Infinite Diversity

sg_udjat

SUMMARY: It's possible, just not very probable.

Originally posted online in April 2001 for the now defunct Word-a-Month site. That month's word was 'Inevitable'.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"oh fer cryin' out…"

The softly muttered but heartfelt complaint was lost in the general sniggers of amusement that the personnel in the gateroom were manfully - and, in the case of Major Carter, womanfully - trying to muffle. Their lack of success didn't seem to worry them and the steadily reddening faces attested to the extreme willpower being exerted by some.

Seemingly oblivious to the reactions his arrival had provoked, the man who had accompanied SG-3 back to base merely stood on the ramp and peered around the large area with enthusiasm, his brown eyes sweeping constantly round the room in an intent gaze.

"So, this is the heart of your little organisation. Most impressive, most impressive indeed. Your SWP looks identical to ours, but then it would I suppose. After all, the constellations should be, for all intents and purposes, identical. Barring small differences due to the odd supernova or such like. Actually, I suppose when you come to think of it, the constellations could be vastly different, just the smallest change in Hubble's constant could alter them beyond recognition." He paused briefly as he stared at the 'gate, and then with a quick grin he turned back to his bemused audience. "Of course, on my own world we have nothing like this complex. There's no way we would let the military types just walk in and take over our project. After all, we did discover the..um, Stargate, and how to use it." Suddenly realising that he was talking to a room full of armed 'military types' the man stumbled to a halt and then gave a broad grin. "Present company excepted of course,. I'm sure you're all doing a magnificent job." Nodding happily now that he thought he had managed to placate the soldiers, the man rambled on to himself, muttering about spatial differentiation, Doppler shifts and alternate universes.

Major Ryder rubbed a dirty hand over his face, smearing dust over his cheek as he attempted to hide the grin that was threatening to explode into a full out belly laugh. Unable to resist the temptation he tugged on the still talking man's arm and urged him down the ramp.

"Sir." He stopped in front of Jack O'Neill, his suspiciously watering eyes twinkling with laughter. "May I present Professor Jack O'Neill. Professor, this is Colonel Jack O'Neill."

With a startled squawk the Professor fell silent and faced his alternate double. O'Neill grimaced and closed his eyes briefly in pain as he took in the dusty tweed jacket with the worn leather elbow patches, the baggy corduroy trousers and the shirt pocket full of half chewed pens nestled safely in a pocket protector. Hardly daring to breathe, he slowly let his eyes drift downwards, letting out a soft moan as he spotted the dreaded suede loafer clad feet. It was his worse nightmare come true, a nerdy geek scientist version of himself.

The Professor was equally stunned by the short haired, fatigue clad version of himself. For a few seconds he gaped in disbelief and then another one of ready grins crossed his face. "Cool. A Colonel, huh?" He laughed in delight and then reached out to slap his double on the arm, "Way to go..me."

"So, " Daniel stopped silently laughing long enough to walk forward and greet their visitor. "What are you a Professor of?"

"Major Jackson." The Professor gave a sloppy salute with the wrong arm that made O'Neill groan to himself yet again. "Oh, sorry. You're not him, are you? You're his double?"

"No, erm, yes. I'm erm Dr Daniel Jackson." Daniel tried to imagine what circumstances could have possibly led him to become a Major, but gave up when his imagination proved insufficient for the task. "Archaeology and linguistics."

"Ah! Yes, I can see were that would be useful when it comes to exploring the planets at the other end of the wormhole. My field is astrophysics and I've written several papers postulating the existence of stable wormholes and alternate universes. I finally have proof to support the parallel universe theory." He beamed round at the occupants of the room, obviously expecting them to be equally happy about these events. Faced with a sea of blank and uncomprehending expressions, he launched into a rapid fire explanation, slipping effortlessly into lecture mode. "It states that all the possible outcomes for every action exist as an alternate universe. At the moment when an outcome is needed, they can overlap, or one of the separate universes will bend its solution. At that instant a new alternate reality will come into existence. Because there are an infinite number of possibilities, there are also an infinite number of parallel universes, and therefore, an infinite number of you and me living different lives. Now some of the differences could be minor - a cup of tea at breakfast instead of coffee - and some could be major." He flapped a hand between the Colonel and himself as an example. "Einstein speculated about the existence of parallel universes. He helped to discover the Einstein-Rosem Bridge-the area at the singularity of a rotating black hole where one can theoretically cross into a parallel universe. Of course it's only a theory until we actually launch someone into a black hole." Again he paused thoughtfully, obviously considering the viability of that plan. "If we were able to travel along wormholes it would change the face of the space exploration program. But there was always a major stumbling block: it has been generally agreed that if they did exist, then wormholes would be sub-microscopic. Many of my colleagues theorised that space is made of 'space foam'- an unstable web of constantly appearing and disappearing wormholes. I posed the question - what would it take to make a wormhole travelable? First of all, it would have to be enlarged and stabilised, either that or we would need to be able to shrink ourselves down to a sub-microscopic level. The first option was my preferred one and I theorised that we would first need to find a way to 'stretch space'. Once enlarged, the wormhole would have to be propped open with a so-called 'exotic material' that has an outward tension that equals the pressure at the centre of the neutron star… "

"Arrrrgh!"

The Professor fell into a shocked silence as O'Neill reached out and shook him vigorously whilst yelling in frustration. "No more! My head is going to explode. It's bad enough I have to listen to Daniel and Carter carrying on like that, I do not have to listen to myself spouting techno babble."

"Carter?" The Professor peered around hopefully, "Sam, er I mean Colonel Carter, is here?"

"Only a Major I'm afraid." Carter reached forward to shake the Professor's hand, barely managing to smother another giggle as she noticed the copious ink stains on the man's fingers.

"You are a pleasure to see in any universe, Major." The Professor smiled at the blushing Carter.

"I'm fascinated with your work on wormholes, it parallels a lot of the research I've been doing…"

Carter and the Professor slowly moved out of O'Neill's hearing range, much to his relief, and continued to babble excitedly to each other. The Colonel was relieved to note that Daniel looked equally as bemused as he himself felt. It wasn't everyday that an O'Neill managed to blind anyone with science, not unless he had a little help from The Ancients that is.

"Oh brother." O'Neill felt vaguely nauseated as he watched his double simpering over Carter. "Ryder, where did you dig this guy up?"

"There was another one of those quantum mirrors on P27M 731. We were debating whether to bring it back, when it activated and this guy walked through." Giving a small cough, Ryder tried to look innocent. "He seemed curious about the idea of an alternate reality and we thought that the best way to prove it would be to bring him here to meet you."

"I bet." O'Neill sourly thought that SG-3 had probably thought about it for all of one second. It was with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he followed the eagerly chattering group of scientists out of the gateroom and up to the briefing room.

"So, Colonel, what's your opinion of the Professor's recommendations?" Hammond's voice had a suspiciously choked sound to it, and the older man's face was a faint reddish colour.

Glaring at the highly amused General, O'Neill debated saying what was on his mind and with a frustrated sigh he decided to do just that. "Well, Sir, if I had understood more than one word in ten of what he had just said, I may be in a better position to make an evaluation. Maybe you could summarise his proposal for me?" Ooh, he was going to pay for that last crack he knew, but he was decidedly unamused with the whole situation. Turning his glare onto the Professor he immediately groaned out loud, again.

Puzzled by his reaction, the Professor removed the pen he was absently chewing from his mouth. "What?"

"Erm..um..your.." Daniel gave up trying to explain and pointed instead, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Reaching up to his mouth, the Professor drew back his fingers and inspected the ink stained tips before grinning. "You have no idea how many pens I get through that way." Reaching up, he absently blotted his blue stained lips.

Carter snickered softly as she watched, at least that explained the numerous small multi-coloured stains which decorated the sleeves of the Professor's jacket.

Rubbing his hands over his tired eyes, O'Neill reflected that he should be grateful that his double was only chewing a pen. After all, he only needed to be smoking a pipe to complete the image of a total stereotype nutty Professor.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but there's no smoking in this facility."

As he heard those words, O'Neill dropped his head onto the briefing room table and softly began to thump it on the surface.

x

"Has the Colonel recovered consciousness yet, Doctor?" Hammond stood at the foot of the bed and looked at his comatose second in command worriedly.

O'Neill was unnaturally still, his pale face marred by extensive bruising and swelling. Further bruising was apparent on his chest and disappeared under the sheet that was pulled up to his waist.

"He's drifting in and out, Sir. The Colonel took a couple of heavy blows during the rock fall and sustained a severe concussion." Dr Fraiser looked up from the clipboard were she was writing down her observations. "He's just quietened down again. A few minutes ago he was getting extremely restless, I think he was having a nightmare."

Both observers fell silent as they reviewed O'Neill's service record in their minds. There was more than enough fodder in there to feed anyone's nightmares for years, even without taking into account the tragedies that peppered his personal life.

"Given his background, Doctor, a few nightmares are inevitable." Hammond's tired voice was quiet in the still room, but the empathy he felt for the injured man was plain to hear.

"Yes, Sir. I suppose so." Absently Fraiser tucked her pen behind her ear, not noticing the small amount of ink leaking from the heavily chewed end.

The End.

Notes:

SWP = Stable Wormhole Projector (after all, this was named by a bunch of scientists and not a linguist)

Hubble's constant = an astronomical parameter that measures the rate of expansion in the universe