The Girl With No Name

I never thought it could get any worse.
Digging steel into my wrists,
Fighting through the mists
Through Depression,
Loss,
Failure...
I wish I had succeeded...

But she wasn't her...
I thought I knew:
No Name,
No Address,
No Birth...
What of the rest?
It had been what was best
The only real relationship
Of any kind.

These details,
Do they matter?
Does anything really matter?
Was she still her?
It's impossible to tell where things begin and end
When everything I send
Is destroyed.

Name...Address...Birth...
Were all a fabrication,
But none of that is important.
I should hate, I should...
Yes still I feel.
I don't know,
Name...Address....Birth...
But I hope that one was true,
Love....
But I'll never know for sure.

Dream Land: Opening Bit

Dream Land

            As soon as the doctor had walked into the examination room, I knew from serious and slack expression that the news he had was not good.

            I barely listened as he outlined what the future would look like: The small twitching tics would become muscle spasms, memory would begin to be affected and finally dementia... “There are some trials underway that may prove promising;” the doctor had mentioned, “there are new realms of medicine being opened up by research in stem cell research since Emperor Durik made the study legal, but the lists are very long, I must admit. It would be very difficult to secure a higher position on the waiting lists.” He peering glace he gave me relayed the unspoken message; a hefty bribe. This was unsurprising; since the Emperor’s assassination and the establishment of the Regency, corruption had run amok, even into the health care system.

            Knowing well that I could not muster such a sum working as a prison guard, I had left the room feeling down and hopeless. I met my daughter, Amy, in the waiting room and tried not to notice her arm spasm.

            My little girl was sick. Who was to blame me when I was approached the next day by a shady man, a spy from the European Union, who offered me a deal? A priority place would be secured for Amy, on the condition that I took a job at a secret military prison five miles out of Boston. Was I truly committing treason in the interview as I lied about my interest in the field and my false oath that I would revel nothing of what I saw to anyone, not even my family?

            These thoughts stuck in my stomach, as though they were scooping out, hollowing my soul, as I made my first trip to my new job thought the reconstructed Boston core, long since restored after the Continental War in my father’s time. Through the window I could see the war memorial, a tall white, seget limestone colossus in the guise of a solemn soldier with his eyes cast out over the bay, watching and protecting. I always thought that this monument also acted as a warning; we will fight for our lands, there will be consequences...

            I used to feel proud yet peaceful when I saw that giant – I often saw similarities in those stone features with Emperor Durik – but today it made me feel small and unworthy. “What goes around comes around,” the Emperor used to say...

            I tinted the windows, hiding the judging presence of the statue, and turned the controls to the computer, letting my seat back for a nap. It was a dreamless sleep and I was glad for it. When I woke up to the destination alarm, the car was in the country side, entering what used to be a natural park, heavily wooded and secluded, where the prison was located.

            The compound was remarkable in the way that it appeared to look nothing like any penitentiary I had ever visited; it looked more like a warehouse, or small, quaint glass offices than the typical walled and watched concrete box I had expected. There was a chain link fence providing a perimeter around the structure with a checkpoint where the dirt path led with a gun car standing by, but all security measures I could see were directed away from the prison, not towards; were they not concerned about potential escapes. I thought maybe the big mystery here was nothing more than those new force field containment barriers that were being developed for incarceration, but that was public knowledge and nothing that would interest an EU spy.

            I was cleared through the checkpoint and let my car park near the front entrance which consisted of a swirling rotary door! I had heard the common criticism that the prison system was nothing more than a revolving door, but this was taking things a little too far. The foremost lobby looked more like a doctor’s office than anything else and still there was no sign of security. I began to suspect that I had come to the wrong place, but the receptions assured me and said that I was expected. “I’ll show you to the locker rooms; I imagine that little was revealed to you in the interview process,” she said and began to lead me down a corridor lined with offices and occupied by men in suits.

            “It was mostly just a series of security checks,” I replied.

            “Well, rest assured, despite its looks, this is a prison, a state-of-the-art prison, in fact. We are run and funded by the Federal Sci-Fi Department,” (The Sci-Fi Department, as it commonly was known, really the Science and Research Council, was a new branch of the government that had been established by the Emperor to aid and explore new realms of scientific research as well as provide a ethical basis in that realm. They were the ones that enacted Durik’s wish for the further study of stem cells.) “and are testing a new system that we hope will revolutionize the prison system, making a risk free-and reliable means of rehabilitation. Needless to say, you no doubt have noted how lax security is here, save the checkpoint for visitors, as this is a top secret facility. We do have need of a security detail for just-in-case purposes, but your duties will mostly involve maintained checks and reporting the readings on the prisoners.”

            I must have appeared confused, because the receptionist turned and laughed, “Don’t worry. You will be brought up to speed; this is the sort of job one can’t go to school for. You did come with an excellent recommendation from the man who interviewed you and your job record is exemplary, or you wouldn’t be here.”

            We reached the locker room and she let me inside, showing me to my nameplate on a deep blue locker. “You’ll find your uniform inside and a tool belt. Through those doors on the other side of the room there is the guard room for breaks, lunch and the like. Your shift is about to start, but you should have time for a coffee and check news and messages on the thermals within. Report to Martin Sommer; he’s your supervisor and will probably assign you to shadow someone for a time.”

            The secretary took her leave and I opened the locker finding, to my surprise, my uniform which consisted of a pair of coveralls, a belt with basic tools and flashlight and some strange ear plugs that appeared to have speakers built within the rubbery material. There was no gun, no cuffs and no baton.

            I adorned the uniform and passed to the break room. There were a dozen men within, half of which appeared to be ending their shift, chatting and eating or reading. A man in his mid fifties with dark red hair caught sight of me and approached with an extended hand.

            “You must be Daniel Dunkirk, I’m Martin Sommer, supervisor for the second shift.”

            “Pleasure to meet you.” I shook his hand.

            He rounded to my side and gave me a pat on the back. “You won the lottery, boy; this is the easiest, cushiest job in the Empire. Don’t worry about a thing; most people are a little out of place when they start here.”

            “This place is defiantly different than what I’m used to,” I agreed.

            “Yes, the savagery of the prison system; I’ve spent my time there and have the multitude of scars to show for it.” Martin ran a finger along a faded white line stretching up across the bridge of his nose and over his left brow. “You won’t find any of that here, actually, you probably won’t even hear a peep out of the inmates,” he added with a coy smile.

            “How do you mean?”

            “Oh, you’ll see...”

            He brought me to a table where two men sat discussing how awful the new Cadillac convertible was and the nostalgic days when good German and Japanese automobiles had been available in North America before the War. Martin gestured to the burly bearded man with a tattoo of a jaguar on the side of his shaved head. At a first glance, he had many similarities to many prisoners I have watched over the years and earned my own scars from, but he smiled warmly as Martin introduced us and shook my hand without imposing any of the pressure I was sure his solid arms were capable of administering.

            “I’ll have you working with Jeremy for the week. He’ll show you the ropes,” Martin said.

            Martin left me with Jeremy who began sharing his own war stories of his experiences as a prison guard over a cup of well-brewed coffee, chuckling about all the bureaucracy and inconsistencies of the profession, until it was time to begin work.

            Everyone piled into a sizable lift and we descended several levels beneath the Earth’s surface. As the notion of an underground prison sunk in, and how ingenious it was, although I wasn’t sure about the morality since it made me think of old medieval dungeons and how the prisoners would be shut off from natural sunlight, I began to understand the relaxed nature of the above-ground portion of the prison. When the doors opened, we entered into a wide passage with offshoots every thirty feet or so. There was an ominous hum emanating from the walls all around that suggested complex machinery in operation.

            The others went off for rounds and Jeremy took me aside and held out his own set of ear plugs. “You’ll need these down here. The noise isn’t bad by the elevator, but down the halls it can become really loud. These little guys not only muffle the sound, but allows us pick up each other’s voices; they sort of isolate anyone’s words from the rest of the clamor that are nearby, neat huh?”

            I popped them in for a test run; all the rattling ambiance vanished. Jeremy said, “How’s that sound?” and his swords came in clear as though I were listening through a pair of headphones.

            “Sounds great!” I answered and followed as he led me to one of the hallways where a series of clipboards hung from hook waiting for us.

            The remainder of the day went rather uneventful, almost too boring to describe; the only oddity through the bulk of my shift, until close to the end, was that not once did I see any of the prison’s denizens. The job consisted mainly of checking vital stats from monitors all along the passages and recording them on the provided forms. Nothing broke down, so there was no need for any repairs to any of the equipment. I discerned that the screens were hooked to the convicts, but how and why, I had no idea.

            The only notable, and disheartening, event that took place occurred close to the end of my shift, when Jeremy had left me to go alone while he worked in another corridor. There was a rear hallway, much like the one we arrived in, also leading into an elevator, but this one was riddled with security measures such as eye and fingerprint scanners not to mention a swipe key port. Wherever that led was surely something that would greatly interest the EU spy and possibly provide the information that would act as my payment for getting Amy into the trials, but I had a feeling that my security clearance would not gain me any access; I would have to wait and listen to pick up any secrets.

            But this was not what sparked my unease; I saw a man there, tall and thin, wearing a long black coat reminiscent of old War-time officer garb. His blond hair was cut close and his face was heavily lined and in no way added any charm to the man but made his visage one of a permanent scowl. The most striking of his features was a pair of circular rimmed glasses fitted with silvery reflective lenses the like I had never seen before, masking all beneath from view. I could not tell if his eyes were on me, but he stood there with folded arms looking down the hall I was in and there was little else to look at. Those glasses made me feel exposed and timid, which can be difficult for a man of my physical stature, and reflected back my own stupid stare as though they were sending the message, you can hide the truth from others, but not from yourself...

            Feeling like I was being scrutinized the way a scientist squints through the eye piece of a microscope, I turned away. When I glanced back, the man was gone.

            I asked Jeremy about the mysterious figure and only described his glasses before he nodded his head with understanding. “We don’t know who he is, but I figure he’s top military brass, probably from the Sci-Fi Department,” Jeremy explained. “I’d try to keep my distance, if I were you; I’ve heard he’s not the most pleasant of men. We’ve got into the habit of calling him Mr. Unhappy, not to his face, of course,” he added with a snicker.

            I tried to press others for the identity of the gloomy man, but they knew only as much as Jeremy. There was no choice but to let the subject go.

Tomb of Odin: Part 2

***Here's part 2 of 3 of Tomb of Odin. Enjoy!*** 

Curt and Daryl starred glumly out of the lobby windows inside a hotel in Stryn, Norway, at a thick, fluffy, white blanket that covered every visible thing outside.

“Well, the travel brochures of Stryn looked nice,” Curt mentioned, gripping his cup of coco tightly in his hands.

“Those were all taken in the summer,” Daryl replied. “And on particularly nice days. This is Scandinavia after all.” His head dropped. “I didn’t think there was a place on Earth that had worse weather than merry ol’ England.”

Curt retreated from the frigid window towards a couch in the center of the lobby where their backpacks were stacked. “Do you think our guide got stuck in the snow?”

“Lord knows…”

Curt flopped down on the couch and rested his elbow over the back rest. He was somewhat glad Daryl was cranky this morning; there was a lack of annoying questions concerning his issues with church. Once Daryl found something that pressed on someone’s nerves, especially if it regarded a personal matter, he made a note to keep pressing until the target snapped or found something else to pick at. Curt had already listened to it for the duration of the plane trip to Norway.

Curt eyed Daryl, still staring out the window. Perhaps if he pretended to snap now he could get the man off his back. Curt shook his head; he knew he would never be able to do that, besides, in the act of snapping he would probably tell Daryl everything he wanted to know.

“Ah! I think that’s him!” Daryl straightened.

Curt turned his head to see a large one ton pickup pull up outside with chains encircling his tires. An older man emerged from the truck with graying hair. His belly was burly suggesting a jolly man at first but as he emerged from the white glow outside, into the lobby, Curt saw grim, no-nonsense features etched into the folds of the old man’s face. Curt also noted the large wooden cross dangling outside of the man’s winter jacket for all to see. Curt held his breath and tried as hard as he could not to prejudge the man.

“Are you two the ones here to see the archeological site?” the man said with a thick Norwegian accent.

Daryl held out his hand. “Yes we are. Please to meet you, I am…”

“Well, get your things. I take you to this devil tomb,” the man quickly cut in venom soaking his words. Curt caught a half-smirking look from Daryl who was quickly losing his grumpy mood and enjoying the awkward situation. Curt could only whimper silently.

When Daryl stooped over the armrest of the couch to grab his two bags, Curt leaned towards his ear. “You’re sitting in the front, right?”

“Why? Don’t you like his charm?” Daryl giggled.

Curt swore sharply and reiterated his message.

The drive out of town was conducted in silence. Curt was thankful for that; he had heavy reservations about conversing with their guide. Daryl attempted to make contact with the man once or twice as they started getting into the mountain roads but besides grunts and nods the only verbal response he received was the man’s name, Mikael. 

The increased snow made the trip more hectic but they made it to their destination, a small airport. As they came to a halt Daryl noted that their guide reached down and grabbed his cross. “Made it,” Mikael said and placed the wooden symbol against his lips and kissed it gently. 

After witnessing this sign of piety Daryl made the obvious observation out loud much to Curt’s dismay. “You’re a religious man.”

“Absolutely, I have belonged to the Church of Norway since just after birth,” Mikael stated proudly.

“Ah yes, the vast majority of people in Norway belong to the state church.” Daryl said showing off his knowledge of statistics.

“I am not like those hypocrites.” Mikael scoffed. “I attend mass every week. Many only go once a year, if at all. The fear of God has sadly left this land. This dig they are conducting in the mountains isn’t going to help.”

“It could be a magnificent find,” Daryl replied, “it could tell us about a period of time we know little about.”

“It is the tomb of a devil. The only people it will strengthen are the unbelievers or worse, heathens.”

“Actually very few people in Norway revere the old Gods. I was reading some stats before coming here that…”

“Bah! You know nothing!” Mikael hissed and opened the car door. He began trudging towards the airport lobby.

“You know,” Curt began, “I wouldn’t bother.”

Daryl looked back as if he didn’t know he was doing something wrong. “Why?”

They both disembarked from the vehicle and joined their grim guide to wait for the chopper to finish prepping in a long uncomfortable silence.

Curt hadn’t been in helicopter in years and it had begun to snow. His stomach began doing summersaults while the chopper bounced in the turbulence. Mikael translated the pilot’s assurances that the snow wasn’t that bad and that the chopper was built to withstand such pressures, but this did nothing to deter Curt from imagining several different crash scenarios.  

Snow masked the dig site until they came within a few dozen meters. Since there was no good place to touch down along the ridge all three men had to descend the chopper using pulleys while it remained in flight. Curt almost peed in his pants on the way down. Daryl looked like he was laughing.

Once on the ground Mikael led them to a cave in the rock face where a few crates and equipment covered with heavy tarps lay outside. They hurried within to escape the cold and immediately met two men boxing artifacts in the entrance. Neither could speak any English but Mikael reiterated that the head of the dig was in the main chamber in the back, awaiting them.

Mikael went first. Curt tugged at Daryl’s arm. “Man, this guy sure hates me.”

“Why do you say that?” Daryl asked wiping the freezing moisture from his moustache.

“Didn’t you see how he scowled at me when he was talking just there?”

“Well, you’ve been scowling at him almost non-stop yourself.”

“I have?” Curt hung in behind their precession and scratched at the back of his head. He had become so focused on their zealous grump’s demeanor so much he hadn’t been paying attention to his own.

The cave consisted of a straight tunnel leading directly to the rear circular burial chamber. In the center was sarcophagus scraped out of the rock floor. It had been covered with a stone slab but had been removed by the Oslo team. There were decaying bronze weapons and tools placed around the walls of the chamber which the dig team was tagging and packing up. Hunched over the tomb were two figures and exchanging words in Norwegian. Mikael walked up behind them and made his presence known by loudly clearing his throat. Both people jumped as if ice had been slipped down the back of their shirts.

They talked with Mikael for a moment before he began introducing the two men from England. Curt wondered what the grouch was really saying but soon lost interest as he noted that one of the two people from the Oslo team had a rather pleasant face.

She walked up to him first holding out a hand and said with a slight accent, “Pleasure to meet you, I am Vanja and this is Erik. Erik doesn’t speak good English but I’ll let you know what he says. We both run the dig.”

Their hand shake left an odd feeling in Curt’s stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He caught himself wondering if she was married but quickly shook off the stupidity he felt creeping into his chest.

“Be careful of this one.” Mikael cut in pointing at Vanja. “As pagan as it gets.”

“I am most certainly not!” she snapped. “Disregard this man. He is a fanatic.”

“There is nothing wrong with that,” Mikael replied.

“All things in moderation, old man,” Vanja replied and returned to her visitors. “We’re glad to see you. Come see the guest of honor.”

She led everyone to the sarcophagus. Curt and Daryl leaned over to inspect the frozen, mummified body within clad in sparse, oxidized armor. Erik stayed behind with Mikael to hear his translation. “The body was well preserved despite the moisture; the sarcophagus was very well sealed and the cold may have helped.”

Daryl grinned up from under his beard. “I am impressed at your English. You articulate well.”

Vanja smiled. “Thank you. I actually studied at your university for several years while getting my doctorate.”

Curt suddenly felt a burning tightness in his chest wishing he had made that observation. But he brushed this aside as he knew Daryl was living with his girlfriend. And besides, he had no time for such silliness; last time he bothered with a woman had been silly enough.   

To get his thoughts back on track Curt frowned into the tomb at the bony body and instantly became transfixed. “Oh my…” he breathed.

“Ah, your friend has noticed the surprise.” Vanja said to Daryl who quickly turned his head and became silent.

“The skull. Look at the marks.” Curt breathed.

“Amazing.”

“It’s just like the myths. One of his eyes must have suffered some sort of trauma. There is evidence that the wounds healed over meaning he lived through it.” Curt said and looked up at Vanja and Erik. “The myth where Odin tore out his own eye giving it to the giant Mimir so he could drink from the well at the base of the world tree to gain untold knowledge.

There was disgruntled sound from behind most likely originating from Mikael. Everyone ignored it.

            “There’s more…” Vanja turned to Erik and spoke a few Nordic words.

            Erik knelt down and carefully lifted up the top portion of the mummy’s breast plate exposing the lower rib cage.

            “Ouch. There’s a wound there too.” Daryl observed.

            “Something must have scraped against his two lower ribs. It looks like a stabbing wound. This one didn’t heal over. It’s is probably what killed him,” Curt said.

            “Maybe not.” Daryl mentioned pointing up by the neck. “Some of his cervical vertebras are damaged. His neck might have been broken.”

            Curt leaned back away from the tomb. “This is just like the story of how Odin hung himself from the World Tree to gain knowledge of the runes. It sometimes said he also impaled himself in the side with his own spear.” Curt looked at Daryl. “This is weird. When they kicked me out of the Bible study years ago, that was the story I told.”

            “How did that get you kicked out?”

            “I mentioned that it was oddly similar to the crucifixion story where the Roman soldier Longinus pierced the side of Christ with a spear. I only mentioned it to explain how missionaries used that similarity to help Christianize Scandinavia but they didn’t like the comparison.”

            “You were kicked out of a Bible Study?” Vanja raised an eyebrow and smirked. Curt felt his face flush.   

            “At least he tried,” Mikael remarked from behind.

            “Well in this case,” Daryl began, “It doesn’t look like this man lived long enough to tell people about his new writing system, although, the inscription on the tomb suggests otherwise. Maybe he managed to pass on his wisdom before he died, or had developed them before his wound. Then again, those marks could have been caused in battle and this is all just a strange coincidence.”

            “It’s one hell of a coincidence…” Curt stared blankly down at the long since dead man. This all felt weird; even though he was no longer a strong supporter of anything religious, he felt somewhat disturbed by this find. Here was potential evidence that a God had once walked the world of man. Of all the possible faiths to have in the world, could the Norse, of all people, have gotten it right?

            Curt solemnly looked up past Daryl and Vanja towards Mikael, no longer looking so angry, but saddened by what was in the pit. Despite his resolve, something was defiantly working in the guide’s mind. Curt knew the feeling, he had come to question everything he thought he knew once; it had been a growing experience but it had not been an easy transition. Curt suddenly felt a touch of sympathy for the old man.

What's all the 'Fuss?' + Possible Discovery of Higgs Boson

Hello readers (still mostly people from Russia hehe). I've been away for a bit. I was uh...on vacation....yeah... Anyway, now its time for the news. I have a small piece appearing in a new local Kitchener-Waterloo magazine called Fuss as part of a small writing contest. It's a free magazine so check it out in July in your neighbourhood coffee shops, I think that's where you can find them, or at Wordsworth books in Uptown Waterloo. The story, flash fiction, based on an old photograph, is entitles 'Hats.'

Other plans; I realized I still haven't finished uploading the story 'Tomb of Odin,' so I'm going to get on that soon, plus I've finally finished a story about an old local bar and an alien guitarist that I may post, although I may try sending that to a few magazines first (and editing...ugh).

So, that's all for now; check out Fuss' July issue and thanks again for reading!

*** A few little updates for you. The July issue of Fuss has come out. Sadly, the magazine is no longer going to be with us, so it will be the last issue. But my story was there! I'll probably post it here, plus the longer version I wrote before I cut it down for the length requirement in August sometime.

In other news, the Physics community believe they have discovered the elusive Higgs Boson! This elementary particle, along the ultra-small scale of electrons, quarks and the like, may be what gives matter mass. There are other implications such as the Higgs Feild, the cosmological constant; once thought to be Einstein's Greatest Blunder, but maybe not and a better understanding of how the four forces (gravity, strong and weak nuclear and electromagnetism) operate. But there is still much work to be done to be completely sure that the data they saw is really signifying the Higgs Boson, such as repeating the experiment, to make absolutely sure they found what they found. If the data is correct, this could allow us to gain a much deeper understanding of the cosmos, and you never know, possibly some new innovations, such as a peek at dark matter, and...gasp...the ability to travel at the speed of light! Here are a few links for further reading:

http://news.nationalpost.com/2012/07/05/higgs-boson-find-could-make-light-speed-travel-possible-scientists-hope/

http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2012/07/what-this-higgs-boson-thing-really-means/259438/

Slip: Conclusion

***Here is the fourth and final segment of Slip. I hope you enjoy reading and please comment and add your oppinions and constructive criticism. I have mor ein the works so new stories will be posted shortly, plus I have an idea for a a bit on the relation between a writer and his/her characters. Again thanks for reading and tell your firedns!***

“How long exactly have I been here?” Carter asked.

            They sat outside the cave in the emerald daylight with the scattered parts of Perry’s probe and the disassembled pieces of Carter’s two decade old equipment.

            “Law said you disappeared twenty-five years ago,” Perry responded.

            “Law, you mean Colonel Law? I take it he’s DART’s liaison with the military now? What happened to Hague?”

            “He retired just after your accident. I think he passed away almost fifteen years ago.”

            “Twenty-five years… How are things on Earth?” Carter peered up from his work.

            “Not too good.”

            “Same old crap, huh?” He shook his head. “How about you? Why would a young man like yourself risk his life darting three hundred light years plus one universe away from home?” Carter grinned. “Get it, darting?”

            Perry winced at Carter’s toothy smile. It made him feel uncomfortable. “Like I told you, your project had been buried and I was told not to continue. Law was at my door when I jumped, if I had stayed, I’d probably be in jail.”

            “Yeah, but didn’t you leave people behind?”

            “Yes, Helen, my common law partner.”

            “Not married?”

            “Not yet. I uh, wasn’t ready,” Perry said. “She actually asked me, and man was she angry when I asked to wait.”

            Carter laughed catching a stern look from his visitor. “Sorry, some things seem funny to me even though they shouldn’t. I’ve been here for a quarter of a century; I may have gone a little mad.” He gave Perry a wild eyed stare then erupted into loony hysterics. “I used to be quite serious you know.”

            Perry gulped. This guy was his only hope to get back.

            “I had a wife,” Carter mentioned. “We split years before I wound up here. In some ways I suppose that’s why I risked coming here; I didn’t really care about the consequences. I married too young and to some broad whose only positive attributes were her looks.”

            “Sounds like Helen actually.”

            “How old are you?”

            “Thirty-One.”

            “Still young, wait a few decades; you’ll realize how the good looking women have the crappiest attitudes. Do yourself a favor and get rid of her.”

            “Get rid of her?”

            “Well, not like that, I mean like dump her and find someone with a brain.”

            Perry smiled. “I didn’t think you meant kill her, I was just considering the thought of life without her.”

            Carter giggled. “I made too many slips in my day. My wife, getting stuck here, letting those damn sixty-twos sneak up on me and break my stuff…” He trailed off and looked over his shoulder observing the alien flora stretching out to the horizon. “Merely thinking of other potential states as potential was a massive slip in logic. I completely ignored even the possibility that such things existed. Colonel, I mean, General Law told me, you know, but I just didn’t listen.”

            “Sorry?”

            “He was the first to bring it up when I presented my findings. ‘What happens to the original?’ he asked.” Carter smirked. “I didn’t much care for the military brass, but Law was a man with some sense. Maybe he was right to bury the project.”

            “But we need it to fix the problems on Earth. Seeder ships are too slow and no one wants to go anymore.”

            “The Earth is the way it is because that is how we built it,” Carter stated.

            “What?”

            “Society was built by us. We have the ability to create a stable world, but we don’t.” Carter cranked a bolt into place with his fingers. “I like to think that somewhere out there is an Earth where people have learned not to be greedy and work together. Those people have the right to grow and spread across the stars. All we’re going to do is spread the same old problems across the cosmos. You must face you screw ups and grow from them, evolve. I’ve had twenty-five years to think about my mistakes.”

           

*          *          *

           

            Everything was ready. Perry stood at the mouth of the cave holding his portable null-field looking at Carter crouching down at his own field generator cannibalized from Perry’s probe.

            “What I’ve done is reverse the coordinates,” Carter explained. “This will send you right back to Earth, your Earth.”

            “How am I going to explain this to everyone?” Perry breathed.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Carter said. “I’ve worked it out over the years. You can use still the technology.”

            Perry blinked. “How?”

            Carter stared at him as if he should know the answer.

            Perry looked around. “But this isn’t the same planet, we didn’t send the seeder ships here, we sent them to another Grindious–C.”

            Carter shrugged. “So?” He stood up crossing his arms looking out over the bright colorful world. “It’s a world, it’s habitable, and now that we’ve perfected the technology, it’s easy to get to.”

            “A cross dimensional human race?”

            “Might as well…”

            Perry sighed and placed his thumb over the switch of his controller. “Well, I guess it’s time to go face the music.”

            “Best of luck to you.” Carter saluted.

            Perry paused. “Wait, aren’t you coming?”

            Carter giggled madly. “Are you kidding? I have the keys to infinity here in my hand.”

            “But– it would be easier to explain things to them if you came back.”

            “I’m sure it would,” Carter agreed he adjusted the coordinates on his own null-field, “but you got to grow on your own.” He winked and hit the switch.

            Perry watched as Carter and a portion of his background fluctuated in shape, features twisting as a wave of distorted space-time jumped out from the null-field generator. Then he was gone, only air replacing his body mass.

            Perry’s thumb found the button of his own generator and considered the mad scientist’s logic. He pressed it down and looked out at the alien world as it quickly twisted its shape as though it were swirling down a bathtub drain, then it rapidly straightened out, taking the form of his basement back on Earth.

            His basement was in disarray; tools, papers, and schematics were strewn all over the place. The drawers of his filing cabinets were wide open, his closet door was ajar, and every box had been unstacked and torn open; someone had been searching his things. He moved to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the light slipping under the door into the kitchen. He could hear voices; he recognized Helen’s and a few others. He hesitantly ascended the stairs.

            They were sitting around the dining room table and gawked at him as though he were a ghost. Helen sat at the fore of the table, on her one side was the man Perry had seen her leave with a few nights ago and on the other was General Law who quickly assumed a grim stern expression.

            Helen was the first on her feet. “Perry! Is it really you?”

            Perry didn’t answer, but watched as Law stood up and flattened out his uniform. “I imagine you had quite the adventure.” He gestured to Perry’s pants which were matted with mud.

            “I did,” Perry managed. He walked over to the table and held out the modified null-field to the General. “Here, it works. It will take you instantaneously to a Grindious–C as long as you reverse the coordinates.”

            “A Grindious–C?”

            “Those alternate states we assumed were only potential, are real. What we have is something that will take you to another dimension. But there’s a perfectly good world there, well once you adapt to the excess oxygen, with plenty of room for humanity to grow, although…”

            “Yes?” Law studied the man through slotted eyes.

            “I would recommend doing so with more respect and responsibility than we have done on our own world.”

            Law actually managed a slight smile. “I hope we can.” He placed the generator on the table. Continuing to stare at the device he asked, “Did you find Samuel Carter?”

            “He helped me,” Perry said.

            “Where is he?”

            “He left.”

            Law opened his mouth, but opted to shut it, nodding instead. He folded his hands behind his back. “And what of you?”

            “I have some information about Grindious–C that you’ll need to know, but after that I’m resigning from DART.”

            “What?” Helen blurted. “You can’t do that.”

            Perry managed to regard her. His eyes alternated from her to her friend sitting at the table looking quite out of place. He was most likely here to comfort Helen in his absence. “This is my house. I bought it. I want you out as soon as possible.”

            “But-but- Perry...”

            “No buts.” He shook his head then looked her in the eyes. “I’m afraid…I’m afraid that I don’t love you anymore, maybe I never did; I think I was afraid of you.”

            The room was silent. Perry looked back at Law who was gauging the situation with wide eyes and a thin mouth. He saw Helen in his peripherals walk swiftly out of the room; her handsome friend followed her out like a puppy.

            The general rotated back as the front door slammed shut then returned to Perry. “Well then, I guess you will need time to rest, can I expect you tomorrow morning for a debriefing?”

            “I’ll be there.”

            “Excellent.” Law picked up the generator slipping it into his pocket. “Since you’re bent on resigning, may I make a suggestion?”

            “Go ahead.”

            “After this is tested, properly, the people will need someone to help them get ready for their new world.”

            “I think I see what you’re getting at.”

            The General pivoted towards the door. “Well then, I let you to it then.” Perry saw him to the door. Law stopped in the open doorway. “You’ve revolutionized our civilization, you know…”

            “I didn’t do it alone,” Perry answered. “Just use it properly.”

            “We will do our best.”

*          *          *

            Perry stretched out on his couch after a long day of training leaders for an expedition. Three survey teams had already made the move to the new planet. The human race would soon populate the new dimension. Perry had done his best to emphasize ethics and responsibility in this new age of colonization, but it was up the human race, ultimately.

            He lay staring at the ceiling tracing the spackled patters noting how silent the house was. Sometimes he missed Helen, but he was happier now, freer, less on edge. The liberty was nice but it was still only an illusion. He still worked, toiling away to beat some new ideals into the minds of men, but what he really wanted was freedom.

            He rose from the couch and crossed into the kitchen where he opened the door to his basement. He walked downstairs to his lab where he had been working on constructing a new null-field of his own. He wasn’t sure why he had started building another at first, but he quickly realized why.

            The keys to infinity were at his fingertips. How could he let that slip by?

Slip: Part 3

*** Hello, hello! It's been a bit since I've posted here; sadly I had to endure a few weeks in the hospital; nothing serious, or anything to worry about; just a rather unexpected visit. I guess you could say I got blindsided. But I'm healthier, I'm stronger, I'm moving forward and for once in my life, my head is up, not down. I have some new pieces I wrote while in the hospital that need to be transferred to the computer, other than that, here's another segment of the story Slip, part 3 or 4, I believe; the conclusion will be coming up soon. Other than that, I have some other plans in the works that I will keep everyone posted on once further research has been completed. Again thank you very much for reading and enjoy part 3 of Slip!***

He waited. Nothing seemed to be happening. He did feel a bit light headed but nothing else. He opened his eyes and felt the strength in his legs escape; they tangled together forcing him to fall down on his backside.

            Spread out all around him was a bright aqua-marine sky, tall trees stretching up and fanning out with massive broad spanning leaves, waving in the air like racing ship sails. He looked across the ground expecting to see grass, but instead viewed tall mossy curls, bright green in colour studded with small blue buds. He dug his fingers into the soil and held up a palm inspecting the rich loamy dirt between his fingers.

            He stood shakily, the action almost propelled him into a jump; gravity here was only a few points below normal Earth gravity, but that was enough to produce a dizzying sensation in his perceptions. The air was thicker too, signifying a younger planet; he could feel it wrap around his body and blinked as his brain attempted computing the extra oxygen. He took smaller breaths trying to avoid getting an O2 high, but found concentrating on his breathing deliberating and forgot about it.

            He started walking around observing his surroundings soon happening across long straight tracks in the moss and giggled with glee. He followed the thin lanes around a tree and discovered the probe he had sent. He knelt next to it and inspected the components. The data capsule was gone. If it had been dislodged from the probe, it must have been sent back, but why hadn’t it appeared in his basement?

            Perry was forced to sit back for a moment; his head was spinning and he felt as though he were flying thought the air. The excess oxygen was skewing his senses. He moaned and leaned against a tree for a few minutes.

            He wasn’t sure how long he had rested there. Suspecting that he had fallen asleep, he tried to stand up and found the process horribly awkward. A sound roused his attention and his eyes focused on something moving behind some thick bushes with spiral tendril leaves. He watched as a large animal emerged with grey-brown fur and black spots. It slid out on six legs and observed him with three eyes on a spherical head. Perry noticed another head under the foremost one with a thin slit running horizontally along its width. He wondered what the extra head was for until the slit opened exposing long knife-like teeth which folded out of the orifice and hissed at him dripping wet hungry saliva all over the moss.

            Perry barely bumbled out of the way as the creature charged forward. He rounded the massive tree trunk behind and the animal collided head first into the wooden pillar. Fortunately, the beast seemed dazed by the blow, but Perry soon saw one of its friends poke its twin heads out from the bushes, quickly accompanied by a third; the animals apparently hunted in packs.

            Perry ran surprisingly well energized by the excess oxygen and pure fear as the predators bounded after him towards a nearby cliffside stretching a few dozen meters up. He considered that this was what had happened to Carter while climbing a series of boulders that had fallen from above. He scaled the massive rocks and smiled down at the monsters scurrying about below. He rested momentarily against the cliff wall grinning down at his pursuers until one leapt up on a boulder and began following him up.

            Perry whimpered as the creatures climbed and trying to make his way higher. He felt the thick air part his lungs as one of those massive six legs swiped at his heel. He glanced back; they were almost upon him.

            He grabbed a bowling ball sized rock and let the fight part of his mind take over from the flight. He cracked the brown rocky orb down on the animal’s head and pulled back for another blow, but the creature began shrinking away and fled down the cliff side to its companions. They yipped at each other and retreated back into the undergrowth.

            Exhausted, Perry leaned against the rocks panting. He tried to slow his breathing knowing he didn’t need the extra air on this world, but his body forced the habit making him become dizzier. He held onto the rock face fearing that if he let go he would tumble down breaking every bone in his body.

            His attempts to calm down shattered as high pitched laughed crashed down from above. Perry flipped his head up blinking madly at a figure crouched at the top of the cliff holding his gut and pointing down at Perry.

            Thinking it was a hallucination, Perry sat down on the lip he clung to, threw up and began to weep.

*          *          *

            “Welcome back.”

            Perry shot up and squinted trying to see through the darkness. He was temporarily blinded at the bright blue flame that burned in the center of a small cave. “Where am I?”

            “On another world,” the scrawny frame answered. “You did well with the sixty-twos by the way.”

            “Sixty-twos?”

            “Those animals in the jungle; the ones with six legs and two heads? They’re predatory, yet cowardly. If you show the slightest ounce of hostility, they turn running, whimpering like mice.”

Perry sat up and groaned rubbing his temples.

“It’s the oxygen,” the man stated. “Don’t worry, relax and breathe normally, your body will get used to the difference.”

Perry squinted into the blue light at the man but couldn’t make much out while he was silhouetted against the flame. “Are you…Samuel Carter?”

            “Good, they didn’t send me an idiot,” was the response. “What took you guys so long anyway? It’s been twenty-some-odd years, I think. This world has an orbital period at least fifteen days less than Earth’s.”

            “No one sent me.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I wasn’t supposed to be conducting any experiments with your notes.”

            Carter swore.

            Perry’s sight began to steady. He squinted about the cave and found Carter leaning against the wall. He wore reminisce of brown dress pants frayed short at the knees with a poorly made path on his rump and covered in dirt. His shirt was made from leaves, possibly the large fanning foliage Perry saw outside. His face was rugged with a light beard cut as short as possible and two bright blue eyes looked at him from a hard worn face. The man seemed thin and lanky but hard muscles defined his arms, like bundles of steel cables. He had the look of a wild man.

            “You’ve been here this whole time?” Perry asked. “Why didn’t you come back?”

            “It took me too long to figure out what went wrong. I didn’t dare another trip with the equipment I brought until I figured out the problem. I was attacked by those furry buggers you met this afternoon and everything got swept down the cliff here.”

            “You mean this morning.”

            “It was afternoon here.”

            Perry was still groggy from the air. He noted how the camp fire burned blue opposed to yellow here; too much oxygen. At least food would cook faster from the heat of such a flame. “Do you know what went wrong?”

            “I do. And now that you’re here, with that little portable null-field, we can correct the problem.”

            “You couldn’t correct it yourself, repair your broken equipment?”

            “Repair it with what? I hadn’t thought ahead enough to bring extra materials. I didn’t think there would be a problem.”

            “What did go wrong?” Perry asked.

            “With the science? Absolutely nothing; the problem was the philosophy.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            Carter sighed. “Using a gravity null-field, I thought to gain access to an object’s potential states, sort of like duplication or quantum entanglement, but when you add something to the universe you must take away something, the original object. And it works, but the problem was with our thinking, with how we thought about those potential states. They aren’t potential, they’re real.”

            Perry sat straighter; his mind had difficulty fathoming the idea, neurons still swirling from the oxygen high.

            “Those potential states do exist, but in other dimensions.”

            “Are you saying that we’re not in the same universe?”

            “You got it.” Carter grinned. “You are on Grindious–C, but not the same Grindious–C we sent the seeder ships. You see, when we slipped into this world, we were replaced by our so-called ‘potential’ state back in our own reality.”

            “Then why weren’t you replaced with a copy of yourself?”

            “Because there was no Samuel Carter here, I was replaced with a potential state that was not exactly like me, probably just a gust of wind.”

            “I don’t understand, why a gust of wind, why not another you?”

            “I’m not exactly sure, but I’ve had lots of time to think on that. When I was experimenting with this mode of travel, it appeared to work using short distances giving me a proper copy of probes and books, but at larger scales there must be more potential universes overlapping in the way increasing the potential to exchange matter with a reality without a probe, or another version of me.”

            “Oh no.” Perry buried his face in his hands.

            “Don’t worry boy, we can get you back,” Carter said, “now that we got the tools.”