The cop shined the flashlight in our faces. Quinn seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. "Officer, we left our ID's back at home."

I nodded. "Yeah. Nothing's open. We just thought we'd walk to the beach."

The costumed cop seemed to buy it. He dug out a little ticket pad, pulled off a glove so he could use a pen. "I'm going to have to write you a citation for violation of curfew."

Quinn laughed. "This is a joke, right? There's a camera in the suit?"

"No joke, I'm afraid. You can go home or we can take a trip down to the police station, it's up to you."

I brushed myself off and got up. Quinn joined me. "C'mon, let's go back."

"You two live around here?"

"Ummm..." I stammered.

"Come with me to the patrol car. I'll drive you home."

The cop drove a black SUV looking thing. They put us in the back, behind the fence, in plastic seats reminding me of a roller coaster. A plastic barrier stood between me and Quinn. No seatbelt buckles, no door handles. The cop had the A/C cranked up way high.

The engine started up. We rolled up the street. "You didn't walk down here, did you?"

"No, we took a cab. We..."

"We've both been...drinking." I supplied. "Didn't want to cause an accident."

The officer's silence could have meant anything.

Quinn pantomimed drinking, pointed to his eyes, and shook his head no. I guessed he meant we had no dilated pupils.

Quinn leaned toward the driver. "If you don't mind me asking, what's with the getup?"

"Curfew officer's uniform. Keeps the kids in line. You never heard of Toby the Lynx?"

Quinn grinned. "Sorry, no. We're from out of town."

"You happen to be friends with a black fellow? Roughly a foot shorter than you?"

"That's our friend Rembrandt," I said.

"I'll take you back to the hotel. The next time it happens, though, I'll have to fine you."

When we arrived at The Dominion, someone had already posted our pictures on that `Toby's Catch' display. And Rembrandt's picture. Don't know how Arturo got off the hook.

"Did that freak catch you too?" The Cryin' Man asked when we entered the suite.

We just gave him knowing smirks.

"Can you believe these people? Cops dressed up like some football mascot, passing out tickets! I half considered pushing the dude down and making a run for it, but he was only gettin' on me about a stupid curfew...You know football doesn't exist on this world? Everyone's a soccer fan." He showed Quinn a collectable trading card. "Toby the Lynx. Unbelievable!"

"What's unbelievable is that John Candy can win international soccer games."

"You're telling me! Never thought the man could look that skinny!"

Quinn chuckled. "You actually asked him for a football card!"

"Honestly, I only did it as a joke."

"At least the law enforcement is nice here," I said.

Remmy shook his head. "I ain't pushing my luck! You know how brothers and the Po-Po don't exactly get along..."

"Where's the professor?"

"Got me! Maybe he's outside trying to get his face on that poster too!"

Bang! Bang!

Everyone froze, thinking the cop had returned. Quinn rushed to the door, but only opened it a crack. "Secret knock, Professor! You gave us a start!"

Arturo again gave us that shifty look. "Ah...yes...Sorry about that..." He trailed off.

"Well, there's nothing to do. Let's try to get some shut-eye, shall we?"

None of us did, really. We ended up staring at the TV. I guess news people got exempted from curfew somehow...or they kept playing previous broadcasts at night.

The news showed a candlelit vigil for the Challenger 11 astronauts. I hadn't noticed the first time, but Joseph Wapner had been the pilot. Maybe it's best that the other Wapner took to the law.

Still strange to see MJ in a flight suit, especially since this world chose neon green as the uniform color.

Rembrandt shook his head sadly. "Judge Wapner...I hate that man! How much you wanna bet he had something to do with the accident?"

"Just because he almost got you killed on one world doesn't mean he's a killer here," Quinn said.

"Man, I don't know...It seems like on every world, the man's bad news..."

In world news, war had broken out on Australia's West Bank, Israelis firing missiles at the Arabs. The newscaster stood on a balcony overlooking the Dome of the Rock, but a koala bear clambered across the railing.

Teenagers in Paris threw rocks at armored men with riot shields. Apparently a big wall divided the city in half, Socialist and Communist territories.

The Professor found a deck of cards, so we killed time doing that until long after dawn. Quinn didn't catch Arturo counting the deck until I'd lost a hundred bucks. He gave the money back and played fair the next round.

Arturo showed a suspiciously serious poker face, but in between the TV, Remmy's stories about his grandmother, and Arturo's regaling us with a convincing tale about his student with an unhealthy romantic obsession, nobody thought to pry too deeply.

Timer: 153:47.

I checked the clock. 8:30 A.M. "They serving breakfast yet?"

"I believe so." Quinn laid down a straight flush, Arturo groaning as he handed over a fifty.

I stretched and walked downstairs. Definitely a morning for coffee.

Yep, tofu eggs. Honestly, not a big deal for me, I went through a vegan phase once. They served coffee Turkish style, in a shot glass, thick enough to make your hair stand up straight. At least they still had pancakes, cereal and fruit. They only served rice milk, of course.

The bar had been closed, and they had the TV turned to Public Education.

Xuxa Meneghel's Neighborhood. I nearly choked on my breakfast when I watched it. Picture Mister Rogers hosted by a Brazilian woman in hot shorts, one that says things like "Drop a chicken."

The others joined me.

Quinn scooped a pancake into his mouth. "So, what's on everyone's agenda today?"

"I believe I shall go shopping," said The Professor.

I glanced down at my clothes. "That does sound like a good idea. That, and maybe some matinee showings."

"I've got an appointment with my shrink at nine fifteen..." Rembrandt checked the Peale's Beer wall clock. "And I'm late. Excuse me, guys..." He rushed out.

The Professor turned to face Quinn. "Mister Mallory, would you mind if I examined The Timer?"

I guess Quinn trusted him more than I did, because the next thing out of his mouth was: "Sure. In fact, if you're going to hang back at the hotel, you can keep it `til the next Slide." He pushed the device over to Arturo.

I didn't like that gleam that appeared in the man's eyes, or how quickly he stuffed The Timer into his pocket. Unfortunately, I couldn't verbalize my concern without causing a scene. If this actually were The Professor, there'd be a lot of hurt feelings.

Surprisingly crowded sidewalks and streets for that time of morning. I guess curfew had something to do with it. A nearby donut shop had an extra long line.

I forgot to mention: Weird hairstyles. Women in that world all seemed to love big hair, especially this crazy style where it swoops over like an ocean wave.

Also, instead of walking dogs, several people walked geese on little leashes.

We found a clothing boutique a few blocks away. I and Quinn stopped inside, but Arturo kept walking.

Nice selection in the shop. Normal clothes you'd see anywhere. A little pricey, though. Quinn looked bored, but endured my shopping patiently.

"You sure about leaving The Timer with The Professor?" I asked.

"What's he going to do, leave without us? We got roughly six days before the next Slide."

"Don't joke like that, Quinn. What if he actually does sneak off somewhere leave us?"

Quinn leaned on a clothing rack. "Look, Wade. I know we didn't exactly have time to make sure we had the right Professor, but whichever one he is, he needs us to get home, and we need him. If the Timer gets broken, I doubt he can fix it on his own. Besides, I've been thinking...if the other Arturo read your memoirs, and knows our problem with not being able to control the Slide, why the hell would he leave his home?"

"Dunno, because the other Quinn left and he wants to find him again? Because he wants to actually travel to other worlds, to have a story to tell people when he gets back home?"

"If he gets back home. That's a big if. Our Professor, though, he'd have every reason to fight for a way home."

"Okay, but...You said he can't fix The Timer on his own, maybe he just wants to steal the secret from you, and take it home to hog all the glory?"

He shook his head. "He'd have to be crazy. He knows we can't control the Slide!"

I swallowed. "I hope you're right...You know, I swear I caught him smoking yesterday."

Quinn laughed. "How? They don't have cigarettes here."

"I...I don't know. Maybe he brought them along?"

He frowned. "Let's hope you're wrong. We're having enough difficulty just getting home, let alone going back and retracing our steps."

I found a cute outfit on sale. We strolled over to the movie theater.

Roger Rabbit 2...Not what I expected. Although they still had Bob Hoskins as the co-star (the poster definitely fooled me), Doctor Who's Tom Baker did the voice of Roger Rabbit, and Patrick McGoohan, star of The Prisoner, woodenly played the villain. Even with Stephen Spielberg directing, it didn't capture the magic of the original film. At all.

"On this world, I bet the first one is just as terrible," Quinn joked.

Yeah, just something to kill time. We watched Superman Lives next. Strange to see Christopher Reeve not in a wheelchair for once. Lots of surprising actors in that one. Michael Landon, the guy from the Taster's Choice commercials, Cousin Oscar from The Brady Bunch, now in his mid twenties...

For lunch, Quinn suggested we get a little adventurous and try the insect restaurant.

"No way," I said. "I don't care what kind of bug it is, I'm not eating it."

"Fine. What do you want, then?"

They had a decent pizza joint down the street. With beans and other meat substitutes, it didn't taste like pizza, but you got used to it. Quinn got one with crickets on it just to mock me.

I told Quinn about my vegan phase in highschool.

He grinned. "Well now you have a second chance!"

"I guess! It's not like the animals here fared any better."

"What now? Back to the theater?"

I groaned. "As much as I appreciate being safe enough to spend all day at the movies, we've been watching some real turkeys. Let's actually do something before they call curfew."

Unfortunately, as we finished eating, thunder rumbled outside, and once we stepped out the door, rain came pouring down like a monsoon. We ran, soaking wet, back into the theater.

Bone turned out to be shockingly good. A shame nobody from our earth would ever see it, at least not like that. We watched The Black Hole 2, tried to see another film, but the clerk said we'd seen the last showing for the day, and we should get home before the curfew. At least the rain had stopped by then.

The Professor had found us a board game. A version of Monopoly you played like chess. On any other world, I would have gotten bored with that nerd game, but lacking other diversions, I actually enjoyed it somewhat. The Professor said he might have plans to sell the concept to Milton Bradley when he got home.

Note: I think he wanted to say something other than Bradley. He paused before finishing the sentence.

One time during the game, The Professor excused himself to use the restroom. (Incidentally, nothing suspicious happening in there, we could hear the noises).

He was in there awhile, and I didn't have anything better to do, so I opened the nightstand to look at the weird Gladius Gideon bible.

Imagine my surprise at seeing a handgun crammed into the corner of the drawer. "Quinn!" I mouthed, waving him over.

Quinn peeked in, then gave me a look like he'd found a dead rat back there.

I cocked a thumb at the bathroom door, gesturing `See?'

"He could have stolen that from his double," Quinn whispered.

Rembrandt crept on his tiptoes, eyes bugging out when he spotted the weapon.

I held a finger to my lips, slipping the bible back into the drawer.

I'd just barely closed it up before the bathroom door swung open. We all hurriedly sat down, acting natural.

The Professor's eyes darted about, but he said nothing. We continued the game.

Once again, despite all the quality `family time', we did not expose Arturo's deception. He deflected suspicion by telling us about he accidentally flirted with a mind reader on the telepath world we'd visited. He said that, if he hadn't suddenly needed to come rescue me from government headquarters, he might have ended up in her hotel room.

Quinn smiled at him with what, admiration? "You kept pretty tight lipped about that, Professor!"

"Well. I did have a lot of other things on my mind."

I scoffed.

Arturo furrowed his brow. "Something you wish to say, Miss Welles?"

If he's going to keep up this charade, I thought. So can I. I moved my pewter dinosaur. "I was just buying Park Place. Checkmate."

"Madam, I believe you didn't notice my shoe. It is called `castling.'"

He swept my knight off the board, but I didn't care, the heat was off me.

The game wound down, and we went to bed. At least we had our circadian clocks reset to match this crazy world.

Timer: 129:11.

We breakfasted downstairs again. Rembrandt ate and left for his second appointment.

"Nice doctor," Quinn remarked. "You don't see many shrinks that go for daily sessions."

"Some do." I rolled my eyes. "Just wait until he sees the bill."

"One good thing about Sliding, we don't always have to pay for things like that."

"Oh, I don't know, what goes around comes around. Don't be surprised if we Slide somewhere and randomly get charged eight hundred dollars for nothing."

The look on Quinn's face said he didn't buy it. "C'mon. Let's go kill some time."

I thought he'd suggest the theater again, but he walked off in the opposite direction. "Hey, Remmy says there's an ice cream social at Church of the Sacred Blade up the street. Wanna go?"

"That place near the park?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're a scientist, Quinn. Why on earth would you go to a church ice cream social?"

He shrugged. "I'm bored and it's free and we don't have anything better to do."

"And what about this?" I copied the stabbing motion I'd seen the nun do.

"That's just genuflecting. I looked it up. When people make the sign of the cross, it doesn't mean they want to nail you to one."

"They don't...stab people here?"

"Not with a Roman sword. Actually, the whole...methodology of murder kinda changed because of it. Before the invention of gunpowder, people...got a little creative. Strangulation, poisonings, blunt objects..."

I shuddered. "Almost makes me glad they invented handguns."

"That's not the half of it. Crucifixion is still widely practiced as a method of execution."

I paled, shivering at the thought. "Remind me not to commit a felony here."

So we went to Sacred Blade.

More or less your average church carnival. They had a bounce castle, cornhole games, a cake walk and live music. One family had brought along a pet Canada goose.

Although me and Quinn aren't really churchgoers, we both felt pretty sure `The Old Rugged Sword' did not exist as a song on our world, nor `Gladly the Sword I'd Bear' or `Lift High the Sword.'

Sister Rahab served us ice cream made from rice and coconut milk. Not terrible.

I practically threw my cone of pineapple sherbet into The Professor's vest when he collided with me.

"Hate to cut your festivities short, but something's wrong with The Timer."

Quinn stared at the device in alarm. "Oh my God, we've only got fifteen minutes until the next Slide! We gotta find Rembrandt!"

"Still at the psychologist, I'm afraid."

"You know where it's at?"

Arturo nodded.

"Lead the way!"

Timer: 014:99.

In a panic, Quinn threw his cone to the pavement, hot on the heels of the running Professor.

I scarfed down my ice cream, rushing after the two.

We raced across the street, nearly getting hit by cars in the process.

The offices of Doctor Robert Kuminsky stood above a small art gallery space next door to the place selling (ugh) mosquito pancakes, pulverized crickets and grubs. I tried to ignore the seafood-like aroma, pushing through the door and charging up the staircase.

A beige room lined with books and abstract paintings stood on the second floor. The blonde receptionist stared at me as I ran to her desk.

"Hi. We need to see Rembrandt Brown."

The woman's hair, styled in the shape of a giant wave, bobbed as she talked to me. "He's in a session with the doctor."

"You don't understand, this is an emergency."

"I'm sorry, you can't interrupt the session."

Quinn threw open a door behind the desk.

"Hey!" the receptionist shouted. "You can't go in there!"

"Rembrandt!" Quinn dashed into the adjacent room.

I followed The Professor as he shoved his way past the desk.

A fire crackled in the fireplace of a green room decorated with psychology books and diplomas. The Cryin' Man lay on a couch, a brown haired man with glasses jotting notes on a clipboard. He tucked his pen into pocket of his purple shirt.

"We're his family," The Professor declared as he burst in.

The doctor jumped to his feet, nostrils of his large, bulbous nose flaring. "Excuse me, you can't barge in here!"

"Sorry, doctor," Quinn said. "Rembrandt, we're going to miss the Slide."

Rembrandt shot him a questioning look, but got up from the couch. "Apologies, guys, I kinda lost track of time...Always looking after me, huh, Q-Ball?"

"That's what it's all about."

The Professor checked The Timer. "Three, two, one..."

He pushed a button, and a swirling portal opened in the air, right in the middle of the man's office.

Rembrandt turned to face the psychologist. "Sorry about all this, doc."

The man stared slack jawed at the portal, too amazed to even formulate words.

"Doc?"

I rolled my eyes and jumped through the portal.

My insides shifted as I fell through the swirling tube of light. As usual, I lost track of which direction was up until I came rocketing out the wormhole on the other side.

I landed in a huge mound of sand. Arturo dug his way out of the mound in front of me, spitting out silica grains and wiping his mouth.

Two more sizzling noises and flashes of light as Quinn and Rembrandt dropped into the sand behind me.

"Well at least we landed on something soft this time!" Cryin' Man exclaimed.

The Professor stared at the rusty metal walls that boxed us in on all sides. "Yes, but where the Devil are we?"

That's when the sand truck rumbled to life.

We leaned on the steel walls, staring over the lip. It seemed to be ordinary San Francisco, but looks often deceived us.

Suspicious: A billboard for a sixth Wonder Woman film, when there hadn't been a first one in our world.

Also, the fashion models on that and other advertisements seemed...thicker.

"What genius decided to put that woman on a billboard?" Rembrandt remarked. "In a bikini, no less?"

I scowled. "Hey! It's realistic. Not every woman has to look like a Barbie doll, you know."

"Yeah, but Wonder Woman? Ha!"

"Men," I scoffed.

"Man, I thought we had a whole week before the next Slide!" Rembrandt complained. "What was that, two days?"

Arturo dumped sand from his pocket. For a brief second, I glimpsed the handle of the pistol. "The Timer reset while you were out getting psychoanalyzed...Make any progress?"

"Yeah. It definitely helps to talk out your problems sometimes."

"That's good to hear. According to the papers on the desk, you were one step away from being committed to a mental asylum."

"I was?" He slumped back in the sand. "Gee, thanks for making me feel worse!"

The Professor smirked. "My pleasure, Mister Brown."

"How much time before the next Slide?" I asked.

Timer: 36:00

The truck took us to a construction site for some corporate complex. We jumped out just as it stopped and dumped its payload, near a tower of unfinished steel girders and scaffolding.

We brushed ourselves off, marching out the gate. The workers and truck driver yelled at us, but we quickly made ourselves scarce, scurrying down the sidewalk.

We stared at all the ads plastered across the fencing: `Coming soon: Dupont Chemicals-John Lovitz Memorial Complex.'

"Isn't that the guy from Saturday Night Live?" I asked.

Quinn shrugged. "Maybe he's not a comedian here."

"Nor alive," The Professor huffed.

We took a trolley to Golden Gate Park.

Timer: 35:90

Although I didn't spot any Gladiuses, or other symbols of strange religion, I did notice everyone wore something like giant black flea collars. I and my fellow travelers glanced uncomfortably at each other.

Rembrandt pointed. "Hey, at least the church looks normal."

"Yeah, I guess there's that..."

We found a food truck in the park again. This time it actually served meat.

"Thank heavens!" The Professor cried. "I thought I'd waste away on that last world!"

Still had money left over. We purchased hamburgers and chili dogs.

A black cocker spaniel mutt came up to me and begged.

"Aww!" I smiled, tearing off part of my hot dog.

The moment the canine gobbled it down, a male police officer, who had been watching from a nearby table, spoke into a radio and approached me.

Bulky, Kevlar clad, buzz-cut hair. Oversized flea collar. His badge said `Officer Thorpe.' "Excuse me, ma'am. What did you just do to that dog?"

"I fed him. He was hungry, so I gave him a bite of my hot dog. I wasn't aware that was a crime."

"Those hot dogs are loaded with spices, gluten, chemicals and preservatives that are harmful to a dog's digestion. I'll have to write you a citation for animal cruelty."

My friends stared at him, dumbstruck. One by one, they instinctively pulled their food close to their chest, to make sure the dog didn't eat anything else.

"Now wait just a minute! I love animals!"

Quinn smirked. "She's right, officer. In highschoool, she went all vegan. Didn't want to hurt the little cows and piggies!"

Thorpe kept staring at our necks. "In that case..." He handed me a pamphlet. "I want you to study this before attempting to feed animals again."

The little booklet said, `Be kind to your pet - It's the law!' The inside contained lots of rules, including a ban on generic kibble like Best Choice and Pedigree, also wheat gluten and spicy foods. Not only could it cause a dog to eat grass, they could fine me up to ten thousand dollars or put me in prison for ten years. "God, really?"

"Yes, ma'am. Really."

A uniformed woman rolled up to us on a bicycle. She also wore one of those collars.

Butch haircut, shapeless uniform and Kevlar. Her tag read Gutowski. "What have we got here, Thorpe?"

"Animal cruelty."

"I only fed him a chili dog!" I protested.

Quinn self-consciously wolfed down his hamburger. Rembrandt did the same with his chili dog. The Professor scooted my food to the center of the picnic table so my new pet couldn't reach it.

The dog remained at my side, begging for another bite. I petted him on the head. "See? You liked it, didn't you boy?"

"She apparently didn't understand the animal cruelty laws. She's been warned."

"Madam, we're from out of town," The Professor interjected.

Rembrandt opened his mouth, but he really shouldn't have. "You think that's bad, you should have seen what I fed to my brother's pit bull—"

Arturo made a cutting motion across his throat.

Luckily, he hadn't said it that loud.

Gutowski put her hands on her hips, fingered a pair of handcuffs. "Where are their truth collars?"

"Beg pardon?" The Professor blurted.

Thorpe crossed his arms. "Knew there was something suspicious about them."

"Can I see some ID?" Officer Gutowski asked.

"Sorry. My wallet got stolen."

The woman's eyes narrowed when she saw Rembrandt creeping away from the table. She whipped a gun from her holster. "All four of you, stay where you are. Hands behind your back."