Arturo's Deception

by Akktri

(What happens between Post Traumatic Slide Syndrome and In Dino Veritas episodes). With The Professor presumably in their company, Quinn, Rembrandt and Wade travel to a world where lying is against the law. Characters: Wade Welles, Quinn Mallory, Maximillian Arturo, Rembrandt Brown

5. Chapter 5: In Dino Veritas

I stepped forward, hands raised in the air. "So, what? We all just jump into the TV?"

"Don't do it!" Jennifer shouted. "Be honest, Kuminsky, if they go, are you gonna let me live?"

"Of course I—"

The Kromagg doctor winced, instinctively putting one hand to his neck.

Jennifer struck his crotch with a hammerfist, grabbing the space gun with her other hand.

The two struggled for the weapon. A stray shot blew the television to tiny bits of plastic and aluminum, chunks of circuitry flying everywhere.

"Nice work, doctor!" Jennifer laughed. "Unfortunately now we'll have to wait about twenty four hours to get back to your precious `hospital'!"

Growling, Kromagg Kuminsky turned the weapon on Jennifer and fired.

She had a saintly look on her face as she died, like she expected this, and was okay with it...even as her body got reduced to a pile of burning ash. The last thing out of her mouth: "You know that thing I told you about Rembrandt's platinum record?...I lied."

Rembrandt looked utterly crushed, all joy leaving his face. Of course, none of use felt happy at the moment.

We all backed away with our arms raised in the air.

Quinn paled. "Don't shoot. We'll cooperate."

Arturo...looked annoyed. "Yes, but as the woman said before you dehydrated her molecules, we will have to endure your unsavory company for the better half of a day!"

"No big deal. I expected to have you for the rest of your lives. This asylum still has handcuffs, rope and sedative. If the sedative, past its expiration date, kills you, well..." He gave an indifferent shrug. "Let's go to the basement. Down the hallway behind you, and off to the right. You wanted to see the equipment anyway..."

We turned our backs to him. What else could we do?

"Keep your arms raised. The moment one of you drops them, I shoot."

The doctor marched us down the hallway, each of us giving the international hand sign for touchdown.

As we passed Rembrandt's room, someone screamed, and Kuminsky got struck in the face with a splintery wooden board. He collapsed unconscious on the floor.

Rembrandt's nurse jumped out the doorway, snatching the space gun up from the dirty carpeting.

"Angela!" Rembrandt laughed. "Boy am I glad to see you!"

"Quick. Get out of here while the getting's good!"

Quinn shook his head. "Wait! The Timer!"

Angela sighed through her nose. I guess she must have been told what The Timer was, for she didn't ask questions. "Hurry!"

I stared at her. "Wait...how did you even get here?"

"You didn't look behind you. I snuck through that mirror the moment you left." She pointed the space gun at the Kromagg doctor.

"Wait!" Quinn called as he came running back with The Timer. "Don't do that! We can interrogate him, get him to show us how the machine works!"

The Professor sneered at the suggestion. "Yes, but as long as he's alive, he can send a signal to other Kromaggs, or worse yet, find a way to get us incarcerated in this terrible excuse for an asylum once more."

"Professor! Killing him could send an alarm to the Kromaggs anyway—"

Angela pulled the trigger, reducing the doctor to dust.

Quinn frowned at the smoldering ash. "Great. Now we'll never figure out the machine in the basement. And you, Professor—"

A loud klaxon sound shook the building. We all stared at each other in alarm.

"That doesn't sound good."

The Professor sighed through his nostrils. "I agree, Mister Mallory. As you suggested, this Kromagg may have signaled to the others, or, dare I say it, activated a self destruct mechanism."

Quinn glanced back at the hole in the floor, as if he could see the machine. "We should go. I don't want to be here when the raiding party shows up."

"Raiding party!" Angela shouted. "Self destruct! What about the patients?"

Quinn rolled his eyes. "You should have thought about that before vaporizing the doctor."

I nodded. "They're still prisoners. C'mon, there's no time!"

"At least the portals are closed."

We rushed to the front entrance with the warning noises ringing in our ears. Angelica tried entering today's date on the security keypad, but Quinn just pulled on the handle and it came open.

We ran across an unmowed soccer field overgrown with weeds, crossed a rotting bridge, hustled to the foot of a water tower.

We all stopped to catch our breath. I think whenever we finish Sliding for good, we'll all be able to compete in the Olympics. In fact, I've noticed The Professor has lost a pound or two.

I leaned against a tree, slowing my breathing. "Wait, Angelica...We've got to find a way—"

Boom! The asylum turned into a giant fireball, pointy Charles Addams roofs and towers flying up into the air like rocketships. A water heater smashed down on the bridge, thundering into the dry streambed below. We retreated further, to a rock wall at the end of the compound.

I frowned at Angelica. "I'm sorry you can't go back..."

"It's okay. I've been to this place before. It's basically like the other one, but my family speaks to me."

"Angelica!" Rembrandt got pouty. "You knew this whole time? And didn't think to tell me?"

"They would have locked me away too..."

Rembrandt sighed and rubbed his face.

"So, now that we're out, how about a real date this time?"

"Sounds great, baby." No flinching. I guess he was just glad to get out. "But you forgot they took my wallet and everything."

Angela reached into her labcoat. "I...may have pilfered a few things by mistake. I'm such a kleptomaniac."

She handed all of us our wallets back. "Oh, and I think you'll want this..." She passed me my diary.

"Thank you."

Arturo opened his mouth to say something.

"The police have your gun and cigarettes, so don't ask."

"Cigarettes?" Quinn gawked at The Professor.

"Not mine!" Arturo's collar jolted him. "Fine. I've been trying to quit! (Though present circumstances sorely tempt me)."

"We're going to have a nice long talk about this."

"Speaking of which, what does The Timer say? By my reckoning, we should have less than ten hours..."

Timer: 33:15.

"That's strange."

"Well, in between the doctor and Jennifer fiddling with it, it's to be expected. I only hope it's giving the correct time."

I marched up to a gate choked with dead vines. "Hey, at least we got our ID's back."

Rembrandt checked the money in his billfold. "All right, let's go out. My treat."

"I am rather peckish myself..." The Professor stroked his beard. "It does seem like ages since we ate..."

"Hey, who's talking about you? I was thinking about me and her!"

Angelica pushed Rembrandt's hands down. "I'd...hold on to that money if I were you. Someone's bound to notice you got the wrong faces on your bills."

"I just want to go to bed," Quinn groaned. "What time is it anyway?"

Angela checked her watch, then frowned at a sunny sky. "How do you get used to this? It should be early dawn right now!"

I shivered as a cold wind blew through my thin clothing. Found myself wishing I could go back to the other asylum for my jacket. "Coffee, mostly." I rubbed my arms for warmth. "I could really go for some right now."

"How many times have you been over here, Angela? Enough to know the time zone?"

"Not quite enough for that. Maybe once or twice? At least I have a bank account here."

"Let's hope your double doesn't notice."

"You seen her anywhere?"

Angela shook her head. "Don't know where she went to. My folks think I'm her."

"Maybe she found a portal too."

"...Maybe."

None of us wanted to see Golden Gate Park after the incident, so we took a trolley to the Dominion.

I slumped into a seat. "Something still bugs me. Jennifer said she was a `Primary.' A fixed point in the universe, and that the Multiverse would somehow collapse if she Slid out of her world. If that's true, why did nothing happen when she died?"

Quinn stared at the passing scenery. "Something did happen. The building blew up."

"But this world still exists."

"Wade, she was in an asylum."

"Agreed." The Professor stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But if she referred to a temporal fixed point in the universe, the important part would be remaining there until a significant event, such as her death. The death of John F. Kennedy, for example, is a fixed point in history. Perhaps she meant the important part was not leaving. If Kennedy had chosen a different route for his motorcade—"

"Who's John F. Kennedy?" Angela asked.

Arturo scowled. "...And here's our stop."

We got out in front of the hotel. Again I witnessed a lowrider playing classical music.

Since our next Slide would be in less than 33 hours, we set a reservation for a day longer. One of these days that trick will come back to bite us, but Quinn was careful. He didn't explain (and hence lie), he just told Gomez our length of stay.

I and Quinn decided that, since the hotel had a continental breakfast anyway, that we didn't need to impose on Rembrandt's girlfriend. As nice as she was, though, she still went to an ATM and traded some of our money for the right currency (except Rembrandt, since they were still going out).

I guess if we were being honest, the decision to dine in the hotel had been at least partly paranoia about the cops.

We all agreed to meet around eight in the morning at a school football field a few blocks down from the hotel. Rembrandt promised to be there.

Not sure why I didn't see it at the asylum, but the honesty thing showed in our breakfast. No artificial coloring or fake pictures on packages. The sausage looked like something cut from a pig instead of a neat roll, Froot Loops were...loops. Packages of hot cocoa looked...plain. No doctored photographs with soap and glue added to make you want to buy it more.

I got a bowl of corn flakes. The sugar looked funny, but that's probably because they didn't process it to make it look perfect.

Morning television fare: Pee Wee Hermann in drag, still in his Playhouse but a lot less wacky. On the other television: A college level Cornholing tournament (as opposed to their Professional League).

Casting decisions on TV shows got really liberal there. The overweight, amputees, people with blemished skin...I don't think they used makeup either. Those cameras really put the spotlight on people's defects.

That's not to say that a few didn't look passably good, but they didn't appear to have a glamor system like they do on our world.

I saw a hamburger commercial on TV that...I guess it would look tasty if I were hungry.

The beer commercials, too...

Actually, no commercials made empty promises. You get so used to companies promising you love, or friendship, or jumping higher when you buy a new pair of Nike's, that when they don't do it...

Quinn munched some buttered toast. "Hey, rI stepped forward, hands raised in the air. "So, what? We all just jump into the TV?"

"Don't do it!" Jennifer shouted. "Be honest, Kuminsky, if they go, are you gonna let me live?"

"Of course I—"

The Kromagg doctor winced, instinctively putting one hand to his neck.

Jennifer struck his crotch with a hammerfist, grabbing the space gun with her other hand.

The two struggled for the weapon. A stray shot blew the television to tiny bits of plastic and aluminum, chunks of circuitry flying everywhere.

"Nice work, doctor!" Jennifer laughed. "Unfortunately now we'll have to wait about twenty four hours to get back to your precious `hospital'!"

Growling, Kromagg Kuminsky turned the weapon on Jennifer and fired.

She had a saintly look on her face as she died, like she expected this, and was okay with it...even as her body got reduced to a pile of burning ash. The last thing out of her mouth: "You know that thing I told you about Rembrandt's platinum record?...I lied."

Rembrandt looked utterly crushed, all joy leaving his face. Of course, none of use felt happy at the moment.

We all backed away with our arms raised in the air.

Quinn paled. "Don't shoot. We'll cooperate."

Arturo...looked annoyed. "Yes, but as the woman said before you dehydrated her molecules, we will have to endure your unsavory company for the better half of a day!"

"No big deal. I expected to have you for the rest of your lives. This asylum still has handcuffs, rope and sedative. If the sedative, past its expiration date, kills you, well..." He gave an indifferent shrug. "Let's go to the basement. Down the hallway behind you, and off to the right. You wanted to see the equipment anyway..."

We turned our backs to him. What else could we do?

"Keep your arms raised. The moment one of you drops them, I shoot."

The doctor marched us down the hallway, each of us giving the international hand sign for touchdown.

As we passed Rembrandt's room, someone screamed, and Kuminsky got struck in the face with a splintery wooden board. He collapsed unconscious on the floor.

Rembrandt's nurse jumped out the doorway, snatching the space gun up from the dirty carpeting.

"Angela!" Rembrandt laughed. "Boy am I glad to see you!"

"Quick. Get out of here while the getting's good!"

Quinn shook his head. "Wait! The Timer!"

Angela sighed through her nose. I guess she must have been told what The Timer was, for she didn't ask questions. "Hurry!"

I stared at her. "Wait...how did you even get here?"

"You didn't look behind you. I snuck through that mirror the moment you left." She pointed the space gun at the Kromagg doctor.

"Wait!" Quinn called as he came running back with The Timer. "Don't do that! We can interrogate him, get him to show us how the machine works!"

The Professor sneered at the suggestion. "Yes, but as long as he's alive, he can send a signal to other Kromaggs, or worse yet, find a way to get us incarcerated in this terrible excuse for an asylum once more."

"Professor! Killing him could send an alarm to the Kromaggs anyway—"

Angela pulled the trigger, reducing the doctor to dust.

Quinn frowned at the smoldering ash. "Great. Now we'll never figure out the machine in the basement. And you, Professor—"

A loud klaxon sound shook the building. We all stared at each other in alarm.

"That doesn't sound good."

The Professor sighed through his nostrils. "I agree, Mister Mallory. As you suggested, this Kromagg may have signaled to the others, or, dare I say it, activated a self destruct mechanism."

Quinn glanced back at the hole in the floor, as if he could see the machine. "We should go. I don't want to be here when the raiding party shows up."

"Raiding party!" Angela shouted. "Self destruct! What about the patients?"

Quinn rolled his eyes. "You should have thought about that before vaporizing the doctor."

I nodded. "They're still prisoners. C'mon, there's no time!"

"At least the portals are closed."

We rushed to the front entrance with the warning noises ringing in our ears. Angelica tried entering today's date on the security keypad, but Quinn just pulled on the handle and it came open.

We ran across an unmowed soccer field overgrown with weeds, crossed a rotting bridge, hustled to the foot of a water tower.

We all stopped to catch our breath. I think whenever we finish Sliding for good, we'll all be able to compete in the Olympics. In fact, I've noticed The Professor has lost a pound or two.

I leaned against a tree, slowing my breathing. "Wait, Angelica...We've got to find a way—"

Boom! The asylum turned into a giant fireball, pointy Charles Addams roofs and towers flying up into the air like rocketships. A water heater smashed down on the bridge, thundering into the dry streambed below. We retreated further, to a rock wall at the end of the compound.

I frowned at Angelica. "I'm sorry you can't go back..."

"It's okay. I've been to this place before. It's basically like the other one, but my family speaks to me."

"Angelica!" Rembrandt got pouty. "You knew this whole time? And didn't think to tell me?"

"They would have locked me away too..."

Rembrandt sighed and rubbed his face.

"So, now that we're out, how about a real date this time?"

"Sounds great, baby." No flinching. I guess he was just glad to get out. "But you forgot they took my wallet and everything."

Angela reached into her labcoat. "I...may have pilfered a few things by mistake. I'm such a kleptomaniac."

She handed all of us our wallets back. "Oh, and I think you'll want this..." She passed me my diary.

"Thank you."

Arturo opened his mouth to say something.

"The police have your gun and cigarettes, so don't ask."

"Cigarettes?" Quinn gawked at The Professor.

"Not mine!" Arturo's collar jolted him. "Fine. I've been trying to quit! (Though present circumstances sorely tempt me)."

"We're going to have a nice long talk about this."

"Speaking of which, what does The Timer say? By my reckoning, we should have less than ten hours..."

Timer: 33:15.

"That's strange."

"Well, in between the doctor and Jennifer fiddling with it, it's to be expected. I only hope it's giving the correct time."

I marched up to a gate choked with dead vines. "Hey, at least we got our ID's back."

Rembrandt checked the money in his billfold. "All right, let's go out. My treat."

"I am rather peckish myself..." The Professor stroked his beard. "It does seem like ages since we ate..."

"Hey, who's talking about you? I was thinking about me and her!"

Angelica pushed Rembrandt's hands down. "I'd...hold on to that money if I were you. Someone's bound to notice you got the wrong faces on your bills."

"I just want to go to bed," Quinn groaned. "What time is it anyway?"

Angela checked her watch, then frowned at a sunny sky. "How do you get used to this? It should be early dawn right now!"

I shivered as a cold wind blew through my thin clothing. Found myself wishing I could go back to the other asylum for my jacket. "Coffee, mostly." I rubbed my arms for warmth. "I could really go for some right now."

"How many times have you been over here, Angela? Enough to know the time zone?"

"Not quite enough for that. Maybe once or twice? At least I have a bank account here."

"Let's hope your double doesn't notice."

"You seen her anywhere?"

Angela shook her head. "Don't know where she went to. My folks think I'm her."

"Maybe she found a portal too."

"...Maybe."

None of us wanted to see Golden Gate Park after the incident, so we took a trolley to the Dominion.

I slumped into a seat. "Something still bugs me. Jennifer said she was a `Primary.' A fixed point in the universe, and that the Multiverse would somehow collapse if she Slid out of her world. If that's true, why did nothing happen when she died?"

Quinn stared at the passing scenery. "Something did happen. The building blew up."

"But this world still exists."

"Wade, she was in an asylum."

"Agreed." The Professor stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But if she referred to a temporal fixed point in the universe, the important part would be remaining there until a significant event, such as her death. The death of John F. Kennedy, for example, is a fixed point in history. Perhaps she meant the important part was not leaving. If Kennedy had chosen a different route for his motorcade—"

"Who's John F. Kennedy?" Angela asked.

Arturo scowled. "...And here's our stop."

We got out in front of the hotel. Again I witnessed a lowrider playing classical music.

Since our next Slide would be in less than 33 hours, we set a reservation for a day longer. One of these days that trick will come back to bite us, but Quinn was careful. He didn't explain (and hence lie), he just told Gomez our length of stay.

I and Quinn decided that, since the hotel had a continental breakfast anyway, that we didn't need to impose on Rembrandt's girlfriend. As nice as she was, though, she still went to an ATM and traded some of our money for the right currency (except Rembrandt, since they were still going out).

I guess if we were being honest, the decision to dine in the hotel had been at least partly paranoia about the cops.

We all agreed to meet around eight in the morning at a school football field a few blocks down from the hotel. Rembrandt promised to be there.

Not sure why I didn't see it at the asylum, but the honesty thing showed in our breakfast. No artificial coloring or fake pictures on packages. The sausage looked like something cut from a pig instead of a neat roll, Froot Loops were...loops. Packages of hot cocoa looked...plain. No doctored photographs with soap and glue added to make you want to buy it more.

I got a bowl of corn flakes. The sugar looked funny, but that's probably because they didn't process it to make it look perfect.

Morning television fare: Pee Wee Hermann in drag, still in his Playhouse but a lot less wacky. On the other television: A college level Cornholing tournament (as opposed to their Professional League).

Casting decisions on TV shows got really liberal there. The overweight, amputees, people with blemished skin...I don't think they used makeup either. Those cameras really put the spotlight on people's defects.

That's not to say that a few didn't look passably good, but they didn't appear to have a glamour system like they do on our world.

I saw a hamburger commercial on TV that...I guess it would look tasty if I were hungry.

The beer commercials, too...

Actually, no commercials made empty promises. You get so used to companies promising you love, or friendship, or jumping higher when you buy a new pair of Nike's, that when they don't do it...

Quinn munched some buttered toast. "Hey, remember that bit from The Muppets where Kermit tries to do a commercial about soap and everyone tries to make him use a gimmick?...I think Jim Henson would have loved it here."

I chuckled.

He stuffed his mouth. "This bacon is really good."

"Speaking of honesty..." I gestured to Arturo with my spoon. "The elephant in the room..."

"Is that a crack about my weight?" The Professor grumped.

Quinn turned to face him, swallowing bacon. "Pop quiz: What did I always do in your class that really got under your skin?"

Arturo glanced at me like I had an answer written on my forehead. "You...insulted me."

"False. I respected you too much for that. If not for your scientific writings, we wouldn't be here right now. Try again."

The Professor's demeanor took on a jolly twinkle as he pointed a finger at him. "You industrious genius! In-between the all- nighters and not feeling challenged enough by the course material, you slept!"

I tried another. "Okay...What famous celebrity did people once confuse you with?"

The Professor waved dismissively. "Luciano Pavarotti. A pity because I'm an Englishman, and not Italian at all. The buffoons..."

"That was probably in your book," Quinn muttered to me.

We silently ate, trying to think of better questions.

That time Arturo cured the Bubonic Plague? In my book. What wasn't in my book? And there were so many things I didn't lnow, like if he slept with anyone in the Australian Embassy on that woman dominated world.

"I wish you hadn't `Told it all' in your book."

"Yeah, but I can't figure out how he had the time to read it, especially since I'd just been working on the publishing rights."

"He hired a goon to steal The Timer, so he could have hired someone else to steal a copy of your book."

The Professor leaned closer. "Already made a decision about me, have you?"

Quinn gave a reluctant shrug. "The gun and the cigarettes...It's kinda damning."

I rested my elbow on the bar counter, trying to look nonchalant as I gripped my collar. "Yeah, and...what about the tattoo?" I didn't get zapped because I didn't actually say he had one.

Quinn fought down mirth. "We did land in a nudist world, Professor. We pretty much got to see everything."

He stared at us both for a moment, then burst out laughing, clapping his hands. "Bravo! How clever of you! You nearly had me fooled! But of course you know both I and my double would never go for something foolish as subjecting ourselves to ink, even in a moment of ill advised alcoholic excess...In fact, the only marking on my body I received from birth: A butterfly pattern, right around the base of my spine..." He reached around, as if intending to show us.

"Great," Quinn chuckled. "That would require us to stare at his ass."

The Professor grinned in triumph, but I blurted, "Our Professor didn't have a birthmark."

Quinn's expression darkened. "All right, whoever you are, come clean, or we're leaving you on this world."

Arturo stuck a finger beneath his collar, shifting it with discomfort. "So that's how it is, eh? A couple circumstancial details, and you're eager to abandon me to the wolves?"

"Look, Professor. We're only asking for a little transparency. We left...one of you behind three worlds ago. If you're our Professor, then no worries, you'll be at home with us when we return to our earth. But if you're someone else, you're leaving your world and everything in it behind. You shouldn't expect us to go back there."

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "He lost his wife. Both of them did. She was everything to them."

Quinn stabbed a piece of bacon with his fork. "And this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Barring his own Quinn returning, it literally will never come again. The other Arturo needs The Timer, and The Experience of Sliding."

I looked up and found Arturo gone.

We checked our room, the rest of the hotel, and even up and down the sidewalk outside...no sign of him. He was just gone.

Quinn puffed air out his nose. "Gee, think it's something we said?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hilarious."

"I guess he'll come back when he's ready. I mean, where's he going to go? He can't seriously want to stay on this world."

"Do you really want him back?"

He paused and thought a moment. "I...don't know. Other than being a glory hound, he seems like The Professor we know and love. He's still a version of the scientific genius who taught me everything, plus he obviously doesn't belong here. He had at least a couple opportunities to run off and abandon us, but chose not to. I think he needs us. Then there's the gun. He had it this whole time, but never once tried to use it on us, well, after the incident in the basement. Now it's gone."

I stared at Quinn incredulously. "So, what, you think we should just...accept this guy and pretend like nothing is changed?"

He gave a shrug like that's exactly what we should do.

"Where should we start looking?" I sighed.

Since bookstores and libraries tended to be The Professor's favorite haunt, we visited one.

Unsurprisingly, nonfiction dominated everything. Well, that and poetry. Being a poet myself, I guess I didn't mind...Who am I kidding? I was cowed by the huge number of poetry collections. Nothing more demotivating than seeing countless people doing the same thing you are.

Although they did have some classic works of fiction, nothing more current than 1930...unless you count the stuff that Internet robots stole from fiction websites. For example, they had Dracula. Alice in Wonderland.

Shakespeare, though, they had it locked behind a glass case. You had to ask a store employee to get it for you. So much for "To thine own self be true."

Jim Henson had published and entire line of educational children's books, featuring his Sesame Street characters, but it didn't appear to be connected to an actual television show. Also, the books tended to be way too advanced for Sesame Street: Big Bird teaches the Mole Concept of Chemistry. Elmo and Bunsen on the Krebs Cycle. The Count Solves Exponential Equations for the Value of X. It did prove entertaining and informative.

Televangelist Joel Osteen turned out to be a prolific author of books on science and anthropology, including a few on evolution and the Big Bang, co-authored by Carl Sagan.

Number one bestseller in the Religion category: `The God Collar: Honesty with Yourself and Your Faith in an All Too Honest World.' The cover made the Truth Collar look like a halo. Inside, the author basically suggested not to hide your doubt or guilt, or join a religion because of family, peer pressure, or trying to impress a girl. I guess that kinda makes sense, but it made for tiny gatherings.

Leila was wrong about the guillotine. A ton of religious books talked about crosses. Still can't wrap my mind around the concept of someone being decapitated and coming back to life. He's Jesus, not the Headless Horseman.

Quinn held up a book, doing an impression. "Elmo teach ATP synthesis!...(Can you believe this junk?)"

I frowned at the bookshelves. "Well, he's not here...You think he went home?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Here? You can't be serious. What would he do there?"

"I dunno, maybe talk to his wife's collar wearing double?"

"Seems...plausible, but I wouldn't begin to know where to start looking. I sort of know how to get to his house, but that's it."

"The college?"

Quinn scratched his head. "Maybe...No matter what we do, it's going to end up a wild goose chase, and I'm dead tired."

"So you actually think he's going to come crawling back to us."

"What else can he do? He's stuck here just like the rest of us. Let him blow off a little steam. An unfortunate side effect of all this Sliding is we can't always relax and get some personal space." He yawned. "Speaking of which...good night."

Quinn stepped back into the hotel.

Timer: 32:45.

I'd gotten my rest already, and...a little tired of my jeans riding down on me. Angelica hadn't returned all my property to me, plus I was cold.

I found a clothing shop down the street, buying a belt and a warm windbreaker.

I...uh...didn't realize I'd given the cashier some of the wrong type of currency until I was already out the door with my purchases. Oopsie. Guess it's on her for not paying close enough attention. And trying to rush people through the line.

Plus, not counterfeit, just a different universe's U.S. Mint. You could run one of those markers over it and it'd still check out.

The movie theater I visited on the other world had been closed and abandoned for quite some time on this one. Everything had been boarded up, a homeless guy in a sleeping bag lay next to the ticket booth.

A block down, I found a bar and grill where people played board games. Having my fill of puzzles and tedious indoor stuff from the asylum, I almost kept walking, but then I noticed The Professor playing chess with an older woman.

Narrow, African American, hornrimmed spectacles. They appeared to be evenly matched, The Professor taking frequent drinks of coffee as he mulled long over his moves.

He noticed me staring through the window, waved me inside. My jaw dropped in surprise. How did his mood change so suddenly? And a woman? Although he enjoyed a good flirt from time to time, he generally tended to pine for his wife. Not a `moving on' type of guy.

I walked in, gawking at them.

Cute woman. Conservatively dressed. Hey, I was happy for him.

The game...not chess. It resembled it, but the pieces all looked like farm animals, and it had a circular board. The Professor had an instructional booklet open.

I kept gawking. "I hate to interrupt..."

The Professor pushed a button on his chess timer. "No interruption at all! Have a seat."

I pulled a chair up to the table. "What's this you're playing?"

"Chess. Apparently they don't have the game of knights and castles on this world." He gestured to the woman. "Meet Miss Jennings. Teaches high school. Wonderful woman."

She looked flattered.

I gave her an awkward smile. Absolutely shocking. He had never shown any interest in a black woman before. I guess his brief time with Rembrandt had opened his mind. "Nice to meet you."

"Teresa, this is my dear friend, Wade Welles. We Slide together."

We shook hands.

I turned to face Arturo. "Professor, look, we didn't want to drive you away. Whoever you are, we still need you, so—"

"Water under the bridge, Miss Welles." His collar jolted him. "We'll discuss this later. At the hotel, perhaps?"

"So sad to hear you have to keep living at hotels," said Miss Jennings. "Tell me about your friend."

The Professor puffed out air. "Ah...I was teaching Quantum Physics in college, and her boyfriend attended my classes..."

Pretty straightforward story, nothing that I didn't know. You probably read the whole thing in my book already. That is, until we got to the part with the Sliding machine.

"So here I was, staring at this shimmering portal in the air, and I make the suggestion that we increase the power—" Arturo winced, clutching his collar. "That is to say, Quinn increased the power, and I—"

He practically screamed that time.

Ms. Jennings reached across the table, squeezing his other hand. "Don't electrocute yourself on my behalf. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. It's still a remarkable story, one I wouldn't have believed, had it not come from such a charming, educated man."

The Professor smiled bashfully at this, but a glance at me dampened his spirits somewhat. "Unfortunately, this attempt at subterfuge was for the benefit of Miss Welles. I fear I can no longer maintain this charade." He gulped. "As you have correctly surmised, I am not the same Arturo you arrived with..."

I propped my chin up on my hand. "So what did happen in Quinn's basement that day?" Believe me, the situation in The Professor's basement ran a close second in my mind, but I didn't know if I should bring it up in mixed company.

Arturo shrugged. "My Quinn showed me the portal. I said it was amazing, but unsafe, and should be tested more rigorously before anyone travels through it again. Quinn disagreed, saying that he'd gone through it a few times with no ill effect. I told him I didn't think it had sufficient power for more than two people, again stressing that we should do further testing before allowing any humans to make use of it. He boosted the power, much to my alarm. I fled the scene as Mister Mallory and Miss Welles jumped in, refusing to join in his apparent madness. Although the portal had enough power to suck Mister Brown out of his automobile, just like in your world, I somehow managed to escape its gravitational field."

He looked deflated. "After that, nothing of note to report. I resumed my work at the university, keeping my mouth shut about the whole affair. Besides, who in their right mind would believe me? Then one day, Miss Welles and her friends showed up."

You basically know the rest of the story from my diary, how we thought we were home but really weren't. I thought he would explain what happened between him and our Arturo, but when he got to that part, he just said, "I...traded places with their Arturo and jumped into the next world."

Kinda sugarcoating things, aren't we? I thought, but kept the comment to myself.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Well, now that the truth is out, Miss Welles, I expect I shall be stranded here."

I forced a smile. "Look, I'm not happy with what you've done, but we can't leave you here. Quinn says...Professor, we still need you." I glanced at his new friend, wondering if she'd dump him if he told her the full details. "Unless you've found reasons to stay, of course."

The Professor gave a nervous laugh, patting me on the back. "If that proves to be the case, you will be the first to know." He returned his attention to Ms. Jennings. "My apologies, where were we?"

I got up, looking through all the shelves full of games, wondering what to do with my time. The Professor would probably be sleeping pretty soon, and Quinn already hit the sack. The pattern would likely continue into our next Slide. Although nice for someone on our team to keep watch when we're in danger, we appeared to be safe for the moment. I would have been better off if I'd stayed awake all evening.

Figuring alcohol would help, I sat at the bar, ordering a beer. Odd that they had alcohol but no cigarettes.

A handsome, mustached Hispanic guy sat down next to me. He kinda looked like Super Mario. Don't laugh. "Want to play a game?"

I smiled. "I don't play poker or Dungeons and Dragons. I'm kind of a Chutes and Ladders type of girl."

He brought me Uncle Wiggly. "Good?"

"Okay," I chuckled. "Fine."

We played the game over beers. His name: Raul.

Since I hadn't specified, the bartender had given me Billy Beer. Actually, not bad on this world, despite the peanutty bouquet. When I explained the worst beer ever crafted, he found it hilarious. They didn't even have a President Carter.

We checked a computer and found out Carter was, in fact, a president...of the Planters company. His alcoholic brother wasn't a well known fact. Jimmy's focus on the brewing business at the expense of politics explained the improvement in beer quality.

Raul rolled the dice. "What's Dungeons and Dragons?"

"It's a nerd game. You pretend to be wizards and stuff."

"Sounds fascinating. Any connection to Magic The Gathering?"

"...Maybe. Please don't get into that. You're much too cute."

An easy board game. It ended quickly. "This...is an interesting date. What do we do now?"

"Any interest in Magic cards?" He caught my annoyed glance and changed his tune. "Okay, how about we go for a walk?"

Up the street we went.

Raul worked at a toy factory. Their newest product: A computerized sort of Teddy Ruxpin. It used the internet like those Alexa things. Thanks to his collar, I discovered he had a lowly position, file clerk, getting coffee and stuff. He said the bears gave him the creeps at night because their eyes moved.

He seemed more interested in me. I ended up divulging more than I wanted to because of the collar.

I didn't notice where we'd been walking until we stood in front of Golden Gate Park. I balked.

"What's the matter?"

Hesitant to tell the full story, I just blurted, "Something bad happened there. I'd rather not, if that's okay with you."

To his credit, he didn't ask for an explanation, he just asked, "How do you feel about hiking?"

"Sounds nice, but..." I couldn't miss the Slide. "I'm leaving town in a day." My collar jolted me. "Okay, less than thirty two hours, but I can't afford to be late, so it absolutely has to be twenty four."

"I promise you it won't be long. I know of a place in town."

The Grand Canyon and Saint Louis Arch had moved, so I shouldn't have been surprised about Skyline Boulevard being replaced by a huge wildlife preserve with all the associated state highways missing. Same Santa Cruz mountains, but taller.

Dating is risky on parallel worlds, but Rembrandt does it all the time, and even Quinn occasionally, so let's not be sexist. In the unlikely event of something weird happening (like that one time a telepathic president had me imprisoned in his compound), I left a message at the front desk for my friends, telling them where I was going.

Uh...you know that lowrider with the classical music? That's him. I smiled uncomfortably as he blasted me and passerby with Franz Schubert.

"You're...a very...unique guy," I muttered.

The music blasted. "What?"

"Nothing."

At the park, we climbed up a mountain trail, admiring the beautiful scenery. Oh...and Dodos...not extinct in their world.

I got hungry for lunch, but he brought along some good supplies, water, beef jerky, granola, so no complaints in that department.

When the sun began to set, I told Raul, "We should go back. It's getting late."

"You said you had to leave in twenty four to thirty six hours. We still got time."

"N-no," I stammered. "Not thirty six. I don't even think I got thirty three. Plus I'm getting tired. We need to go back."

"You going to sleep for twenty hours? We got plenty time. I have a cabin here. We can stay the night and I'll drive you back in the morning. There's a hot spring..."

Okay, Raul, I thought. You're cute, but I just barely know you. "I'm sorry, I'm not comfortable with that. Can you please lead me back down?"

He looked disappointed, but still said okay. Not yes, but okay.

He took me down a trail different from the one we used to get there. "You sure this is the right way?"

"Relax. It's fine. It's just a different route. It's easy enough to find your way back."

His collar didn't shock him, so I believed him. I guess maybe it was easy...for him. I went along with it.

After trudging down a dirt trail for about twenty minutes, we came to a cabin. "Raul, this isn't funny. I asked to go back to town."

He leaned in close. "Seňorita, tu es muy linda. Hagamos que esta noche sea especial." That's when he tried to kiss me.

I backed away. "C'mon, we just met."

"You're leaving town. I wanted you to experience something memorable before you left."

I rolled my eyes. "By trying to get into my pants? I admit I had a good time up to this point, but I don't sleep with just any random stranger that walks into my life. If you want to impress me, start by taking me back to the hotel."

Raul glared at me. "Then find your own way back, puta."

So...off I went, up all those unfamiliar dirt trails in the blue dusk, no flashlight.

For awhile, I thought I had gone up the right path, but the more I hiked, the more I didn't recognize my surroundings. I felt as dumb as all those dodo birds I kept seeing in the bushes.

I stopped at a dead end and cried, thinking about how Quinn and the others wouldn't find me until the Window had closed, and we'd be stuck in Shock Collar World forever. Thanks, Raul.

I paused my crying when I smelled cooking hamburger.

Green wood. Ground beef. A weak fire flickered through the brush.

I stepped closer. Girls, laughing and talking.

"Hello?" I marched toward the firelight.

"Who's there?" shouted a girl.

"I'm Wade Welles. I'm lost."

I gasped as a figure in brown burst through the foliage, shining a flashlight in my face.

Black girl, hair in cornrows, dressed...in a brown Boy Scout uniform. Not a Girl Scout uniform. The decoration looked identical to the male counterpart: trefoil First Class patch, red neckerchief, flags, some kind of regional council insignia, grubby jeans. She stared at me for a moment. "Let me take you to Sandy."

We crossed through a clearing where a redhead girl tended a fire with foil wrapped packages on the coals. "What are you eating? Smells delicious."

"We were actually going to do burgers, but some raccoons stole our buns, so we changed our minds and decided to do sort of a pot roast. Once you talk with Sandy, she'll probably give you the good stuff the adults get. We have to eat our own cooking."

"You girls are lucky. When I went to Girl Scouts, we mainly stayed indoors doing crafts, or went door to door selling cookies."

The girl giggled. "Really? That sounds like what the boys do."

Boys? Doing a Girl Scout thing here? It made me wonder about Raul and his cabin.

...Nope, still didn't want to go back to him. "I...went a long time ago."

A half truth. She bought it.

The girl led me to a large camper, where four women my age sat around talking and grilling steak. I got introduced to Sandy: Blonde, freckle faced, kinda butch.

Baden Powell: Female on this world. It explained everything.

A very delicious steak and a baked potato later, Sandy took me down to her rusty yellow Honda and drove me to the hotel.

I only found Quinn at the suite. The others, I figured, were still out with their new girlfriends.

Timer: 10:30. Guess Raul hadn't been wrong about everything.

He'd been watching a speed sailing event on TV. "So how was your date?"

Suddenly I felt guilty. I never told anyone it was a date.

I mean, okay, so I dated a guy on a parallel world before, so, not too unexpected, but I still loved Quinn. Yes, he once told me that his double kissing me was "like incest," but he made up for it later. "Pretty lousy, actually. Started out fun, but he turned out to be a creep. I came this close to getting so lost that you'd need to send out a search party for me. Thank God for the Girl Boy Scouts."

Quinn blinked rapidly. "Repeat that last part again?"

Arturo stepped through the door in the middle of my explanation.

"Being as the Boy Scouts were started by a British army officer, it makes me wonder what the actual military looks like here."

"Probably like Wonder Woman," Quinn joked. "And the men sew them tea cosies."

"My kind of army." I cast him a knowing look. "So...has he told you?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "In a manner of speaking." He turned to face The Professor. "We don't intend to abandon you, that part is true, but the fact of the matter remains that you lied to us, and left our Professor in another dimension we can't get back to."

Arturo crossed his thick arms. "I heard your Professor state, on at least one occasion, that my world was as close to yours as he would ever get. Believe it or not, he was somewhat content in his circumstances, and doubted he'd find anything closer to home than mine with the Azure bridge. He was happy there."

"It was basically a carbon copy of our own world," Quinn admitted.

I narrowed my eyes at The Professor. "So you helped him along."

"Only I desired to leave."

"Yeah? Then why did you fight each other?"

"He didn't want to destabilize the portal, or the universe by having us both go through, and he felt a responsibility to stay with you. You once drove an entire truck through the portal, but he seems to have forgotten that detail."

Quinn muted the television and sat on the bed. "It didn't seem like a very good idea to have a person and their double Sliding together. That's why we didn't bring both of you."

"Yes, that may have been his thought as well. Also, he feared my world held secret terrors that would reveal themselves upon the portal indefinitely closing, though I can only assure you that my world is a carbon copy of yours, and such fear is ungrounded."

Quinn changed the channel. Slamball. "I gave him the third degree while you were out. Asked him if he intended to stab us in the back, in every sense of the phrase. As far as I can tell, he's an exact duplicate of our Professor. I think we can trust him."

"So we're just going to make believe like he's our Professor from now on?"

"Looks like it."

Arturo put an arm around my shoulder. "Miss Welles, although it's true we have not known each other long, I care for you very deeply. I value your friendship, and would rather die than see you or any of your companions harmed. My intent in traveling with you is to merely explore, to have something about which to write in scientific journals—"

"And figure out how to build his own Timer," Quinn groaned.

The Professor cleared his throat. "I confess that is part of my plan, but I refuse to tamper with the device in any way that will prevent you from traveling home. After the things I have just experienced, I too would give anything just to return homeward once more. And I would not want to leave a single one of you behind."

"If it wasn't for that collar, I'd think you were just feeding me a fine speech." I sighed. "You'll never be our Professor, but..." I shook his hand. "Welcome to the team...Professor Two."

"Just `Professor' or `Arturo,' please."

"...All...Right...So, how did it go with Miss Jennings?"

Arturo blew a raspberry. "We had a disagreement. If I hadn't been wearing this collar, it's possible we would have continued dating, but alas..." He wrinkled his nose. "Miss Welles, you smell like green wood smoke."

"I was just about to shower."

I got cleaned up and went to bed.

I woke up and found the guys gone. Checking the clock, I decided I had time for breakfast and a stroll before the Slide.

Timer: Roughly 3:10?

The Professor briefly popped in while I ate breakfast. "Miss Jennings wants to show me something before I leave. Would you mind stopping at a hardware store and locating a pair of wire cutters for us? I detest these Collars with a passion!"

"Yeah, no problem."

I found an art gallery a short distance away from the football field we were to meet at. Figuring I still had enough time to get the wire cutters after I took a quick look around, I stepped in.

People got pretty creative when they couldn't act and tell stories. The place had a fountain with giant glass sculptures, a huge woven bird nest, and a strobing video installation that gave the illusion of people's heads floating in the air.

I guess those items had been there awhile. The newest happened to be some outlandish fashion design/textile exhibit. Things like that generally make me chuckle.

A guy with a vague resemblance to Kevin Bacon approached me. Slick brown hair swept back in a widow's peak, slight overbite, clad in fashion from L. . "Hey, what do you think about this exhibit?"

I grinned. "Reminds me of something they'd have in a science fiction movie."

The stranger flashed a set of perfect teeth. "Yeah...I could see that. You watch a lot of movies, do you?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

His bucktoothed smile widened. "Not as much as you might think. What's your favorite?"

"Oh, uh...that's a tough one. I got a lot of favorites: Sixteen Candles, Saint Elmo's fire, Big, You Got Mail...?"

"Never heard of `em." The man snickered. "Tell me, where are you from?"

"Out of town..." I stammered.

He waved a guy with a camera over to me.

That's when it finally clicked: I'd seen the man doing a report on Hard Copy.

The man brought out a microphone. "I'm speaking to a young lady who says she's from out of town, and watches movies all the time. As we all know, seeing fiction on the big screen is next to impossible in the United States, and yet her collar isn't going off..." He pushed the microphone into my face. "What's your name, and where do you come from?"

I backed away from him. "I'm sorry, I've got to be going."

"Just a few quick questions. How long have you been an American citizen?"

"I'm not—" my collar jolted me. "All my life."

People stared at me now. I kept retreating.

"Really. And where have you been going to see all these films? It's my understanding that most countries have implemented the Collars. Is there an underground cinema we're not aware of?"

We now had a crowd. People stared, watching me, watching my collar, to see if I'd slip up.

The cameraman kept getting in my way. When he didn't stand in front of me, there'd be some gawking art gallery guest.

I broke down and told him everything about Sliding. I thought it would be enough to get him off my back, but he kept asking me things.

When I noticed the clock, I panicked and just ran, not caring that I bowled over some official looking guy in a suit, or elbowed a security guard. Someone's...abstract ceramic work toppled off a stand and shattered on the floor.

At last I made it out, nearly getting creamed by a car as I rushed across a busy street to the football field.

A few yards down, Quinn and The Professor already stood around in their coats, talking about something. Rembrandt rolled up in the passenger seat of Angela's convertible (Yeah, I don't know where she got the car either), running to join them.

I rushed up to meet them. "Guys, we got problems. Big time."

Arturo frowned at my empty hands. "Did you bring the wire cutters?"

"No time. Let's get out of here."

Quinn stared in worriment. "What's going on?"

Seconds later, a news van zoomed up to the corner, carelessly bumping over the curb. Hard Copy Guy and his cameraman hopped out, storming the lawn.

I glanced back in alarm. "I met a guy at this dumb art opening. He was chatting me up, `where are you from' and everything. With these crazy Collars on, there wasn't any way around it, pretty soon he wrung the whole story out of me."

"You told the guy from Hard Copy about Sliding?"

"What was I supposed to do? Lie and get electrocuted in front of two hundred and fifty art patrons? I think not."

Rembrandt shrugged indifferently. "Hey, what's the worst that can happen, huh? Goes on TV, tells the world about us, we'll all be long gone by then."

Hard Copy Guy brought the camera up to us. "Quinn Mallory: Boy Genius."

Quinn cast me an annoyed glare. "Uh-oh."

The camera swung toward our bearded companion. "And you must be the illustrious Professor Arturo, and Cryin' Man Brown. Listen, I hope you don't mind, I just thought I'd come and watch the Slide. Sounds really incredible!"

Arturo blew him off, taking out the timer. Not much time left. "Three...two...one..."

The shimmering portal opened in the air.

"Oh God!" Hard Copy guy shouted. "Fabulous!" To the cameraman: "You getting this?"

We all jumped through.

Honestly, surprised he didn't follow us in. It would have been the scoop of a lifetime.

emember that bit from The Muppets where Kermit tries to do a commercial about soap and everyone tries to make him use a gimmick?...I think Jim Henson would have loved it here."

I chuckled.

He stuffed his mouth. "This bacon is really good."

"Speaking of honesty..." I gestured to Arturo with my spoon. "The elephant in the room..."

"Is that a crack about my weight?" The Professor grumped.

Quinn turned to face him, swallowing bacon. "Pop quiz: What did I always do in your class that really got under your skin?"

Arturo glanced at me like I had an answer written on my forehead. "You...insulted me."

"False. I respected you too much for that. If not for your scientific writings, we wouldn't be here right now. Try again."

The Professor's demeanor took on a jolly twinkle as he pointed a finger at him. "You industrious genius! In-between the all- nighters and not feeling challenged enough by the course material, you slept!"

I tried another. "Okay...What famous celebrity did people once confuse you with?"

The Professor waved dismissively. "Luciano Pavarotti. A pity because I'm an Englishman, and not Italian at all. The buffoons..."

"That was probably in your book," Quinn muttered to me.

We silently ate, trying to think of better questions.

That time Arturo cured the Bubonic Plague? In my book. What wasn't in my book? And there were so many things I didn't know, like if he slept with anyone in the Australian Embassy on that woman dominated world.

"I wish you hadn't `Told it all' in your book."

"Yeah, but I can't figure out how he had the time to read it, especially since I'd just been working on the publishing rights."

"He hired a goon to steal The Timer, so he could have hired someone else to steal a copy of your book."

The Professor leaned closer. "Already made a decision about me, have you?"

Quinn gave a reluctant shrug. "The gun and the cigarettes...It's kinda damning."

I rested my elbow on the bar counter, trying to look nonchalant as I gripped my collar. "Yeah, and...what about the tattoo?" I didn't get zapped because I didn't actually say he had one.

Quinn fought down mirth. "We did land in a nudist world, Professor. We pretty much got to see everything."

He stared at us both for a moment, then burst out laughing, clapping his hands. "Bravo! How clever of you! You nearly had me fooled! But of course you know both I and my double would never go for something foolish as subjecting ourselves to ink, even in a moment of ill advised alcoholic excess...In fact, the only marking on my body I received from birth: A butterfly pattern, right around the base of my spine..." He reached around, as if intending to show us.

"Great," Quinn chuckled. "That would require us to stare at his ass."

The Professor grinned in triumph, but I blurted, "Our Professor didn't have a birthmark."

Quinn's expression darkened. "All right, whoever you are, come clean, or we're leaving you on this world."

Arturo stuck a finger beneath his collar, shifting it with discomfort. "So that's how it is, eh? A couple circumstantial details, and you're eager to abandon me to the wolves?"

"Look, Professor. We're only asking for a little transparency. We left...one of you behind three worlds ago. If you're our Professor, then no worries, you'll be at home with us when we return to our earth. But if you're someone else, you're leaving your world and everything in it behind. You shouldn't expect us to go back there."

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "He lost his wife. Both of them did. She was everything to them."

Quinn stabbed a piece of bacon with his fork. "And this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Barring his own Quinn returning, it literally will never come again. The other Arturo needs The Timer, and The Experience of Sliding."

I looked up and found Arturo gone.

We checked our room, the rest of the hotel, and even up and down the sidewalk outside...no sign of him. He was just gone.

Quinn puffed air out his nose. "Gee, think it's something we said?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hilarious."

"I guess he'll come back when he's ready. I mean, where's he going to go? He can't seriously want to stay on this world."

"Do you really want him back?"

He paused and thought a moment. "I...don't know. Other than being a glory hound, he seems like The Professor we know and love. He's still a version of the scientific genius who taught me everything, plus he obviously doesn't belong here. He had at least a couple opportunities to run off and abandon us, but chose not to. I think he needs us. Then there's the gun. He had it this whole time, but never once tried to use it on us, well, after the incident in the basement. Now it's gone."

I stared at Quinn incredulously. "So, what, you think we should just...accept this guy and pretend like nothing is changed?"

He gave a shrug like that's exactly what we should do.

"Where should we start looking?" I sighed.

Since bookstores and libraries tended to be The Professor's favorite haunt, we visited one.

Unsurprisingly, nonfiction dominated everything. Well, that and poetry. Being a poet myself, I guess I didn't mind...Who am I kidding? I was cowed by the huge number of poetry collections. Nothing more demotivating than seeing countless people doing the same thing you are.

Although they did have some classic works of fiction, nothing more current than 1930...unless you count the stuff that Internet robots stole from fiction websites. For example, they had Dracula. Alice in Wonderland.

Shakespeare, though, they had it locked behind a glass case. You had to ask a store employee to get it for you. So much for "To thine own self be true."

Jim Henson had published and entire line of educational children's books, featuring his Sesame Street characters, but it didn't appear to be connected to an actual television show. Also, the books tended to be way too advanced for Sesame Street: Big Bird teaches the Mole Concept of Chemistry. Elmo and Bunsen on the Krebs Cycle. The Count Solves Exponential Equations for the Value of X. It did prove entertaining and informative.

Televangelist Joel Osteen turned out to be a prolific author of books on science and anthropology, including a few on evolution and the Big Bang, co-authored by Carl Sagan.

Number one bestseller in the Religion category: `The God Collar: Honesty with Yourself and Your Faith in an All Too Honest World.' The cover made the Truth Collar look like a halo. Inside, the author basically suggested not to hide your doubt or guilt, or join a religion because of family, peer pressure, or trying to impress a girl. I guess that kinda makes sense, but it made for tiny gatherings.

Leila was wrong about the guillotine. A ton of religious books talked about crosses. Still can't wrap my mind around the concept of someone being decapitated and coming back to life. He's Jesus, not the Headless Horseman.

Quinn held up a book, doing an impression. "Elmo teach ATP synthesis!...(Can you believe this junk?)"

I frowned at the bookshelves. "Well, he's not here...You think he went home?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Here? You can't be serious. What would he do there?"

"I dunno, maybe talk to his wife's collar wearing double?"

"Seems...plausible, but I wouldn't begin to know where to start looking. I sort of know how to get to his house, but that's it."

"The college?"

Quinn scratched his head. "Maybe...No matter what we do, it's going to end up a wild goose chase, and I'm dead tired."

"So you actually think he's going to come crawling back to us."

"What else can he do? He's stuck here just like the rest of us. Let him blow off a little steam. An unfortunate side effect of all this Sliding is we can't always relax and get some personal space." He yawned. "Speaking of which...good night."

Quinn stepped back into the hotel.

Timer: 32:45.

I'd gotten my rest already, and...a little tired of my jeans riding down on me. Angelica hadn't returned all my property to me, plus I was cold.

I found a clothing shop down the street, buying a belt and a warm windbreaker.

I...uh...didn't realize I'd given the cashier some of the wrong type of currency until I was already out the door with my purchases. Oopsie. Guess it's on her for not paying close enough attention. And trying to rush people through the line.

Plus, not counterfeit, just a different universe's U.S. Mint. You could run one of those markers over it and it'd still check out.

The movie theater I visited on the other world had been closed and abandoned for quite some time on this one. Everything had been boarded up, a homeless guy in a sleeping bag lay next to the ticket booth.

A block down, I found a bar and grill where people played board games. Having my fill of puzzles and tedious indoor stuff from the asylum, I almost kept walking, but then I noticed The Professor playing chess with an older woman.

Narrow, African American, hornrimmed spectacles. They appeared to be evenly matched, The Professor taking frequent drinks of coffee as he mulled long over his moves.

He noticed me staring through the window, waved me inside. My jaw dropped in surprise. How did his mood change so suddenly? And a woman? Although he enjoyed a good flirt from time to time, he generally tended to pine for his wife. Not a `moving on' type of guy.

I walked in, gawking at them.

Cute woman. Conservatively dressed. Hey, I was happy for him.

The game...not chess. It resembled it, but the pieces all looked like farm animals, and it had a circular board. The Professor had an instructional booklet open.

I kept gawking. "I hate to interrupt..."

The Professor pushed a button on his chess timer. "No interruption at all! Have a seat."

I pulled a chair up to the table. "What's this you're playing?"

"Chess. Apparently they don't have the game of knights and castles on this world." He gestured to the woman. "Meet Miss Jennings. Teaches high school. Wonderful woman."

She looked flattered.

I gave her an awkward smile. Absolutely shocking. He had never shown any interest in a black woman before. I guess his brief time with Rembrandt had opened his mind. "Nice to meet you."

"Teresa, this is my dear friend, Wade Welles. We Slide together."

We shook hands.

I turned to face Arturo. "Professor, look, we didn't want to drive you away. Whoever you are, we still need you, so—"

"Water under the bridge, Miss Welles." His collar jolted him. "We'll discuss this later. At the hotel, perhaps?"

"So sad to hear you have to keep living at hotels," said Miss Jennings. "Tell me about your friend."

The Professor puffed out air. "Ah...I was teaching Quantum Physics in college, and her boyfriend attended my classes..."

Pretty straightforward story, nothing that I didn't know. You probably read the whole thing in my book already. That is, until we got to the part with the Sliding machine.

"So here I was, staring at this shimmering portal in the air, and I make the suggestion that we increase the power—" Arturo winced, clutching his collar. "That is to say, Quinn increased the power, and I—"

He practically screamed that time.

Ms. Jennings reached across the table, squeezing his other hand. "Don't electrocute yourself on my behalf. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. It's still a remarkable story, one I wouldn't have believed, had it not come from such a charming, educated man."

The Professor smiled bashfully at this, but a glance at me dampened his spirits somewhat. "Unfortunately, this attempt at subterfuge was for the benefit of Miss Welles. I fear I can no longer maintain this charade." He gulped. "As you have correctly surmised, I am not the same Arturo you arrived with..."

I propped my chin up on my hand. "So what did happen in Quinn's basement that day?" Believe me, the situation in The Professor's basement ran a close second in my mind, but I didn't know if I should bring it up in mixed company.

Arturo shrugged. "My Quinn showed me the portal. I said it was amazing, but unsafe, and should be tested more rigorously before anyone travels through it again. Quinn disagreed, saying that he'd gone through it a few times with no ill effect. I told him I didn't think it had sufficient power for more than two people, again stressing that we should do further testing before allowing any humans to make use of it. He boosted the power, much to my alarm. I fled the scene as Mister Mallory and Miss Welles jumped in, refusing to join in his apparent madness. Although the portal had enough power to suck Mister Brown out of his automobile, just like in your world, I somehow managed to escape its gravitational field."

He looked deflated. "After that, nothing of note to report. I resumed my work at the university, keeping my mouth shut about the whole affair. Besides, who in their right mind would believe me? Then one day, Miss Welles and her friends showed up."

You basically know the rest of the story from my diary, how we thought we were home but really weren't. I thought he would explain what happened between him and our Arturo, but when he got to that part, he just said, "I...traded places with their Arturo and jumped into the next world."

Kinda sugarcoating things, aren't we? I thought, but kept the comment to myself.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Well, now that the truth is out, Miss Welles, I expect I shall be stranded here."

I forced a smile. "Look, I'm not happy with what you've done, but we can't leave you here. Quinn says...Professor, we still need you." I glanced at his new friend, wondering if she'd dump him if he told her the full details. "Unless you've found reasons to stay, of course."

The Professor gave a nervous laugh, patting me on the back. "If that proves to be the case, you will be the first to know." He returned his attention to Ms. Jennings. "My apologies, where were we?"

I got up, looking through all the shelves full of games, wondering what to do with my time. The Professor would probably be sleeping pretty soon, and Quinn already hit the sack. The pattern would likely continue into our next Slide. Although nice for someone on our team to keep watch when we're in danger, we appeared to be safe for the moment. I would have been better off if I'd stayed awake all evening.

Figuring alcohol would help, I sat at the bar, ordering a beer. Odd that they had alcohol but no cigarettes.

A handsome, mustached Hispanic guy sat down next to me. He kinda looked like Super Mario. Don't laugh. "Want to play a game?"

I smiled. "I don't play poker or Dungeons and Dragons. I'm kind of a Chutes and Ladders type of girl."

He brought me Uncle Wiggly. "Good?"

"Okay," I chuckled. "Fine."

We played the game over beers. His name: Raul.

Since I hadn't specified, the bartender had given me Billy Beer. Actually, not bad on this world, despite the peanutty bouquet. When I explained the worst beer ever crafted, he found it hilarious. They didn't even have a President Carter.

We checked a computer and found out Carter was, in fact, a president...of the Planters company. His alcoholic brother wasn't a well known fact. Jimmy's focus on the brewing business at the expense of politics explained the improvement in beer quality.

Raul rolled the dice. "What's Dungeons and Dragons?"

"It's a nerd game. You pretend to be wizards and stuff."

"Sounds fascinating. Any connection to Magic The Gathering?"

"...Maybe. Please don't get into that. You're much too cute."

An easy board game. It ended quickly. "This...is an interesting date. What do we do now?"

"Any interest in Magic cards?" He caught my annoyed glance and changed his tune. "Okay, how about we go for a walk?"

Up the street we went.

Raul worked at a toy factory. Their newest product: A computerized sort of Teddy Ruxpin. It used the internet like those Alexa things. Thanks to his collar, I discovered he had a lowly position, file clerk, getting coffee and stuff. He said the bears gave him the creeps at night because their eyes moved.

He seemed more interested in me. I ended up divulging more than I wanted to because of the collar.

I didn't notice where we'd been walking until we stood in front of Golden Gate Park. I balked.

"What's the matter?"

Hesitant to tell the full story, I just blurted, "Something bad happened there. I'd rather not, if that's okay with you."

To his credit, he didn't ask for an explanation, he just asked, "How do you feel about hiking?"

"Sounds nice, but..." I couldn't miss the Slide. "I'm leaving town in a day." My collar jolted me. "Okay, less than thirty two hours, but I can't afford to be late, so it absolutely has to be twenty four."

"I promise you it won't be long. I know of a place in town."

The Grand Canyon and Saint Louis Arch had moved, so I shouldn't have been surprised about Skyline Boulevard being replaced by a huge wildlife preserve with all the associated state highways missing. Same Santa Cruz mountains, but taller.

Dating is risky on parallel worlds, but Rembrandt does it all the time, and even Quinn occasionally, so let's not be sexist. In the unlikely event of something weird happening (like that one time a telepathic president had me imprisoned in his compound), I left a message at the front desk for my friends, telling them where I was going.

Uh...you know that lowrider with the classical music? That's him. I smiled uncomfortably as he blasted me and passerby with Franz Schubert.

"You're...a very...unique guy," I muttered.

The music blasted. "What?"

"Nothing."

At the park, we climbed up a mountain trail, admiring the beautiful scenery. Oh...and Dodos...not extinct in their world.

I got hungry for lunch, but he brought along some good supplies, water, beef jerky, granola, so no complaints in that department.

When the sun began to set, I told Raul, "We should go back. It's getting late."

"You said you had to leave in twenty four to thirty six hours. We still got time."

"N-no," I stammered. "Not thirty six. I don't even think I got thirty three. Plus I'm getting tired. We need to go back."

"You going to sleep for twenty hours? We got plenty time. I have a cabin here. We can stay the night and I'll drive you back in the morning. There's a hot spring..."

Okay, Raul, I thought. You're cute, but I just barely know you. "I'm sorry, I'm not comfortable with that. Can you please lead me back down?"

He looked disappointed, but still said okay. Not yes, but okay.

He took me down a trail different from the one we used to get there. "You sure this is the right way?"

"Relax. It's fine. It's just a different route. It's easy enough to find your way back."

His collar didn't shock him, so I believed him. I guess maybe it was easy...for him. I went along with it.

After trudging down a dirt trail for about twenty minutes, we came to a cabin. "Raul, this isn't funny. I asked to go back to town."

He leaned in close. "Seňorita, tu es muy linda. Hagamos que esta noche sea especial." That's when he tried to kiss me.

I backed away. "C'mon, we just met."

"You're leaving town. I wanted you to experience something memorable before you left."

I rolled my eyes. "By trying to get into my pants? I admit I had a good time up to this point, but I don't sleep with just any random stranger that walks into my life. If you want to impress me, start by taking me back to the hotel."

Raul glared at me. "Then find your own way back, puta."

So...off I went, up all those unfamiliar dirt trails in the blue dusk, no flashlight.

For awhile, I thought I had gone up the right path, but the more I hiked, the more I didn't recognize my surroundings. I felt as dumb as all those dodo birds I kept seeing in the bushes.

I stopped at a dead end and cried, thinking about how Quinn and the others wouldn't find me until the Window had closed, and we'd be stuck in Shock Collar World forever. Thanks, Raul.

I paused my crying when I smelled cooking hamburger.

Green wood. Ground beef. A weak fire flickered through the brush.

I stepped closer. Girls, laughing and talking.

"Hello?" I marched toward the firelight.

"Who's there?" shouted a girl.

"I'm Wade Welles. I'm lost."

I gasped as a figure in brown burst through the foliage, shining a flashlight in my face.

Black girl, hair in cornrows, dressed...in a brown Boy Scout uniform. Not a Girl Scout uniform. The decoration looked identical to the male counterpart: trefoil First Class patch, red neckerchief, flags, some kind of regional council insignia, grubby jeans. She stared at me for a moment. "Let me take you to Sandy."

We crossed through a clearing where a redhead girl tended a fire with foil wrapped packages on the coals. "What are you eating? Smells delicious."

"We were actually going to do burgers, but some raccoons stole our buns, so we changed our minds and decided to do sort of a pot roast. Once you talk with Sandy, she'll probably give you the good stuff the adults get. We have to eat our own cooking."

"You girls are lucky. When I went to Girl Scouts, we mainly stayed indoors doing crafts, or went door to door selling cookies."

The girl giggled. "Really? That sounds like what the boys do."

Boys? Doing a Girl Scout thing here? It made me wonder about Raul and his cabin.

...Nope, still didn't want to go back to him. "I...went a long time ago."

A half truth. She bought it.

The girl led me to a large camper, where four women my age sat around talking and grilling steak. I got introduced to Sandy: Blonde, freckle faced, kinda butch.

Baden Powell: Female on this world. It explained everything.

A very delicious steak and a baked potato later, Sandy took me down to her rusty yellow Honda and drove me to the hotel.

I only found Quinn at the suite. The others, I figured, were still out with their new girlfriends.

Timer: 10:30. Guess Raul hadn't been wrong about everything.

He'd been watching a speed sailing event on TV. "So how was your date?"

Suddenly I felt guilty. I never told anyone it was a date.

I mean, okay, so I dated a guy on a parallel world before, so, not too unexpected, but I still loved Quinn. Yes, he once told me that his double kissing me was "like incest," but he made up for it later. "Pretty lousy, actually. Started out fun, but he turned out to be a creep. I came this close to getting so lost that you'd need to send out a search party for me. Thank God for the Girl Boy Scouts."

Quinn blinked rapidly. "Repeat that last part again?"

Arturo stepped through the door in the middle of my explanation.

"Being as the Boy Scouts were started by a British army officer, it makes me wonder what the actual military looks like here."

"Probably like Wonder Woman," Quinn joked. "And the men sew them tea cosies."

"My kind of army." I cast him a knowing look. "So...has he told you?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "In a manner of speaking." He turned to face The Professor. "We don't intend to abandon you, that part is true, but the fact of the matter remains that you lied to us, and left our Professor in another dimension we can't get back to."

Arturo crossed his thick arms. "I heard your Professor state, on at least one occasion, that my world was as close to yours as he would ever get. Believe it or not, he was somewhat content in his circumstances, and doubted he'd find anything closer to home than mine with the Azure bridge. He was happy there."

"It was basically a carbon copy of our own world," Quinn admitted.

I narrowed my eyes at The Professor. "So you helped him along."

"Only I desired to leave."

"Yeah? Then why did you fight each other?"

"He didn't want to destabilize the portal, or the universe by having us both go through, and he felt a responsibility to stay with you. You once drove an entire truck through the portal, but he seems to have forgotten that detail."

Quinn muted the television and sat on the bed. "It didn't seem like a very good idea to have a person and their double Sliding together. That's why we didn't bring both of you."

"Yes, that may have been his thought as well. Also, he feared my world held secret terrors that would reveal themselves upon the portal indefinitely closing, though I can only assure you that my world is a carbon copy of yours, and such fear is ungrounded."

Quinn changed the channel. Slamball. "I gave him the third degree while you were out. Asked him if he intended to stab us in the back, in every sense of the phrase. As far as I can tell, he's an exact duplicate of our Professor. I think we can trust him."

The Professor took a deep breath. "Mister Mallory...I'd like to apologize for my hubris. I did not properly credit you for the invention of the Slide timer, and I rightfully should have."

Quinn smirked. "Water under the bridge, Professor. The most important thing right now is getting all of us home."

I shook my head. "Professor? You're just going to make believe like he's our Professor from now on?"

"What can we do, Wade? Until we find our professor again, what are we supposed to call him?"

Arturo put an arm around my shoulder. "Miss Welles, although it's true we have not known each other long, I care for you very deeply. I value your friendship, and would rather die than see you or any of your companions harmed. My intent in traveling with you is to merely explore, to have something about which to write in scientific journals—"

"And figure out how to build his own Timer," Quinn groaned.

The Professor cleared his throat. "I confess that is part of my plan, but I refuse to tamper with the device in any way that will prevent you from traveling home. After the things I have just experienced, I too would give anything just to return homeward once more. And I would not want to leave a single one of you behind."

"If it wasn't for that collar, I'd think you were just feeding me a fine speech." I sighed. "You'll never be our Professor, but..." I shook his hand. "Welcome to the team...Professor Two."

"Just `Professor' or `Arturo,' please."

"...All...Right...So, how did it go with Miss Jennings?"

Arturo blew a raspberry. "We had a disagreement. If I hadn't been wearing this collar, it's possible we would have continued dating, but alas..." He wrinkled his nose. "Miss Welles, you smell like green wood smoke."

"I was just about to shower."

I got cleaned up and went to bed.

I woke up and found the guys gone. Checking the clock, I decided I had time for breakfast and a stroll before the Slide.

Timer: Roughly 3:10?

The Professor briefly popped in while I ate breakfast. "Miss Jennings wants to show me something before I leave. Would you mind stopping at a hardware store and locating a pair of wire cutters for us? I detest these Collars with a passion!"

"Yeah, no problem."

I found an art gallery a short distance away from the football field we were to meet at. Figuring I still had enough time to get the wire cutters after I took a quick look around, I stepped in.

People got pretty creative when they couldn't act and tell stories. The place had a fountain with giant glass sculptures, a huge woven bird nest, and a strobing video installation that gave the illusion of people's heads floating in the air.

I guess those items had been there awhile. The newest happened to be some outlandish fashion design/textile exhibit. Things like that generally make me chuckle.

A guy with a vague resemblance to Kevin Bacon approached me. Slick brown hair swept back in a widow's peak, slight overbite, clad in fashion from L. . "Hey, what do you think about this exhibit?"

I grinned. "Reminds me of something they'd have in a science fiction movie."

The stranger flashed a set of perfect teeth. "Yeah...I could see that. You watch a lot of movies, do you?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

His bucktoothed smile widened. "Not as much as you might think. What's your favorite?"

"Oh, uh...that's a tough one. I got a lot of favorites: Sixteen Candles, Saint Elmo's fire, Big, You Got Mail...?"

"Never heard of `em." The man snickered. "Tell me, where are you from?"

"Out of town..." I stammered.

He waved a guy with a camera over to me.

That's when it finally clicked: I'd seen the man doing a report on Hard Copy.

The man brought out a microphone. "I'm speaking to a young lady who says she's from out of town, and watches movies all the time. As we all know, seeing fiction on the big screen is next to impossible in the United States, and yet her collar isn't going off..." He pushed the microphone into my face. "What's your name, and where do you come from?"

I backed away from him. "I'm sorry, I've got to be going."

"Just a few quick questions. How long have you been an American citizen?"

"I'm not—" my collar jolted me. "All my life."

People stared at me now. I kept retreating.

"Really. And where have you been going to see all these films? It's my understanding that most countries have implemented the Collars. Is there an underground cinema we're not aware of?"

We now had a crowd. People stared, watching me, watching my collar, to see if I'd slip up.

The cameraman kept getting in my way. When he didn't stand in front of me, there'd be some gawking art gallery guest.

I broke down and told him everything about Sliding. I thought it would be enough to get him off my back, but he kept asking me things.

When I noticed the clock, I panicked and just ran, not caring that I bowled over some official looking guy in a suit, or elbowed a security guard. Someone's...abstract ceramic work toppled off a stand and shattered on the floor.

At last I made it out, nearly getting creamed by a car as I rushed across a busy street to the football field.

A few yards down, Quinn and The Professor already stood around in their coats, talking about something. Rembrandt rolled up in the passenger seat of Angela's convertible (Yeah, I don't know where she got the car either), running to join them.

I rushed up to meet them. "Guys, we got problems. Big time."

Arturo frowned at my empty hands. "Did you bring the wire cutters?"

"No time. Let's get out of here."

Quinn stared in worriment. "What's going on?"

Seconds later, a news van zoomed up to the corner, carelessly bumping over the curb. Hard Copy Guy and his cameraman hopped out, storming the lawn.

I glanced back in alarm. "I met a guy at this dumb art opening. He was chatting me up, `where are you from' and everything. With these crazy Collars on, there wasn't any way around it, pretty soon he wrung the whole story out of me."

"You told the guy from Hard Copy about Sliding?"

"What was I supposed to do? Lie and get electrocuted in front of two hundred and fifty art patrons? I think not."

Rembrandt shrugged indifferently. "Hey, what's the worst that can happen, huh? Goes on TV, tells the world about us, we'll all be long gone by then."

Hard Copy Guy brought the camera up to us. "Quinn Mallory: Boy Genius."

Quinn cast me an annoyed glare. "Uh-oh."

The camera swung toward our bearded companion. "And you must be the illustrious Professor Arturo, and Cryin' Man Brown. Listen, I hope you don't mind, I just thought I'd come and watch the Slide. Sounds really incredible!"

Arturo blew him off, taking out the timer. Not much time left. "Three...two...one..."

The shimmering portal opened in the air.

"Oh God!" Hard Copy guy shouted. "Fabulous!" To the cameraman: "You getting this?"

We all jumped through.

Honestly, surprised he didn't follow us in. It would have been the scoop of a lifetime.