by S. G. Wilson
For a while, no one said anything. It was a lot to take in. Here was proof that Meticulous, one of us, had rewritten an entire world. How many lives had he affected? How much damage had he done?
Finally, Motor spoke. He looked set to cry. “I’d almost come around to sympathizing with Meticulous after that stuff about losing Mom. Not now. He doesn’t even want to clean up his own mess! He only sees the world he ruined as a convenient place to hold Me Con!”
“At least we can understand his mind-set a little better,” I said. “He meant to ‘restore Mum’s reputation.’ Instead, he caused a huge accident.”
Motor shot me a vicious look, the kind I would have expected from Resist, not him. “What’s the point of trying to understand Meticulous?! He’s beyond help! End of story!”
“What gives?” Hollywood asked Motor. “I thought you were supposed to be the easygoing one.”
Motor rifled through his bag for more candy but only came up with empty wrappers. He hurled them in the air, and they rained down on him. “Aren’t you mad that a Me did this?”
“Well, I never bought into any of that ‘we’re all the same Me’ nonsense,” said Resist. “Look at the four of us. Beyond the same Mom and Dad, what do we really have in common?”
“Exactly,” said Motor, brushing aside a Sodium Headachies wrapper that had stuck to his face. “What do I have in common with Hollywood? He’s on TV. Resist, you’re a natural-born leader. Average, you’re All of Me, or close enough. And me? I’m just a fat kid in a mobility cart.”
“Oh, come on!” I said. “You’re smart. And you’ve gotten by without the cart just fine.”
Motor slumped in his chair. “Barely. Trust me, as soon as we’re out of danger, I’m going back to my crappy old habits—riding around and stuffing my face.”
“If you’re not happy with your habits, why don’t you break them?” asked Resist.
Motor stared at the floor. “My shrink says it’s how I’ve been coping…after the accident.”
That shut everybody up. Motor didn’t speak for a while, and when he finally did, the words came out as a whisper. “Dad died. Something we were building went wrong. Way wrong. It got out of control, and…and…Dad didn’t make it.”
More awkward silence as the idea sank in. Dad dead after Motor screwed up. No wonder he had no faith in himself. No wonder the Rip got him so upset.
Finally, Resist spoke. “You all need to get over yourselves. I’m sorry about Dad, Motor. And I’m sorry about your candy allergy, Hollywood. And I don’t even know where to begin with you, Average. I refuse to call you All of Me, by the way. The thing is, everybody’s got something to deal with. And whatever it is, you’ve got to just accept it and move on.”
“Well, since you bring it up,” I said. “How about you?”
She rolled her eyes. “You think I’m torn up about the way I am? I’m not. And trust me, I don’t have it easy back home. My Earth is way backward about this sort of thing. Mom and Dad are cool with it, in case you were wondering. But most people there aren’t.”
“That’s all well and good,” said Hollywood. “But do you have to act so crabby all the time?”
Resist leveled her scariest glare yet on Hollywood. But this time, he didn’t look away. The staring contest went on until Hollywood started shaking, but by then he seemed to have passed some sort of test with Resist. When she spoke, she looked at all of us. “You know, you’ve really just got to figure this stuff out for yourselves. It’s not my problem.”
Then, for no apparent reason, she laughed. Then I laughed. Then Hollywood and Motor joined in. We all laughed as if in stereo, which made us laugh even harder.
In the middle of it all, two and two came together in my head, and I blurted it out: “The new elevator! He’s building it on my world!”
“How do you figure that?” said Resist.
A big Aha! flashed across Motor’s face. “If Meticulous wants to go deeper into the multiverse, he’ll need to start at Earth Ninety-Nine, the farthest world the old elevator can reach!”
I thought about Mom, Dad, and Twig and swallowed my panic. “I’ve got to get back home! He could ruin it like he ruined this place!”
Motor’s excitement drained away. “But Meticulous turned off the elevator after he left with the Virals. It’s stuck on your Earth and can’t come back!”
“I can bring the elevator back here,” I said. “If it works for me the way it works for Meticulous, then I just need to press the call button.”
“That’s a big if,” said Resist. “And we can’t even get back inside the building. Door handle’s been removed, remember?”
“Meticulous told everybody about Earth Zero,” I said. “Maybe when somebody slips out, we can slip in.”
It took a little more coaxing, but in the end I got Motor, Hollywood, and Resist to join me on a return trip to the Janus. Motor had demanded we take Sensitive, since he was “way smarter than me,” but Resist nixed the idea. “He breaks out in hives when he goes outside.” She ordered him and the other Missing Mes to stay behind and hold down the fort. They didn’t gripe about it, at least not to her face.
Resist knew a shortcut back to the hotel, so Hollywood and Motor wouldn’t have to jump the wall the way we had before. But once we crowded around the hotel exit, the door stayed shut.
“Why isn’t anybody coming out?” I asked.
“They’re wimps,” said Resist. “Too many scary stories about the Void.”
Motor slumped against the wall. “Then it’s hopeless. We’ll never get in.”
An idea struck me. A dumb idea, but an idea just the same. I pointed to the SecureMe camera above the door. “That thing doubles as a projector, right? Anybody know how to turn it on?”
“The power button’s way up there,” said Motor. “Meticulous must use a remote.”
I waved at the camera.
“Like I haven’t tried that?” said Resist.
That’s when the projector lit up, and another Holo-Meticulous appeared. He stood there as if waiting for us to say something.
Resist looked from the projection to the projector and then to me. “How’d you do that? I’ve been trying to get past this door for weeks.”
“I don’t know. Meticulous’s desk responded to me too.” Thinking about Mom’s holographic memorial reminded me that it had to be past dinnertime back home. By now Mom and Dad would be filing a missing persons report. If I managed to survive this day, they’d surely kill me.
Hollywood gave Holo-Meticulous a wet willy. “Voice recognition enabled,” said the projection. Hollywood shrieked and ducked behind Resist.
Motor slapped his forehead. “Of course! It’s an interactive holo-lock! Voice recognition must mean it recognizes the voice of Meticulous or one of his goons!”
“Piece of cake. I tricked it once, I’ll trick it again.” I walked up to Holo-Meticulous. “Open Sesame!”
Holo-Meticulous smirked. “Voice not recognized. Disintegration ray enabled.” A panel in the wall slid open, and the barrel of a gun popped out.
It aimed right at my chest.
It felt so unreal to have a robotic ray gun pointing at me that I almost thought this had to be another hologram.
If only.
“Stand still!” Resist whispered.
I didn’t move. Neither did anyone else, though Hollywood whimpered like a scared puppy.
“Why didn’t it work?” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the gun. “I’m a Me, aren’t I?”
“Same voice box, different accents and speech patterns,” Motor whispered back.
“So somebody’s got to trick the voice recognition,” said Resist. “Average clearly isn’t the one for the job.”
“Hollywood, you’ve got to do it!” I said.
“Me?!”
“He’s right!
” said Resist. “You’re always going on about how great an actor you are. Now’s your chance to show us.”
Hollywood started to cry. “Baker’s Dozen only lasted one fudging season! Pallin’ with the Shaolin was a straight-to-video flop! I haven’t gotten any other parts since then, for Pete’s sake! That’s because I stink at acting, just like Ren Faire says! Oh cheese and crackers!”
I didn’t take my eyes off the gun barrel. “You’re good at acting, and you should be grateful you have a thing. Me, I’m just…average.”
“Give me a break!” said Hollywood. “You’re All of Me! You’ve got superpowers and stuff!”
“Hardly. I can’t control whatever’s going on with me, or, believe me, I’d use it to escape.”
The gun clicked like it was about to fire.
“Ten seconds remaining.” Holo-Meticulous sounded almost giddy.
“Hollywood!” I said. “It’s now or never!”
Hollywood shut his eyes and rolled his head around, making a bunch of weird faces and murmurs. It cracked me up when kids did these kinds of acting warm-ups backstage at theater class. Now it wasn’t funny in the least. He was prepping for my impending death the same way he would for some scene from a sitcom! After what felt like forever, Hollywood finished and faced the hologram. He took a deep breath, blew it out in a very actorly way, then spoke. “Go ahead and bloody open up already, you toff!”
He crushed it. A first-rate impersonation of Meticulous, from the polished accent to the superior tone.
The dot on my chest disappeared, and the gun retracted into the wall as the lock clicked open. “Voice pattern recognized,” said Holo-Meticulous, looking disappointed.
Everybody whooped except for Hollywood. He was so stunned, I had to prop up his hand for a high five.
“Next time you feel sorry for yourself, just remember how you saved me,” I said.
Choking back tears, he nodded.
Resist moved toward the door, but Motor stepped in front of her. “Hold up! There were a lot of angry Mes after us before we came out here.”
“We’ll sneak around if we have to.” I hoped I sounded confident. “Just so long as we get to the elevator. I know I can turn it back on.”
“Good enough for me,” said Resist, pushing Motor out of the way like he was made of packing peanuts. “Average, I’ll give you cover. Motor and Hollywood, you get him to the elevator.”
And before any of us could argue, she threw open the door and rushed in.
* * *
—
The entirety of Me Con had stuffed itself into the lobby of the Janus Hotel. More than ninety Mes. And all of them stinking mad.
From the door we watched the huge crowd shout out their gripes.
Cowboy Me: “What in tarnation kinda treatment is this?! That no-good, lousy snake in the grass done distracted us from goin’ home! Me Appreciation Feast, my foot! Now we’re stuck worse than a horse in a pool of molasses! Meticulous ain’t never coming back for us!”
Military School Me: “He’ll be back! He has to! He’s our leader!”
Alien Abduction Me: “He’s sold us out to aliens, man! They’re coming in their mother ship to take us away!”
Monk Me: “Calm down! We’ve got to believe in the essential inner good of all Mes and trust that he’ll do the right thing!”
They went on like this, every Me shouting over every other Me. Even the calmer Mes like Steampunk Me and Pool Hustler Me chimed in, though I couldn’t make out what they said over loudmouths like the Fit Mes and Tune Mes. Through it all, a hologram of Meticulous stood frozen in the center of the room with that well-pleased face of his, like he was enjoying the chaos.
“We look so dumb when we argue,” I whispered.
Resist ignored me as she scanned the room. “Anybody see Mobster in this mess? I’d just love to knock some sense into that oaf.”
Hollywood slapped a fist into his palm, but he did it harder than he’d meant to and winced. “I don’t see Ren Faire either. Or Click and Dare. Got a gosh-darned bone to pick with them myself.”
“Yeah, Troll’s a no-show,” said Motor. “Guess Meticulous took them along after all.”
“As if!” said Hollywood. “They don’t even know how he likes his coffee!”
I shivered at the thought of someone as violent as Mobster or as moronic as Click and Dare running loose on my world. What if Mom and Dad found one of them? No telling what damage Ren Faire or Troll or any of them would do to my life back home.
“I’m more than ready,” I said. “Everybody else too?”
“There’s no way!” said Motor. “We’d have to get past all those Mes!”
“Done,” said Resist, stepping into the crowd.
“What are you doing?” Hollywood called after her.
Resist leapt at the nearest column, parkoured off it, flipped in the air, and landed on the check-in counter.
“Hey, Mes!” she said, standing up. “Word of advice: talking to yourself is a bad habit!”
Every identical eye in the Janus lobby locked on the check-in counter, where Resist took a long moment to smooth her skirt. After making them wait just a little too long, she spoke. “In case you don’t know me, or conveniently forgot who I am, I’m Resist Me of Earth Fifty-Seven.”
“You’re a Missing Me!” shouted Kabuki Theater Me. “You were banished from Me Con! Why should we listen to you?!”
“Because Meticulous treated us Missing Mes like garbage, and he’s not treating you any better. He’s not coming back either, so you need a better plan than just standing around and arguing!”
Some Mes grumbled, some Mes nodded, but they all kept their eyes on Resist. That was the idea—to give us the distraction we needed.
I stepped into the room and waved Motor and Hollywood to follow. “Come on!” I hissed. They wouldn’t budge until I tugged them forward by the wrists. Once in motion, they kept behind me as I snuck along the back of the crowd. Resist held everybody spellbound, so no one noticed us.
“Meticulous lied through his teeth about why he brought us together for Me Con!” Resist shouted. “But he told the truth about one thing: together, we can be a force in the multiverse! Not a force for selfish greed, like Meticulous, but a force for good! Why should we settle for reminiscing in panels about our smelliest farts or overanalyzing our nightmares about otters when we have the power to change things? To change everything? The environment. Education. Income inequality. Racism and discrimination. By pooling the collective knowledge from our worlds, we can start to fix these problems and any others they throw at us!”
“How we gonna do that when we’re stuck here?” said Restless Leg Me.
“Oh, we’ll bust out of Earth Zero, all right!” said Resist. “And when we do, Meticulous will pay!”
Her words stirred up an equal mix of cheers and boos from the crowd. I didn’t care how they reacted as long as we stayed under the radar. That turned out to be wishful thinking when Motor bumped into Monk by accident. I thought he might freak out at the sight of us, but instead he took us in and beamed. That was a relief…until he opened his mouth. “You’re okay!” he yelled five times louder than he needed to. “We were so concerned, my brothers!”
What felt like all of Me Con looked our way. Why couldn’t he have been one of those monks who take a vow of silence?
“Whoa there, hombre!” said Cowboy, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “You got yourself some questions to answer round these parts!”
Juvenile Hall appeared at my side. “Not cool, daddy-o!” He shoved Cowboy off me, then combed a few of his stray hairs back into place. “Don’t even think about messing with Wild Me.”
Cowboy shoved Juvenile Hall right back, pushing him so hard he fell to the floor. On the way down, Juvenile Hall bumped into Military School, who grabbed Monk’s robes for balance. The two of
them toppled into Alien Abduction, and everything dominoed from there. Soon enough, a fight broke out. It was like a gang rumble between infinite reflections in a dressing room mirror. Fit Mes versus Tune Mes. Alterna Mes versus Play Mes. Work Mes versus Chill Mes. Toga Mes versus Look at Mes. And everybody piled on the Silly Mes, who fought back by throwing pies and shooting seltzer in their faces.
As distractions went, we couldn’t have asked for better. We rushed to the elevator bank before anyone else saw us.
The call button had gone dark and stayed that way, even as Hollywood and Motor slammed it over and over. But at my touch it lit up like a refrigerator on a midnight snack run.
Hollywood fist-bumped me. “Gee willikers! The elevator really does respond to you. All of Me strikes again!”
Motor shushed him as he strained to listen at the elevator door. “Hear that? It’s coming back from wherever Meticulous got off.”
Hollywood shuddered. “Hope he’s not on it this time.”
We stood there waiting for an eternity, glancing back every few seconds at the Me war in the ballroom. If any Me saw us here, they’d demand to be taken home. We didn’t have time for that, not if we wanted to stop Meticulous. Besides, if Meticulous was telling the truth, the old bucket didn’t have many rides left before it went kaput. We’d be lucky to survive the single trip back to my Earth.
Finally, just when we were on the verge of three matching panic attacks, the elevator arrived in a shriek of metal on metal. The door only managed to open halfway, but at least the car was empty. I rushed in and went straight for the control panel, slipping my fingers around its metal frame. The screws weren’t in tight, and it came right out with a tug.
“Can’t you close the door?” said Hollywood, crouching in the corner. “I feel so exposed!”