I stood outside my family home, my body adorned with cuts and bruises, a painful limp slowing my movements. It had been an eternity since I last laid eyes on them. There was no solace as I rapped sharply on the door, anticipating the impending confrontation.
With a reluctant creak, the door inched open, revealing my little blonde sister, her wide green eyes registering surprise.
“Beckett!” she exclaimed.
I gently pushed her back into the house, hastily closing the door. “Is Mom or Dad home?” I inquired.
She shook her head. “They’re still searching for you with the police.”
“How long have I been gone?”
“Five days— but that doesn’t matter. Where have you been?”
I moved to each window, her trailing behind me as I closed all the blinds.
“I made a distressing discovery, and now I need to rescue someone. I just need to grab some food and water.”
Her expression betrayed confusion. “What do you mean ‘just need to’? You act like you’re about to leave again.”
“I am.”
“WHAT! We just got you back!”
“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to face her, “but I need to go save someone first. Once I finish that, I’ll be back. I have the coordinates now.” I tried my best to offer a reassuring look.
At just ten years old, she knew everything about me. She understood when to inform Mom and Dad and when to stay silent. Unconventional, perhaps, but we had always been pragmatic amidst our sibling bickering.
In the kitchen, I drank directly from the gallon jug of water while she rummaged through our meager food supply. I needed a brief respite before venturing out again.
“Where have you been?” she probed once more.
“Far away…”
“That’s not an answer.”
I scratched my head, pondering how to articulate my response. “Technically, I’ve been in town all this time. I was just really far away.”
She halted her search for food, a frown etched across her youthful face. “If you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to stop making your food and call Mom and Dad.”
I took a few deep breaths, rubbing my forehead and weighing my options. Running out the door seemed a cruel choice, and I still needed sustenance, so I relented.
“Okay. You deserve to know this much, I guess.”
She leaned in, her eyebrow raised.
“Remember when my professor and I were working on that little project?”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t tell me what it was, but you mentioned breaking the laws of physics or something.”
“You have a sharp memory. Anyway, it happened seven days ago. Mr. Newman and I were sitting in the classroom, discussing math and interdimensional reality.”
_______________________
“Do you remember the four types of multiverse theories?” he asked.
I straightened in my chair and replied, “Yes. The first one suggests that multiple universes inflate and expand in an empty void. The second—”
“Yes, yes, I was asking if you knew; I didn’t need an explanation.”
I slumped my shoulders, concealing my dejected face.
He smiled through his bushy, white mustache. “Don’t worry. I know you’re smart, Beck.”
He always ensured my ego remained unscathed when I found myself rambling. Perhaps that’s why I spent more time with him than my own family— he understood my needs.
“Why bring it up?” I asked, leaning back.
He reached over to the side of his desk, as if about to open a drawer, before saying, “Well, I assume you understand that the multiverse is hypothetical, not proven even to the point of a theory, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What if I told you that I believe in something called the Quilted Multiverse.”
“That’s not a new idea, sir. I believe it was a popular belief a few years back. The concept suggests that the entire universe extends infinitely, and at some point, there would be a galaxy like ours, containing a solar system like ours, with an Earth like ours, complete with humans.”
He nodded in approval and reached over to open the drawer he had been eyeing. “Yes, well, I suggest we rethink that in a way that makes sense, based on this little finding that my friends in archaeology provided me.”
He pulled out a peculiar device— a brass or perhaps gold-plated gauntlet, snugly fitted to a wearer’s arm, with a large ruby on the top of the back of the hand.
“Sir, where did you get that?”
“I told you where I got it. And I need you for something.”
I swallowed, feeling a nervous tension about whatever he had in mind. His cryptic and mysterious manner always irked me. I often wondered if he did it to seem cool, but he wasn’t. I loved the guy, but coolness wasn’t his forte.
“And what might that be?”
“I need you to help me get it activated.”
“Wait, activated? Are you saying this thing is a machine?”
“Not just any machine. A machine not of our world. Not of our universe.”
“This is weird. You’re not making any sense.”
He walked towards me, the device practically hovering over my desk. “My belief is that we exist in a Multiverse with an infinite number of other universes— something akin to the level one Multiverse. The issue I have with that is that rumors and data from scientific organizations suggest these other universes are not as distant as we’d like to think.”
“Impossible,” I objected. “Our technology and research have all pointed towards them being incomprehensibly far away. The nearest universe to ours is comparable to our Earth on one end and another Earth on the other. The universe is 93 billion light years across, so we’d never reach them.”
He sighed heavily. “Always thinking the experts know the full truth. That’s the problem with young people these days. They believe they’re being given the best information when they forget that people lie or don’t have the whole picture.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“Not intentionally. You’re free to think what you want, Beck. But I believe there’s a wall, a barrier that obscures our view of the vaster, incomprehensibly large Multiverse that we inhabit. It goes on forever in every direction, infinitely, much like the Quilted Multiverse hypothesis. There has to be something like a wall or barrier or perhaps it’s the vast distance that makes it impossible to see. Regardless, as scientists, we need to know the truth.”
I cupped my chin in my hands. “Isn’t this science-fiction mumbo-jumbo?”
“Of course not. Science requires us to be creative about any possibilities. We’d be stupid to reject even the most absurd ideas. I’m still betting my money on the Quilted Multiverse. It makes the most sense to me.”
“Any proof?” I questioned, stroking my chin.
“No. Nothing concrete. All I have are friends in the space agency leaning toward level one or two. There are also a few testimonies from people who claim they have been to worlds just like ours, only slightly different.”
He removed the artifact and placed it on the desk.
“I need you to work out the bugs of this device. My friends are archaeologists, not engineering mechanics. They don’t want to send it to some agency that will simply keep it under lock and key, never developing a method of activating it, or worse, activate it for less than beneficial means. They’ve entrusted me with turning it on. I’m going to entrust it to you now.”
“Why me?”
“Because,” he removed his glasses, nose pointed up, “you’re my smartest student, and your knowledge of math surpasses even the likes of Einstein, dare I say. Plus, I’m confident that your experience with technological engineering is more than adequate.”
I stared at the artifact lying on my desk, contemplating the steps needed to make it operational. Though not particularly thrilled about the workload, I could decipher the unspoken message behind his words. It wasn’t just about knowing that I could get the machine working. This was a test, a challenge he threw at me from time to time. He wanted to see if I had what it took to bring even mysterious, sci-fi fantasy technology to life. I just hoped he didn’t have anything more nefarious in mind. It seemed wise to keep some information to myself as a safety precaution.
_______________________
Since then, a week had passed, and I found myself making no progress. The device defied conventional configurations, not utilizing a keyboard or voice command system like a standard remote controller.
Throughout this time, Mr. Newman persistently hounded me about when I would have it ready, and I had to keep fabricating excuses. How could I apply my mathematical skills to something seemingly independent of mathematical principles? I was on the verge of giving up multiple times, but I resisted the urge. Then, finally, five days ago, I made a breakthrough.
While tinkering with the device and entertaining more math problems, I wore it around my arm, feeling like an ancient warrior with a sacred weapon.
“I wish you would turn on,” I mumbled.
Poking at the red ruby, I started to contemplate. I envisioned floating through outer space, reaching the edges of reality, and proving once and for all that my teacher’s notion of the Quilted Multiverse theory was unfounded.
I must have been experiencing strong emotions at that point. The desire to outsmart my teacher is powerful for academics with something to prove.
Suddenly, the device emitted a beeping sensation, vibrating against my arm.
“Hey, what the—”
The red gemstone began to glow, presenting a screen of strange symbols that I couldn’t decipher. They were unlike anything in human texts. However, upon touching one of them, they transformed into familiar human-made numbers and letters.
“I— I actually got it to work?”
I felt a rush of joy. Perhaps this device responded to emotional spectrums. It seemed like a faulty method of technology. The creators should have designed a more logical means of ignition for such advanced tech. This revelation made me question the value of exerting my engineering and mathematical skills.
Yet, the vibrations persisted. It was as if the device had warmed up and desired to be used after its dormant period.
Examining the numbers, it displayed something:
SWITCH: Uni-43-HWK-94-XU
“Are those coordinates? Is that our universe’s identification?” I asked myself.
In an act of sheer impulsiveness, I started to tamper with it, attempting to manipulate the numbers.
I continued experimenting, dumbfounded by the seemingly infinite array of identification numbers for other universes.
Then, I heard the sound of someone approaching my door. It was Mom, and panic set in.
My hand dropped, brushing against the red gemstone. Before I could even call out to her, warning her not to come in, I felt a powerful inward pull, and the world instantly faded into darkness.
_______________________
I struggled to catch my breath for a few seconds before landing on the floor of my room.
“Ouch, that hurt,” I uttered, my eyes revealing an unsettling sight in my room.
It looked decayed, abandoned, with black splatters of liquid strewn across the floor.
“Whoa.”
Getting to my feet, I cautiously moved around my room, trying to absorb the unusual details. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it seemed like I had successfully traveled to another universe. Alternatively, I considered the possibility of being in the future, with the house hastily abandoned.
Venturing into the rest of the house confirmed my suspicion of abandonment in haste. Furniture remained, and remnants of food had turned into dust, with sproutlings emerging from the fruit bowl.
Upon opening the front door, I was astonished to find the entire street in ruins. Situated on a hill in the Appalachian Mountains, our town was now overgrown with vegetation, reclaiming its territory after mankind’s disappearance.
One thing was clear— the town was desolate.
I began walking down the road, fiddling with the device around my forearm. Opening the holoscreen from the ruby, I could switch through numerous universes. The joy of beating my professor at something overwhelmed me.
Yet, a nagging question persisted: why were there no more humans here? Was it a disease, and if so, was it airborne? Contemplating this, I realized there was substantial damage to houses and cars, suggesting a different cause.
Walking around my hometown, I felt a unique loneliness as the only person. Pulling out my phone, I hoped for a connection, but there was no cell service.
Growing bored of my observations and finding no newspapers explaining the sudden disappearance, I was about to give up and leave. Then, from the end of our front yard, I heard a slight crackling in the air and a brief flash of light upstairs from my window.
Before I hastily approached the door, a faint sound reached my ears, a child-like giggle echoing from the depths of the woods. Intrigued, I stood there for a moment, contemplating the source of the laughter. Weren’t all the people supposed to be gone?
Despite momentarily forgetting about it, I was about to turn the doorknob when it swung open on its own. A girl stood before me, with sleek, jet-black hair cascading down her back, a slender frame, and hazel green eyes. Curiously, these were all features that mirrored mine, except for the long hair. Notably, her slightly larger breast size set her apart.
We exchanged puzzled glances, both grappling with the mystery unfolding before us. Breaking the silence, she inquired, “What’s your name?”
“Beckett. And yours?” I replied, concealing my awareness of her identity.
“Becky. Full name Rebecca.”
My eyes briefly flickered down to her right arm, revealing an identical device to mine embedded in her forearm.
“So, you’ve got the same gauntlet as me.”
“Yeah, I managed to get it working a few minutes ago, and it brought me here. Is this your universe?” she queried, seeking clarity in the surreal encounter.
I chuckled, amused by the possibility that she hadn’t fully grasped the fact that this house appeared unmistakably uninhabited. “No, I arrived just a few minutes ago, maybe around ten, I think.”
“So, that must mean you’re another version of me. I mean, think about it; we look the same, except for our genders,” she reasoned.
Impressed, I acknowledged her deduction. It was fascinating to discover another version of myself engaged in the same work, ending up in the same universe. The concept of infinite universes implied endless possibilities, and this encounter might unfold in myriad ways. We might be killed on the spot, end up killing each other, or be hindered by language barriers. The uncertainty sparked excitement in both of us.
“I have so many questions!” we exclaimed simultaneously.
Entering the house, we confronted each other in the living room. The curiosity about meeting one’s parallel self eradicated any notions of personal space. While respecting each other’s more intimate areas, we prodded and poked, exploring similarities. Holding onto each other’s hair, feeling each other’s skin, and scrutinizing faces for distinct imperfections, we marveled at the slight differences that accompanied opposite sexes.
“Wow, I always wondered what I looked like as a woman,” I remarked with a smile.
“I can’t believe I don’t have a beard. I thought I’d look good with one if I were a dude,” she sighed in disappointment.
Her comment stung a little; growing a beard was a challenge for me, always coming in patches.
“So, does that mean our history is the same?” I pondered.
Indeed, we discovered parallels—World War I, World War II, 9/11, the Mongol Empire, and the Roman Empire. Surprisingly, the death of Jesus remained unchanged, the only historical figure unaltered. Differences emerged in leaders, events, and even family dynamics. She had a brother opposite to my sister, and her parents’ unhappy marriage contrasted with my family’s overall contentment. In an opposite world, her family owned a minivan, while mine stuck with an old ’80s Cadillac, a testament to my dad’s resistance to upgrades, a sentiment mirrored by her mom.
“So I am guessing that all of the United States presidents are different as well, correct?” I asked.
“Well, we already mentioned that all of the other world leaders of the past were different. It’s likely that our presidents are different as well.”
I wanted to test this idea and blurted out, “Abraham Lincoln?”
“Never heard of him.”
“George Washington?”
She nodded but meaning that again, they never had him. She proceeded to give me some of her presidents.
“Finnick Banks?”
I almost laughed at that name but I frankly couldn’t reply. I’d never heard of that one. “Nope. What is he best known for?”
“He was able to prevent a civil war over slavery and was able to phase it out with the help of the next president who was his friend.”
“Huh, sadly my universe went down a different route. We had a civil war.”
“We did too. There was a war around 1889 between westerners and easterners. A tax issue cropped up and the people in the west believed they were getting taxed way too heavily. Long story short, civil war. It lasted 3 years. And then in 1914, World War I happened. The United States didn’t get involved in that one. Germany still lost and turned communist, going to war against the Russian Empire and the Allies in 1942 for World War II.”
I wanted to ask her who won, but there was a sudden shift outside. The sound of something a bit muffled but moving through the leaves that scattered across the lawn.
Both of us went into high alert and we rushed towards the window to get a good look.
There wasn’t anything to see. I was highly suspicious about whether or not we were alone after all. And then when I put my ear to the glass, I thought I could still hear the child-like giggles nearby.
“Do you hear children laughing?”
“Yeah,” she pressed her ear up to the glass too.
“I know one thing about the laughter from children. There’s something twisted making up the noise.”
She looked at me and said, “We can always leave,”
She fiddled around with her gauntlet and activated it the same way as mine did. When I did it too, we scanned through numerous Universe IDs and matched up with each other’s; but upon pressing it, it beeped. Both beeped.
She remarked, “It’s not teleporting…”
“That’s not good,” I said.
She pressed on her holoscreen a few more times, but still nothing but that loud beeping.
“Wait, that timer in the left corner wasn’t there before.” she pointed.
I looked at hers and then mine. Indeed there was a countdown:
5:18:45, 44, 43…
Mine was 10 minutes ahead of timing out than hers.
“It’s counting down. I think it’s a timer that this thing goes by to tell us when it has enough power to jump again.”
“You’re guessing that,” she glared at me.
I rolled my eyes and walked towards the front door. “Well yeah, I’m trying to be an astrophysicist one day. And that includes making guesses.”
“Pfft,” she mocked, “I’m trying to become a biologist who studies cybernetic enhancements. That’s a field I want to get into to help humanity achieve their transcendence.”
“Well, until you start making cyborgs, I think we need to focus more on the fact that there’s something clearly out there and it’s likely the reason why this whole town, if not the world possibly, is empty of people.”
She followed from behind and the two of us started looking around, noticing that there was a distinct trail of pushed out-of-the-way leaves that went across the front of our lawn.
“I wonder what happened to the Beckett that lived in this universe?” I said, thinking out loud.
“How do you know it wasn’t a Becky?”
I disregarded her statement, remembering that the room that I and she both live in was clearly fashioned for a boy. But I did find it strange upon realization that there were no pictures of my family anywhere. Which is a strange finding considering that my mom always wanted to take a family photo every year.
“Let’s go into that house over there.” I pointed to the other side of the street.
I told her to look for pictures of people. And when we went inside, surprisingly all the pictures were missing. We tried another house. Again, the same results. In every house that we kept looking through, we saw no pictures of people in them. There’d be pictures of scenery or animals, but never a human picture. Even paintings appeared to have been missing. I had to imagine there were some at one point.
We had finished searching through the last house but I had gone upstairs just to make sure. It seems like photo albums were missing as well. But then I noticed it had grown abruptly quiet downstairs.
I rushed over to the stairs, but before I attempted the first step down, something immediately stopped me in my tracks. The sound of children giggling.
I looked down the stairs and saw something move out of eyesight into the living room. Its feet were making a noticeable thumping sound, and my breathing was almost matching it in sound. I quickly covered my mouth, but whatever this thing was, it stopped and started turning around back towards the steps.
“Back up,” I repeated in my head.
I slowly skidded my shoes across the floor, trying to limit any sound. While I was curious to see what it was, I didn’t need it to see me in such a vulnerable position. It would not be long before I was moving back into a room and the creaking of wood alerted me that it was coming upstairs.
I looked around and saw that there was nowhere else to escape to. I was trapped and I had nothing to defend myself with. But the crashing of glass immediately changed the direction of the intruder, and it rushed at an amazing speed back down the stairs towards the sound.
A high pitch squealing erupted out, forcing me to cover my ears because it was atrociously loud. Even from all the way downstairs, it might as well have been right up in my ear.
And then I heard the sound of the back door being torn to shreds and the distant pitter-patter of feet through the leaves.
I waited for about three minutes before I got the nerve to go back down.
I quickly went into the kitchen and noticed that the door leading out to the backyard had been ripped from its hinges, and I saw that the glass window in here had also been broken.
“Becky? Are you here?”
The basement door creaked open, and I whipped around in a panic. But it was all clear the moment I saw her long, slightly disorganized hair popping out of the darkness.
“Geez, you gave me a heart attack!”
“I almost had one myself.” she looked badly shaken.
Realizing that she was still trying to process whatever it was that she saw, I walked her over to the living room where she sat on the couch.
“What was it?”
She stared off into the corner of the room, shaking her head a few times before saying, “It wasn’t a human. I’m sure about it.”
She didn’t like me prying anymore. She insisted that we leave as soon as possible because whatever it was, it was enough to make her want to look for some rope right there. Whatever it was, it possessed a face that was so heinous, an atrocious abomination that it left its victims in shock before it even attacks.
I told her we still had a few more hours stuck here. But we did do something in the meantime. We started fiddling around with our gauntlets some more, checking to see if we could gain other functions. Sadly we weren’t able to achieve anything else other than synchronizing the next destination together.
Here was the situation we had ourselves stuck in. Every 5 hours and 30 minutes, we would be trapped in a universe. The other issue that we faced was that we don’t know what our universes are. Both of us don’t know the ID that our universe has, thus we’re traveling blind. The best we could do was synchronize the same code into both of our artifacts and go to the next universe together. Hopefully, we’ll land the mark eventually.