The droning voice of Mr. Shaff filled the large but mainly empty room with echoes, just barely keeping Gilbert awake. It was science class, first period, and already he wanted to crawl back to bed and sleep for another few hours. He sighed heavily, hunching over his desk and resting his cheek on the cool pages of his science textbook. Looking down at the text, the letters and words blurred together to fit the meaningless babble of his teacher, who was currently attempting to teach something called "quantum theory".
The idea was absurd. There were two versions of this theory, and one made no more sense than the other. There was also an experiment, meant to demonstrate the theory in action. It involved a cat in a box, with a bottle of poison and a hammer poised to break it. The hammer could swing down, break the bottle, thereby killing the cat, or it could stay in place, allowing the cat to live. These were the two options.
Standard quantum theory states that, until someone looks in the box, both possibilities of the cat's life remain equally likely, in a "superposition of states." The cat is both dead and alive at the same time.
Gilbert was just glad that someone had realized how completely stupid that was, and come up with something better; or, rather, something even stranger.
The idea that every outcome of every quantum choice really does happen is called the "many worlds" theory. We picture this as a repeated branching from different choices. Suppose someone decides whether to drink tea or coffee. In one universe they choose tea, in the other coffee. More choices follow. Milk or cream in the coffee? Sugar or none in the tea? Again, the universes divide. Every universe is real, but there is no way to communicate between them "next door" in time.
He groaned, his mind scrabbling at the information, but it swam before his eyes like the fuzzy letters in his immediate field of vision. He wondered why anyone even really cared about these kinds of things... after all, if the supposed "parallel universes" couldn't be reached, why bother explaining them?
He snuggled his face into the crook of his arm, muting Mr. Shaff's voice in one ear. With the noise dulled, he began to drift off...
He dozed for what must have been maybe five minutes, before he was suddenly woken by someone prodding him in the back.
"Oh, what? Who is it?" Gilbert turned around to see his friend Antonio. "Oh, hey dude. What did I miss?" He looked about worriedly, hoping his friend had been taking good notes.
"Nothing important, man. Besides, who cares about this stuff anyway? It's all this boring stuff that I'm sure came to some fool in a lucid dream. C'mon, man, we gotta go find Francis; he texted me earlier and said that we're all set to roll." He grinned, but Gilbert was confused.
"Hold up, you didn't take notes?" Gilbert knew that although his friend wasn't completely thrilled with science, he always took notes of some kind. Also, he had no idea what on earth they would be meeting Francis for.
"Yeah, why would I? No one here really cares about this class anyway. You feeling okay, man?" Antonio slapped him on the back and smiled. "Come on; a good laugh'll get you into spirit!" He grabbed Gilbert by the wrist and dragged him from the classroom. Gilbert was barely able to scoop up his books before he was pulled along at a steady jog.
What the heck? Tony always takes notes... and what exactly are we meeting Francis for? Is this some sort of surprise or something? He was brought down a nearly vacant hall to where Francis was leaning against some old lockers. It was odd, for Gilbert had never seen this hall or these lockers before in his life.
"Oh, there you two are. You're kinda late; we need to punctual for this to work, okay?" Gilbert had to do a double take at the sight of his blonde haired friend. Or, at least he was pretty sure this was Francis, but it was like his whole demeanor had changed overnight. His hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and a crooked cigarette hung from the corner of his lips. His blue eyes were narrowed, but that could not hide the hostility in them. Gilbert felt as though he had just stumbled upon Francis's inner demon.
What is going on? Gilbert did his best to keep his cool and just roll with the punches, but things just kept getting stranger.
"This hall will be empty for another ten minutes, so let's get to it." Francis yanked open one of the lockers and brought out a rough canvas bag. Tipping it over, the contents spilled across the floor. They were spray paint cans. Gilbert's blood turned cold. Just what were they doing? More importantly, why was he being dragged into it?
"All right, man! Let's do this!" Antonio scooped up a few colors, and silently disappeared down the hall, periodically spraying splotches of paint upon the face of the lockers. Aghast, it finally dawned on Gilbert just exactly what they were doing. Francis was already picking out colors to deck their new-found painting surface.
Gilbert stared down at the paint that was left, wondering if perhaps the joke was all in good fun, and not a malicious act of vandalism. He picked up a can of white, and one of black, feeling a little more confident.
Within minutes, he had scrawled the emblem of his favorite country, Prussia, across three lockers. It was a black bird, and though it was slightly lopsided and drippy, the word "Prussia" made clear his intentions. He grinned; it was his favorite thing to draw, and it looked good on the old, banged-up lockers. He wished he had a camera to take a picture of it.
"Nice, man! Now, we gotta run before somebody sees us!" Gilbert whipped around to face Antonio, a rock instantly settling in the pit of his stomach.
"You mean, we're not supposed to be doing this?" He swallowed, dreading the answer.
"Of course not!" Antonio laughed, shaking his head. "So, let's go!" Francis had already slipped away, and Antonio was practically jumping up and down, ready to bolt like a rabbit at the first signs of danger. There was a shout from the far end of the hall, and he was gone. Gilbert ran after, fear the only thing driving him.
One thought lay heavily on his mind: What have I done?
***
Gilbert was very confused. Something was beginning to dawn on him, but for the time being, he would not believe it. There were the things he had known before his nap:
His name was Gilbert, older brother of Ludwig, best friends with Antonio and Francis. He had an average grades, ranging from A- to C+. He did his best to get along with everyone in his school, and was a respectful and diligent student most of the time. He had a crush on a girl named Elizaveta.
Now, he had gathered some new facts:
His name was still Gilbert, he was still (he thought) the older brother of Ludwig, and his two best friends were Antonio and Francis. However, these friends were different; Antonio had no interest in learning, and Francis looked like a drug dealer. As for himself... it seemed he was supposed to be a vandal or prankster.
This is bad, Gilbert fretted, I'm not like that at all! No,I'mnot... but perhaps in this world, Gilbert isn't me...
The rest of the day was hectic for Gilbert. All of his classes were the same, and no names had changed either, but... he still didn't know anyone. He had received the comment, "You're awfully quiet today, Gilbert," from many of his teachers, and had been constantly jostled by his friends to do things he certainly wasn't comfortable doing.
Halfway through his last class, he was suddenly hauled out of the class by Francis, who smelt strongly of cigarette smoke.
"Let's get out of here; Tony says Rom figured us out." Gilbert's eyes widened.
"Dude, my class isn't even over yet!" He gasped, horrified.
"So? We skip class all the time." Francis grinned, and before Gilbert could protest, he was once again being dragged away.
Things began to happen all at once, as lockers, stray students, and noisy classes flashed by on their run. A yell sounded out as they rushed past a hallway, and Francis began to sprint even faster. Gilbert dashed after him, glad to be as fit as he was. His heart was pounding madly, mixing with the steady rhythm of his steps and the hounding voices of their pursuers. He glanced back, and was shocked to see two men in uniform running after them.
Since when do we have security? He wondered, breathing hard. Adrenaline pumped through him, and not for the first time that day he wondered if this was normal. They burst from the school, the glare of the overcast day flooding their eyes with light. Blinking several times, he chased after his friend blindly, trying desperately to keep up. It was not long, however, until he had gotten himself completely lost.
The whole town was different! Long gone were the cheery streets and welcoming cafes. Replacing them were tall, gray buildings, and dank alleys.
He sank to the ground, overwhelmed.
This can't be happening... it's impossible; completely absurd! I'm probably dreaming or something. He wished he would wake up.
Time passed, and he wandered the darkening streets aimlessly with a sullen expression on his face. With his hoodie up, and his hands tucked in his pockets, he looked like the kind of person who you wouldn't want to run into down a dark alleyway.
As night swept over, a sleek, black jaguar pulled up beside him, a silver eagle serving as ornamentation on its hood. Worried, he readied himself to dash away, but breathed a sigh of relief when the window rolled down slowly to reveal his brother.
"Bruder, get in. Now." Gilbert was shocked by the stern tone, and obediently he sat down in the seat beside his brother.
"Do you know what time it is?" Ludwig asked, not taking his eyes off the road as he drove on.
"Nah, got my watch snatched about five streets ago," he muttered. Theft was rampant in these parts, he had found.
"You could have called,"
"Yeah, phone's gone, too."
Ludwig scowled. "Why do you do this, Gilbert? Skipping class, pulling pranks, harassing other students; you're not a kid anymore! Do you have any idea what your grade point average is?" This time, Ludwig fixed his brother's red eyes with an icy stare.
Gilbert blinked, his stomach twisting in knots. "No..." he said slowly.
Ludwig sighed heavily. "You are failing every one of your classes, you hear me?" he shook his head, defeated. Gilbert was surprised; he had expected a hounding. Instead, his brother looked tired, and his normally well-combed blonde hair had stray, wispy strands sticking out in all directions.
Silence settled over them. Gilbert watched the neighborhood begin to change. Apartments gave way to houses, and houses got larger and larger. Then, a wall rose up beside him, and before he knew what was happening, his brother had turned the car into a gated community. Now, they were surrounded by mansions of all shapes and sizes, each one situated behind imposing gates, which blocked entry to long, snaking driveways. Needless to say, he was completely bewildered by it all, but he pretended that it was normal so as not to worry his brother.
Ludwig pressed a button on a device, and one of the gates ahead slid ponderously open. They pulled into the driveway, which led to a – comparatively – small estate. It had stark, white walls that contrasted drastically with its black tiled roof. There were very few windows, and Gilbert could not see inside. After the car was put away, Gilbert followed his brother to the entrance, not knowing what to expect. Ludwig unlocked the door and stepped inside. Gilbert quickly followed.
"Where have you been?" Gilbert was frozen by a deep, menacing voice. It was familiar, too, and he looked up to see... his father.
Now he knew he was not in his own world. Ten years ago, his father had died in a store robbery gone wrong. He had been hailed as a hero for his efforts to help those inside, but had given his life in the noble effort. Seeing him now... Gilbert wanted to run to him, to embrace him, but, something in man's eyes held him back. His father was angry.
"Vati, it was my fault." Just like that, Ludwig had covered for him without even blinking. "You see, I-"
"I don't want to hear it. Come with me; you will be punished." Gilbert's father turned to face him. "As for you, go to your room." He grabbed Ludwig roughly by the arm, and all but dragged him out. Ludwig would not meet Gilbert's eye.
Gilbert was left standing in the foyer, shaking. What kind of life was this? He turned down a hall, opening doors at random to find billiard rooms, libraries, and lounges. He finally found his own room. The walls were covered in posters, paintings, and banners, with white and black dominating the color scheme of the room. He fell upon his bed, the crisp white sheets and soft, cotton blanket giving way beneath him noiselessly.
He curled up, and forced himself to sleep.
In the morning, he did not see his father, but he did find his brother.
"Guten morgen, bruder-" Ludwig turned around, and Gilbert had to hold back a cry of shock at the sight of his brother's face.
This... this is normal? He forced himself to remain expressionless, but he couldn't bear to look at the ugly bruises across Ludwig's eyes.
"Are you going to eat or not?" Ludwig asked, his voice flat and void of concern.
"Nein, I'm not hungry anymore."
The drive to school was once again quiet. Gilbert didn't know what to say. Did his brother always take the blame, and the punishment? His mind spun. He loved his brother! In the years he had cared for him, they had grown very close. Now, it seemed, it was his brother who was looking after him, and... they were worlds apart.