15 Some other beginning's end

And suddenly I'm someplace else.

Still inside the box. There are people outside the grip hole. Is that…yellow?

Did I go to the Post Office Dimension?

Why would the Post Office have yellow suits?

Does smuggling yourself count as tampering with the mail?

I can't hear what they're talking about. Hole ain't exactly Bose quality. But one of them walks up to the box, and then out of view.

I hear something hit the top.

And then another sound. Something moving.

And then I feel cool air on the back of my neck.

I scrunch down as low as I can, so the letter opener or whatever passes over my head. And as soon as the stranger starts to open the box, I stand up.

And nearly fall over.

And also nearly smack the guy in the beekeeper suit in the chin.

He steps back, lowers the butter knife, and takes a look at me. "...Mister Clapton, I presume?"

The yellow suit says "DMA" over the heart.

"Speaking," I say.

I'm…back in Marci's apartment. Almost exactly where I was. Marci's box is closer to the computer. The guy in the hazmat suit who was heading for that is frozen, looking at me with very wide eyes.

Funny. You don't notice the smell, the taste of the same roomful of air, circulated over and over, until you're not breathing it.

"Uh..."

I look back at the guys in bee suits, who are mostly staring at me, from just inside the doorway. Some of them are looking at each other through the clear faceplates —

...like they're trying to decide who asks first.

One clears his throat.

"Mr. Clapton?"

Correction: her throat.

"Yes?"

"We're gonna need you to step out of the box and...and, um..."

Why can't she just spit it ou-

Oh.

I close my eyes for a second.

Ohhh.

"Y'all are gonna give me the full Chernobyl, aren't you?"

The woman nods. "I'm afraid so, sir."

Well, crap.

...I hope the magical office dimension didn't just shave my face.

The scrub and debrief give me a lot of time to think. The ride home gives me more. I told DMA I had no idea why the boxes just suddenly appeared.

Or what the...wet stuff on the sides was.

They don't let me keep my original phone, wallet, and house keys - and they're not sure what happened to my old clothes - but they did fast-fab me new keys from a photo.

Better living through technology.

...I wonder what else they use that tech for.

When I step out of the unmarked DMA car, I'm in a stylish set of grey sweats. The late-afternoon heat hits me like a wet blanket. I flinch, and run my hand over my freshly-shaven head. "Cripes."

"Yeah," the driver says. "That's one good thing about being a government employee. I can run the AC." He thinks for a second. "Unless some higher-up decides to cut the budget."

I turn around, put my right hand on the door, and smile. "My tax dollars at work."

Keistel smiles back at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be…I'll be fine. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Call us if you need anything."

I nod, slam the door, and off he goes. At the end of the block, he should…yep, turn left.

I smile again, face the Aldrin's house, and walk around the side path to my little man-cave, dodging the yucca leaves.

It was morning when I left.

I walk through the Aldrins' side gate under a golden and purple and pink California sunset. The little lights along on the path are just coming on, and light my way home.

I'll...I'll have to tell the Aldrins about my little trip later.

I slot my key in, and stand there for a second. Then I close my eyes, lean forward, and press my forehead against the cool wood.

I am tired.

Really tired.

I don't want to go in there.

I don't want to go into lowpower mode.

I don't want to sit in my room all day and feel sorry for myself.

I don't want that smell.

I could walk away. Turn around, get an Ober, find a hotel.

My hand turns the key, and the door swings open.

It's dark in there. Nothing but my computer's standby lights, and the light leaking under the door to the main house.

Mr. Aldrin said this was a guest room before I started living here.

I take a deep breath, and walk into my shelter, dimly lit. At least it is until I hit the light switch with my elbow.

Have you ever tried eating in your bedroom, took the bowl downstairs, washed it, went back to your room, opened the door, and suddenly noticed the smell?

Imagine that.

Now imagine it's a few weeks of no fresh air and dirty clothes and delivery food.

When I could make myself eat.

When I could make myself order.

Sometimes I spent an hour staring at the ceiling, trying to make myself walk to the bathroom so I could drink from the tap.

So, when the light comes on, I wince. Then I take a deep breath, screw my courage to the sticking place, and walk into my room.

Then I sit down on the bed.

Then I think now what?

The first thing I do is strip my bed.

It's a big, dramatic gesture, but, frankly, it smells terrible.

Then I flop down on my bed and…keep thinking. I left the door open, to get some fresh air in.

If this is some kind of sim, there's nothing I can do about it. Can't call the Operator and say "Mr. Wizard, get me out of here!" Can't mail myself out of trouble. Again.

The best thing I can do is just…take life as it comes.

Warts and all.

I smile at the ceiling, briefly.

That, or I can just get a boring ol' regular job.

Not like there's an emergency exit. I'm stuck in this universe.

And then a tiny little voice at the back of my mind that sounds suspiciously like my common sense whispers, Did you ever really try?

I blink.

The bare mattress is cool under my hand, my back, my head.

I run my palm sideways, take a deep breath, hold up my arm like I'm catching a baseball, and close my eyes.

Sadie, come he—

Someone knocks on my outside door. Someone holding…a bag? I can't see the details through the frosted glass, but it looks like Chinese takeout.

Which is strange, because I didn't order anything.

When I open the door, it's Marci, wearing the same sweats I am. She looks me up and down. "Huh. Twinsies. I was in the neighbourhood, and I was just wondering if—"

She holds up the bag, which smells delicious.

"—you were hungry. And also traumatized, because you were kidnapped to another dimension. Also, wanted to return your pen. But DMA kept it. Sorry. Also, is that your scooter?"

"Wasn't mine. Company property. It's okay. Yes." I look at her bag. "What kind?"

"Kung Pao chicken, combination rice, bean sprouts, and tonkatsu pork. Do you know how to use chopsticks?"

"Theoretically," I say. How'd you get my address?"

"I saw your driver's license. Well, a picture of it, on a screen. Is...is that okay?"

"It's fine," I say. And it is. "First off, I'm not into, um…casual relationships."

She blinks. "Casual— oh. Oh! N-no!"

She's cute when she's flustered. I smile a little. "You did kiss me."

"That was —that doesn't count! That was friendly! I thought I was leaving you to die! And — and it was on the cheek. I'm —"

She blushes.

"If I was here for that, I'd—"

She looks down at her sweats.

"—I'd be wearing something nicer. And I'd bring seafood."

Huh?

She sees the look on my face. "Oysters."

I try not to smile.

I fail.

"I don't eat seafood."

"Good thing I didn't get the California Rolls. So, can I come in?"

I hold up two fingers. "Second off—"

Her eyebrows go up.

"—you were right."

"…You'll have to narrow it down."

I look past her, over her head. I think it's nautical twilight out there. "Not sure I can. You were right about a lot of things."

There's a smile in her voice. "Usually am."

"I lost a lot. I lost my family, my friends. I lost my universe. And the first time I really tried to do something, the first time I really] tried to save the day, to use what I know—"

I look down at my hands. Ball them into fists, which stops most of the shaking.

I sigh. "I think…I think maybe it was easier to pretend this all wasn't real. If it's not real, then I didn't put people's boongies on the line because I was lazy."

"Boongie?'

"Bahamian for, uh-"

"No, wait, I think I get it."

"I thought I could pass the parcel to Local 31. But…I don't think it works that way. You can't ignore problems into submission. Generally."

"Okay. Fine. Did you hand the kid the gun?"

"No."

"Then you—" She reaches out with her free hand, taps me once on the chest. "—didn't do it."

"I know, but—"

"If you still feel responsible, shouldn't you be trying to find the actual bad guy? Working with Local 31?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "Maybe."

"Well, this food is getting cold. Are you hungry or not?"

"I didn't even know Japanese-Chinese fusion was a thing."

"It's called Chu ka."

"And…I've been meaning to ask, are you, er...?"

I've made an idiot of myself asking about someone's ethnicity before. I don't want to do it again."

"I'm Korean," Marci says. "On Mom's side."

"Oh. Well, maybe if you were named Park, Lee, or Kim..."

"Those are all English names too. And it's Cho. She's Mrs. Cho-Fishbrook. I just took Dad's surname to make things simpler. If I knew I was going to end up in California, I could've kept it and gotten a tech job. People would think I was the diversity hire, but—"

"Marci?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you nervous?"

"...Yes? A little? Not sure why."

"Ever hear of the suspension bridge effect?"

"No?"

"I'll explain it inside."

Marci steps forward.

I step forward, and hold out my hand. Back, toward the doorway, palm up.

Sadie, come here, I need you.

And the ring zips out of the drawer, flies over to me, and hovers over my palm.

"Nice," Marci says.

I curl up my fingers, and Sadie slips on.

(! Not a lot of room in here. Hello, Floyd. ¡)

Hello, Sadie.

(! How long have you known? ¡)

About three seconds.

Sadie loads her avatar behind Marci. With long pants. "Did you just go 'I know you're there' in an empty house?"

"Basically. Marci, this is Sadie. Sadie is the one who called the DMA. Well, after the neighbour realized she wasn't getting her package, and called the super, who called the cops. I think I still owe Tritter a chat."

Marci turns around. "Charmed." She shakes Sadie's hand. "Feels real. So this is the Missus?"

"N—"

"Not exactly," Sadie says. "Are you two going inside to eat, or—"

I pull the door shut behind me. "No, to the main house."

Marci cocks her head. "Why?"

"One, I only have one chair at my desk. And two—"

I look off at the horizon, at the last glow of the setting sun, look back at the girls, and smile.

"—I want you to meet the family."

Notes: Floyd isn't referencing the Chernobyl TV show, because it hasn't been made in his current universe (yet?). He's talking about actual radiation decon procedures, which he (I) learned about in some show or movie or book before he showed up in this universe.

Let's just say they ain't exactly "fun".

This story arc is born from two bad ideas.

Well not bad exactly. That's just for dramatic effect. They were…mediocre.

In the first idea, Floyd is depressed and hiding from the world. Sadie thinks it is a good idea to use the holoprojector to pretend to be Floyd and goes on a job. "Floyd" meets Marci at a generic tech company, realizes their next-gen search algo has gotten all self-aware (maybe it has actual emotions?), and helps her smuggle it out.

Unfortunately the generic tech company notices, and Marci gets nabbed. When Sadie tells the real Floyd, he flies to the interrogation as Sadie tells him the story. When he arrives he talks himself into the interrogation room. His goal is to get Marci saying the right things, and show she doesn't have any actual knowledge of what happened to the AI.

Unfortunately, the cops have surveillance of Marci burying something in her back yard (or some other nearby location) on what looks like a hard drive. Sadie's projector has to get out of the police station, race to the location, copy the AI off the drive, and replace it with something innocent just before the cops show up.

(Or, she could hack the cops' computer or spoof the display when they try to check the data, or wait until they get to the station and the exec tries to decrypt it. Or she could try to do the first one, the cops show up and shove the case in a Faraday Box, and Floyd comes up with the station plan. Both of those mean Floyd has to put his trust in Sadie, and I kind of wish I had come up with them before I wrote this note.)

When Floyd and Sadie walk out of the station, Floyd asks Sadie if she arranged this whole thing to get him out of the house and show she's not omnipotent. She dodges the question. They go get dinner. Curtains.

The big problem with this idea is that I didn't feel like actually writing it. In retrospect it seems like a lot of contrivances, even if those contrivances might be in universe as well. And I'm someone who likes writing conversations and banter.

Maybe it would've been better if I included an actual enemy. Some slick, hateable executive from the generic tech company.

The idea was for the next chapter was that Floyd somehow winds up in the elemental plane of White collar business. And that was it. I had an idea for an interesting setting, and nothing to do with it. I didn't even know how he'd get there.

So. Two meh ideas I didn't want to write. But I've learned that I can make two okay ideas, combine them (or parts of them), and turn them into a much better idea.

Hopefully.

Also, if you're familiar with YouTubers (and German), you may recognise who Marci is based on. In case anyone was wondering, I have no plans to make her a love interest. I'm not even sure she'll be a regular.