Anyway,on Thursday,the day I was scheduled to slide out,I met with the research and military staff of this facility. I had not done much the last night,except see the movie "Altitude". The movie was about a transcontinental passenger jet flying from Seattle to Miami which had a bomb that would explode if the plane dropped below thirty thousand feet. A pro-Nazi terrorist group was blackmailing the government for the release of their leader plus one billion dollars. Fortunately,there was a U.S. marshal on board,who managed to defuse the bomb. Some actor named Luke Perry played the marshal, and I had seen him before on TV on this show about a bunch of rich kids. Well back to my story. I was meeting with the project staff.
"Here is the game plan," said Dr. Davis. "Five minutes before your departure, we will be scanning you using every instrument. If you are really unstuck, we want to take as many readings as we can."
When my watch counted down to five minutes, I reported to the lab. Quinn was there, along with Dr. Davis and Professor Arturo and some other researchers. The technicians were checking al the equipment, which I guessed were X-Ray machines, MRI scanners, and infrared scanners. There was all this humming.
I looked at my watch. One minute.
"I'm detecting radio waves coming from his body," said one of the white-coated technicians.
Thirty seconds. I noticed my skin was glowing. I saw several Marine MP's bust in, with their M-16 automatic rifles. Quinn and the others went behind a barricade for safety reasons.
"Ten seconds," said Quinn. "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
Then there was this buzzing sound, a brillaint flash, and a brief shock. I felt like I was falling.
Then I felt solid ground.
I got up and looked around. The surface I was standing on is made of concrete. I looked up and I saw overhead lights. I looked around, and saw cars parked in some parking spaces, while other spaces were empty.
I was in a parking garage. I was in a parking garage in another dimension.
I checked my watch. It had reset itself. It looked like I was going to be here for a long time.
My first order of business is to look for Quinn Mallory and hope that this version is familiar with sliding. I went to some glass doors which led to the lobby of an office building, but the lobby was locked. It was just past 11 PM. So I went out of the garage and looked for a hotel.
The buildings had a similar architecture as the buildings in the previous world. I had not moved very far in space, this was certainly downtown Long Beach. I walked a few blocks and then I arrived at the Long Beach Hilton.
The lobby was mostly empty, except for a desk clerk sitting behind the desk. There were some plush chairs for guests. After looking around the lobby, I found a pay phone mounted on a wall.
I went to the pay phone, operated by GTE. I scanned through the GTE phone book.
Quinn Mallory was not listed.
If I had access to a computer and the Internet, I could widen my search for Quinn. But the library wasn't open at this time.
So I would have to wait until morning. And I didn't know if my currency would be accepted here, so I couldn;'t even score a room in a cheap motel, let alone the Hilton.
I guess I'd have to sleep under a bridge. I did that with Quinn and Rembrandt and Maggie, when we slid in late at night and we had no money.
I went to a brochure stand, the kind they have in hotel lobbies. I found out I could learn a lot from hotel brochures, so I would read the brochures whether in the Dominion, the Chandler, or some motel in the Central Valley. I saw brochures for Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, the Aquarium of the Pacific, and other places like restaurants.
I looked above the brochure stand, and there were posters with people's photos on them. It was clear they were wanted posters. I read a wanted poster for a Michael Hurley, who was wanted for crimes against the state.
and I read another poster. I recognized the name and the face.
It was Maggie Beckett.
The next morning, I woke up hungry, very hungry. I had not eaten since before I slid here. This was a feeling that I was used to, as sliders like me and Quinn always had money problems.
It was only a ten minute walk to the Long Beach Public Library, which would have reference materials to give me the basics of this world. I noticed most of the cars on Ocean Boulevard were Fords and Volkswagens, with a few Mercedes among them.
The library was adjacent to the city hall. Hundreds of people were walking in the plaza located in front of the city hall. As I was heading to the librabry, I saw two people bump into each other.
"Excuse me," one of them said. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Watch where you're going, you stupid nigger," said the other guy.
I stopped, and then tapped the fellow on the shoulder.
"What?" he asked.
"I think you owe that man an apology," I said.
"That nigger bumped into me. He owes me an apology."
"You ought to treat people with respect. It's not like he meant to hurt you."
"You some nigger-loving race traitor?"
"What's going on here?" a voice asked.
I looked, and I saw a uniformed police officer.
"This nigger here assaulted me," said the man.
"I didn't mean to bump into him," said the Negro. "It was an accident."
The officer hit the Negro man on the back of his legs with a baton.
"Don't talk back to me, boy," said the police officer, sneering. "You should be in the ghetto, nigger."
"I have a pass, officer. I work here."
"I'm taking you downtown, nigger. We can do this the easay way or the hard way. I don't even know why we allow you niggers to leave the ghetto. You should stay there, away from us Aryans."
I left the scene and entered the librarty. It had two levels, with shelves full of books. A pretty blond-haired librarian sat at the front desk.
"Excuse me," I asked. "is there a terminal for the Internet."
"Yes, sir, there is," she replied. "Terminal use is limited to thirty minutes when there are people waiting in line."
I went over to one of the library's Internet terminals. The Internet was helpful in finding Quinn's duplicates, especially if they lived at the other end of the state. Before using the terminal, I had to look into a retinal scanner. Then I was in, with the Long Beach Public Library Web Site on the window. Within minutes, I was at the 411.com web site.
After searching for Quinn Mallory, I found out that he lives in Fremont, California. A small map showed that Fremont is across the bay from San Francisco.
I typed in my own name. The number and address corrwesponded to the address of my brother's home.
Before I would go to Fremont to seek my brother's duplicate's help, I went to look for a book on American history, to learn more about its background.
It would be a sobering history lesson.
Even on my home world, history books reflect the bias of the author. This book's biases made it alsmost unreliable. I was able to deduce the historical background of this country.
In 1936, there was a coup known as the Great Aryan Revolution which overthrew the previous regime. The leaders of this Revolution followed the same ideology as the National Socialists in Germany. The United States and Germany were allies in World War II. France was conquered, and Fifth Columnists installed a pro-Nazi King in Britain. After the atomic bomb was invented, Russia was endlessly pounded with such things until it became a charred radioactive wasteland.
the Revolutionary Government set up a racial caste system. Only Aryans, which is what the book calls white people, had rights. Non-Aryans were confined to ghettos and could only leave with a pass. The Jews were exterminated during the war. Censorship was imposed.
The book tells much about the opinions of the author. The author described Jews as parasites who sucked off the American people, and described Negroes as baranbric, violent savages that should be kept on a leash. Before the Revolution, the book claimed, Jews owned all the wealth, while leaving Aryans scraping by to just get food and shelter. The book described post-Revolution America as a golden age paradise.
I wonder what other books read. A biology textbook described the Aryan race as the pinnacle of human evolution. Apparently, the ideals of the Great Aryan Revolution manifest themselves in science textbooks too.
Enougjh of this now. I must meet with Quinn, while I still have time.
The ride to Fremont on an Amtrak train was much better than my hitchhiking from San Francisco to Long Beach on the previous Earth. Fortunately, there was a Red Cross clinic in downtown Long Beach which was buying blood. I remember a sign asking readers to donate blood in service of the Aryan race. I collcted one hundred dollars for a few pints of blood.
I passed Ventura, Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, and Salinas. I had to make a transfer at San Jose, before boarding a commuter train leading to Fremont.
After getting off Fremont, I went into a Ford Crown Victoria taxicab which took me to Quinn's place. I paid the cab driver $14.95. The whole trip only cost thirty dollars, including meals.
Quinn lived in a duplex. I could see a BMW parked near the house. I remember that my brother owned a BMW. It was about six o'clock, and maybe Quinn was home.
I wlked up the steps to the front door, and rang the doorbell.
Minutes later, Quinn answered the phone.
"Colin," he said. "What do you want?"
I noticed he did not seem too happy. "I hope you can help me," I said. "You ever heard of sliding?"
"Did you get hurt sliding down a slide at the playground?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.
"What if you can find brand new worlds right here on Earth? Same planet, different dimension?"
"You're talking of parallel universes."
"So you know what I'm talking about."
"Yes, I took a course in quantum mechanics. You came all the way here just to talk to me about parallel universes?"
"That's right, Quinn, because I'm from a parallel universe."
"Colin, I don't have time for this. And since when did you think you were welcome here?"
"Who is it, Quinn?" asked a voice.
"It's my brother, Conrad," said Quinn. He the said to me,"Why are you here?"
"At least listen to me, Quinn," I pleaded. I think that he and my duplicate are not exactly on speaking terms. "I'm from a parallel universe. Your counterpart built a machine that generates a wormhole. During one of our travels, I got separated. I am now traveling from one universe to another, without any external equipment. I was just hoping that you had the means to help me get back with my brother."
"Well, I've never been to a parallel universe."
"So you never built a wormhole-generating machine?"
"No. Are you BATF guys all dumb?"
I was about to leave, but I then wanted to know why this version of Quinn was hostile to me. "I'm just a duplicate of your brother, but you could tell me what your problem is with him. I can tell you are not getting along. Did he do anything wrong?"
"Well, I don't know," said Quinn, sarcastically. "Well, maybe it is the fact that you turned in our parents and destroyed our family. Of course, you would not consider it wrong. you were just doijng your duty for the state and for the Aryan race. Mom and Dad weren't race traitors. They were loyal Americans and loyal Aryans. They instileld in us the values of the Revolution. But you had to report them, and now they're dead thanks to you!"
He then slammed the door shut.
I guess it was time to move on to the next world, hoping the next Quinn could help me, or at least have an inclination to do so.
"Here is the game plan," said Dr. Davis. "Five minutes before your departure, we will be scanning you using every instrument. If you are really unstuck, we want to take as many readings as we can."
When my watch counted down to five minutes, I reported to the lab. Quinn was there, along with Dr. Davis and Professor Arturo and some other researchers. The technicians were checking al the equipment, which I guessed were X-Ray machines, MRI scanners, and infrared scanners. There was all this humming.
I looked at my watch. One minute.
"I'm detecting radio waves coming from his body," said one of the white-coated technicians.
Thirty seconds. I noticed my skin was glowing. I saw several Marine MP's bust in, with their M-16 automatic rifles. Quinn and the others went behind a barricade for safety reasons.
"Ten seconds," said Quinn. "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
Then there was this buzzing sound, a brillaint flash, and a brief shock. I felt like I was falling.
Then I felt solid ground.
I got up and looked around. The surface I was standing on is made of concrete. I looked up and I saw overhead lights. I looked around, and saw cars parked in some parking spaces, while other spaces were empty.
I was in a parking garage. I was in a parking garage in another dimension.
I checked my watch. It had reset itself. It looked like I was going to be here for a long time.
My first order of business is to look for Quinn Mallory and hope that this version is familiar with sliding. I went to some glass doors which led to the lobby of an office building, but the lobby was locked. It was just past 11 PM. So I went out of the garage and looked for a hotel.
The buildings had a similar architecture as the buildings in the previous world. I had not moved very far in space, this was certainly downtown Long Beach. I walked a few blocks and then I arrived at the Long Beach Hilton.
The lobby was mostly empty, except for a desk clerk sitting behind the desk. There were some plush chairs for guests. After looking around the lobby, I found a pay phone mounted on a wall.
I went to the pay phone, operated by GTE. I scanned through the GTE phone book.
Quinn Mallory was not listed.
If I had access to a computer and the Internet, I could widen my search for Quinn. But the library wasn't open at this time.
So I would have to wait until morning. And I didn't know if my currency would be accepted here, so I couldn;'t even score a room in a cheap motel, let alone the Hilton.
I guess I'd have to sleep under a bridge. I did that with Quinn and Rembrandt and Maggie, when we slid in late at night and we had no money.
I went to a brochure stand, the kind they have in hotel lobbies. I found out I could learn a lot from hotel brochures, so I would read the brochures whether in the Dominion, the Chandler, or some motel in the Central Valley. I saw brochures for Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, the Aquarium of the Pacific, and other places like restaurants.
I looked above the brochure stand, and there were posters with people's photos on them. It was clear they were wanted posters. I read a wanted poster for a Michael Hurley, who was wanted for crimes against the state.
and I read another poster. I recognized the name and the face.
It was Maggie Beckett.
The next morning, I woke up hungry, very hungry. I had not eaten since before I slid here. This was a feeling that I was used to, as sliders like me and Quinn always had money problems.
It was only a ten minute walk to the Long Beach Public Library, which would have reference materials to give me the basics of this world. I noticed most of the cars on Ocean Boulevard were Fords and Volkswagens, with a few Mercedes among them.
The library was adjacent to the city hall. Hundreds of people were walking in the plaza located in front of the city hall. As I was heading to the librabry, I saw two people bump into each other.
"Excuse me," one of them said. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Watch where you're going, you stupid nigger," said the other guy.
I stopped, and then tapped the fellow on the shoulder.
"What?" he asked.
"I think you owe that man an apology," I said.
"That nigger bumped into me. He owes me an apology."
"You ought to treat people with respect. It's not like he meant to hurt you."
"You some nigger-loving race traitor?"
"What's going on here?" a voice asked.
I looked, and I saw a uniformed police officer.
"This nigger here assaulted me," said the man.
"I didn't mean to bump into him," said the Negro. "It was an accident."
The officer hit the Negro man on the back of his legs with a baton.
"Don't talk back to me, boy," said the police officer, sneering. "You should be in the ghetto, nigger."
"I have a pass, officer. I work here."
"I'm taking you downtown, nigger. We can do this the easay way or the hard way. I don't even know why we allow you niggers to leave the ghetto. You should stay there, away from us Aryans."
I left the scene and entered the librarty. It had two levels, with shelves full of books. A pretty blond-haired librarian sat at the front desk.
"Excuse me," I asked. "is there a terminal for the Internet."
"Yes, sir, there is," she replied. "Terminal use is limited to thirty minutes when there are people waiting in line."
I went over to one of the library's Internet terminals. The Internet was helpful in finding Quinn's duplicates, especially if they lived at the other end of the state. Before using the terminal, I had to look into a retinal scanner. Then I was in, with the Long Beach Public Library Web Site on the window. Within minutes, I was at the 411.com web site.
After searching for Quinn Mallory, I found out that he lives in Fremont, California. A small map showed that Fremont is across the bay from San Francisco.
I typed in my own name. The number and address corrwesponded to the address of my brother's home.
Before I would go to Fremont to seek my brother's duplicate's help, I went to look for a book on American history, to learn more about its background.
It would be a sobering history lesson.
Even on my home world, history books reflect the bias of the author. This book's biases made it alsmost unreliable. I was able to deduce the historical background of this country.
In 1936, there was a coup known as the Great Aryan Revolution which overthrew the previous regime. The leaders of this Revolution followed the same ideology as the National Socialists in Germany. The United States and Germany were allies in World War II. France was conquered, and Fifth Columnists installed a pro-Nazi King in Britain. After the atomic bomb was invented, Russia was endlessly pounded with such things until it became a charred radioactive wasteland.
the Revolutionary Government set up a racial caste system. Only Aryans, which is what the book calls white people, had rights. Non-Aryans were confined to ghettos and could only leave with a pass. The Jews were exterminated during the war. Censorship was imposed.
The book tells much about the opinions of the author. The author described Jews as parasites who sucked off the American people, and described Negroes as baranbric, violent savages that should be kept on a leash. Before the Revolution, the book claimed, Jews owned all the wealth, while leaving Aryans scraping by to just get food and shelter. The book described post-Revolution America as a golden age paradise.
I wonder what other books read. A biology textbook described the Aryan race as the pinnacle of human evolution. Apparently, the ideals of the Great Aryan Revolution manifest themselves in science textbooks too.
Enougjh of this now. I must meet with Quinn, while I still have time.
The ride to Fremont on an Amtrak train was much better than my hitchhiking from San Francisco to Long Beach on the previous Earth. Fortunately, there was a Red Cross clinic in downtown Long Beach which was buying blood. I remember a sign asking readers to donate blood in service of the Aryan race. I collcted one hundred dollars for a few pints of blood.
I passed Ventura, Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, and Salinas. I had to make a transfer at San Jose, before boarding a commuter train leading to Fremont.
After getting off Fremont, I went into a Ford Crown Victoria taxicab which took me to Quinn's place. I paid the cab driver $14.95. The whole trip only cost thirty dollars, including meals.
Quinn lived in a duplex. I could see a BMW parked near the house. I remember that my brother owned a BMW. It was about six o'clock, and maybe Quinn was home.
I wlked up the steps to the front door, and rang the doorbell.
Minutes later, Quinn answered the phone.
"Colin," he said. "What do you want?"
I noticed he did not seem too happy. "I hope you can help me," I said. "You ever heard of sliding?"
"Did you get hurt sliding down a slide at the playground?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.
"What if you can find brand new worlds right here on Earth? Same planet, different dimension?"
"You're talking of parallel universes."
"So you know what I'm talking about."
"Yes, I took a course in quantum mechanics. You came all the way here just to talk to me about parallel universes?"
"That's right, Quinn, because I'm from a parallel universe."
"Colin, I don't have time for this. And since when did you think you were welcome here?"
"Who is it, Quinn?" asked a voice.
"It's my brother, Conrad," said Quinn. He the said to me,"Why are you here?"
"At least listen to me, Quinn," I pleaded. I think that he and my duplicate are not exactly on speaking terms. "I'm from a parallel universe. Your counterpart built a machine that generates a wormhole. During one of our travels, I got separated. I am now traveling from one universe to another, without any external equipment. I was just hoping that you had the means to help me get back with my brother."
"Well, I've never been to a parallel universe."
"So you never built a wormhole-generating machine?"
"No. Are you BATF guys all dumb?"
I was about to leave, but I then wanted to know why this version of Quinn was hostile to me. "I'm just a duplicate of your brother, but you could tell me what your problem is with him. I can tell you are not getting along. Did he do anything wrong?"
"Well, I don't know," said Quinn, sarcastically. "Well, maybe it is the fact that you turned in our parents and destroyed our family. Of course, you would not consider it wrong. you were just doijng your duty for the state and for the Aryan race. Mom and Dad weren't race traitors. They were loyal Americans and loyal Aryans. They instileld in us the values of the Revolution. But you had to report them, and now they're dead thanks to you!"
He then slammed the door shut.
I guess it was time to move on to the next world, hoping the next Quinn could help me, or at least have an inclination to do so.
