I watch the universe equalize… Should I invent Beast Balls, too?

I can remember when I first met that kid America. I was sitting on my ass in some castle about to literally claw the image of gray, muddy European wasteland out of my eyes. Then, at a meeting with my superiors, I somehow let it slip that I was bored out of my mind and willing to do anything that wasn't taste test the dirt to make sure it was safe for punishing my soldiers with.

So as a way to preserve my precious Prussian sanity, I got roped into helping this New World start-up get his eggs in a row. It was exciting! I'd never been to the New World before. New foods to try, new political visions to ponder, and of course, new accents to make fun of. Before you could even say "breeches," I was all packed up and shipped over the ocean to the shittiest army basecamp I'd ever seen. It looked like a bunch of hobos tried to put together a gun rights rally in the middle of the winter and all took off their shoes for some reason.

And their leader? The upstart start-up trying to win his independence from the mighty British Empire of all powers? He wasn't even at the camp. I found him a week into training using a bugle case as a sled and his shredded mittens as a kind of headband.

"DO YOU WANT TO GET YOUR EGGS IN A ROW OR NOT!?" I screamed in my awesome screaming voice.

He said he couldn't understand my accent, so to show him, I pinched his right ear and dragged him all the way down the mountain and through the town to basecamp, where I took the measly ration of eggs, lined them all up neatly in a row, and then cracked them one by one over America's forehead.

Then I made him eat dirt.

He was a nerd like me, but a different kind of nerd — one who's more into inventing his own way than studying the rigid facts. And way more noisy and childish. If he looked fifteen today, he'd be the kid who buys a giant lego set for his own birthday, and then decides halfway through building that it would look cooler combined with a different set, and in the process of innovation, leaves disregarded lego pieces all over the fucking floor.

America never was a Prussian, and I will never be an American. That's not to say we haven't learned to understand one another. I always greet the kid when I see him. I listen while he tells me about science and video games and the wonders of public television. Since he learned of my ascension, he's been inviting me over to his place to eat guac salsa and wild rice. The one way America's like Germany is that he shows affection, but he doesn't like to talk about showing affection. He'll invite me over without giving a reason, or Nerf me by surprise.

Or call me up while I'm in the middle of my morning routine screaming like an idiot.

"He's in my house, Prubo! You gotta get over here and get rid of him! Dude, I'm scared! I don't know how much longer I can hide!"

The phone rattles from its place on the bathroom counter. My brown eyebrow pencil smears up onto my forehead.

"America, I'm putting my face on. What do you mean someone's in your house? Isn't it the middle of the night there?"

"He just appeared. He didn't walk in or anything. It… it was like one of your dimensional rifts! He just appeared out o' nowhere and sat down on the couch and turned on the news and… and now he's watching the news! Oh God, this is bad!"

"Who is watching the news!?"

There's a long pause and some scuffling noises. I crinkle my nose and bite my lip while putting in my contacts. America breathes heavily before something beeps and something else slams.

"America?"

No answer.

So there's an unwanted supernatural houseguest? Damn that kid. Now I'm interested. I naturally see wacky shit with my elevated consciousness, but I've never seen wacky shit on top of wacky shit, unless you count the Face Eater, but as far as I could tell, he was just a very creepy alternate Romano, and Romano is naturally wacky-shit-phobic.

I finish with my face and pull on my hoodie. Red seems good today. Then, with a hop, skip and jump through a wormhole, I emerge in America's New York townhouse and gag a little on the reconstruction of my cells. The whole place is dark, and a harsh drumming of rain comes down on the city outside. Thunder rumbles, and I feel the static in the air prickling on my skin.

"America? America, what's the big deal?"

Something cold and wet and slimy seizes my left wrist and tugs me fast into the bathroom. A frazzled America slams the door on us. The bluish light of his phone casts sharp shadows on his panicked face.

"Seriously. It's like two in the morning here. What's all this about?"

America gulps in air. His glasses are askew, so I reach out and correct them.

"You once told me that parallel worlds really exist," he says. "A-and that there are other versions of ourselves there. Well… there's a me in this house. A different me. Like... a sad-looking me. I think he might one of those weird sentimental versions you told me about."

"Well, we should go talk to this other you. Find out what he's about."

"Nuh-uh! No way! What if we get too close together and his very presence annihilates me from existence? Or both of us annihilate?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"It doesn't?"

"No. Well, the worst thing that could happen by his being here is that the extra matter in our world might cause some infinitesimal chain reaction resulting in maybe a star blowing up at the other end of the galaxy, but unless you two are completely composed of electrically-opposing molecules, you shouldn't annihilate on contact."

"Oh, thank goodness. Man, I'm so lucky to have another nerd friend."

"Don't call us friends yet," I say with a grimace.

He's still terrified, so it's me dragging him along by the ear as I meander through the darkened hallway. We make it to the living room, where some early morning news coverage is on and a lump of something is sobbing all over the couch.

I creep over and pull the moistened blanket off its face. It's an America, all right. My presence doesn't even register to him, so I slap him, then push him off the couch, and when that doesn't get him out of his funk, I manifest an egg and crack it over his forehead.

"Prussia?" Othermerica whimpers.

"Yeah. It's me. What are you doing our world? You're scaring the shit out of that America."

The two catch each other's gazes. My America looks less scared than fascinated now. He inches forward bit by bit until he's a foot away from his cosmic twin. Then he reaches out and pokes the other in the cheek.

"I'm in… another world?"

My America breaks out in a broad smile. "DUDE YOU SOUND JUST LIKE ME WHAT THE HECK IS THIS IT'S FRICKIN' AWESOME OHMYGOSH DO YOU HAVE NILLA WAFERS WHERE YOU'RE FROM?"

Othermerica is just stunned. He removes all the poking fingers from his face and goes to sit on the couch again. Soon his eyes are glued to the news, and when my America turns off the TV, he gives a little shriek.

"Dude, what is wrong with you? Why d'ya look all purple in the face? That's not a good look on me. And how'd you get here? Did I really invent some interdimensional travel device? Oh, don't tell me. It was Japan, wasn't it? He wanted to make video games real and you're just a projection of yourself! But I can touch you, so, oh, does your world's Prussia have cosmic superpowers, too!? Did he send you through a wormhole? Are you here to save us from impending doom? Oh, shit, are you actually from the future? Is Journeys really the last series with Ash? At least tell me the Sinnoh remakes are good."

Othermerica doesn't respond, so my America continues with his poking… until Othermerica straight-up slaps him.

"Sinnoh remakes? You think I want to talk about Sinnoh remakes? People are suffering, and that's what you care about?"

"Well, I also care about seeing Odyssey speedrunners get down to fifty-five minutes, 'cause the day that happens is the day England gets a Tobuscus tattoo. He said it couldn't be done, and we made a bet. But, see, if the Sinnoh remakes come out and it still hasn't happened, then I have to get a tattoo of Richard Ayoade's face, so it's a real gamble, actually. You want a cheese stick?"

"Wow, so…" Othermerica buries his face in his hands. "God, I'm dreaming, aren't I? Or I'm just having a really weird reality break. I was… watching the live coverage on the news last night. It's been eleven days, and people are still whacking each other over the head with pool noodles in Central Park. It's not even funny anymore. Every night I go to sleep, and all I can hear is the sound of pool noodles going thwap-thwap-thwap against skin. And… and I'm so sick of my citizens hating each other! God, it sucks! I don't think I've even eaten anything since this started! It was a stupid disagreement to begin with, but everyone took it so seriously, and now everyone's got a noodle!"

America doesn't respond to this. He gets off the couch, goes to the fridge, and comes back with a whole bag of cheese sticks, which he plops in Othermerica's lap.

"All better! If you're hungry, you should eat something!"

"What the hell is wrong with you!? You're supposed to be me, right? You can try to hide behind that stupid dorky smile, but if you're me, you understand what this is like. What it's like to have millions of children you have to take care of, and the pressure of the entire world on your shoulders, and everyone's laughing at you, and your citizens can't find compassion in their hearts. It's only pool noodles day after day, and I don't know who I support anymore. I'm not supposed to support anyone, but then I do support someone, on behalf of the citizens, but it doesn't feel right to leave everyone else out, and then some people are just assholes, but I can't say that, because I know they have feelings, and they're legit trying to make a difference. It's just hard to see that through all the pool noodles. I'm exhausted."

"W'll, you could start by eating a cheese stick. Seriously. I can get more. I also got some pop. You like orange pop? Sure you do. You're me."

"I'm… you... " Ohtermerica sighs, munching on his cheese sticks like a nervous rabbit. "That's what I mean, then. I'm dreaming. This is a world where I'm… actually happy. This is my subconscious trying to tell me it's all okay. It's possible for me to not care so much."

"You don't have to," America says.

"I have to. I'm their country. I have to stand for something. Do I stand for peace? Do I stand for justice? Do I stand for noodles?"

"W'll… w'll…" America's at a loss for words. "I know I stand for ramen noodles. Like when you go to a restaurant and order a ramen bowl, and they put the boiled egg and swirly fish cakes in it? Last week I spent a night at Japan's house, and he made this miso ramen that was to die for. The broth was so frickin' salty I could feel my fingers swelling up while slurping it, but man, that stuff warmed me right up."

"Hm… ramen noodles. Kind of a gift that you can notice little things like that."

"It's not a gift," America says. "I just choose to care about things I can control, like what I'm gonna eat, or what I'm gonna watch on TV, or what I'm gonna notice. I notice what I want to notice. I notice what makes me happy. You're a version of me who notices what makes him grumpy."

"I hear the pool noodles in my head. I don't have a choice."

America slumps and begins to gnaw on his lip. "Can you hear the pool noodles right now?"

"I can hear… I can't hear them, no."

"And I see you've just eaten all my cheese sticks."

"I have."

"Then for whatever reason, the universe is deciding to give you a break from your nonsense, and I think you should take it."

Othermerica places a hand on his chest, no doubt feeling his heart rate has settled again. "Okay, so… what do you have to show me, Chill Version of Me?"

"Okay, so first of all, it's almost 3 a.m., and we're not allowed to make burgers after midnight in this complex anymore 'cause people complained about the fire alarms going off, but that doesn't stop us from making a huge-ass bowl of cookie dough. Secondly, I'm gonna teach you lucid dreaming. And then, my man Prussia is gonna explain how a hypercube works."

"Why would you wanna know that?"

"'Cause in this world, I'm a frickin' nerd. Hey, Prubo! Summon the CUBE!"

Up to this point, it's only sounded like America was having a conversation with himself. Now, his more excitable voice catches my attention. Perhaps the cosmos are self-aware. Or at least, held together by the trillions of love bands stretching across their vast complexity. All I know is that now I have to teach two Americas how to get their eggs in a row, and they've just discovered the fridge is completely devoid of eggs.

I wish I could banish them both to another world for a day.

~N~

Updated by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net January 16th 2021. reposters cursed