It’s a Brave New World Ch. 09

Harold narrowed his eyes at me. "What do you mean?"

Now I was smiling. "You know I wasn't just having sex the entire time. I did a little investigating of my own. And I learned your man Lawrence has sold you out."

***

"I am still opposed to this idea," grumbled Professor Williams as he drove us down the highway towards the Mercy Memorial Hospital. That was what the hospital was called in my world. I had no idea if it had the same name here. All I knew Abby was there.

"I said I would tell you who Lawrence was talking to if you helped me rescue Abby. But I'm flexible on how we do it. If you say running straight into the hospital is not a good idea, then we can try a different approach."

"Let me rephrase," said Harold icily. "I'm irritated you're withholding details to Lawrence's duplicity. I do not like being extorted. However, my concern is not so much about your crude attempt at blackmail, but further exposure to Abigail."

I had swallowed back a complicated mix of anxiety and irritation. As much as I wanted to see Abby again and take her away from the MHS, I did worry how she would react. Both to my pheromones...and the fact I had slept with Cindy. I couldn't see her taking that news well. But I was still annoyed with Harold and his ham-handed approach to keeping me 'occupied' while securing my safety. Maybe on his Earth this was normal, but it seemed pretty fucked up to me.

"Alright, I promise to keep my distance as much as possible. But Abby and the others are in this mess because of me, and I'm in this mess because of you. You owe us, Harold."

"That is debatable," he replied. "Dragging others into this conflict is unwise. Our actions could cause them needless suffering."

I stared out the passenger window as Harold switched lanes and headed down the off ramp. "A little late for that," I muttered.

Harold did not have a response. Or if he did, he didn't bother sharing it with me. In the distance, the multilevel brick building of our destination came into view. The sun had set, and the lights of the city reflected off a dark gray overcast nighttime sky. It created a rather ominous look on the silhouetted outline of the hospital.

"When we get there, allow me to do the talking," instructed Harold. "We will not likely be in outright danger. At this point the probability of Abby's case reaching a high-level MHS operatives is small. Locating her and her friends shouldn't be too difficult, but getting them out will. We need to draw as little attention as possible."

I was about to agree with Harold when an idea struck me. "Can we teleport them out? Or for that matter, can we teleport into Abby's room? Wouldn't that be easier?"

Harold's snow-white eyebrows bunched together. "Teleport?"

"You know..." I struggled to remember the word he had used to describe his sudden appearance before me. "Shift...Shifting? Moving through a quantum tunnel."

"Ah," he said as he nodded in understanding. "It's not teleportation, at least not in the sense of quantum entanglement. We shift mass through a higher dimensional passageway between two distinctive realm states."

Now it was my turn to frown. "Umm...what?"

"Between one Earth and another. Trying to travel within a localized universe gets you into some very nasty side effects. The potential feedback loop of virtual particles alone is enough to flash fry an entire planet."

I only comprehended about half of what Harold had just explained. Feeling stupid, I just nodded and said, "Okay, that's out. But can't we jump from this universe to another one and then back here?" I stopped as another realization hit me. "Would we run into another copy of ourselves who were trying the same thing? Or even multiple copies?" I had this sudden image in my head of shifting into Abby's hospital room and finding a dozen other versions of Harold and me already there.

After I expressed my concerns to Harold, he simply stared at me blankly like I was babbling lunatic. Then with a blink and a shake of his head, he started to laugh. "Oh...Oh, I get it. You think the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics is real."

Harold slowed the car as we turned into hospital's parking garage. We descended a ramp and entered the lowest level of orderly rows of parked cars. Still chuckling, Harold muttered to himself, "A room full of our other selves...That would be funny."

More puzzled confusion came to me. It felt like this was becoming my normal state. "But...Isn't that what's happening? You said there were millions of alternate Earths. And I know Lawrence exists in both this world and mine. Why couldn't we run into another version of ourselves?"

A sigh came from Harold, and he leaned back in his seat while wearily gazing at the roof of his car. He mumbled something too low for me to hear. Then he started rubbing a spot behind his right ear. Within moments the place he was kneading with his fingers began to wrinkle and stretch. The patch of skin distorted and then Harold started to pry it away with the edge of his fingernail. Like pulling off a Band-Aid or a thin bit of putty, a small, circular section of flesh colored material about an inch long peeled away from his neck.

"What are you..." but I cut myself off as Harold's face began to change. The transformation was slow and subtle, but unmistakable. The first thing I noticed was the color of his beard and hair turned a shade darker. Going from white to a mix of gray and black. His chin slightly narrowed and his cheeks lost a bit of their ruddy roundness. In about fifteen seconds he had dropped his friendly grandfatherly appearance and made himself look a good twenty years younger.

Astonished, I managed to whisper out, "What the hell?"

Harold held the slightly wrinkled thing on the tip of his finger. He moved his hand towards me, and I immediately recoiled into my seat, trying to keep it away.

"Relax, Jason," said Harold. "It's just a nanoweave patch. Changes your appearance. Not by much and it's not permanent."

Stunned by Harold's change of appearance, I kept my distance from his outstretched hand. "No thanks," I retorted. I was trying to get a handle on his new face, and now he wanted me to change mine.

"You are not going to that hospital as you are. You would run the risk of being recognized now, or remembered and identified later." Still, I hesitated, and Harold forced his hand in front of my face. "Put it on," he commanded.

"Fine," I huffed and took the patch from his offered hand. It was warm to the touch as I gingerly held it in my hand. I saw one side was smooth and flesh-colored, while the other was coarse like sandpaper.

"How does this thing work?" I asked.

"Place the rough side on your neck, right under your ear like I had it," instructed Harold.

I had more questions. "It will work on me? How does it know what to do? How long can I wear it?"

"Just put the nanoweave on," sighed Harold. "We've already wasted enough time."

Very reluctantly I held the circular patch up to my neck. I really did not want it to mess with my face. But Harold's held the look that said I was putting this 'nanoweave' on one way or another. When I pressed it against my skin, I almost immediately felt a tickling scraping sensation. It wasn't painful, but nor was it comfortable.

"You can let go," said Harold. "Only takes a moment to adhere to your body."

I took my hand away from the patch and waited for something to happen. It did not take long. At first, it was nothing more than a slight itching feeling moving up the nape of my neck. I resisted the urge to scratch. The prickling sensation crossed my face. I sat there, my teeth clenched as this 'nanoweave' did whatever it was supposed to do. Not the most pleasant of experiences.

Then, abruptly, it got a lot worse. The light itching feeling turned into a million little ants crawling under my skin. I would have let out a scream, but mouth felt like it had swollen shut. In a panic, I began to flail about as I tried to madly claw at my face.

"Stop it!" shouted Harold as he caught my arm and forced it away from my digging attempts on my nose. I could swear a hundred ants were tap dancing on it. The hideous crawling sensation wound its way into my scalp. It felt like every hair on the top of my head was standing on end.

"Relax, Jason. You must calm down. It will be over shortly."

"Gahhh daaam eeet," I managed to hiss out as the muscles around my lips stopped spasming. "SSShould have warned me."

"Hmm," said Harold with a shrug. "I supposed I could have. But this was more entertaining. At least for me."

"Asshole," I muttered as the feeling of swarming bugs under my skin began to recede. It felt like I just put my face through a meat grinder. Everything felt puffy and misshapen.

Harold shifted the rear-view mirror, turning it so I could easily see my reflection. "Look at your new face."

I half expected to see something swollen up like a balloon where my head used to be. But it wasn't. There was still some minor twitching of muscles around my eyes, but my transformation was nearly over. The first thing I noticed was my hair. It had gone from its usual brown to a jet black. It was still the same length and style. But as I ran my hand through it, I confirmed the change of color went right down to my scalp. Then my face itself. The bloated feeling I was feeling came from my skin being pulled and stretched in new directions. The angle of my nose was sharper, and the skin on my forehead had shifted and tightened.

Harold looked me over with a critical eye. Briefly examining my face around my cheekbones. "The changes are minor," he said. "But overall the nanoweave can create an entirely different look for you each time you use it."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, stretching the underlying facial muscles which had been subtly shifted and reshaped. I rubbed my jaw and felt my chin jutting outwards. It seemed like it must be pushed out a mile. Looking again in the mirror I saw the skin around my jawline had tightened. My chin was more pronounced but wasn't protruding like a bow of a ship as I had first thought. Harold was right, the changes to my face and hair were small, but they accumulated effect made me look like someone completely different.

"If you're done poking yourself," said Harold gamely, "we need to get moving."

Remembering why we were here, I leaned back in my seat. "Alright," I said a little shakily, "let's getting going." At least I still sounded like myself.

Exiting the Professor's car, I peered around the parking garage. This world had not caught up to the point where security cameras were nearly ever-present. There might be a security guard making the rounds, but else wise there was no one around. If we were lucky, no one would see us entering the hospital. It also gave me the opportunity to continue questioning the very strange man who had brought me here.

Said man was rummaging through a battered leather satchel lying on his car's trunk. He was muttering to himself as he pulled out a small round disk and sat it on the trunk. It looked like it was made from plastic or possibly was ceramic. There was no marks or lettering on the disk.

I reached out to pick it up, and without looking up from his searching in his bag, Harold said, "Don't touch that. You'd likely hurt yourself."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Ehh," he grunted, "Best way to explain it would be to call it a stun grenade."

"How..." I began and then shook my head as I considered the number of little technological marvels I had so far seen. I clear piece of glass which could play back better than high definition video. Something called a nanoweave and its ability to change someone's face. And now a plastic disk stun grenade.

I started again. "How do you have all this stuff?" I questioned Harold. "Is this all tech from the Consortium?"

"Mostly," nodded Harold.

"How? I mean you guys can jump from one alternate Earth to the next. You make it sound like you've had the ability for centuries. Then the..." and here I lowered my voice even though there was no one around. "...the Pale Plague. I mean that's got to take a serious level of know how to design a virus which could change this entire world."

"It does," agreed Harold without further explanation.

He finished with his satchel and opened the trunk to store it. When he closed it, I once again began stammering. "But...How? I mean...nobody on my Earth is even remotely close to this type technology. How can any Earth be so advanced?"

Harold laughed. "Oh, Jason. Did you think that little tech bump from your World War II and your American can-do spirit was going to lead your Earth to the apex of scientific advancement?"

"Well...no," I admitted. "I can see how an alternate timeline can result in different rates of progress." I made a wide sweep of my hand to indicate the current Earth. "This one is about thirty years behind us. Mostly because of what happened during and after the plague. Took years for the world to stabilize and begin catching up. But how can a world get so far ahead? Did someone give you the technology?"

With a snort of derision, Harold promptly began walking towards the parking garage's exit. He seemed truly offended. I caught to him in a few broad strides. "Sorry, I just don't understand."

Still scowling, Harold grumbled, "Yes, you don't know much at all. You come from a world filled with ignorant morons. And this Earth is hardly any better." He let out a bitter sigh. "My lot in life to be assigned to this backward section of the multiverse."

We walked in an awkward silence for a few moments before Harold began to elaborate. "I suppose in the grand scheme of things my world isn't that different from yours. A few minor differences in our prehistory. The largest variation came in the 2^nd century AD where the Roman Empire on my Earth was able to successfully reform itself into a more stable nation-state republic. Consequently, it never split and fragmented in the fourth and fifth centuries."

I stopped short as I worked through that outcome. Harold impatiently waited. "No Dark Ages," I said after a bit of thinking.

"To be honest, there were some dark times," replied Harold as we resumed walking. "Especially when the Second Persian Empire came into existence. There were more than a few ugly clashes for over a period of three hundred years. However, when the Mongolian Hordes started invading we suddenly found ourselves with a common enemy to fight."

"Setting aside territorial disputes lead to our own industrial revolution starting around the middle of the 14^th century. By the end of the 17^th century, we were launching satellites into orbit when your people could barely cross the Atlantic Ocean in leaky wooden boats."

Amazed at Harold's revelations about his home world I breathed out a stunned, "Wow!"

"Wow indeed," replied Harold with a slight grin.

"So it was your Earth that started the Consortium and all this universe hopping?"

Harold made another tired shake of his head. "The Consortium has been in existence for the better part of ten thousand years." He threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. "Jason! You must think much wider. Variations between realm states are far more than a mere change of a historical event. Alterations can be as small as one person not being born to as large as an entirely different solar system. I have walked an Earth where the sun was just a small orange disk in the sky, and the planet had two moons. Where the highest form of life was a rather unpleasant toad-like creature. Consider all the possible outcomes from the diversity of life on Earth. And then realize Humanity is only one of many races who could have evolved to create an advanced civilization."

Every time I thought I even remotely had a handle on the strangeness of this vast new universe -well, multiverse - I found myself in, Harold came along and stomped my understanding into the ground. I attempted to grasp the idea of Earths so different they would be to me an entirely alien world. Filled with life unlike anything I knew. Where civilizations had existed for tens of thousands of years. I tried very hard to grasp the sheer massive weirdness, and I found myself coming up short.

Harold watched my dumbfounded expression and patted me on the back. "Your father had a very similar look when I explained all this to him. Don't worry, you need not comprehend it all. It's a bit much for anyone. Let's focus on getting Ms. Abigail out of here."

"Yeah," I said deliberately as we approached the entrance to the hospital. I was attempting to get my mind back to the current situation of rescuing Abby and the others. Away from trying to comprehend the impossible. "Let's get going."

***

"Excuse me, miss," said Harold with a kindly smile. "Can you tell me where I might find the cafeteria?"

The nurse sitting behind the front desk at the Community Memorial Hospital put down the book she was reading and returned Harold's smile with a wearied one of her own. There was a look in eyes which told me she was asked this question at least fifty times a day. She made a vague sign with her hand, something between a wave and a point at one of the hallways to the right.

"Down that way, through the double doors and then take a right. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," said Harold and we promptly headed down the indicated path.

This was the third time Harold had played the 'I'm lost' game with one of the hospital's staff. He had asked for directions to the gift shop, main elevators, and now where to eat. I had figured it would not be wise to go directly asking for Abby's room. That made sense, we could easily draw the wrong type of attention. But we had been wandered around the hospital for the better part of half an hour. We were on our second pass through the front lobby. There had to be a faster way than Harold asking for directions.

"Is this really the best way to find Abby?" I questioned. "We're just randomly walking around. I thought you wanted to hurry."

"I am getting the lay of the land," replied Harold. "I need to know how strong the MHS presence is in this hospital."

I rolled my eyes. "And you're doing this by asking a nurse how to get to the cafeteria?"

Harold shook his head, exasperated. "She was not a nurse. She was MHS operative."

I spun around and looked back at the nursing station we had just come from. The apparent MHS agent was still sitting behind the desk, back to reading her book. She might have been in her forties and a few pounds overweight. She did not look like a member of a nefarious clandestine organization.

Taking me by my arm, Harold turned me back around. "Don't stare. You'll draw attention."

"You're saying that nurse works for them?"

"Yes," answered Harold with a nod. "Merely an observer, and a low-ranking one at that. But I needed to see what she was up to and if she's actively looking for anyone." He paused and added, "She isn't by the way."

"What?"

"Looking for anyone. She's not been told to watch for any particular people," explained Harold as if he was talking to a five-year-old.

I knew better, but I could not help myself from asking Harold additional questions. Even when the answers could be both extortionary and unnerving. "How did you know she was with the MHS? How do you know she's not looking for anyone?" And then feeling a bit sarcastic with Harold's continued condescending attitude, I added, "You got some gadget for reading her mind?"

After giving me a disapproving scowl at my glib question, Harold started walking again. "It's easy," he said after we moved farther down the hallway. "First, that book she's reading, she hasn't turned a page on it over twenty minutes since we last passed through here. So, unless she's exceptionally slow, she's not actually reading the book. Second, her position at the front desk is an excellent place to observe and report on the comings and goings in the hospital. Finally, while she may be monitoring the entrance, she's is quite obviously bored. That would not be the case if she were on alert for us."