May 27, 1998

I had trouble sleeping.

Then, I suppose, we all did.

We were about to accomplish one of the primary missions of the Yerba Buena Transdimensional Research Facility.

all of us were awake before the sun rose. We chatted a while, we even listened to some 24-hour radio stations that played music, and we even played some board games.

"I should pack up these board games to take home," said Quinn.

"It was interesting," said Major Maggie Beckett. "Maybe you can copyright it if someone else back home didn't do so."

"I wish I brought a PlayStation," said Dr. Steven Jensen.

"What's a PlayStation?" asked Wade Welles.

"A video game system released on our world back in '96."

We continued chatting. Some of us even took short walks out in the early morning around the condo complex. Some of Quinn's neighbors were leaving for work, either in their cars, or on foot to the nearest bus or train station.

We heard a knock around 8:20 in the morning. I checked the timer and there was a little more than forty minutes before the slide home.

Quinn opened the front door. I recognized the man as Michael Mallory, his father- or more precisely, his father's other self native to this dimension. I had encountered other versions of Michael Malory in twenty months of sliding, starting with my third slide.

the other was a young woman in her late teens to early twenties, with brown hair. She was clearly the girl in that picture, only a few years older. She wore a T-shirt with picture of El Sid, captioned 1971-1998.

"So you are going home," said Michael Mallory.

"that's right," said Quinn.

I presented the timer, which was counting down from thirty-eight minutes. "I am Professor Maximilian Arturo, from the university Quinn attended in San Francisco."

"And I'm Katie," said the woman. "I'm his sister, well, his sort-of-sister."

"Major Maggie Beckett, United States Air Force," said Beckett.

"What's an Air Force?" asked Katie.

"Sort of like an Army in the sky, fighting from airplanes. We actually split off from the United States Army in 1947."

"Wow. In this world, that's about the same time airplanes were first invented."

And so we chatted. Life here really wasn't too different from life back in our home world I do recall people living radically different lives in radically different social structures. Here, Katie Mallory was just a college student trying to earn spending money in service jobs.

And then there were five minutes left on my timer.

"Time for goodbyes," I said. "Less than five minutes."

"I've long accepted you're not the son who grew up in my household," said Michael Mallory. "I'm grateful to have known you; your mom awaits you."

Quinn then hugged Katie.

"I wish you could promise you'll be back," she said.

"I wish so too."

"If only Colin were here to say goodbye."

He then handed an envelope to Michael Mallory. "Slidetronics is yours, now," said Quinn. "And yours too, Katie. And Colin's. You can present this letter to Mr. Dershowitz, my lawyer."

Rembrandt and Wade also gave letters to Michael Mallory, so that he or Katie could deliver them.

"Make room," I said, holding the timer.

I pointed it to the corner of the room.

the timer hit zero, and I pressed the button.

The air started shimmering, and then the circular vortex back home opened.

Rembrandt glanced back, and then jumped in.

Wade followed.

Quinn looked back as his alternate father and the sister that could have been, waved at them, smiled, and jumped in.

And then I jumped through the vortex.

I traversed the tunnel of light that was the wormhole.

And then I hit the concrete floor.

I looked back and saw Dr. Steven Jensen and Major Beckett emerge.

The vortex shrank and then disappeared.

I looked and saw a crowd of people.

Dr. Diana Davis and Conrad Bennish, Jr. were there of course.

I also recognized Mr. Almquist and the Secretary of Commerce and Colonel Angus Rickman.

There were so many other people, including someone with a large portable TV camera.

"I'm Quinn Mallory," said Quinn.

"I am Bill Daley," said the Secretary, "Secretary of Commerce of the United States of America. On behalf of the United States, I welcome you home."

Quinn soon went to a nearby telephone and dialed a number.

"Hi, Mom," he said. "This is Quinn; I'm coming home."

He then hung up.

He, Wade, and Rembrandt were home.

After 1,343 days, they were home.

They were on a flight from La Guardia to San Francisco International Airport within three hours. I was on a separate flight, after having grabbed my luggage from my hotel room.

By 11 PM, I finished my journal entries, and went off to bed in San Francisco.