4. Experiment

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"Photon readings negative."

Three lab coats lingered far from any equipment, yet hunched their heads together for deep discussion. Hands gesticulated carefully; when one signed, the others payed careful heed, contemplative expressions covering their countenances. At the moment, one of the researchers dominated conversation, leaving the other two still and attentive.

"This next experiment seems very, very interesting…

"…what do you two think?"

The tallest of the three scientists stepped back after finishing his question. His report was complete. Middle-aged, lanky, and incredibly slender, he stood like a spindly stork above his colleagues. He gauged their reactions, peering behind a set of rectangular bifocals that contrasted his large round eyesockets and pale disciform face. Though he had asked them a question, he studied them with a quiet, confident assurance that suggested he did not, strictly speaking, need their input. He had already reached his conclusions and only wished to see if these others agreed.

The shortest of the researchers raised up his hands to respond.

"dont want to doubt your findings, doc, but…

"… sure you didn't make a big mass-stake?"

Sans' face widened into a cheeky grin as he spelled out "mass-stake," one letter after the other, starting with three fingers wrapped around the thumb with the pinkie laid flat, ending with fingers curled and resting over a longitudinal thumb. Spelling was needed in order for the pun to translate – well, translate best it could. Languages never fully translated, and this admittedly translated very poorly from English. But Sans could not resist the urge to wordplay regardless of what language first came to mind. It was always a shame when signed jokes could not translate to spoken speech, either, though he certainly tried to explain those jokes to the misfortuned monolingual.

Yet great Royal Scientist, Doctor Wings Dings Gaster, only glared at the poor joke. Gaster would have understood the similarities between the spellings of "mistake" and "mass-stake", but he made no indication he found the joke amusing. A shame – Sans found the wordplay rather clever. Photons… particles without mass… making a mistake regarding their present 'mass' in the experiment… he should have at least gotten a chuckle out of the impervious elder scientist.

Then again, he almost never saw Gaster smile. The man concentrated too much on his experiments to find time for humor. Well, at least, that was how Gaster presented himself in the workplace.

"SORRY." Sans rotated his fist around his chest twice clockwise to apologize, yet as apparent from the grin, hardly felt sorry for the diversion.

His following remark only made that more apparent.

"just…

"…i quanta bit more evidence."

This wordplay translated just as poorly as the first one, but both of his colleagues comprehended the joke. They reacted in completely opposite manners, Gaster with disgruntlement, almost pained derision, while their third companion let out a short hoot of laughter.

"SANS."

Sans' signed name used the fist-like "S" shape in what otherwise was the sign for "smile" – pulling up the hands on either side of the face from lips to cheek. However, Gaster's expression remained stoic when he mentioned his colleague's name.

Both hands' shape changed, flattening out to straightened palms, and the doctor threw his hands to either side of his head.

"FOCUS."

"I WILL," Sans assured them with an affirmative nod. "i just said i'd like more evidence."

Now that his comment lacked a joke, the other two finally realized what Sans intended to relay, and reacted with a little surprise. At least, Gaster blinking behind his glasses counted as surprise. It was as perturbed as he ever appeared in life.

Their third companion was a bit more outwardly explicit in his shock. "You?" he asked, entering the conversation with raised eyebrows. He smirked in dubious amusement. "You're the monster who wrote his entire dissertation on something everyone thought was impossible… and you're doubting things now? I mean, these results are pretty clear and everything?"

"welp." Sans said the word aloud automatically, a silly product of being raised by hearing parents. He shrugged, responded, "sorry for being skeptical. but it's not every day we unlock the doors to parallel universes. are you SURE your results can't be stochastically explained by some other more commonly held interpretation of quantum mechanics?"

Gaster's response seemed snappish, perhaps even irate. His hands flashed with more than a bit of impatience. "No. It's deterministic. Decoherence holds. I've checked all variables and replicated the experiment twice."

The other two in the room let out a weighty breath. Even Sans, who as a skeleton did not strictly need to breathe, felt the urge to heavily exhale. If W. D. Gaster's reports were true – and, frankly, they rarely ever were wrong – than this next experiment would be… interesting… indeed.

"Interesting" would be an understatement.

"alright… then… let's go over it again, shall we?"

Gaster definitely felt impatient, tucking his arms between his chest, yet he paid sufficient heed to Sans as his colleague summarized the experimental findings.

"according to your interpretation of your results, you made a successful isolation and there was a complete lack in photon interference. by your interpretation, we can build on these results to construct a channel between parallel universes. it's possible proof of the many worlds interpretation."

Everyone in the room could read the skepticism in Sans' hands and facial expressions.

"Not possible proof. Definite proof."

"give me the raw data. i'd like to see the numbers."

"Of course." Gaster still held himself aright with a stubbornness that indicated he knew he was correct. Continuing onward as though Sans' close scrutiny would verify his interpretation, the Royal Scientist proceeded, "I anticipate that our next tasks shall be difficult to accomplish. We'll need to be able to manipulate more than photons."

Rain, having worked with Gaster many years, already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway. Hesitantly, he signed, "And what is our final goal?"

"Monsters. We need to be able to transport living monsters across parallel worlds. If we can access parallel worlds, we can all escape into a universe where we're free and the barrier was never formed."

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There were only a few more reports to drop at his desk, and then the work day was done. Research hours had passed even more quickly than typical. Gaster's findings, preliminary as they were, insinuated some interesting potential applications – and given the Royal Scientist's uncanny, innovative ability to capitalize upon discovery, Sans had no doubt he would be in for an extraordinary adventure. It came as no surprise the day passed quickly. Everyone on the team had been excited.

And, skeptical though Sans had initially been at the data, he had found himself warming to the concept. Sans could feel the same thrills Gaster felt about experimental results. He glanced at the printed laboratory report once more as he unlocked his door, shuffled into his cluttered office, and scooted around scattered dump piles of opened books. As Doctor Gaster had emphasized earlier this afternoon, the peculiar photon readings lacked typical interference. Photon interference had been proposed, in classical research like the double slit experiment, to indicate the presence of a multiverse. To be capable of removing that well-known observed photon interference would thus suggest an ability to tap into a parallel world, a parallel world which was mostly the same, but in which some other event had befallen instead. And as wild as the idea sounded, Sans found himself still hunched over his desk, reading and rereading the data, with no ability to counteract the evidence through other explanations. This could not be mistaken. They had touched some parallel world. Doctor Gaster had made yet another extraordinary scientific breakthrough in an unrealistically short period of time.

At last Sans plopped the papers on his already-bedecked desk and turned away. He flicked off the light switch – carefully leaning around a particularly narrow, tall, and tipsy stack of hardbacks – and locked the office door behind him. Unlike that small square room, the hallway outside glowed brightly with long lines of fluorescent panel lights fixtures leading up and down the corridor. On the other side of the hallway, toward the center of the building, would be the common workspace for most employees, several laboratories, and the stairs leading down to the first and basement floors. He could hear very little clamor now, though, and could spy only one or two monster heads as he headed toward the laboratory exit. Sans appeared to be on the tail end of the laboratory's daily exodus.

As he stepped to the first floor and shuffled toward the exit, he did bump into one individual. The monster had shucked off his white laboratory coat and worker's badge to don on a poofy hoody that made him look thicker than his actual thin frame. Though he currently leaned in closely to peer at some postings on the bulletin board, he noticed Sans from the corner of his eye, turned to give a nod, and asked, "Oh oh. Hey. Are you heading over?"

"yeah, 'course. you?"

"I'll be there in a moment. Got to do some things first?" Rain's voice rose, as though asking permission, even though he was simply providing explanation for his immediate plans. "See you around. Okay? And don't leave a whoopee cushion on my stool this time."

"no promises." Sans winked. With a chuckle and a hearty whack on his friend's arm, Sans slipped past toward the double doors. He exited the building.

Sans did not glance back at the Royal Laboratory New Home Facility as he strode into the capital's streets, but he could feel the building lurking behind him. Instead, he slipped his hands into his lab coat pockets and strode forward into the busy cobblestone-laid street, trundling past globs of pedestrians; tall, tight-packed storefronts; loud-shouting merchants wheeling carts; loitering youths; wandering shoppers; idle loungers seated beneath restaurant awnings; busy intersections; quieter alleyways; an unending bustle of many living monsters. He did not have far to walk, though. He strode up the narrow road and took a left at the first block. There, crushed beneath shadows of four story buildings, smashed between a pizza parlor and a flower shop, there cowered an unassuming gray café façade. Worn brick opened up to large windows, though, leaking out lights and a picture of a cozy indoors. Sans stepped to the faded maroon café door, opened it, and slipped inside. He could already see one of his friends waiting at their customary spot.

The checkered round tables were cozy, not very large surfaces, but they sufficed for small tea cups and the occasional pastry. Sans noticed that, despite only Gaster having arrived at this point, there were two mugs at the table.

"you've got to quit buying my coffee. you already give me a paycheck." Yet despite the verbal comment, Sans was more than content enough to sidle into his chair, reach for the cup… and stare at a balled sock stuffed inside the mug.

Gaster very stoically sipped his tea. He set down the mug, then asked, in perfect regality, "I believe you were saying something?"

He chucked the wadded sock at Gaster's face. It whacked the scientist's cheekbone, barely missing the glasses frame before it landed on the table. "this cup's for rain. buy me a drink."

Right as Gaster was returning from the counter with a real beverage, Rain arrived, shuffling in with a twitchy wave. "Hi. Sorry for being late. I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"no. not really."

Gaster sat back down and reached for the nearest mug. He frowned after attempting a sip, slowly, slowly, lowering his cup, then glared down at the sock inside. His eyesockets slowly rose to glower at the offending prankster. Sans chuckled, reveling in the Royal Scientist's rare slip of passive demeanor, before scooting the doctor's real mug back to him. "wow. that was sad. you shouldn't fall for the old switch-the-cup trick anymore."

Rain shook his head and sighed into his hand. "You two are so immature."

"says the person pulling out crayons to draw on a napkin."

Rain's paw paused before he adamantly attacked the napkin with a purple crayon. His scribbles were even less interpretable than typical. It might have been a spider web. Or a castle. Or anything at all, really. Everyone at the table watched the meaningless art piece develop until Rain set down his crayon, and finally responded back, "Drawing relaxes me. That's productive. Not whatever it is that… you two… do. Hey, speaking of – want to play pictionary?"

"I'm afraid I can't today," Gaster returned. "I am a little short on time. I plan to return to the laboratory before day's end."

"Oh, what is it this time? Do you ever take a break?"

"These projects are my break. As far as what tonight's project is –" Gaster leaned back in body posture that was still rather stiff, but an indicator for him he felt relaxed "– I'm continuing to adjust my prototype of a SOUL augmenter that increases the user's magic wielding capacity in select combative areas, namely the attack power and consequent hit point damage done by pellets."

Teasing back, Sans interjected, "to translate from your weirdo alien language… it's a weapon."

He ignored the jibe against his vocabulary. "Offensive and defensive uses are the primary intended function of the technology, yes."

"Wow, Gaster. Why'd you be working on something like that? Thought that all you wanted to do with the rest of your life's research was find some way to get us out of here."

"That is the intention of this device, too. If a human arrives in the underground, this will be the seventh and final SOUL needed to break the barrier. Ascertaining that the SOUL is acquired would be a priority at that point, in which case increasing a monster's attack abilities would not only be beneficial, but perhaps the make or break point in leaving the underground. Understand, I have no intention of idly waiting for some human to maybe – or maybe not – fall down here. I will continue to develop research that has the potential of us leaving without the seventh SOUL. Regardless, in the case that the event happens and we do encounter a human in our lifetime, I will make sure that we find ourselves traveling safely to the surface."

"well, there you have it." Sans had hunched himself over the table and was resting both elbows on the surface. He could feel his eyelids drooping; were he not careful, he would fall asleep. "escape plan nine hundred ninety three for wings dings gaster."

"One of them's got to work," Rain said, hopefully. "At least… it'll help us go in the right direction. Cool, Gaster. Have… fun? …tonight? Alright then. No pictionary. Maybe then a game of cards between Sans and me."

"suppose i can't stay long, either. sorry pal. should probably go home soon."

"That's fine." Rain shrugged. He seemed to contemplate packing up early, too, studying his artwork with a critical and slightly disappointed eye. Apparently, even for him, this was a bad drawing. Looking up at Sans, he said, "If that means actually spending time with your brother, you need to do it. You're always complaining you never see him. So go. Shoo."

"ok. ok. guess i'm going."

He managed to chug the rest of the coffee in his cup – about half the mug – before standing and saying farewell. He entered again into the crowded city streets. It was not twelve paces before a little more weight sunk into his steps, and he found himself wondering what the hell he could talk about once he entered their apartment house. Photons? Decoherence? No. Definitely not. And he knew he'd be thinking the entire evening about determinism and many worlds and an infinity of topics to which Papyrus could not relate.

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"No! Absolutely not! That is the single most infantile thing ever!"

Doctor W. D. Gaster raised his pinkie finger up and tapped it twice on his nose vehemently. He was almost punching his own face, he was so upset. Sans' large grin grew twice its size, overtaking his face, while his body bent over into an uncontrolled laughing fit. The small skeleton curled into a ball on top of his chair, head bent into his crumpled white lab coat, and he clutched both hands on chest as his belly seized in endless laughter. Gaster could only sit, steaming, hands folded impatiently on the pristine surface of a perfectly cleared and well-polished desk.

When Sans finally raised his eyesockets, Gaster resumed his protests.

"NO WAY!" Pointer and middle finger snapped down together onto the thumb in an angry pinch and he threw his arm across his torso. An already emphatic sign took on even more gesticulatory emphasis. "NEVER." Flattened hand and palm swished across his body in the shape of a question mark hook. "I am never going to repeat that."

Enjoying this moment of malicious control, Sans leaned forward from the visiting chair and rested an elbow on the desk. He propped his arm and used the palm of his hand to hold up his jawbone. His grin never wavered as he stared at Gaster, eyesockets half-open in a confident and cheeky smirk, while he waited for the inevitable next round of complaints.

"This is childish. We are doing serious groundbreaking research, Sans! I refuse to use that as the final code phrase."

"YOU HAVE-TO." After pointing straight at Gaster, Sans hooked his pointer finger forward and re-aimed it directly at Gaster with the flick of his wrist.

"No, I don't. The project is ranked as a high level classified experiment right now, but someday we will publish our findings. The last thing I will have in my official publication is a description of the methodology where we used 'I am a stupid doodoo butt' to verify the success of parallel universe travel."

"well. look at that. you just said it." A smug, jabbing, and wholly entertained response. Hands could have not moved more tauntingly. Sans' cheekbones squeezed up into a physically painful grin, and a tear might have leaked out of his eye at the importance of this moment. He would literally mark it on the main laboratory calendar once he walked past the front entrance. Gaster slammed his hands down on his desk and threw his head back so hard his glasses nearly fell off his face. As it was, when he straightened his neck again, he had to reach up with a delicate hand and readjust the lens' positioning.

Rubbing in the moment, Sans teased, "that wasn't too hard, was it, doc?"

"Pick. another. code. phrase."

"afraid i can't do that."

Indignantly, Gaster responded. He hovered a flattened palm beside his ear, then curled his three central fingers into his palm, thumb and pinkie outstretched as he brought his hand forward in front of his chin. His pinkie curled inward, and he rotated his hand forward to hold a thumb up before him. However, that raised thumb did not indicate approval, but something far different in his native language. "WHY-NOT?" he demanded.

"c'mon. you're the most brilliant scientist in the underground. surely you can figure that out." The glowing orbs in Sans' eyesockets flickered toward the door.

The doctor stared at the younger physicist with confused consternation for a moment, and then his face slacked as he realized what Sans meant.

"that's right," Sans signed, relishing this moment and wishing it could last forever. He began laying out the entire situation, despite the fact Gaster would have deduced it all already. It would be hilarious to witness Gaster suffer as Sans presented the facts.

"i have already decided on my set of code phrases for you to follow.

"as soon as i decided, you pressed SAVE, then walked upstairs to talk with me in your office.

"that means that, in every single possible timeline you can access, i'll still have the same set of code phrases.

"no matter how much you hate the code phrases, the only way you can prove to me you're a time traveler is if you say them.

"because if you go back to the previous SAVE, i sadly won't remember all your pitiful whining.

"as hilarious as the last twenty-five minutes have been, i'll forget all that.

"(seriously, though. twenty-five minutes of non-stop complaining? chill, man.)

"the only thing i'll remember are my code phrases. which i think have something to do with you being a doodoo butt."

Sans had never seen Doctor Gaster squirm before. The physicist managed it quite well, tall lanky body contorting into tense, discomfited shapes as he agonized through Sans' words. Someone with spiders clambering all over their body could not have managed more painful jerking.

Left eye fell in a lazy wink.

"there's only one way you can get out this.

"if even that will work.

"because, frankly, i'm doubtful.

"the only way you can do this, is if you manage to convince me to change my code phrase right now, and then go and press the SAVE button again.

"but this is why i'm worried about ya…

"that SAVE button is downstairs.

"i'm – what – twenty-two years younger, is it?

"and im also closer to the door.

"somehow, you'd have to convince me to change the code phrase…

"…get past me…

"…and outrun me through the entire laboratory…

"…indecently charging through the halls in front of your large, important science team, who think SO well of you…

"…in order to reach the SAVE button and set up a new backtracking point."

In all his years of living, Sans had never experienced a moment more glorious than this. The sock incident came close, but this topped that. Ever-solemn Doctor W. D. Gaster, too driven and focused to remember to display his emotions on his face, was legitimately sweating, pain trembling across his forehead. He sat poised at his desk, unmoving, but with every bone in his body tense for action.

He made a break for the door.

A spindly middle aged man should have not been capable of such rapid motion. With a desperate backhand, he shoved Sans' chair aside, clawed at the frame of the door, and staggered right through the hallways. Sans capsized and his feet flew over his head. World spun. Books collapsed on him the second he crashed into the bookshelf. Ouch.

His fingers shoved aside a snowbank of papers, unburying himself, clambering desperately through stacks of hardcovers. "aw, no fair!" he exclaimed – even though Gaster would not be able to hear him – and adamantly charged after the sounds of Gaster's clomping feet fading out of earshot to the right. His vision juddered as he charged through white tiled hallways, but he could catch sight of a long-limbed leg disappearing around the corner.

Sans forced his stubby legs into longer strides, almost tripped on the tails of his lab coat.

He skidded around the corner.

A yelp.

For a second time, flying papers.

Limbs tangled into a mass of startled scientists.

A befuddled lizard who was sprawled across the floor groaned, rubbing her head, while Gaster slipped and slid over the loose pages of a scattered lab report. He glanced up. Eyesockets widened from behind bent glasses. Had just enough time to jerk his hand up in defense before Sans threw himself forward and tackled the Royal Scientist to the ground.

The entire lab floor shook with the impact.

"YESSS! ! !" Sans threw his hands up in celebratory victory as he sat, straddled, on top of Gaster's chest. He glanced down and read defeat behind the subdued scientist's glasses.

Celebrating his triumph, he signed, "see ya in the next timeline, doodoo butt."

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By all accounts, the project should have been impossible.

Everyone on the team knew it.

Impossible.

Regardless of Gaster's preliminary findings, regardless of his confidence, regardless of his drive, regardless of the royal coffers funding his research, regardless of his previous successes, regardless of his brilliance, regardless of the talented scientists on his team, W. D. Gaster's goal should have been u-t-t-e-r-l-y impossible. Perhaps in a hundred fifty years, with hundreds of monsters contributing their scientific expertise and unique thoughts on the subject, they could have halfway accomplished this mission. Gaster's desire to complete it in his own lifetime before he retired bordered on delusion.

"don't you at least want a larger team of scientists? three monsters can hardly…"

"No. It'll be enough."

Gaster stared straight forward, not even maintaining eyesocket contact as he provided his terse response. Rectangular glasses stared forward, determination shining on the lenses.

It was as if somehow he knew the impossible could be achieved. Either that, or he so firmly believed it could be done, that he expected reality to shape itself around him and cooperate. Gaster's will could not be bent, so he would bend the very world around him until he reached his final, impossible goal.

"It'll be enough."

A team of three tense white-coated physicists lingered together in a perfectly organized office space, one of them seated in the large chair near a notepad; one seated in the visitor's chair, flanked by bookshelves on either side of the door; one leaning up against the desk, not quite standing, not quite sitting down. Fatigue lined their faces – likely no one had slept last night.

"Let's begin."

Academic journal after academic journal. Research paper after research paper. Printed reports landed on the desk, covering its once-cleared space with a mountain of jargon-littered text. A thesis. Instantaneous Macroscopic Quantum Teleportation of Volitional Sapient Subjects via Magical Channels. A book. The Fabric of Reality: The Science of Parallel Universes and Its Implications. An oft-read article. Teleporting an Unknown Quantum State via Dual Classical and Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen Channels. Another paper. Quantum Probability from Decision Theory. And another. Experimental Motivation and Empirical Consistency in Minimal No-Collapse Quantum Mechanics. And another. Time Symmetry and the Many-Worlds Interpretation. And even more. Hands sifting through pages, eyes and eyesockets gauging data, fingers lifting pencils, notebooks filling in notes. Discussions. Sharing papers. Pointing. Shaking heads. Rarely, a nod. Once-clean room overflowing in equations and interpretations. Physicists pacing the across the small space in thought.

"We should be able to combine your research on instantaneous single universe teleportation and apply magic channels to a cross-world model."

"maybe the discussion on quantum entanglement is relevant…"

"More of it is relevant than that. Let's look at this together."

Skulls bent over to study text.

Passage of time.

Late day at the lab, going home in the quiet whispers of night.

Early morning.

Another meeting in an office, a different office, an office of waterfalling paperbacks, empty frozen dinner boxes, and mountain ranges of unsorted, unfiled workplace documents. "you know, you could be right. with the proper construction of a magic channel after isolating photon interference between universes, transportation could proceed similarly to in-universe magic-based teleportation, at least at the level of some elementary particles." Notes, equations, half the notes from yesterday scribbled out in frustrated graphite. "except we run into problems here…" finger bone pointing at a set of values "and here…" hand tapping thoughtfully against the paper with the end of the pencil. "even with our working knowledge of entanglement distillation for mixed states, what we've got won't work for larger particles, not even a plain ole boring molecule." "Why wouldn't your work on macroscopic in-universe teleportation translate more directly? All we have to do is modify…" another hand reaching out for the same paper, and writing in a solution "…this and…" another scratch mark "…this. Right?" Staring at the page together. "maybe. yeah. maybe. it needs some work and adjustments. but it's something to explore."

Meetings, collaborations, one office, another, a third office, the laboratory downstairs, a constant scuttle from one location to the next, while still confined to a single problem. Trapped in questions. Doors opening. Door shutting. Confusion. Revelations. Mistakes corrected. Back to brainstorming.

Long, tedious hours in the basement peering at numbers on instruments. Minutes seemed like hours. Hours seemed like days. Waiting with books in hand, reading printed text while taking a respite from machine screen text. Occasionally, surfacing with notes in hand, stepping into the office, catching the other's eye, and signing, "preliminary results confirm hypothesis with a two-tailed t-test, alpha value 0.01, p less than four times ten to the negative third."

"Implement Stage Two."

More often than not, "no statistically significant findings."

Even the best results never returned clean. Experiments rarely verified intended physical clarifications. Always some strange reading, an unavoidable confounding variable, a peculiar numerical aberration inexplicable by current theories. The preliminary tests statistically significant where anticipated, the follow-up experiment producing a disappointingly mid-range p-value. More tests. More grime in the data. Questions more than answers. More areas to test and verify. More tests, more confusions, more tangles in the search of ever-elusive knowledge.

"Don't think we're going in the right direction, do you, Sans?"

"nope. definitely not."

"Let's take a step back and try something else. There was something in the article by Nomura we might want to look at."

More late hours, more nights, more days, more evenings, more mornings, months rolling by in a fast and frenetic pace. Yes, there were rests, there were breaks, there were weekends – Gaster insisted on maintaining health and not overworking – but it was back to the laboratory early Monday morning for another vigorous week of constant research.

Rain, for once not humming as he worked, remarking, "These results aren't statistically significant and it's obvious there's no correlation, let alone causation. We're not getting anywhere. Think we've reached a dead end."

Back to stacks of journals and hardback books, back to skull-splitting discussions of entanglement and universal wave functions, back to knowing nothing about everything.

Fall to winter. Winter to spring. Changes in the climate were subtle in the underground, but temperatures rose and fell with the seasons. Spring to summer. Taking off a long weekend for a rare holiday – his brother's middle school graduation. Could never miss that.

"Excited for high school now, Papyrus? You'll get the chance for some fun electives and classes, right? Interested in sciences like your brother?"

"OH MY GOD! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HE CAN KEEP HIS WEIRD SCIENCE FICTION STUFF… I'M GOING TO BE A FAMOUS BASKETBALL STAR! ! !"

Four-day weekend rolled by too rapidly. Return to a life where Papyrus lingered alone in the apartment while his brother rushed off to the laboratory, returning home only after the younger fell asleep late at night.

sorry, bro. but this is going to change everything.

It would change everything, if headway were ever reached. Unlocking travel between parallel universes would provide them – would provide everyone – the opportunity to finally evacuate the underground. In a world in which hope so often trembled, where monsters in New Home constantly sought to forget their fears of living confined, there could be freedom. True freedom. True safety. True happiness and peace.

this is for you, papyrus. i swear it is. the last few years have been rough on us, but the future doesn't have to be.

heh. if only i can figure this out.

The next day in the laboratory, even Gaster admitted, "We are going about this the wrong way."

They all stood in Rain's office – stood because nothing existed in this room except the desk that had already been provided. Not even chairs existed, and thus they hovered around a desk covered in nothing but dust, and paced around a room that felt larger and more spacious than a laboratory office should be.

"seems to be no other way to go about it," Sans pointed out, shrugging.

"Maybe… or… maybe not."

Gaster checked that both paid him close heed before he proceeded.

"Our attempts to access the parallel universes have been through isolating interference and constructing a channel between our universe and what would be considered 'equivalent times'." His discussion, for once, lacked a large amount of jargon, yet he summarized their procedure accurately enough. His hands hovered, pausing for a brief moment, when he mentioned 'equivalent times.' "That's too much of a blunt instrument. We're attempting to bore from one location to another with brute force. But if we consider the very nature of the many worlds interpretation, we should remember how multiple universes arise in the first place."

"the universe is built of infinitely many divergent parallel quantum worlds in which the measurement of a quantum object does not force it into one state in a probabilistic outcome, but universes are fractured and duplicated for every possible outcome."

"YES," Gaster snapped impatiently, fist jerking up and down once in a curt and somewhat rude response. He continued onto information more relevant than a mere definition. "The problem is that a universe splits into two universes based upon possible outcomes. We don't need to force ourselves into new universes like drilling through a wall. Magic is powerful, but it has its limits. There are more elegant ways to access an alternate world. All we have to do is return to a point within our own universe where a different outcome might have occurred, and create that desired outcome ourselves."

"You mean, go back in time," Rain remarked. "If we want to be in a parallel world where the barrier has not been erected, we return to a previous point in our own timeline. We make a new parallel universe by the very act of returning in time and making different results happen."

"Exactly."

"That's got a nice…" Rain hummed automatically as he signed "…finesse to it, doesn't it?"

Sans interjected. "don't mean to sound skeptical here, but how is that going to be any easier than what we were doing before? at least with our current direction, we're building off of –"

"Our current direction is an obvious dead end," Doctor Gaster seemed unperturbed by his own comment, not even blinking as he stared out from his wire rims. His flattened right hand casually crashed into his left hand's perpendicular barrier. "But evoking a new universe through time travel is something we haven't explored." Fingers, shaped like twos, hooked the air twice. "Don't discount what you don't yet know."

They left the empty office with overfilled minds and a sense of weight to all the work before them.

It would be many more months before Rain stumbled backwards, fell on his rear in the center of the laboratory, and exclaimed aloud, voice shrieking, "IT WORKED!"

It would be many more months clambering with follow-up experiments and numbers and toiling through statistics before they determined, "We're on the right path."

It would be many long months before they entered the laboratory with blueprints to a device that could hold a key to the future… and, most importantly… a key to the past.