September 19, 1998

I visited Quinn's new world again.

I was called in to Yerba Buena on a special favor.

My three companions and I arrived in Ramirez Park in Queens, New York. It looked like a typical urban park, with grass and trees and benches and picnic areas and playgrounds and a community center. Some people in the park were looking at us.

It was a much more convenient way to visit the New York City area of this dimension than arriving in some warehouse in an airport.

In an earlier slide, Major Maggie Beckett arranged for us to meet Quinn Mallory.

One of us was Secretary of Commerce Bill Daley.

Another companion or this slide was Colonel Angus Rickman of the United States Air Force.

Quinn came to us, dressed in a short-sleeved shirt for a late summer Saturday.

He embraced our companion who came with us, who was not part of the project, who never slid before.

His mother, Elizabeth Mallory.

She wore a backpack containing some things, and she also carried a plastic cat carrier.

"Schrodinger!" exclaimed Quinn. I had met the cat a few times, and his counterpart in my birth workd, the day that I made that first slide.

Both the Secretary of Commerce and the Air Force colonel introduced themselves.

He led us into the Scarab sedan in the parking lot. His miother at in front and I, Secretary Daley, and Colonel Rickman got into the back seat.

I looked around at this version of Queens again. It was not too long before we arrived at Quinn's.

The first thing he did was open the cat carrier to let Schrodinger out. Schrodinger hid under the table in the living room.

"Just stay out of trouble," Quinn said to the cat. "I have to meet with my mom and these others."

"Where are we going?" asked Daley.

"To have lunch at this great place," he said. "We will have are discussion there."

We got back into his car, and I looked around, seeing more of Queens, the storefronts and gas stations and strip malls.

We then reached this parking lot, anchored by what looked like a supermarket as well as some standalone buildings.

"Over there," said Quinn.

I looked at a standalone building in the parking lot. There was a sign featuring a stereotypical sea captain with a captain's hat, and the words reading Captain Kirk's Seafood Palace.

We went inside the restaurant. There was a bar and several wooden tables. IO could tell this was a casual dining restaurant. I noticed a wooden ship's steering wheel mounted on the wall.

A hostess in dark clothing led us to two wooden tables with their edges set against each other. I sat down, and noticed that the menu was printed on paper placemats.

"Wow," said Daley. "This is a bargain."

"It may seem like that," said Quinn. "But remember that the minimum wage in this version of New York is only 85 cents an hour."

Our waitress came by. "I haven't seen you in such a while," she said.

"Hi," replied Quinn, recognizing her.

"Where are you two friends?"

"Wade and...Clint moved back to San Francisco."

That was the literal truth.

"We started having lunch here once a month about two years ago, until they went home," Quinn explained to us.

"May I take your orders, sirs and ma'ams?" asked the waitress.

The menu had all sorts of seafood, and I kept reading the prices, as they were much lower than on my world.

"I shall have the salmon with Cajun butter," I ordered. I looked at the menu and the salmon entree was $3.49.

The rest of us gave our orders to the waitress as well. We began chatting. The Secretary of Commerce was interested in Quinn's story ever since that fateful day on September 22, 1994.

And then our meals arrived. My salmon filet had herbs and spices visible on the surface. Also on the ceramic plate was brown long-grain rice pilaf, and seasonal sauteed vegetables. I definitely liked the buttery taste with a hint of spice. I noticed Quinn decided to go for fried seafood, with fried cod and French fries with tartar sauce and cocktail sauce on the side.

We kept chatting. Colonel Rickman regaled us with tales of his service, starting with being sent to South Vietnam in the waning months of the Vietnam War, which happened pretty much the same as it did in my birth world. It was a tale I heard before. He did not fly the combat aircraft, but helped in making the plans.

"I suppose some MiGs could have broken through and bombed the air bases," he said. "But the pilots were more at risk, I agree."

I listened as Mrs. Mallory had talked about what happened this summer, about neighbors and taking care of Schrodinger.

"Now Schrodinger is home," she said.

The plates eventually became near empty.

"One of our long term goals is to set up permanent outposts on other worlds." said Secretary Daley. "The director p[roposed, and the Oversight Commission approved, a plan to lay the groundwork for moving our principal base of operations off world. Explorers will slide to other worlds from there. Technologies will be tested there ."The Yerba Beuna facility will become an administrative center and the gateway between our world and our principal base of operations. We've drafted several preliminary plans."

Quinn ate a french fry. "Interesting," he said.

"And this is where you come in, sir. I propose that you help us find a site where we can slide a construction crew here to build a research facility. You can help us acquire the land, make sure everything is legal for the American authorities here don;t bother to take too close a look. In return, you can be the one to introduce technology from our world- and other worlds- thios this one. You can have a monopoly on the integrated circuit. Business and military computer servers. Desktop computers."

Quinn looked at the Secretary of Commerce. "I have a counteroffer," he said. "I'll help find a nearby site to build a base. I'll accept your assistance in marketing off-world technologies in this world. I will demand one more condition."

"What is it?" asked Daley.

"My mom gets full access to this world. You let her use the sliding generator to visit me here whenever she feels like it. If she knocks on your door at five A.M. Sunday so that she can slide here and have Sunday brunch with me with bottomless mimosas, you open the door, hand her a timer, and open a wormhole to drop her off at Ramirez Park, Queens, in this dimension."

Secretary Daley glanced at Mrs. Mallory. "I can understand why you want that," he says. "This was not the offer authorized by the Oversight Commission. I will have to bring your counteroffer to them."

"Well, you tell them this. They can give my mom access to this world, or they find another world to build their primary sliding base. Good luck finding someone on another world who would be able to help them."

"I will pout it in more diplomatic language, but yes, I will present your counteroffer to them."

It was not long before Quinn picked up the check, paying by credit card. Judging from the price, it must have been less than twenty dollars before tips.

We left Captain Kirk's and went back into Quinn's car. It was not too long before we reached his home. His cat Schrodinger cried out to him and Quinn held him.

"We have less than twenty minutes," said Rickman, looking at his timer.

We want back in and decided to wait out the slide inside. I read a newspaper- the New York Register- and some other magazines and a World Atlas. It turned out that while Alaska and Hawaii were not part of the United States, Cuba was the 49th state, given statehood on October 27, 1962.

Destiny reasserts certain patterns across many dimensions.

Colonel Rickman then looked at Quinn's mother. "Less than a minute," he said. "Less than a minute to decide if you are going back with us."

Elizabeth Mallory held her own timer. It was set for her to slide back to Yerba Buena on Monday morning at 9:00 AM. She wanted to spend some time with Quinn and find out how things are here.

We went to the little backyard in the back, with had grass and a barbecue grill. Rickman pressed the button, and the vortex back to Yerba Buena appeared.

I looked back at Mrs. Mallory, who stood at the rear door.

I went through and then I was in the embarkation room in Yerba Buena.

The vortex closed.

Elizabeth Mallory stayed behind with her son.

I went home and spent most of the rest of the day grading my students' assignments.