. Alex resisted the urge to poke her.

  The AI opened her eyes. “Got it.”

  “And?”

  Doris beamed. “Erwin Schrödinger was an award-winning Austrian physicist who lived from August twelve, 1887 to January four, 1961. He was best known for his thought experiment involving a cat, a box and a vial of radioactive material. His proposal was that the material would decay at—”

  “Stop. I know who Schrödinger was. I’m a physicist. But where’s my cat?”

  “Your cat, honey?”

  “Yes. My cat. He ran off.”

  “I would imagine he’s curled up at home on your couch. Give me a moment.”

  She closed her eyes and then opened them again with a look of triumph.

  “I was right.” Her face darkened. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

  “What?”

  “Your cat. He’s fat and ginger, yes?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “He’s currently lying in a box on your kitchen table.”

  Alex nodded. “Sounds like him.”

  “But that’s not all.”

  “No.”

  “He’s dead, I’m afraid. It seems he died two-point-three-five seconds after getting into the box.”

  Doris placed a hand on Alex’s arm. Alex was surprised at the solidity of the touch.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t worry. He does that.”

  Doris removed her hand. “Does what?”

  “Dies. It’s his party trick. He’s a quantum cat.”

  “A quantum cat? Oh. Oh, yes. Now I get it. That’s clever. That’s very clever. He’s called Schrödinger, and he’s a quantum cat.”

  Alex sighed. “Yes.”

  “How does he do it?”

  “No idea. It’s just his thing. Anyway, I’m not talking about the Schrödinger who’s dead in his box on my kitchen table. I’m talking about the Schrödinger who’s here in this world. He heard something, ran away. Can you locate him?”

  “There’s two of him?”

  “Doris, I honestly don’t know. For all I know, it could be the same cat appearing in parallel universes.”

  “My, he is a clever fella, isn’t he?”

  “Don’t tell him that. His head’s already so big he can barely get through doors.”

  “That must be most inconvenient for him.”

  “Not really. I was being… never mind. Can you find him?”

  “I do wish you’d asked me that six minutes ago, dear.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I located him exactly five minutes and fifty-two seconds ago. He’s over there, behind that building. He has his little ginger butt in the air and he’s wiggling it. I believe he may be about to pounce on something.”

  “That sounds like him.”

  “Would you like me to summon him?”

  “Is that something you do?”

  “I have many skills.”

  “Well in that case, yes please.”

  Doris lifted her pale fingers to her iridescent pink lips and let out the loudest whistle Alex had heard since her dad had bought a camping kettle.

  “Whoah!” Alex staggered back. “Next time you do that, can you warn me first?”

  “You asked me to summon him.”

  “I didn’t know you could whistle like a soccer referee.”

  “Why thank you. I do pride myself on my skills. Did you say he was chasing a mouse?”

  “Not sure. He heard something. As long as it wasn’t a giant rabbit.”

  “A giant what?”

  “Long story.”

  Schrödinger ran out from his hiding place. Behind him, hot on his tails, was a dog. It was small, and brown, and looked like a cross between a pug and a chihuahua. It had tiny little legs and a thin body, topped with a head that sported massive ears and a nose so squished it was almost trailing out of its backside.

  Alex ran after it.

  “Shoo! Leave him alone!”

  The dog stopped running. Schrödinger leapt into the cardboard box, which she’d dropped at her feet.

  “Doris, no!”

  But it was too late. Doris, ever one for neatness, had closed the box. Alex slumped to the floor, ignoring the dog that was baring its teeth at her and growling. It was about as scary as a rat with dentures.

  She prized the flaps open.

  “Where is he?”

  She picked the box up. She examined its base, and tugged at the flaps. Schrödinger was nowhere to be seen.

  “Doris! What have you done?”

  “There’s really no need to worry, my dear.”

  “No need to worry? You killed him.”

  The dog was closing in on them now, jumping up and down like a hamster that had got itself inserted into a jack-in-the-box.

  “If what you tell me about your rather ingenious moggy is true, then it’s impossible to kill him. Not long-term, anyway.”

  Alex frowned. The box was light in her hands. He wasn’t in there.

  “What did you do to him, Doris? Where is he?”

  I didn’t do anything, my dear. I think you’ll find he’s safe and well in your apartment.”

  “Dead in his box.”

  “No. He’s sitting on your windowsill. He seems to be hissing at a pigeon outside.”

  Alex felt the tension fall from her. “Thank God.”

  “Indeed. Or whichever deity you happen to worship.”

  “I didn’t mean it like… oh, don’t worry.”

  “So,” said Doris. “What was it you needed me for? Apart from finding your clever cat.”

  “Give me the bitbox.”

  “Very well. You could have said please.”

  Doris handed over the bitbox. The dog had retreated, seemingly confused by the fact that he could no longer smell Cat.

  “Please. Thank you.”

  Doris gave her a patronizing smile. “That’s better.”

  Alex looked at the bitbox. The large dot that represented both Lacey and Pip
, with its helpful labels, had stopped moving. It was close by. And it had been joined by two more dots, also close by.

  She shook the box.

  “I wouldn’t do that, honey.”

  “Shush.”

  “Shush, please.”

  Alex stared at Doris. Now wasn’t the time for a lesson in manners.

  “Doris, if I dismiss you, can I call you back when I need you again?”

  “Just make the shape of a D on the bitbox.”

  “Really? You respond to that?”

  “No. But the act of doing it makes you imagine you’re with me. In this world, that acts as a summons.”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  Alex imagined herself alone, without Doris for company. She imagined what it would be like to curse when she wanted to, to never say please or thank you, and for her every sentence to be sarcastic.

  Doris gave her a little wave then blinked out of existence.

  Alex looked back at the bitbox. The dog was moving away, in the direction of the large dot. Maybe it belonged to Pip. The other two dots, by contrast, were advancing on her. Neither was labeled.

  47

  Flame

  The dog gave two short barks and ran away.

  Pip ran after it. “Rufus! Come back!”

  But the dog was gone. Pip crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes that had turned to mash.

  “Was that your dog?” asked Lacey.

  “Yes. No. Kinda.”

  “How can it be kinda your dog? Oh, I get it. You’re one of those people that believes you can’t own a pet. I don’t agree. Not in the case of dogs. Scrappy’s mine, and mine alone.”

  “Was a projection.”

  She looked at the spot where the dog had disappeared. “How so?”

  “I imagined him. He came.”

  “You’ve done that before?”

  He held up his hands. “Had ten years to experiment. I’ve tried lots.”

  “Including creating portals to other dimensions.”

  “Yup.”

  “Have you done that a lot? Did you do it before you came through to my world, and brought me here?”

  He looked at her. “No.”

  “Oh. So it took some time to learn, then.”

  “Sorta.”

  “Can you teach me?”

  “Huh?”

  “Teach me. To make anomalies. Oh, I don’t mean portals to other worlds, not yet. Not if it took you so long. But if I’m going to stay here with you, I’d like to learn. Maybe together we can be more powerful.”

  “Bad idea.”

  “We can protect ourselves.”

  “What from?”

  “Twenty-foot rabbits, for a start.”

  He laughed. She felt her muscles relax.

  “So will you?” she asked.

  “Dunno.”

  “Please. Just start with something small. It’ll help us get to know each other better.”

  He sniffed. “‘kay. Need somewhere safe.”

  There was a container next to them. It was labelled Frnms Itchns, half the letters obliterated. Pip went to its far end and opened the doors.

  “In here,” he said.

  Lacey poked her head in. “It’s dark.”

  “Wait.”

  He raised his hand above her head and thrust it toward the ceiling. A disc of light flew up and hit the metal with a clang. It illuminated the space.

  “Nice one.”

  Lacey stepped inside. The container was half full of huge packing boxes. Each was half as tall as her, and they were stacked in neat rows at the other end of the space.

  She peered at the labels. “Kitchen units,” she said. “A whole container full of kitchen units.”

  Pip shrugged. “Not much use now.”

  She looked at him. “Are there others, with food? I’m starving.”

  “You wanted me to teach you.”

  “Yes. But maybe after that, we can find something to eat?”

  “Warehouse ten minutes from here. Full of food.”

  “Does it keep?”

  “Some, yeah. Pasta. Baked beans. Twinkies.”

  “Twinkies? You have Twinkies here?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes glazed over. “I’m hungry. We should—”

  “No. Teach me first. Please.”

  He gave her an appraising look. “Little stuff first. Promise don’t use it against me.”

  “Pip, if I was going to use this against you I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Maybe. Start with finger match.”

  “What’s a finger match?”

  “Look.”

  He held his hand in front of her face, his thumb and middle finger pressed together. Then he clicked his fingers and quickly brought them back together. A small flame had appeared on the tip of his middle finger. It flickered yellow.

  “Wow. Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “Nope. Not real.” He wafted his other hand through the flame. Lacey had seen her cousin Zack do this at family gatherings. He liked to wave his hand through the candles on her aunt Jo’s birthday cake and he would wince with the pain.

  “You,” he said. “Touch it.”

  She licked her finger and brought it close to the flame. There was no heat. She brought it closer.

  “Don’t be chicken.”

  She screwed her face up at him and brought her finger down onto the flame. Feeling nothing, she brought it down further, until she was touching his thumb. The flame was still alight, unchanged.

  “Good, huh?” said Pip.

  “Yep.”

  “You try.”

  He blew on his hand and the flame went out. Then he brought his thumb and finger together again, gesturing for her to do the same.

  “Now click.”

  She clicked her finger in unison with him. The sound echoed in the empty space.

  “Whoah!” She had a flame on her finger, just like his. “How did I do that?”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I was remembering my cousin. It’s his party trick.”

  “Imagine made it happen.”

  “So if I imagine the flame, it will appear.”

  “Uh-uh. Don’t work like that. Show you again.”

  There was a sound from outside. Pip stood up.

  “Rufus?”

  He went to the door and pushed it open. He leaned out.

  “Here, boy!”

  She followed him, intrigued by this dog that had survived where no other animals seemed to have.

  “Is he out there?”

  Pip turned to her, his eyes wide. “Light. Voices. Back inside.”

  48

  Twinkie

  Alex scanned the streets. Ahead of her was what looked like an old shipping yard full of containers, crammed together and piled on top of each other. The large dot on the bitbox that signified Lacey and Pip was in there somewhere.

  She surveyed the hundreds of containers. They looked unstable. The ones at the top teetered threateningly and those beneath had decayed and rusted over time. One or two shimmered and swayed as if deciding whether they existed or not.

  Searching those containers would take hours. And as soon as she was inside one, Pip could snatch Lacey and run off with her. Worse, he could trap her inside.

  The only thing to do was wait. They had to come out sometime. And meanwhile, she needed to investigate the other two dots.

  One of them had to be Sarita. Unless she’d gone back to the MOO, Sarita was still here, still intent on watching and waiting.

  She sighed as she ran over what she might say to Sarita. How could they work together, after Sarita had given up on Lacey so easily?

  Maybe Doris could help.

  She pulled the bitbox from her pocket. Feeling dumb, she traced a D on its smooth surface.

  “Well done, sweetie. It worked perfectly.”

  “Shush. I’m doing surveillance.”

  “I’m not the best AI for that.”

  “Too right.”

  �
��Well, at least I have self-awareness. Not like those useless wall devices. The Malcolms.”

  “A Malcolm?”

  “Primitive things. Only work when plugged into a socket.” Doris sniffed. “No idea why they persist. Useless, too. Ask them what the time is and they’ll tell you about the fabric of spacetime.”

  “As I recall, when I asked you where my cat was, you gave me the Wikipedia entry for Erwin Schrödinger.”

  “Wikipedia! Don’t insult me, pur-lease.”

  “I need to know what’s going on with Sarita.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. You’ll have to make yourself more clear. What’s going on with her? You mean what is she wearing?”

  Doris gave a start. The rosy circles of rouge on her cheeks grew to become a full blush. “She’s actually wearing a skintight protective suit right now.”

  “Like this?” Alex opened the front of the parka Fred had given her.

  “Oh, my! Cover yourself up, child. Have you no modesty?”

  Alex zipped up the parka. “I need to know what Sarita’s objectives are. What she’s trying to achieve here.”

  “Well, judging by what she’s wearing I’d imagine her primary objective is to get warm.”

  “I don’t mean that, and you know it.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I’m a highly advanced AI, if I do say it myself. But I’m not psychic. You’ll have to ask her.”

  “Damn.”

  “Alex Strand! Apologize, right now.”

  “Sorry.”

  “But I can tell you one thing.”

  “Go on.”

  “Sarita’s objectives. Judging by her heightened pulse rate when the two of you are working together, and changes in the pigmentation of her cheeks and lips, I think one of them is to get closer to you.”

  Alex felt her own pigmentation darken. “Oh.”

  Doris gave her a nudge. “Yes, dear. How exciting.”

  Alex caught movement from the corner of her eye. “What was that?”

  “Oh, I do believe it’s your girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “I’m sorry. My attempt at that thing you call sarcasm.”

  “Stick to your strengths in future, Doris.”

  “Please.”

  “Please.”

  “Very well. She’s not your girlfriend. But maybe she would like to be.”

  Alex looked at the dots on the bitbox. The two unlabeled ones were moving in her direction. She looked past the containers to see a flash of silver. Sarita’s suit.